Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1894) v1.djvu/285

Rh Horrors are wrought on me—horrors! Woe for the felon deed!

Whitherward shall I turn me? Whitherward fare?

Shall I leap as on wings to the height of the heaven, to the mansions of air,

To Orion or Sirius, fearful-gleaming

With the burning flames from his eyes out-streaming,

Or plunge to the blackness of darkness, to Hades' gorge in despair?

Small blame, if he which suffereth heavier woes

Than man may bear, should flee his wretched life.

Enter Agamemnon.

Hearing a shout I came; for in no whispers

The mountain-rock's child Echo through the host

Cried, waking tumult. Knew we not the towers

Of Phrygia by the spear of Greeks had fallen,

No little panic had this clangour roused.

Dear friend—for, Agamemnon, 'tis thy voice,

I hear and know—see'st thou what I endure?

Ha, wretched Polymestor, who hath marred thee?,

Who dashed with blood thine eyes, and blinded thee?—,

Slew these thy sons? Sooth, against thee and thine,

Grim was his fury, whosoe'er it was.