Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/80

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Nor doth he so great of yore,

With all-defying boldness rife,

Longer avail; his reign is o'er.

The next, thrice vanquished in the strife,

Hath also passed; but who the victor-strain

To Zeus uplifts, true wisdom shall obtain.

To sober thought Zeus paves the way,

And wisdom links with pain.

In sleep the anguish of remembered ill

Drops on the troubled heart; against their will

Rebellious men are tutored to be wise;

A grace I ween of the divinities,

Who mortals from their holy seats arraign.

E'en so the elder of the twain,

Achaia's fleet who swayed,

No seer upbraiding, bowed, with grief suppressed,

His soul to fortune's stroke; what time the host,

In front of Chalcis, tossing off the coast

Of wave-vexed Aulis, lingered, sore-distressed,

While store-exhausting gales their progress stayed.

Blasts, dire delay and famine in their train,

And evil-anchorage, from Strymon sweep,—

Ruin to mortals; with malignant power,

Ruthless to ships and cordage, they