Chorus
O woman, what earth-nurtured bane,
What potion, upsent from the wind-ruffled sea,
Hast tasted, that on thine own head dost heap
Curses, for incense, folk-mutter'd and deep !
Hast cast off, hast slain ;—
Out-cast, uncitied, thyself shalt be,
Huge hate of the townsmen blasting thee.
Agamemnon. Aeschylus. Anna Swanwick (Translator). London. 1886.
Sponsored by University of Leipzig.
Funding provided by European Social Fund Saxony.