STROPHE IV. For the Furies work readily Vengeance unsparing, Surely and steadily Ruin preparing. Dark crimes strictly noted, Sure-memoried they store them; {154} And, judgment once voted, Prayers vainly implore them. For they know no communion With the bright-throned union Of the gods of the day; Where the living appear not, Where the pale Shades near not, In regions delightless, All sunless and sightless, They dwell far away. ANTISTROPHE IV. What mortal reveres not Our deity awful? When he names us, who fears not To work deeds unlawful? From times hoary-dated, This statute for ever Divinely was fated; Time takes from it never. For dishonour we bear not, Though the bright thrones we share not With the gods of the day. Our right hoary-dated We claim unabated, Though we dwell, where delightless No sun cheers the sightless, 'Neath the ground far away. [_Enter_ ATHENA. ATHENA. The cry that called me from Scamander's banks[n33] I heard afar, even as I hied to claim The land for mine which the Achæan chiefs Assigned me, root and branch, my portion fair Of the conquered roods, a goodly heritage To Theseus' sons. Thence, with unwearied foot, I journeyed here by these high-mettled steeds Car-borne, my wingless ægis in the gale Full-bosomed whirring. And now, who are ye, A strange assembly, though I fear you not, Here gathered at my gates? I speak to both, To thee the stranger, that with suppliant arms Enclasps my statue--Whence art thou? And you, {155} Like to no generation seed-begotten, Like to no goddess ever known of gods, Like to no breathing forms of mortal kind; But to reproach with contumelious phrase Who wrong not us, nor courtesy allows, Nor Themis wills. Whence are ye? CHORUS. Daughter of Jove, 'Tis shortly said: of the most ancient Night The tristful daughters we, and our dread name, Even from the fearful CURSE we bear, we borrow.[f14] ATHENA. I know you, and the dreaded name ye bear. CHORUS. Our sacred office, too-- ATHENA. That I would hear. CHORUS. The guilty murderer from his home we hunt. ATHENA. And the hot chase, where ends it? CHORUS. There, where joy Is never named. ATHENA. And is this man the quarry, That, with hoarse-throated whoop, thou now pursuest? CHORUS. He slew his mother--dared the worst of crimes. ATHENA. What mightier fear, what strong necessity Spurred him to this? CHORUS. What fear so strong that it Should prompt a mother's murder? ATHENA. There are two parties. Only one hath spoken. CHORUS. He'll neither swear himself, nor take my oath.[n34]