nce still would be unnatural.
Oh let him!--Others have had evil sons
And passionate anger, but the warning voice
Of friends hath charmed their mood. Then do not thou
Look narrowly upon thy present griefs,
But on those ancient wrongs thou didst endure
From father and from mother. Thence thou wilt learn
That evil passion ever ends in woe.
Thy sightless eyes are no light argument
To warn thee through the feeling of thy loss.
Relent and hear us! 'Tis a mere disgrace
To beg so long for a just boon. The King
Is kind to thee. Be generous in return.

OED. Child, your dear pleading to your hard request
Hath won me. Let this be as ye desire.
Only, my lord, if he is to come near,
Let no man's power molest my liberty.

THE. I need no repetition, aged friend,
Of that request. Vaunt will I not, but thou
Be sure, if Heaven protect me, thou art free.

CHORUS.
Who, loving life, hath sought I 1
To outlive the appointed span,
Shall be arraigned before my thought
For an infatuate man.
Since the added years entail
Much that is bitter,--joy
Flies out of ken, desire doth fail,
The longed-for moments cloy.
But when the troublous life,
Be it less or more, is past,
With power to end the strife
Comes rescuing Death at last.
Lo! the dark bridegroom waits! No festal choir
Shall grace his destined hour, no dance, no lyre!

Far best were ne'er to be, I 2
But, having seen the day,
Next best by far for each to flee
As swiftly as each may,
Yonder from whence he came:
For once let Youth be there
With her light fooleries, who shall name
The unnumbered brood of Care?
No trial spared, no fall!
Feuds, battles, murders, rage,
Envy, and last of all,
Despised, dim, friendless age!
Ay, there all evils, crowded in one room,
Each at his worst of ill, augment the gloom.

Such lot is mine, and round this man of woe, II
--As some grey headland of a northward shore
Bears buffets of all-wintry winds that blow,--
New storms of Fate are bursting evermore
In thundrous billows, borne
Some from the waning light,
Some through mid-noon, some from the rising morn,
Some from the realm of Night.

ANT. Ah! Who comes here? Sure 'tis the Argive m