aeschylus - Conscious Evolution TV

And words are not the stuff to dull its edge.
Ch. To win is all: get glory he who can:
The victory won wins God's acknowledgment.
£t. He who girds on his armour owes no love
To that wise saw.
Ch. And yet the greater fault-
To lay rash hands upon thy brother's life
And with those crimson juices stain thy soul­
Mislikes thee not I
Et. Sin may be thrust upon us:
Evil when Heaven sends it, who shall shun? Exit.
Chorus
By this cold shuddering fit of fear
My heart divines a presence here,
Goddess or Ghost yclept;
Wrecker of homes, and dark adept
Of prophecy, whose vastitude of ill
This hour and all hours shall at last fulfil.
Thou Curse that from the gloom
Of nether Hell
A Sire invoked; implacable
Erinys, whom in fierce excess of wrath
Grief-maddened ffidipus did summon forth.
Thou'rt in this strife to work his children's doom.
Ah, stranger from the far-off land­
Scyth-Chalyb-in thine iron hand
The lots are shaken; thine award
Is dealt with the devouring sword,
Whose biting edge doth make partition cold
Of all the goodly gear men get and hold.
With them so shall it be,
These, next of kin
In blood and guilt and sin,
Of all their father's famous fields widespread
They shall at last be disinherited,
Lords of so much earth as dead men have in fee.
When children, by one sire begot,
To whom one woeful womb gave birth,
In mortal combat meet and die,
And that bright pool wherein they lie
Drunk by the dust of thirsty earth
Is curdled to a darker clot,
What power of prayer shall purify,
What water wash away the stain?
But, ah, what drops incarnadine
The new, the old, the mingled wine,
That Laius' house must drain I
From springs of old transgression flo,,'
The guilt, the sorrow swift to follow.
Not yet, not yet is vengeance spent,
Son's sons abide the chastisement
Of him who hearkened not Apollo­
Laius, first-parent of this woe.
Three sacred embassies he sent,
And thrice where Delphic rocks are piled,
Of earth's vast wheel the massy nave,
The priestess cried "If thou would'st save
Thy kingdom, get no child."
THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES
35
But Love was master; he begot
Death for himself and shame,
The son that slew him, witting not­
King