Part 26 (1/2)

These be no halls where such as you can prowl-- Go where men lay on men the doom of blood, Heads lopped from necks, eyes from their Sphere plucked out, Hacked flesh, the flower of youthful seed crushed or Feet hewn away, and hands, and death beneath The smiting stone, low moans and piteous Of men impaled--Hark, hear ye for what feast Ye hanker ever, and the loathing G.o.ds Do spit upon your craving? Lo, your shape Is all too fitted to your greed; the cave Where lurks some lion, lapping gore, were home More meet for you. Avaunt from sacred shrines, Nor bring pollution by your touch on all That nears you. Hence! and roam unshepherded-- No G.o.d there is to tend such herd as you.

CHORUS

O king Apollo, in our turn hear us'

Thou hast'not only part in these ill things, But art chief cause and doer of the same.

APOLLO

How? stretch thy speech to tell this, and have done.

CHORUS

Thine oracle bade this man slay his mother.

APOLLO

I bade him quit his sire's death,--wherefore not?

CHORUS

Then didst thou aid and guard red-handed crime.

APOLLO

Yea, and I bade him to this temple flee.

CHORUS

And yet forsooth dost chide us following him!

APOLLO

Ay--not for you it is, to near this fane.

CHORUS

Yet is such office ours, imposed by fate.

APOLLO

What office? vaunt the thing ye deem so fair.

CHORUS

From home to home we chase the matricide.

APOLLO

What? to avenge a wife who slays her lord?

CHORUS