Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1896) v2.djvu/220

And the haunted bowers of the World's Wall,^[1] flushing
With the first shafts flashed through the empyrean!
(Ant. 1)
Thine altars are cold; and the blithesome calling
Of the dancers is hushed; nor at twilight's falling
To the nightlong vigils of Gods cometh waking.
They are vanished, thy carven images golden,
And the twelve moon-feasts of the Phrygians holden.
Dost thou care, O King, I muse, heart-aching,—
Thou who sittest on high in the far blue heaven
Enthroned,—that my city to ruin is given,
That the bands of her strength is the fire-blast breaking? 1080
(Str. 2)
O my belovèd, O husband mine,
Thou art dead, and unburied thou wanderest yonder,
Unwashen!—but me shall the keel thro' the brine
Waft, onward sped by its pinions of pine,
To the horse-land Argos, where that stone wonder
The Cyclop walls cleave the clouds asunder.
And our babes at the gates, in a long, long line,
Cling to their mothers with wail and with weeping that cannot avail— 1090
"O mother," they moan, "alone, alone, woe's me! the Achaeans hale
Me from thy sight—from thine—
To the dark ship, soon o'er the surge to be riding,
To Salamis gliding,
To the hallowed strand,