Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/396

298 His victims dripping blood,

May'st thou behold i' the tent.

Chor. Ah, what the news thou bring'st

Of him the fiery one,

Intolerable, and yet inevitable,

By the great Danai's chiefs spread far and wide,

Which rumour magnifies.

Ah me! the fate that cometh on I fear;

Our chief will die the gazing-stock of all,

Having, with frenzied hand

And dark and glittering sword,

Slaughtered the oxen's herd

And those that kept the steeds.

Tec. Ah me! Thence, thence he came,

Bringing the flock in chains;

Of part upon the ground he cut the throats,

Part asunder he smote,

Through the chine cleaving them:

And taking two white-footed rams,

From one he cuts the head,

And tears out its tongue from the roots;

And one to a column he binds,

And seizing a driver's rein,

He smites with shrill re-echoing, doubled thong,

Venting vile words of shame,

Which God, not man, had taught.

Chor. Now is it time one should hide

One's face in the shrouding veil,

And stealthily creep out of sight,

Or sitting on swift rower's bench,

Give way to the sea-crossing ship;

Such are the threats the Atreidæ ply in their wrath,

And I fear, lest smitten with him,

Whom a terrible fate holds fast,