Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1894) v1.djvu/272

236 So many sons—none left me any more!

Myself mid shame a spear-thrall ruin-sped;—

Yon smoke o'er Troy upsoaring in my sight!

Yet—yet—'twere unavailing plea perchance

To cast Love's shield before me—yet be it said:

Lo, at thy very side my child is couched,

Kassandra, whom the Phrygians called the Inspired:—

Those nights of love, hath their memorial perished?

Or for the lovingkindness of the couch

What thank shall my child have, or I for her?

For of the darkness and the night's love-spells

Cometh on men the chiefest claim for thank.

Hearken now, hearken: seest thou this dead boy?

Doing him right, to thine own marriage-kin

Shalt thou do right. One plea more lack I yet:—

O that I had a voice in these mine arms

And hands and hair and pacings of my feet,

By art of Dædalus lent, or of a God,

That all together to thy knees might cling

Weeping, and pressing home pleas manifold!

O my lord, mightiest light to Hellas' sons,

Hearken, O lend thine hand to avenge the aged;

What though a thing of nought she be, yet hear!

For 'tis the good man's part to champion right,

And everywhere and aye to smite the wrong.

Strange, strange, how all cross-chances hap to men!

These laws shift landmarks even of friendship's ties,