-I can see the Navelstone of the Earth, it's bleeding,
bristling corruption, oh, the guilt it has to bear -
Stains on the hearth! The Prophet stains the vault, he cries it on, drives on the crime himself.
Breaking the god's first law, he rates men first, 170
destroys the old dominions of the Fates.
He wounds me too, yet him he'll never free, plunging under the earth, no freedom then: curst
as he comes for purging, at his neck
he feels new murder springing from his blood. 175
Apollo strides from his sanctuary in full armour, brandishing his bow and driving back the
furies.
APOLLO: Out, I tell you, out of these halls - fast! -set the Prophet's chamber free!
Seizing one of the furies, shaking an arrow across her face.
Or take the flash and stab of this, this flying viper whipped from the golden cord that strings
my bow!
Heave in torment, black froth erupting from your lungs, 180
vomit the clots of all the murders you have drained. But never touch my halls, you have no
right.
Go where heads are severed, eyes gouged out,
where Justice and bloody slaughter are the same...
castrations, wasted seed, young men's glories butchered, 185
extremities maimed, and huge stones at the chest,
and the victims wail for pity -
spikes inching up the spine, torsos stuck on spikes.
The furies close in on him.
So, you hear your love feast, yearn to have it all?
You revolt the gods. Your look, 190
your whole regalia gives you away - your kind
should infest a lion's cavern reeking blood.
But never rub your filth on the Prophet's shrine.
Out, you flock without a herdsman - out!
No god will ever shepherd you with love. 195
Leader: Lord Apollo, now it is your turn to listen. You are no mere accomplice in this crime.
You did it all, and all the guilt is yours.