Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1898) v3.djvu/306

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Sirius: nigh to the Pleiads seven

He is sailing yet through the midst of heaven.

Sooth, voice there is none, nor slumberous cheep

Of bird, nor whisper of sea; and deep

Is the hush of the winds on Euripus that sleep.

Yet without thy tent, Agamemnon my lord,

Why dost thou pace thus feverishly?

Over Aulis yonder is night's peace poured:

They are hushed which along the walls keep ward.

Come, pass we within.

I envy thee,

Ancient, and whoso unperilled may pace