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vv. 761–784. But the man who walketh straight, and the house thereof, tho' Fate

Exalt him, the children shall be fair.

But Old Sin loves, when comes the hour again,

To bring forth New,

Which laugheth lusty amid the tears of men;

Yea, and Unruth, his comrade, wherewith none

May plead nor strive, which dareth on and on,

Knowing not fear nor any holy thing;

Two fires of darkness in a house, born true,

Like to their ancient spring.

But Justice shineth in a house low-wrought

With smoke-stained wall,

And honoureth him who filleth his own lot;

But the unclean hand upon the golden stair

With eyes averse she flieth, seeking where

Things innocent are; and, recking not the power

Of wealth by man misgloried, guideth all

To her own destined hour.

All hail, O King! Hail, Atreus' Son!

Sacker of Cities! Ilion's bane!