The Argonauts

22 ARGONAUTAE The work is done. Let miracle inspire- Tolchian voices to the holy hymn, Praise to black Ares, echo of this doom. CHORUS. So fearful is the wrath divine, That once aroused it shall not sleep, Though prostrate slaves before the shrine Pray, praise, do sacrifice, and weep. Ten generations following past Shall not exhaust the curse at last. From father unto son it flees, An awful heritage of woe. Wives feel its cancerous prodigies Invade their wombs; the children know The inexpiable word, exhaust Not by a tenfold holocaust. Thus let mankind abase in fear Their hearts, nor sacrilege profane The awful slumber of the seer, The dread adytum of the fane; Nor gain the mockery of a fleece, Losing reality of peace. Hail to wild Ares! Men, rejoice That He can thus avenge his shrine! One solemn cadence of that voice Peal through the ages, shake the spine