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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
CHOEPHOROI: INVOCATION OF AGAMEMNON'S GHOST, by AESCHYLUS Poet's Biography First Line: O father, father of our woe Last Line: Nor tasted of this cup of woe. | |||
ORESTES. CHORUS. ELECTRA OR. O father, father of our woe! How can I serve thee now by word or deed? From this far world what homing wind shall blow Where the Eternal Anchors hold thee fast? There thy long day is night: And at this gate of death where thou hast passed, Our grief that are of Atreus' royal seed Is all thou hast of glory and delight. CHO. Child, the proud spirit of the dead Succumbs not to the ravening tooth of fire. Their passions work, when life is fled: The mourner's wail Discovers him that did the wrong. And lamentation for a murdered sire A hunter is, that rallies to the trail All dogs that e'er gave tongue. OR. Hearken then, father, our lament, While at thy mounded tomb our salt tears flow; An alternating song, of sad concent, Dirged by thy children; suppliants that crave Access to thee; banned, both, from thy high hall, Met at the common refuge of thy grave. What's here of good? Where's aught that is not woe? And is not Doom the master of us all? CHO. But God can touch the broken strings To melody divine; And for this unrejoicing round, The burden of sepulchral ground, In the high banquet-hall of kings Blithe song bring in new wine. OR. Oh, if 'neath Ilium's wall, Gashed by some Lycian spear, Father, thou hadst fall'n in fight, Then hadst thou left thy house great praise, And to thy children in the public ways Honour in the eyes of all. Then thine had been a sepulchre Builded of many hands beyond the sea, And easy would our burden be, And all its weight of earth how light! CHO. And in the Kingdom of the Dark, Welcome wert thou to souls that nobly died; A lord of majesty and mark, The cupbearer Of Hell's vast Thrones; for while thou yet hadst breath Thou wast a King; and, in that Kingdom wide, Next them that the huge orb of Fate upbear, Their rod and sceptre Death! ELEC. No, not on Troy's far plain Would I have thee lie, interred, Where Scamander's waters flow, With meaner men that fell to the spear, But none, oh, none, that was thy peer. Death should have first thy murderers slain; And, haply, we had heard Some far-off rumour of their dying, And never ate the bread of sighing Nor tasted of this cup of Woe. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FRAGMENT FROM THE AGAMEMNON OF AESCHYLOS by AESCHYLUS AGAMEMNON: CHORUS by AESCHYLUS AGAMEMNON: HELEN. CHORUS by AESCHYLUS AGAMEMNON: THE BEACONS by AESCHYLUS AGAMEMNON: THE PURPLE CARPER by AESCHYLUS AGAMEMNON: THE SACRIFICE OF IPHIGENIA. CHORUS by AESCHYLUS AGAMEMNON: WELCOME TO AGAMEMNON by AESCHYLUS CHOEPHOROI: ORESTES GOES MAD by AESCHYLUS CRY WOE, WOE, AND LET THE GOOD PREVAIL, FR. AGAMEMNON by AESCHYLUS |
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