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54

Already I showed my people all their path.

And Loxias did not smite thee in his wrath?

After that sin no man believed me more.

Nay, then, to us thy wisdom seemeth sure.

Oh, oh! Agony, agony!

Again the awful pains of prophecy

Are on me, maddening as they fall.

Ye see them there beating against the wall?

So young like shapes that gather in a dream

Slain by a hand they loved. Children they seem,

Murdered and in their hands they bear baked meat:

I think it is themselves. Yea, flesh; I see it;

And inward parts. Oh, what a horrible load

To carry! And their father drank their blood.

From these, I warn ye, vengeance broodeth still,

A lion's rage, which goes not forth to kill

But lurketh in his lair, watching the high

Hall of my war-gone master Master? Aye;

Mine, mine! The yoke is nailed about my neck.

Oh, lord of ships and trampler on the wreck

Of Ilion, knows he not this she-wolf's tongue,

Which licks and fawns, and laughs with ear up-sprung,