STROPHE VII

_Cass._ Woe, woe! for all sore ills that fall on me!

It is my grief thou speak'st of, blending it

With his.[361] [_Pausing, and then crying out_.]

Ah! wherefore then

Hast thou[362] thus brought me here,

Only to die with thee?

What other doom is mine?

Æschylos Tragedies and Fragments · 第 287 / 507 题