The House of Atreus

  • Marie Shiriaevahas quotedlast year
    For whoso uncompelled doth follow what is just,
    He ne'er shall be unblest;
    Yea, never to the gulf of doom
    That man shall come.
    But he whose will is set against the gods,
    Who treads beyond the law with foot impure,
    Till o'er the wreck of Right confusion broods—
    Know that for him, though now he sail secure,
    The day of storm shall be; then shall he strive and fail,
    Down from the shivered yard to furl the sail,
    And call on Powers, that heed him nought, to save
    And vainly wrestle with the whirling wave,
    Hot was his heart with pride—
    I shall not fall, he cried.
    But him with watching scorn
    The god beholds, forlorn,
    Tangled in toils of Fate beyond escape,
    Hopeless of haven safe beyond the cape—
    Till all his wealth and bliss of bygone day
    Upon the reef of Rightful Doom is hurled,
    And he is rapt away
    Unwept, for ever, to the dead forgotten world.
  • Marie Shiriaevahas quotedlast year
    But who henceforth,
    What man of mortal men, what nation upon earth,
    That holdeth nought in awe nor in the light
    Of inner reverence, shall worship Right
    As in the older day?
  • Marie Shiriaevahas quotedlast year
    Wisdom is child of pain, and born with many a tear;
  • Marie Shiriaevahas quotedlast year
    he dart that flies in darkness, sped from hell
    By spirits of the murdered dead who call
    Unto their kin for vengeance, formless fear,
    The night-tide's visitant, and madness' curse
    Should drive and rack me; and my tortured frame
    Should be chased forth from man's community
    As with the brazen scorpions of the scourge.
    For me and such as me no lustral bowl
    Should stand, no spilth of wine be poured to God
    For me, and wrath unseen of my dead sire
    Should drive me from the shrine; no man should dare
    To take me to his hearth, nor dwell with me:
    Slow, friendless, cursed of all should be mine end,
    And pitiless horror wind me for the grave,
    This spake the god—this dare I disobey?
    Yea, though I dared, the deed must yet be done;
    For to that end diverse desires combine,—
    The god's behest, deep grief for him who died,
    And last, the grievous blank of wealth despoiled—
    All these weigh on me, urge that Argive men,
    Minions of valour, who with soul of fire
    Did make of fenced Troy a ruinous heap,
    Be not left slaves to two and each a woman!
    For he, the man, wears woman's heart; if not
    Soon shall he know, confronted by a man.
  • Marie Shiriaevahas quotedlast year
    , mighty is Apollo's oracle
    And shall not fail me, whom it bade to
  • Marie Shiriaevahas quotedlast year
    Thro' all this peril; clear the voice rang out
    With many warnings, sternly threatening
    To my hot heart the wintry chill of pain,
    Unless upon the slayers of my sire
    I pressed for vengeance: this the god's command—
    That I, in ire for home and wealth despoiled,
    Should with a craft like theirs the slayers slay:
    Else with my very life I should atone
    This deed undone, in many a ghastly wise
    For he proclaimed unto the ears of men
    That offerings, poured to angry power of death,
    Exude again, unless their will be done,
    As grim disease on those t
  • Marie Shiriaevahas quotedlast year
    Be art and part, O friends, in this my doubt,
    Even as ye are in that one common hate
    Whereby we live attended: fear ye not
    The wrath of any man, nor hide your word
    Within your breast: the day of death and doom
    Awaits alike the freeman and the slave.
    Speak, then, if aught thou know'st to aid us more.
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