CR. You shall not make your merchandise on me! TI. Not many courses of the racing sun Shalt thou fulfil, ere of thine own true blood Thou shalt have given a corpse in recompense For one on earth whom thou hast cast beneath, Entombing shamefully a living soul, And one whom thou hast kept above the ground And disappointed of all obsequies, Unsanctified and godlessly forlorn. Such violence the powers beneath will bear Not even from the Olympian gods. For thee The avengers wait. Hidden but near at hand, Lagging but sure, the Furies of the grave Are watching for thee to thy ruinous harm, With thine own evil to entangle thee. Look well to it now whether I speak for gold! A little while, and thine own palace-halls Shall flash the truth upon thee with loud noise Of men and women, shrieking o'er the dead. And all the cities whose unburied sons, Mangled and torn, have found a sepulchre In dogs or jackals or some ravenous bird That stains their incense with polluted breath, Are forming leagues in troublous enmity. Such shafts, since thou hast stung me to the quick, I like an archer at thee in my wrath Have loosed unerringly--carrying their pang, Inevitable, to thy very heart. Now, sirrah! lead me home, that his hot mood Be spent on younger objects, till he learn To keep a safer mind and calmer tongue. [_Exit_ CH. Sire, there is terror in that prophecy. He who is gone, since ever these my locks, Once black, now white with age, waved o'er my brow, Hath never spoken falsely to the state. CR. I know it, and it shakes me to the core. To yield is dreadful: but resistingly To face the blow of fate, is full of dread. CH. The time calls loud on wisdom, good my lord. CR. What must I do? Advise me. I will obey. CH. Go and release the maiden from the vault, And make a grave for the unburied dead. CR. Is that your counsel? Think you I will yield? CH. With all the speed thou mayest: swift harms from heaven With instant doom o'erwhelm the froward man. CR. Oh! it is hard. But I am forced to this Against myself. I cannot fight with Destiny. CH. Go now to do it. Trust no second hand. CR. Even as I am, I go. Come, come, my people. Here or not here, with mattocks in your hands Set forth immediately to yonder hill! And, since I have ta'en this sudden turn, myself, Who tied the knot, will hasten to unloose it. For now the fear comes over me, 'tis best To pass one's life in the accustomed round. [_Exeunt_ CHORUS. O God of many a name! I 1 Filling the heart of that Cadmeian bride With deep delicious pride, Offspring of him who wields the withering flame! Thou for Italia's good Dost care, and 'midst the all-gathering bosom wide[7] Of Deo dost preside; Thou, Bacchus, by Ismenus' winding waters 'Mongst Thebe's frenzied daughters, Keep'st haunt, commanding the fierce dragon's brood.