490
APPENDIX.
My hair still wet with dew and rain,
Sad keepsake they from Troïa's plain!
Antistroph. II.
Till now from every fear by night,
And bulwark against darts of foe,
Aias stood forward in his might,
But now the stern God lays him low:
Ah me! ah me! What share have I,
Yea what, in mirth and revelry?
Ah! would that I my flight could take
Where o'er the sea the dark crags frown,
And on the rocks the wild waves break,
And woods the height of Sunion crown,
That so we might with welcome bless
Great Athens in her holiness!
