Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/508

438 In land of Apia, shall we flee,

If refuge dark lurk anywhere?

As sable smoke, ah, might I be,

That to the clouds of Zeus draws near,

Or, soaring without wings, ah me,

Unseen, like viewless dust dissolve in air!

Scapeless is now the threatened doom;

Throbbeth my spirit steeped in gloom;

Me hath thine out-look ruined, sire!

I faint with dread. Let me expire,

By twistings of the girdle slain,

Or e'er the man by me abhorred,

This form approach with touch profane!

Rather, in death, let Hades be my lord!

Oh for a seat in upper air

Where the dank vapours turn to snow;—

Or might some beetling crag forlorn,

Smooth, steep, unfriendly, lonesome, bare,

The vultures' haunt, my plunge below

Witness, ere forceful I am torn,

Heart-piercing wedlock's dreaded yoke to share.

That food of dogs I then should be,

Or gorge the prey-birds, native here,

Appals me not; for death is free

From ills that sorrow's plaint endear.