Page:Eumenides (Murray 1925).djvu/41

vv. 421–430

We hunt from home the shedder of man's blood.

What end appoint ye to that flight of his?

A land where none remembereth what joy is.

And such a chase on this man thou wilt cry?

Who dared to be his mother's murderer, aye.

What goaded him? Some fear, some unseen wrath?

What goad could drive a man on such a path?

Why speaketh one alone, when two are there?

He will not swear, nor challenge me to swear.

Which wouldst thou, to seem righteous, or to be?