 | Tiresias |  |
Wretches are honoured now, and heroes slain.
Is there then no appeal, O Chariclo?
Can crime thus vault and yet the race endure?
These sons of glory, favoured of the Gods,
Thus slain and unavenged!
Is there then no appeal, O Chariclo?
Can crime thus vault and yet the race endure?
These sons of glory, favoured of the Gods,
Thus slain and unavenged!
| Tiresias | |