Aeschylus, Fragments 168–188: Fragments of uncertain plays (2)

Squinting his left eye, like a tunny-fish

But this pig—and a well-fatted pig it is—I will place within the crackling oven. For what daintier dish could a man get than this?

White, of course, and rarely singed, the pig. Boil him and don’t be troubled by the fire.

But having killed yon pig from the same sow, the sow that had worked me much havoc in the house, pushing and turning everything upside down pell-mell

And they who bear the name of Atlas’ daughters seven oft bewailed their sire’s supremest labour of sustaining heaven, where as wingless Peleiades they have the form of phantoms of the night.

And luxurious locks, like those of delicate maidens; wherefore they approved the name Curetes for the folk.

Or the master of his craft was present, deftly striking the lyre

To him that toileth God oweth glory, child of his toil.

But I too have a seal, as a guard, upon my lips.

He who is truly happy should bide at home [and he who fares ill, he too should bide at home]

So much, Herald, do thou set forth from me point by point.

Or reckless madness from the gods

Applying knavish tricks

Who had four fillies under yoke, their nostrils bound with fluted muzzles.

Until Zeus, letting fall the drops from his hands, himself shall purify thee with sprinklings of the blood of a slain swine

Is it some Aethiopian dame that shall appear?

A newly caught antelope, a lion’s food

Push on, pursue, in no wise faint of foot!

Wingless, tiny, but just now bare of the egg-shell

Apollo, the ivy-crowned, the reveller, the seer

Mistress maiden, ruler of the stormy mountains