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SCENE FROM THE EUMENDIES.
The Furies' Hymn, whose numbers rollLike harsh stern fetters o'er the soul,And waste the mortal wretch away,Spirit and frame, in slow decay!
This is the curse by Fate ordain'dIts chains around the man to wind,Whose hands with kindred blood are stain'dNo succour may the doom'd-one findThus must he suffer, till he dieAnd sink among the shades below;Nor may he then from judgment fly,His death is no release from woe.
O'er our victim raise the strain,To smite and warp the jarring brain,To sway the will, the thoughts to bind,To light up madness in the mindThe Furies' Hymn, whose numbers rollLike harsh stern fetters o'er the soul,And waste the mortal wretch away,Spirit and frame, in slow decay!
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