Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (Cookson).djvu/57

They can never bleed afresh.
Dying is to be released
From all ills our living flesh
Would with wailing wish away.
Come with swift forestalling stride,
Death, ere darker deed be done
In the chamber of the bride.
For of all the paths that run
O'er the broad earth 'neath the sun
That which leads to the unwinding
Of my sorrow is past finding.

Cry to Heaven; prayer's full oblation
Moves the Gods and sets me free.
Father, from thy habitation
Watch the battle soon to be.

Turn away from guilt the splendour
Of those eyes whose light is law;
Strong, be thou the weak's defender,
Zeus, who hold'st the world in awe.

For the male hath sought and found me.
Fleeing-, whither shall I fly?
Egypt's sons will soon have bound me
Wildered with their battle-cry.

Thine the mighty beam suspended;
All things tremble in thy scale.
What can be begun or ended
Without thee for bliss or bale?

Oh me! I am undone!
What evil errand bringeth thee ashore,
Pirate? A rescue! Ho!