Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1896) v2.djvu/210
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154
EURIPIDES.
Unto Ilium bound, to raze to the ground our city, devising our Ilium's bane,
When from Hellas afar thou didst wend to the war in the olden day,
(Ant. 1)
When the flower of the land from Hellas' strand he led, whose wrath was enkindled sore
For the steeds denied; and he stayed beside fair-rippling Simoïs' flood the oar 810
Through the paths that had plashed of the sea, and lashed the great stern-hawsers to earth's firm floor,
And bare from the ship the bow in his grip unerring aye,
A deadly thing to the traitor king; and the walls plummet-levelled of Phœbus in vain
With the fierce red blast of the fire he cast to earth, and he harried the Trojan plain:
Yea, twice did it fall that the coronal of Dardanus' towers, by spear-strokes twain
Shattered and rent, all blood-besprent in ruin lay.
(Str. 2)
In vain, O thou who art pacing now with delicate feet where the chalices shine 820
All-golden, O Laomedon's heir,
Is the office thine to brim with the wine
The goblets of Zeus, a service fair,—
And the land of thy birth in devouring flame is rolled!
From her brine-dashed beaches a crying is heard,
Where wail her daughters,—as shrieketh the bird
O'er the nest of her brood left cold,— 830
For their lost lords some, for their children's doom
These, those for their mothers old.
When from Hellas afar thou didst wend to the war in the olden day,
(Ant. 1)
When the flower of the land from Hellas' strand he led, whose wrath was enkindled sore
For the steeds denied; and he stayed beside fair-rippling Simoïs' flood the oar 810
Through the paths that had plashed of the sea, and lashed the great stern-hawsers to earth's firm floor,
And bare from the ship the bow in his grip unerring aye,
A deadly thing to the traitor king; and the walls plummet-levelled of Phœbus in vain
With the fierce red blast of the fire he cast to earth, and he harried the Trojan plain:
Yea, twice did it fall that the coronal of Dardanus' towers, by spear-strokes twain
Shattered and rent, all blood-besprent in ruin lay.
(Str. 2)
In vain, O thou who art pacing now with delicate feet where the chalices shine 820
All-golden, O Laomedon's heir,
Is the office thine to brim with the wine
The goblets of Zeus, a service fair,—
And the land of thy birth in devouring flame is rolled!
From her brine-dashed beaches a crying is heard,
Where wail her daughters,—as shrieketh the bird
O'er the nest of her brood left cold,— 830
For their lost lords some, for their children's doom
These, those for their mothers old.