Yet nowise unavenged of gods will death be:For there shall come another, our avenger,The mother-slaying scion, father’s doomsman:Fugitive, wanderer, from this land an exile,Back shall he come, — for friends, copestone these curses!For there is sworn a great oath from the gods thatHim shall bring hither his fallen sire’s prostration.Why make I then, like an indweller, moaning?