Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1894) v1.djvu/239

Rh Whom the lot hath doomed to fall unto a king, a thrall

From Ilium chased, the quarry of Achaian hunters' spear,—

Not for lightening of thy pain; nay, a burden have I ta'en

Of heavy tidings, herald of sore anguish unto thee,

For that met is the array of Achaia, and they say

That thy child unto Achilles a sacrifice must be.

For thou knowest how in sheen of golden armour seen

He stood upon his tomb, and on the ocean-pacing ships

Laid a spell, that none hath sailed,—yea, though the halliards brailed

The sails up to the yards;—and a cry rang from his lips:

"Ho, Danaans! whither now, leaving unredeemed your vow

Of honour to my tomb, and my glory spurned away?"

Then a surge of high contention clashed: the spear-host in dissension

Was cleft, some crying, "Yield his tomb the victim!"

—others, "Nay!"

Now the King was fervent there that thy daughter they should spare,

For that Agamemnon loveth thy prophet-bacchanal.

But the sons of Theseus twain, Athens' scions, for thy bane

Pleaded both, yet for the victim did their vote at variance fall.