Capitolo 30
Hope fanned the empty hands and nothing fell.
Also now in smoke that City says its history;
The liveth of the wrack-wind, and where Ilion died
Exhale him some old fatness of his/her pride
From warm and twisting far himself/herself/itself rolls of ashes.
For that he/she left thanks, wide as our glories it is,
Is lifted; seeing the Beast of the hath of Argos
The towers of round Ilion accumulated tall its enclosure of anger
And, for a woman abducted in ecstasy, destroyed from strength
A City. Here, the jump of the wild Horse
in obscurity when the Pleiades is dead;
A planned crowd, a Leo not fed,
What leapt the tower and lapt King's blood!
Here, to the Of the self I make these thanks.
But for words of thy: I marked them, and I mind
Their meaning, and my voice will be behind
Thine. For men not very, the saith of the proverb,
You/he/she can love a friend that prospereth of fortune
Unenvying; and on the envious brain
Cold poison grabs on, and it doubles the whole pain
The life the door. Proper his/her woundings that he has to nurse,
And another cheerfulness feels him as a curse.
Well I speak. I know the mirrored glass
Called friendship and the forms of shade that pass
And it fakes them the friends of a King. I have known but one--
Odysseus, him we trapped against his really
Desire!--who bridled well once hole his/her right of joke...
Both him I live or dead whose I say
The history. And for the rest, touching our state
And of the, we will assemble in debate
A contest of every Argos, taking sure
Suggestions, that what is can now bear well
Well, and if aught needs healthy medicine, still
Cutting and from fire, with every good wish,
I will test to dissuade the later-wrack
Such illness crosses.
Yes, haths of Sky conducted again me;
And on this hearth where he/she anchors my scorching of doth of fire
I will go to pay my due return to sky,
What it drives here me that street saved far me.
Victoria of Or, now mine really, both dig alway!
[CLYTEMNESTRA, _at the head of its succession, advances in before. You check