Nay, the true net is she who shares his bed,
Who shares in working death.
Ha! let the Band insatiable in hate[[357]]
Howl for the race its wild exulting cry
O'er sacrifice that calls
For death by storm of stones.
Strophe VI
Chor. What dire Erinnys bidd'st thou o'er our house
To raise shrill cry? Thy speech but little cheers;
And to my heart there rush