Such have I seen in painted semblance erst-
Winged Harpies, snatching food from Phineus' board,-
But these are wingless, black, and all their shape
The eye's abomination to behold.
Fell is the breath-let none draw nigh to it-
Exude the damned drops of poisonous ire:
And such their garb as none should dare to bring
To statues of the gods or homes of men.
I wot not of the tribe wherefrom can come
So fell a legion, nor in what land Earth
Could rear, unharmed, such creatures, nor avow
That she had travailed and had brought forth death.
But, for the rest, be all these things a carp
Unto the mighty Loxias, the lord
Of this our shrine: healer and prophet he,
Discerner he of portents, and the cleanser
Of other homes-behold, his own to cleanse!
She goes out. The central doors open, disclosing the interior of the
temple. Orestes clings to the central altar; the Furies lie slumbering
at a little distance; Apollo and Hermes appear from the innermost
shrine.
Studies
