The Lyrical Dramas of Aeschylus Translated into English Verse

by Aeschylus

Of the gently-winnowing wing,

On this craggy rock I stand,

To hear the tale, while thou mayst tell it,

Of thy sorrows to the end.

Enter Ocean.^[n23]

Ocean.

From my distant caves cerulean^[n24]

This fleet-pinioned bird hath borne me;

Needed neither bit nor bridle,

Thought instinctive reined the creature;