To less and less away The Argeians’ flowery prime: And when a remedy more grave and grand Than aught before, — yea, for the storm and dearth, — The prophet to the foremost in command Shrieked forth, as cause of this Adducing Artemis, So that the Atreidai striking staves on earth Could not withhold the tear) —
 Then did the king, the elder, speak this clear. Heavy the fate, indeed, — to disobey! Yet heavy if my child I slay, The adornment of my household: with the tide Of virgin-slaughter, at the altar-side, A father’s hands defiling: which the way Without its evils, say? How shall I turn fleet-fugitive, Failing of duty to allies? Since for a wind-abating sacrifice And virgin blood, — ’t is right they strive, Nay, madden with desire. Well may it work them — this that they require! But when he underwent necessity’s Yoke-trace, — from soul blowing unhallowed change Unclean, abominable, — thence—another man — The audacious mind of him began Its wildest range. For this it is gives mortals hardihood — Some vice-devising miserable mood Of madness, and first woe of all the brood.