Remains the god-gift to the slave-soul present.
Kas. Apollon, Apollon,
Guard of the ways, my destroyer!
Ha, whither hast thou led me? to what roof now?
Cho. To the Atreidai's roof: if this thou know'st not,
I tell it thee, nor this wilt thou call falsehood.
Kas. How! how!
God-hated, then! Of many a crime it knew—
Self-slaying evils, halters too:
Man's-shambles, blood-besprinkler of the ground!