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P and lead the dance of Fate!
- Lift the song that mortals hate!
- Tell what rights are ours on earth,
- Over all of human birth.
- Swift of foot to avenge are we!
- He whose hands are clean and pure,
- Naught our wrath to dread hath he;
- Calm his cloudless days endure.
- But the man that seeks to hide
- Like him, his gore-bedewèd hands,
- Witnesses to them that died,
- The blood avengers at his side,
- The Furies' troop forever stands.
Aeschylus ~ Song of the Furies
