Page:The Tragedies of Aeschylus - tr. Potter - 1812.pdf/83

Rh From her shall rise the hero, strong to wing

The dreaded shaft; he from these tort'ring pains

Shall set me free: this my age-honour'd mother,

Titanian Themis, with oracular voice

Foretold; but when, or how, requires a length

Of narrative, which known wou'd nought avail thee.

Ah me! Ah wretched me! That pang again !

Again that fiery pang, whose madd'ning smart

Corrodes and rankles in my breast! With fear

My heart pants thick; wildly my eyeballs roll;

Distraction drives my hurried steps a length

Of weary wand'rings; my ungovern'd tongue

Utters tumultuous ravings, that roll high

The floods of passion swoln with horrid woes.


 * That beam'd her brightest, purest flame,

T' illume her sage's soul the thought to frame ,
 * And clothe with words his heav'n-taught lore?
 * " Whoe'er thou art, whom young desire
 * Shall lead to Hymen's holy fire,

Choose, from thy equals choose thy humble love:
 * Let not the pomp of wealth allure thine eye,

Nor high-trac'd lineage thy ambition move;
 * Ill suits with low degree t' aspire so high."


 * Never, O never may my fate
 * See me a splendid victim led

To grace the mighty Jove's imperial bed,
 * Or share a god's magnific state.