XXVII. Did not Thyestes himself, not content with having defiled his brother’s bed (of which Atreus with great justice thus complains,
When faithless comforts, in the lewd embrace,
With vile adultery stain a royal race,
The blood thus mix’d in fouler currents flows,
Taints the rich soil, and breeds unnumber’d woes)—
343did he not, I say, by that adultery, aim at the possession of the crown? Atreus thus continues:
A lamb, fair gift of heaven, with golden fleece,
Promised in vain to fix my crown in peace;
But base Thyestes, eager for the prey,
Crept to my bed, and stole the gem away.