The godless woman sends me to fulfil.
To speak the words prescribed I dread;
For ah! when blood hath once been shed,
Falling to earth, what ransom can be paid?
Woe for the sorrow-stricken hearth,
The home in ruin laid!
By mortals still abhorr'd a cloud,
To sunless darkness wed,
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Doth through the master's fall the dwelling shroud.
ANTISTROPHE II.
The majesty invincible of old,
Matchless, supreme, who filled the ear
Of faithful lieges, and their heart controlled,
Standeth aloof;-Fear reigneth now,
Libation Bearers. Aeschylus. Anna Swanwick (Translator). London. 1886.
Sponsored by University of Leipzig.
Funding provided by European Social Fund Saxony.