The Libation Bearers

oh, the torment bred in the race,

the grinding screech of death

and the stroke that hits the vein

the hemorrhage none can staunch, the grief,

the curse no man can bear.

but there is a cure in the house,

and not outside it no,

not from others, but from them

their bloody strife. we sing to you,

dark gods beneath the earth.

now hear, you blissful powers underground -

answer the call, send help.

bless the children, give them triumph now.

Aeschylus