Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/81

Rh Doubling the sojourn on the deep

Wither the Argive flower.

But to the chiefs of that array,

When, than the bitter storm, the seer

A cure shrieked forth, weighted with deadlier bane,—

In name of Artemis,—the Atridan twain,

Smiting on earth their sceptres, strove in vain

To quell the rising tear.

Then thus aloud the elder chieftain cried:—

"Grievous, in sooth, the doom to disobey,

But grievous too if I my child must slay,

My home's fair ornament, my pride,

Defiling these paternal hands,

E'en at the altar's side,

With virgin-slaughter's gory tide.

What course exempt from evil? Say,

The fleet can I desert, the leaguèd bands

Failing? With hot desire to crave the spell

Of virgin blood, the storm that shall allay,

Is just. May all be well!"

Then harnessed in Necessity's stern yoke

An impious change-wind in his bosom woke,

Profane, unhallowed, with dire evil fraught,

His soul perverting to all daring thought.

For frenzy, that from primal guilt doth spring,

Emboldens mortals, prompting deeds of ill;

Thus, armed a woman to avenge, the king

In sacrifice his daughter dared to kill;

The fleet's initial rite accomplishing.