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Younger gods, you have ridden down the ancient laws and have taken them from my hands!1 And I—dishonored, unhappy, deeply angry—  on this land, alas, I will release venom from my heart, venom in return for my grief, drops that the land cannot endure. From it, a blight that destroys leaves, destroys children—a just return—  speeding over the plain, will cast infection on the land to ruin mortals. I groan aloud. What shall I do? I am mocked by the people. What I have suffered is unbearable.  Ah, cruel indeed are the wrongs of the daughters of Night, mourning over dishonor!
1 To avoid the collision of metaphors, Abresch assumed the loss of a line in which some qualification of Orestes would have been named as object of the second verb. Verrall thought the object was designedly omitted to indicate the passion of the Erinyes.
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