Page:The Tragedies of Aeschylus - tr. Potter - 1812.pdf/70

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 * When the hallow'd steer has bled ,


 * When the sacred feast is spread,


 * 'Midst the crystal waves below,


 * Whence father Ocean's boundless billows flew,


 * Let not my foot be slow:


 * There, th' ethereal guests among,


 * No rude speech disgrace my tongue


 * May my mind this rev'rence keep;


 * Print it strong, and grave it deep.


 * When thro' life's extended scene


 * Hope her stedfast lustre throws,


 * Swells the soul with joy serene,


 * With sublimest triumph glows.


 * Seest thou this pure lustre shine?


 * Are these heart-felt raptures thine?


 * My cold blood curdles in my veins,


 * To see thy hideous woes, thy tort'ring pains,


 * And adamantine chains.


 * Thy free soul, untaught to fear,


 * Scorn'd the danger threat'ning near;


 * And for mortals dar'd defy


 * The sovereign monarch of the sky.


 * Vain thy ardour, vain thy grace,


 * They nor force nor aid repay;


 * Like a dream man's feeble race,


 * Short-liv'd reptiles of a day.


 * Shall their weak devices move


 * Th' order'd harmony of Jove?


 * Touch'd with pity of thy pain,