Wake amid gloom, and howling, and the noise
Of sinners pinion'd on the torturing wheel,
And the stanch Furies' never-silent scourge.
And bid the chief tormentors there provide
For a grand culprit shortly coming down.
Go thou the first, and usher in thy lord!
A more just stroke than that thou gav'st my son
Take ——
[Merope advances towards the sleeping Æpytus, with the axe uplifted. At the same moment Arcas re-enters.
ARCAS (to THE CHORUS).
Not with him to council did the King
Carry his messenger, but left him here.
[Sees Merope and Æpytus.
O Gods!...
MEROPE.
Foolish old man, thou spoil'st my blow!
ARCAS.
What do I see?...
MEROPE.
A murderer at death's door.
Therefore no words!
ARCAS.
A murderer?...
MEROPE.
And a captive
To the dear next-of-kin of him he murder'd.
Stand, and let vengeance pass!
