Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1894) v1.djvu/101

Rh

If she would but come forth where we wait her,

If she would but give ear to the sound

Of our speech, that her spirit would learn

From its fierceness of anger to turn,

And her lust for revenge not burn!

O ne'er may my love prove traitor,

Never false to my friends be it found!

But go thou, and forth of the dwelling

Thy mistress hitherward lead.

Say to her that friends be we all.

O hasten, ere mischief befall

The lords of the palace-hall.

For her grief, like a tempest upswelling,

Resistless shall ruin-ward speed.

I will do it: but almost my spirit despaireth

To win her; yet labour of love shall it be.

But my queen on her thralls as a mad bull glareth,

Or a lioness couched mid her whelps, whoso dareth

With speech to draw near her, so tameless is she.

He should err not, who named the old singers in singing

Not cunning, but left-handed bards, for their lays

Did they frame for the mirth-tide, the festal in-bringing

Of the wine, and the feast, when the harp-strings are ringing

To sweeten with melody life's sweet days: