Page:Agamemnon (Murray 1920).djvu/70

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Dark upon dark, new ominous words of ill!

Sure there hath swept on thee some Evil Thing,

Crushing, which makes thee bleed

And in the torment of thy vision sing

These plaining death-fraught oracles Yet still, still,

Their end I cannot read!

'Fore God, mine oracle shall no more hide

With veils his visage, like a new-wed bride!

A shining wind out of this dark shall blow,

Piercing the dawn, growing as great waves grow,

To burst in the heart of sunrise stronger far

Than this poor pain of mine. I will not mar

With mists my wisdom.

Be near me as I go,

Tracking the evil things of long ago,

And bear me witness. For this roof, there clings

Music about it, like a choir which sings

One-voiced, but not well-sounding, for not good

The words are. Drunken, drunken, and with blood,

To make them dare the more, a revelling rout

Is in the rooms, which no man shall cast out,

Of sister Furies. And they weave to song,

Haunting the House, its first blind deed of wrong,

Spurning in turn that King's bed desecrate,

Defiled, which paid a brother's sin with hate.