Page:The Tragedies of Aeschylus - tr. Potter - 1812.pdf/75

Rh To rove at large o'er earth's extremest bounds:

Shou'd he refuse, the vengeful bolt of Jove,

Wing'd with red flames wou'd all his race destroy.

Obedient to the Pythian god he drove me

Unwilling from his house, himself unwilling

Compell'd by Jove, and harsh necessity.

Strait was my sense disorder'd, my fair form

Chang'd, as you see, disfigur'd with these horns;

And tortar'd with the bryze's horrid sting,

Wild with my pain with frantic speed I hurried

To Cenchrea's vale with silver-winding streams

Irriguous, and the fount whence Lerna spreads

Its wide expanse of waters; close behind

In wrathful mood walk'd Argus, earth-born herdman,

With all his eyes observant of my steps.

Him unawares a sudden fate depriv'd

Of life; whilst I, stung with that heav'n-sent pest,

Am driv'n with devious speed from land to land.

Thou hast my tale. If ought of woes to come

Thy prescient mind divines, relate them freely;

Nor thro' false pity with fallacious words

Sooth my vain hopes, my soul abhors as base

The fabling tongue of glozing courtesy.

No more, no more, forbear. Ah never, never

Conceiv'd I that a tale so strange shou'd reach

My ears; that miseries, woes, distresses, terrors,

Dreadful to sight, intolerable to sense,

Shou'd shock me thus: woe, woe, unhappy fate!

How my soul shudders at the fate of Iö!

Already dost thou sigh, already tremble?