Page:The Tragedies of Aeschylus - tr. Potter - 1812.pdf/66

22 Or sight, or scuse of hearing, all things rolling

Like the unreal imagery of dreams,

In wild confusion mix'd? The lightsome wall

Of finer masonry, the rafter'd roof

They knew not; but, like ants still buried, delv'd

Deep in the earth, and scoop'd their sunless caves.

Unmark'd the seasons chang'd, the biting winter,

The flow'r perfumed spring, the ripening summer

Fertile of fruits. At random all their works,

Till I instructed them to mark the stars,

Their rising, and, an harder science yet ,