And doubles crime on impious crime.
Bent on his wretched mother's death,
He brooks no tarrying of fate.365
His willing creatures work his will,
And in the hapless woman's breast
The fatal sword is plunged; but she
To that fell minister of death
Appeals with dying tongue: "Nay here,
Here rather strike the murderous blow,
Here sheathe thy sword, deep in the womb370