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Aeschylus, agamemnon<br />
Self-prompted, sings the Furies' strain-<br />
And seeks, and seeks in vain,<br />
To hope and to be strong!<br />
Ah! to some end of Fate, unseen, unguessed,<br />
Are these wild throbbings of my heart and breast-<br />
Yea, of some doom they tell-<br />
Each pulse, a knell.<br />
Lief, lief I were, that all<br />
To unfulfilment's hidden realm might fall.<br />
strophe 2<br />
Too far, too far our mortal spirits strive,<br />
Grasping at utter weal, unsatisfied-<br />
Till the fell curse, that dwelleth hard beside,<br />
Thrust down the sundering wall. Too fair they blow,<br />
The gales that waft our bark on Fortune's tide!<br />
Swiftly we sail, the sooner an to drive<br />
Upon the hidden rock, the reef of woe.<br />
Then if the hand of caution warily<br />
Sling forth into the sea<br />
Part of the freight, lest all should sink below,<br />
From the deep death it saves the bark: even so,<br />
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