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AESCHYLUS HOME PAGE / AESCHYLUS POEMS
Translated by E. Morshead.
66 pages - You are on Page 33 Leader: Let him go forward, thy command obeying. But me how biddest, how assurest thou? The King of Argos: Leave there the new-plucked boughs, thy sorrow's sign. Leader: Thus beckoned forth, at thy behest I leave them. The King of Argos: Now to this level precinct turn thyself. Leader: Unconsecrate it is, and cannot shield me. The King of Argos: We will not yield thee to those falcons' greed. Leader: What help? more fierce they are than serpents fell. The King of Argos: We spake thee fair-speak thou them fair in turn. Previous Page / First / Next Page of The Suppliants
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