Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (Cookson).djvu/48

In your heavenly habitation,
While I pour my heart's libation
With the wine of prayer o'erflowing,
Hear my voice, ye gods! Hereafter
Never roar of ruddy fire
Strike and slay Pelasgia's city,
Nor the song be heard, where laughter
Is not, nor the dance nor lyre,
Lustful Ares' joyless strain,
Who in fields not of his sowing
Reaps the harvest of the slain.
Forasmuch as they had pity;
For that love their voice inspireth,
Honouring suppliants Zeus befriendeth,
Little flock that sorrow tendeth
And whose portion none desireth.

Neither did they give their voices
For proud men, to do them pleasure:
They have dealt us noble measure
Woman's weaker cause befriending:
For their loftier vision saw
The inexorable Awe,
Angry Zeus, whose wrath requiteth,
Whose sure aim the end achieves;
And with him is no contending,
Where's the dwelling that rejoices
'Neath his heavy visitation—
Like a carrion-bird that lighteth,
Dropping down abomination,
Gorged and bloated, on man's caves?
Heavily the monster squatteth,