Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/480

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Then dally not; be your design achieved.

O Zeus! my sorrows pity ere I die.

If He be gracious, all may yet be well.

Now do ye invocate this bird of Zeus.

Lo! we invoke the Sun's sustaining beams.

Apollo too, pure god, exile from heaven.

Knowing this lot, he can for mortals feel.

So may he now, and stand our prompt ally.