The Furies from Orestes

Look, look, alas!
Handmaidens, see-what Gorgon shapes throng up
Dusky their robes and all their hair enwound-
Snakes coiled with snakes-off, off,-I must away!

These are no dreams, void shapes of haunting ill,
But clear to sight another's hell-hounds come!

O king Apollo-see, they swarm and throng-
Black blood of hatred dripping from their eyes!

Ye can behold them not, but I behold them.
Up and away! I dare abide no more.

The Furies from Orestes