Four Plays of Aeschylus. Aeschylus

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       Let Him look down on mortal wantonness!

       Lo! how the youthful stock of Belus' line

       Craves for me, uncontrolled—

       With greed and madness bold—

       Urged on by passion's sunless stress—

       And, cheated, learns too late the prey has 'scaped

       their hold!

       Ah, listen, listen to my grievous tale,

       My sorrow's words, my shrill and tearful cries!

       Ah woe, ah woe!

       Loud with lament the accents use,

       And from my living lips my own sad dirges flow!

       O Apian land of hill and dale,

       Thou kennest yet, O land, this faltered foreign wail—

       Have mercy, hear my prayer!

       Lo, how again, again, I rend and tear

       My woven raiment, and from off my hair

       Cast the Sidonian veil!

       Ah, but if fortune smile, if death be driven away,

       Vowed rites, with eager haste, we to the gods will pay!

       Alas, alas again!

       O wither drift the waves? and who shall loose the pain?

       O Apian land of hill and dale,

       Thou kennest yet, O land, this faltered foreign wail!

       Have mercy, hear my prayer!

       Lo, how again, again, I rend and tear

       My woven raiment, and from off my hair

       Cast the Sidonian veil!

       The wafting oar, the bark with woven sail,

       From which the sea foamed back,

       Sped me, unharmed of storms, along the breeze's track—

       Be it unblamed of me!

       But ah, the end, the end of my emprise!

       May He, the Father, with all-seeing eyes,

       Grant me that end to see!

       Grant that henceforth unstained as heretofore

       I may escape the forced embrace

       Of those proud children of the race

       That sacred Io bore.

       And thou, O maiden-goddess chaste and pure—

       Queen of the inner fane—

       Look of thy grace on me, O Artemis,

       Thy willing suppliant—thine, thine it is,

       Who from the lustful onslaught fled secure,

       To grant that I too without stain

       The shelter of thy purity may gain!

       Grant that henceforth unstained as heretofore

       I may escape the forced embrace

       Of those proud children of the race

       That sacred Io bore!

       Yet if this may not be,

       We, the dark race sun-smitten, we

       Will speed with suppliant wands

       To Zeus who rules below, with hospitable hands

       Who welcomes all the dead from all the lands:

       Yea by our own hands strangled, we will go,

       Spurned by Olympian gods, unto the gods below!

       Zeus, hear and save!

       The searching, poisonous hate, that Io vexed and drave,

       Was of a goddess: well I know

       The bitter ire, the wrathful woe

       Of Hera, queen of heaven—

       A storm, a storm her breath, whereby we yet are driven!

       Bethink thee, what dispraise

       Of Zeus himself mankind will raise,

       If now he turn his face averted from our cries!

       If now, dishonoured and alone,

       The ox-horned maiden's race shall be undone,

       Children of Epaphus, his own begotten son—

       Zeus, listen from on high!—to thee our prayers arise.

       Zeus, hear and save!

       The searching poisonous hate, that Io vexed and drave,

       Was of a goddess: well I know

       The bitter ire, the wrathful woe

       Of Hera, queen of heaven—

       A storm, a storm her breath, whereby we yet are driven!

DANAUS

       Table of Contents

      Children, be wary—wary he with whom

       Ye come, your trusty sire and steersman old:

       And that same caution hold I here on land,

       And bid you hoard my words, inscribing them

       On memory's tablets. Lo, I see afar

       Dust, voiceless herald of a host, arise;

       And hark, within their grinding sockets ring

       Axles of hurrying wheels! I see approach,

       Borne in curved cars, by speeding horses drawn,

       A speared and shielded band. The chiefs, perchance,

       Of this their land are hitherward intent

       To look on us, of whom they yet have heard

       By messengers alone. But come who may,

       And come he peaceful or in ravening wrath

       Spurred on his path, 'twere best, in any case,

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