The Furies - The Eumenides (Lines 130-180)Song Rating: 7.66/10
Get him, get him, get him, get him -
there he goes.
THE GHOST OF CLYTAEMNESTRA:
The prey you hunt is just a dream -
like hounds mad for the sport you bay him on,
you never leave the k**.
But what are you doing?
Up! dont yield to the labour, limp with sleep.
Never forget my anguish.
Let my charges hurt you, they are just;
deep in the righteous heart they prod like spurs.
You, blast him on with your gory breath,
the fire of your vitals - wither him, after him,
one last foray - waste him, burn him out!
She vanishes. The lead fury urges on the pack.
I rouse you, you rouse her. Still asleep?
Onto your feet, kick off your stupor.
See if this prelude has some grain of truth.
The furies circle, pursuing the scent with hunting calls, and cry out singly when they find Orestes gone.
- Aieeeeee - no, no, no, they do us wrong, dear sisters.
- The miles of pain, the pain I suffer...
and all for nothing, all for pain, more pain,
the anguish, oh, the grief too much to bear.
- The quarrys slipped from the nets, our quarry lost and gone.
- Sleep defeats me... I have lost the prey.
- You - child of Zeus - you, a common thief!
- Young god, you have ridden down the powers
proud with age. You worship the suppliant,
the godless man who tears his parents heart -
- The matricide, you steal him away, and you a god!
- Guilt both ways, and who can call it justice?
- Not I: her charges stalk my dreams,
Yes, the charioteer rides hard,
her spurs digging the vitals,
under the heart, under the heaving breast -
-I can feel the executioners lash, its searing
deeper, sharper, the knives of burning ice -
- Such is your triumph, you young gods,
world dominion past all rights.
Your throne is streaming blood,
blood at the foot, blood at the crowning head -
-I can see the Navelstone of the Earth, its bleeding,
bristling corruption, oh, the guilt it has to bear -
Stains on the hearth! The Prophet stains the vault,
he cries it on, drives on the crime himself.
Breaking the gods first law, he rates men first,
destroys the old dominions of the Fates.
He wounds me too, yet him hell never free,
plunging under the earth, no freedom then:
curst as he comes for purging, at his neck
he feels new murder springing from his blood.
Apollo strides from his sanctuary in full armour, brandishing his bow and driving back the furies.
Out, I tell you, out of these halls - fast! -
set the Prophets chamber free!
Seizing one of the furies, shaking an arrow across her face.
Or take the flash and stab of this, this flying viper
whipped from the golden cord that strings my bow!
Date of text publication: 16.01.2021 at 10:06