A sire with joyous greed his children rend,
And hungrily devour their flesh. 'Tis good,
'Tis quite enough. This mode of punishment
So far doth please me well. But where is he?280
Why do the hands of Atreus rest so long
Inactive? Even now before mine eyes
The perfect image of the slaughter comes;
I seem to see the murdered children heaped
Before their father's face. O timid soul,
Why dost thou fear? Why droops thy courage now