To wash against the rays a woe much greaterThan this. I will no longer teach by riddles.And witness, running with me, that of evilsDone long ago, I nosing track the footstep!For, this same roof here — never quits a ChorosOne-voiced, not well-tuned since no well it utters:And truly having drunk, to get more courage,Man’s blood — the Komos keeps within the household— Hard to be sent outside — of sister Furies:They hymn their hymn — within the house close sitting —The first beginning curse: in turn spit forth atThe Brother’s bed, to him who spurned it hostile.Have I missed aught, or hit I like a bowman?False prophet am I, — knock at doors, a babbler?Henceforward witness, swearing now, I know notBy other’s word the old sins of this household!