What time in bodeful dance, untired, our feet we ply.
ANTISTROPHE III.
Through evil blind, the wretch, though prone,
Knows not his fall; for dark the cloud
That doth the guilty mind o'ershroud;
And Fame proclaims with heavy groan,
The doom, like murky cloud, that wraps a house o'erthrown.
STROPHE IV.
Eumenides. Aeschylus. Anna Swanwick (Translator). London. 1886.
Sponsored by University of Leipzig.
Funding provided by European Social Fund Saxony.