Men's homes to destroy is the Furies' employ.
When Ares in strife
Robs a brother of life,
†Relentless, the blood-dripping caitiff we chase;—
Though girded with strength, he must falter at length,
And falls, overpowered in the race.
Antistrophe II.
No partner brook we in our time-honoured cares, 340
†Nor share with the gods jurisdiction nor prayers.
For, us,—the detested,—
Blood-stained, sable-vested,
High Zeus from his hall did exclude one and all.
So downward we stoop
On our foe with fell swoop,
And crush him with heavy footfall where he lies;
†These limbs overthrow both the swift and the slow;
Once prostrate, our victims ne'er rise. 350
Strophe III.
Men's glory, though beneath the sky
Proudly august, below the earth
Dwindles dishonoured, nothing worth,
Before our dark-stoled company,
What time in bodeful dance, untired, our feet we ply.
Antistrophe III.
Through evil blind, the wretch, though prone,
Knows not his fall; for dark the cloud
That doth the guilty mind o'ershroud;
