Chorus
But Justice doth the smoke-begrimèd cell
Illumine with celestial sheen,
And loves with honest worth to dwell.
Gold-spangled palaces with hands unclean,
Forsaking with averted eyes,
To holy Innocence she flies.
The power of wealth, if falsely stamped with praise,
With homage she disdains to recognize,
And to their fated issue all things sways.
Agamemnon. Aeschylus. Anna Swanwick (Translator). London. 1886.
Sponsored by University of Leipzig.
Funding provided by European Social Fund Saxony.