“All godlike power is calm.”
It would be unfair not to advertise the English reader that this fine sentiment is a translation from a conjectural reading, πᾶν ἄπονον δαιμονιων, of Well., which, however, is in beautiful harmony with the context. The text generally in this part of the play is extremely corrupt. In the present stanza, Well.’s correction of δε ἀπιδων into ἐλπίδων deserves to be celebrated as one of the few grand triumphs of verbal criticism that have a genuine poetical value.
“Ah! well-a-day! ah! well-a-day!”
The reader must imagine here a complete change in the style of the music—say from the major to the minor key. In the whole Chorus, the mind of the singer sways fitfully between a hopeful confidence and a dark despair. The faith in the counsel of Jove, and in the sure destruction of the wicked, so finely expressed in the preceding stanzas, supports the sinking soul but weakly in this closing part of the hymn. These alterations of feeling exhibited under such circumstances will appear strange to no one who is acquainted with the human, and especially with the female heart.
“Ye Apian hills.”
“Apia, an old name for Peloponnesus, which remains still a mystery, even after the attempt of Butmann to throw light upon it.”—Grote, Hist, of Greece, Part I. c. 4. Æschylus’ own account of Apis, the supposed originator of the name Apia, will be found in this play a few lines below. I have consulted Butmann, and find nothing but a conglomeration of vague and slippery etymologies.
“. . . rounded cars.”