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Aeschylus, agamemnon<br />
Then hail and greet him well I such meed befits<br />
Him whose right hand hewed down the towers of Troy<br />
With the great axe of Zeus who righteth wrong-<br />
And smote the plain, smote down to nothingness<br />
Each altar, every shrine; and far and wide<br />
Dies from the whole land's face its offspring fair.<br />
Such mighty yoke of fate he set on Troy-<br />
Our lord and monarch, Atreus' elder son,<br />
And comes at last with blissful honour home;<br />
Highest of all who walk on earth to-day-<br />
Not Paris nor the city's self that paid<br />
Sin's price with him, can boast, Whate'er befall,<br />
The guerdon we have won outweighs it all.<br />
But at Fate's judgment-seat the robber stands<br />
Condemned of rapine, and his prey is torn<br />
Forth from his hands, and by his deed is reaped<br />
A bloody harvest of his home and land<br />
Gone down to death, and for his guilt and lust<br />
His father's race pays double in the dust.<br />
LEADER<br />
Hail, herald of the Greeks, new-come from war.<br />
HERALD<br />
All hail! not death itself can fright me now.<br />
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