No more it rains in drops:
And for another deed of mischief dire,
Fate whets the righteous doom
On other whetstones still.
Antistrophe II
O Earth! O Earth! Oh, would thou had'st received me,
Ere I saw him on couch
Of bath with silvered walls thus stretched in death!
Who now will bury him, who wail? Wilt thou,
When thou hast slain thy husband, have the heart