GetPassage urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0085.tlg005.perseus-eng4:61-77 urn:cts:greekLit:tlg0085.tlg005.perseus-eng4:61-77

Of Atreus: for that wife, the many-husbanded,Appointing many a tug that tries the limb,While the knee plays the prop in dust, while, shredTo morsels, lies the spear-shaft; in those grimMarriage-prolusions when their Fury wedDanaoi and Troes, both alike. All’s said:Things are where things are, and, as fate has willed,So shall they be fulfilled.Not gently-grieving, not just doling outThe drops of expiation — no, nor tears distilled —Shall he we know of bring the hard aboutTo soft — that intense ireAt those mock rites unsanctified by fire.But we pay nought here: through our flesh, age-weighed,Left out from who gave aidIn that day, — we remain,Staying on staves a strengthThe equal of a child’s at length.For when young marrow in the breast doth reign,That’s the old man’s match, — Ares out of place