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Aeschylus, agamemnon<br />
Leaving the clash of shields and spears and arming ships,<br />
And bearing unto Troy destruction for a dower,<br />
And overbold in sin,<br />
Went fleetly thro' the gates, at midnight hour.<br />
Oft from the prophets' lips<br />
Moaned out the warning and the wail-Ah woe!<br />
Woe for the home, the home! and for the chieftains, woe!<br />
Woe for the bride-bed, warm<br />
Yet from the lovely limbs, the impress of the form<br />
Of her who loved her lord, awhile ago<br />
And woe! for him who stands<br />
Shamed, silent, unreproachful, stretching hands<br />
That find her not, and sees, yet will not see,<br />
That she is far away!<br />
And his sad fancy, yearning o'er the sea,<br />
Shall summon and recall<br />
Her wraith, once more to queen it in his hall.<br />
And sad with many memories,<br />
The fair cold beauty of each sculptured face-<br />
And all to hatefulness is turned their grace,<br />
Seen blankly by forlorn and hungering eyes!<br />
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