[The FURIES mutter loudly, as if waking: the LEADER calls out, "Take heed," and the CHORUS, "Seize him," several times in rapid succession, giving tongue as hounds.]

GHOST.

What, do ye yelp and whine? Out, noisy pack:
Be like stanch bloodhounds, follow up the track.
Let my sharp taunts sink deep into your breast;
Up, and be doing! Is 't a time for rest?
Blow forth the deadly venom of your breath,
Waste him with fire and smoke and lingering death.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS [awaking].

[Exit GHOST.

Why, how now, sluggard! Sleeping at your post?
Awake, arise-our labours else were lost.

[She wakes the FURY next to her, she the next, and so on, in succession, until they all start up distractedly.]

CHORUS.

Powers of vengeance! we're undone ;

Whither, whither hath he run?

Much I've suffer'd, but in vain;

Deep, unutterable pain :—

We, the wakeful, shall be blamed,

We shall be for ever shamed.

From the nets the quarry's gone,

We were sleeping every one.

Stole away! Stole away!

Sisters, we have miss'd the prey.
[Seeing APOLLO.]

Ha, son of Zeus, 'tis thou hast been the thief!

'Tis thou hast snatch'd the victim from mine eyes!

What, shall a God to Murder bring relief,

And clasp a bloody hand in friendly guise?

(v. 125-145.)

Woe, when the stripling tyrant of an hour
Can spurn the adamantine laws of Time;
When licensed felons mock the Furies' power,
And Purity can stoop to shelter Crime!

A vision hover'd near me where I lay,

Yea, lash'd me to the soul with scourges keen:
Still, still I see it, through the glare of day,
A gory bosom, and a spectral queen.

Behold! the centre of a glorious fane

Is streak'd throughout with dripping gouts of blood; On hallow'd ground an everlasting stain

Shall mark the spot where foul Pollution stood.

Degenerate God! for this did Heav'n's command
Yield thee the keys of this time-honour'd pile,
That thou with Guilt shouldst follow hand-in-hand,
And Prophecy's pure seat with blood defile?

Vain are thine arts, and sure is Fate's decree :
Vainly thou part'st the culprit from his doom :

We dog his steps o'er earth and air and sea,
And persecute his soul beyond the tomb.

APOLLO.

Aroint ye, beldames! Hence, accursed crew!
Relieve this temple of your noisome presence!
Lest from my golden bowstring I shoot forth
A hissing shaft, and rive your sooty hides,
So that for pain you vomit up the food,
The hateful food, that swells your glutted maws.
It is not meet that you approach these walls;
Go, where the Exècutors of judgment stalk,

(v. 146-177.)

Where heads are sever'd, eyes from out their sockets
Dug piecemeal, limbs disjointed on the rack;

Where men are pounded down to Hell with stones;
Where poor impalèd wretches gasp for death
Shrieking with agony. Ha! do ye mark
The horrid banquet, which your company
Doth gloat and revel in? a taste that grows
I' th' outward semblance of your hungry visage.
Seek for your home the grisly lion's den ;
Batten with him on bones, lick dripping flesh,
And tarry not to vex this holy shrine.
Go feed, vile flock, without a shepherd's care,
Abhorr'd alike by all the Powers of Air.

CHORUS.

Apollo, thou hast said—now listen: Thou,
Thou art the single cause of all this mischief;
Not an accomplice, but the chief in guilt.

APOLLO.

Aye and indeed? nay, come we to the proof.

CHORUS.

Your oracles induced a mother's death.

APOLLO.

My oracles avenged a father's death.

CHORUS.

Next, you gave refuge to the murderer.

APOLLO.

Yea, in this temple did I harbour him.

CHORUS.

Besides, you have reviled our holy office.

APOLLO.

No: rather your profane intrusion here.

CHORUS.

And yet in this consists our privilege.

(v. 177-199.)

APOLLO.

What privilege? ye boast without your warrant.

CHORUS.

We were ordain'd to punish matricides.

APOLLO.

What, if the woman slain hath kill'd her husband?

CHORUS.

Aye for a husband's is not kindred blood.

APOLLO.

O monstrous reasoning, that turns to scorn
The nuptial pledges of Imperial Zeus,
And makes a cipher of the Queen of Love,
To whom all human passions minister :—
Know that the marriage contract, rightly kept
With full observance, knits a stricter bond
Than any other form of earthly duty.
Wherefore, if murder of a wedded lord
Be counted blameless, and your anger sleeps,
By your own laws I claim Orestes' quittance:
Or else what justice, if you scourge the one,
And let the other triumph unrebuked?
I'll meet you on this question by-and-by:
Immortal Pallas shall the issue try.

CHORUS.

Think not that I will e'er the chase forego.

APOLLO.

Chase on heap toil on toil, add woe to woe.

CHORUS.

What, do you scoff, and flout my sovereign sway?

APOLLO.

Were I thus king'd, I would not reign a day.

CHORUS.

Nay, without this, thou'rt mighty in the skies.-
Now to my task: an injured spectre cries:-

(v. 200-221.)