Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1898) v3.djvu/193

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And thou—doth thine highway abide yet clear?

If thou hast good tidings, ah, tell it out

If void be the space yon forecourt about.

All here is well. Look thou unto thy side:

To us draws nigh no man of Danaus' sons.

Thy tale is one with mine: no stir is here.

Go to, through the gates as a shaft let me speed my cry:—

Within, ho!—why do ye tarry, and no foe nigh,

Your hands with the slaughter to dye?

They hear me not!—woe for my miseries!

Ha, at her beauty are the swords struck dumb?

Soon will some Argive mailed, with racing feet

That rush to rescue, burst into the halls!

Watch with more heed,—no time to sit still this!

Bestir ye, hither these, those thitherward.

I scan the diverse ways—on every hand I gaze—

Pelasgian Argos, ho!—I am foully slain!

Heard ye?—the men imbrue their hands in blood!