themselves to rest, I lie Upon my couch, and sorrows thick and sharp Awake new misery in my heart. As when, In the fresh spring, the swarthy Nightingale, Daughter of Pandarus, among thick leaves Sings sweetly to the woods, and, changing oft The strain, pours forth her voice of many notes, Lamenting the beloved Itylus, Her son by royal Zethos, whom she smote Unwittingly, and slew; with such quick change My mind is tossed from thought to thought. I muse Whether to keep my place beside my son, And hold what here is mine, my dower, my maids And high-roofed halls, as one who still reveres Her husband’s bed, and heeds the public voice, Or follow one of the Achaian chiefs, The noblest of the wooers, and the one Who offers marriage presents without stint. My son’s green years, while he was yet a boy, Unripe in mind, allowed me not to wed, And leave his father’s home; but he is grown, And on the verge of manhood. He desires That I should leave the palace, for his wrath Is great against the men who waste his wealth. Hear, and interpret now a dream of mine: Within these courts are twenty geese that eat Corn from the water, and I look on them Pleased and amused. From off a mountain came A hook-beaked eagle, broke their necks, and left Their bodies strewn about the palace dead, And soared again into the air of heaven. I wept and moaned, although it was a dream; And round me came the fair-haired Grecian maids, Lamenting wildly that the bird of prey Had slain my geese. Then came the eagle back, And took his perch upon the jutting roof, And thus bespake me in a human voice:—
“ ‘O daughter of Icarius, the renowned! Let not thy heart be troubled; this is not A dream, but a true vision, and will be Fulfilled. The geese denote the suitor-train, And I, who was an eagle once, am come, Thy husband, now to end them utterly.’