Nor how to him I have, in word alone,
Given my daughter's hand.
Old Servant.
Fearfully, Agamemnon, was this done,
That thou shouldst bring thy child, O King,
Hither, named bride unto the Goddess' son,
Yet a burnt-offering!
Agamemnon.
Woe! I was all distraught:
I am reeling ruin-ward!
Speed thy foot, ancient, slacking nought
For eld.
Old Servant.
I speed, my lord. 140
Agamemnon.
Sit thee not down where the forest-founts leap,
Neither be bound by the spell of sleep.
Old Servant.
Breathe not such doubt abhorred!
Agamemnon.
When thou comest where ways part, keenly then
Watch, lest a chariot escape thy ken,
Whose rolling wheels peradventure may bear
My daughter hitherward, even to where
Be the ships of the Danaan men.
For, if thou light on her escort-train,
