On this the boy by gentle tones
No more essay’d to move the crones,
But wildly forth with frenzied tongue
These curses Thyestean flung.
“Your sorceries, and spells, and charms
To man may compass deadly harms,
But heaven’s great law of Wrong and Right
Will never bend before their might.
My curse shall haunt you, and my hate
No victim’s blood shall expiate.