Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/442

372 So hard to gaze on, and so hard to bear,

With double-pointed goad, my soul would chill.

Fate! Fate! ah me! ah me!

I shudder Io's woeful plight to see.

Too soon thou groanest and art full of fears.

Forbear till heard the remnant of my tale.

Speak, teach the whole. To ailing ones 'tis sweet

Clearly their coming sorrow to foreknow.

Your former boon from me lightly ye won,

For first ye craved from Io's self to learn

The story of her toil. The rest now hearken,

What trials this young maid hath yet to bear

From Hera. Thou, too, seed of Inachos,

Cast in thy heart my words, that thou in full

May'st of thy weary travel learn the goal.

First, turning hence towards the rising sun,

Traverse uncultured wastes; so shalt thou reach

The Scythian nomads, who, 'neath wattled roofs,

Uplifted dwell on waggons amply-wheeled,

And are accoutred with far-darting bows.

Approach not these but, skirting with thy foot

The sounding breakers, hie thee from their land.

Towards the left the iron-workers dwell,

The Chalybes, of whom thou must beware,