She hailed him there in his pride,
Home from the perilous years,

In the heart of his wallèd lands,
In the Giants' cloud-capt ring;
Herself, none other, laid
The hone to the axe's blade;
She lifted it in her hands,
The woman, and slew her king.

Woe upon spouse and spouse,
Whatso of evil sway
Held her in that distress!
Even as a lioness
Breaketh the woodland boughs
Starving, she wrought her way.

VOICE OF CLYTEMNESTRA.

O Children, Children; in the name of God,
Slay not your mother!

A WOMAN.

Did ye hear a cry
Under the rafters?

ANOTHER.

I weep too, yea, I;