Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/487

Rh Sorrows like-feathered never wilt thou see.

For who might guess that, in unhoped-for flight,

Thine ancient kindred should to Argos drift,

Cowering through horror of the nuptial couch.

From these Agonian gods what your request,

Holding these white-wreathed branches newly-culled?

That to Ægyptos' sons I be not slave.

Speakest from hate or fearing tie unlawful?

One's kinsmen who would wish to buy as lords?

By such alliance waxeth strength to mortals.

Ay, and the wretched to desert is easy.

How then towards you pious may I prove?