Slain by his wife Atrides fell;
His furious son sent to the shades of Hell
The murderess, and returned th’ unnatural deed,
That fatal stroke the god approved,
His oracles ordained that she should bleed,
When young Orestes at the inmost shrine
Was by a heavenly impulse moved,
His hands in gore maternal to imbrue.
O Phœbus, O thou power divine,
How shall I think th’ assertion true?