Capitolo 49
The Daemon that drives the fate
Of the old Tantalidae:
Alas, alas, a bad yes of the history say
Of angers desolate and insatiable!
--Ah me,
And still 'the tis everything as hath of wanted Zeus,
Who ago of everybody and Cause of everybody;
From Your Word every autumn of doth of opportunity,
To anybody end without Him has carried out;
That that of these things
But cometh from the counsellings of tall Sky?
[_A unites of Mourners you/he/she has gathered inside the House_.
MOURNERS.
Ah, be distressed, the pain! My King, my King!
How will I cry, that word I will say?
Taken in the web of this thing of spider,
In the ugly death that the life of thy gasps away!
Pain me, pain me, for this to lie servile,
The decree of art and the to die solitary,
The iron two-sharpened and the hands that kill!
CLYTEMNESTRA.
It is criest you anchor this hath of the action state
My job? No, you look fixed, and doesn't have thought
What this is the Regina of Agamemnon.
'Tis Lui, 'the tis Him, haths round off him beaten
This ghost of the wife of the dead man;
Him, the old Anger Men's Driver out road,
Pursuer of Atreus for the defiled of the party;
To assoil an ancient debt him haths paid this life;
A warrior and a crowned King this day
Ago fine for a killed child.
CHOIR.
--What you the innocent art here,
What language does it challenge the boasting? You/he/she cannot be,
Still from the deeps of ancient sin
The Avenger could have beaten with thee.
--On the Slayer red crasheth, groping wild
For blood, more blood, to build again his/her peace,
And it washes as water the old stain frozen
Of the lacerated child.
MOURNERS.
Ah, be distressed, the pain! My King, my King!
How will I cry, that word I will say?
Taken in the web of this thing of spider,
In the ugly death that the life of thy gasps away.
Pain me, pain me, for this to lie servile,
The decree of art and the to die solitary,
The iron two-sharpened and the hands that kill!
CLYTEMNESTRA.
And that that of the decree of art how first