Page:The Tragedies of Aeschylus - tr. Potter - 1812.pdf/74

30 Ill wou'd excuse become me, or denial;

Take then the plain unornamented tale

Ye wish to hear; tho' sad the task enjoin'd,

And hard : for how relate the heav'n-sent tempest

That burst upon my head, my form thus chang'd,

And all the weight of woe that overwhelms me?

Still, when retir'd to rest, air-bodied forms

Visit my slumber nightly, soothing me

With gentle speech, "Blest maid, why hoard for ever

Thy virgin treasure, when the highest nuptials

Await thy choice; the flames of soft desire

Have touch'd the heart of Jove; he burns with love:

Disdain not, gentle virgin, ah disdain not

The couch of Jove; to Lerna's deep recess,

Where graze thy father's herds the meads along,

Go, gentle virgin, crown the god's desires."

The night returns, the visionary forms

Return again, and haunt my troubled soul

Forbidding rest, till to my father's ear

I dar'd disclose the visions of the night.

To Pytho, to Dodona's vocal grove

He sent his seers, anxious to know what best

Was pleasing to the gods. Return'd they bring

Dark-utter'd answers of ambiguous sense.

At length one oracle distinct and plain

Pronounc'd its mandates, charging Inachus

To drive me from his house and from my country,