Page:House of Atreus 2nd ed (1889).djvu/188

152 Fate, all-pervading Fate, this service spun, commanding

That I should bide therein:

Whosoe'er of mortals, made perverse and lawless,

Is stained with blood of kin,

By his side are we, and hunt him ever onward,

Till to the Silent Land,

The realm of death, he cometh; neither yonder

In freedom shall he stand.

Hear the hymn of hell,

O'er the victim sounding,—

Chant of frenzy, chant of ill,

Sense and will confounding!

Round the soul entwining

Without lute or lyre—

Soul in madness pining,

Wasting as with fire!

When from womb of Night we sprang, on us this labour

Was laid and shall abide.

Gods immortal are ye, yet beware ye touch not

That which is our pride!

None may come beside us gathered round the blood-feast—

For us no garments white

Gleam on a festal day; for us a darker fate is,

Another darker rite.

That is mine hour when falls an ancient line—

When in the household's heart

The God of blood doth slay by kindred hands,—

Then do we bear our part:

On him who slays we sweep with chasing cry:

Though he be triply strong,

We wear and waste him; blood atones for blood,

New pain for ancient wrong.