Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/557

Rh Or one of mortal race,

Who wrought these deeds of darkness and disgrace.

Ο day of all the days that ever came,

Most hateful unto me!

Ο night! Ο woes of banquets none may name,

Which he, my sire, did see!

Foul death which their hands wrought,

The two that took by basest treachery

Him who my life's joy brought,

And so destroyed, destroyed me utterly.

May He who dwells in might,

On yon Olympian height,

Give them to grieve with guilt-avenging groan,

And ne'er may they whose souls such deeds have known

Share in good fortune bright!

Take heed, and speak no more;

Hast thou no thought from what high, prosperous state

Thou now art passing o'er,

Into what sorrow lorn and desolate?

For thou hast gained a burden infinite

Of woe and wretchedness,

Still cherishing thy wrath in sore despite,

Fierce war and bitterness;

And yet it were ill done

To come in conflict with a mighty one.

By sufferings dire, most dire, I was constrained;

I know it, wrath blinds not;