Page:Tragedies of Seneca (1907) Miller.djvu/333

Rh Here also is the Phrygian turban hung Of Pelops' self; and here the spoil of foes, A rich embroidered robe, the prize of war. An oozy stream springs there beneath the shade, And sluggish creeps along within the swamp, Just like the ugly waters of the Styx Which bind the oaths of heaven. 'Tis said that here At dead of night the hellish gods make moan, And all the grove resounds with clanking chains, And mournful howl of ghosts. Here may be seen Whatever, but to hear of, causes fear. The spirits of the ancient dead come forth From old, decaying tombs, and walk abroad; While monsters, greater than the world has known, Go leaping round, grotesque and terrible. The whole wood gleams with an uncanny light, And without sign of fire the palace glows. Ofttimes the grove re-echoes with the sound Of threefold bayings of the dogs of hell, And oft do mighty shapes affright the house. Nor are these fears allayed by light of day; For night reigns ever here, and e'en at noon The horror of the underworld abides. From this dread spot are sure responses given To those who seek the oracle; the fates With mighty sound from out the grot are told, And all the cavern thunders with the god. T'was to this spot that maddened Atreus came, His brother's children dragging in his train. The sacrificial altars are adorned— Oh, who can worthily describe the deed? Behind their backs the noble captives' hands Are bound, and purple fillets wreathe their brows. All things are ready, incense, sacred wine, The sacrificial meal, and fatal knife. The last detail is properly observed, That this outrageous murder may be done In strict observance of the ritual! Chorus: Who lays his hand unto the fatal steel?