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Aeschylus, agamemnon<br />
To tread no city to the dust,<br />
Nor see my own life thrust<br />
Down to a glave's estate beneath another's heel!<br />
epode<br />
Behold, throughout the city wide<br />
Have the swift feet of Rumour hied,<br />
Roused by the joyful flame:<br />
But is the news they scatter, sooth?<br />
Or haply do they give for truth<br />
Some cheat which heaven doth frame?<br />
A child were he and all unwise,<br />
Who let his heart with joy be stirred.<br />
To see the beacon-fires arise,<br />
And then, beneath some thwarting word,<br />
Sicken anon with hope deferred.<br />
The edge of woman's insight still<br />
Good news from true divideth ill;<br />
Light rumours leap within the bound<br />
Then fences female credence round,<br />
But, lightly born, as lightly dies<br />
The tale that springs of her surmise. Several days are assumed to have<br />
elapsed.<br />
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