Aeschylus, Fragments 57–75: Memnon to Nereids

And lo, he draws near and his advance fills us with chilling fear, like a blast from the North that falls on sailors unprepared.

Bronze, unshorn (?) and stretched over the shield

Beholdest thou this, glorious Achilles, beholdest thou the distress wrought by the destructive lance upon the Danaans, whom thou hast betrayed, yet sittest idle within thy tent?

Lord of Phthia, Achilles! Why, oh why, when thou hearest the man-slaying

(Ah woe!) buffetings of war, dost thou not draw nigh to our rescue?

The buff horse-cock fastened thereon, the laborious work of outpoured paints, is dripping.

Antilochus, bewail me, the living, rather than him, the dead; for I have lost my all.

Even so is the Libyan fable famed abroad: the eagle, pierced by the bow-sped shaft, looked at the feathered device, and said, “Thus, not by others, but by means of our own plumage, are we slain.”

No reverence hadst thou for the unsullied holiness of thy limbs, oh thou most ungrateful for my many kisses!

And the chaste nearness of thy limbs

And yet—for that I love him—they are not repulsive to my sight.

Hail, Caïcus and ye streams of Mysia!

Hail, thou first priest of Caïcus’ stream, by thy healing prayers mayest thou preserve thy lords!

I saw them trotting (?) amid the spears.

Breezes in cool, shady places

Besides, in addition to these, having the plenteous woes of the immortals

Having crossed the plain of the sea, that bears dolphins

Let fine linen be cast about his body.

Death, the spoiler and slayer, angry at boastings, will quit the company of the immortals on high (?).

Hurling the shaft with forked point