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Apollon, Apollon,

Guard of the ways, my destroyer!

Ha, whither hast thou led me? to what roof now?

To the Atreidai's roof: if this thou know'st not,

I tell it thee, nor this wilt thou call falsehood.

How! How!

God-hated, then! Of many a crime it knew—

Self-slaying evils, halters too:

Man's-shambles, blood-besprinkler of the ground!