Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1898) v3.djvu/229

Rh I come. Thy tidings?—what

Thy care? Why hast thou brought

Me to the shrines, O child of him who led

That fleet, the thousand-keeled,

That host of myriad shield

That Troyward with the glorious Atreïds sped?

Ah maidens, sunken deep

In mourning's dole I weep:

My wails no measure keep

With aught glad-ringing

From harps: nor Song-queens' strain

Breathes o'er the sad refrain

Of my bereavement's pain,

Nepenthe-bringing.

The curse upon mine head

Is come—a brother dead!

Ah vision-dream that fled

To Night's hand clinging!

Undone am I—undone!

My race—its course is run:

My sire's house—there is none:

Woe, Argos' nation!

Ah, cruel Fate, that tore

From me my love, and bore

To Hades! Dear, I pour

Thy death-libation —

Fountains of mountain-kine,

The brown bees' toil, the wine,

Shed on earth's breast, are thine,

Thy peace-oblation!