The Furies

To the daughters of Darkness, what plea can be made?
For their fury is awful: their rage is not stayed.
The false swearers of oaths shall be chased, and they’ll bind
Up the wicked: their torments shall reach to the mind,
And insanity gripping their hearts shall consume
All their joy, with their health, and they’ll wallow in gloom,
‘Til at last they are swallowed by grief and their fate
Is their utter destruction. Devouring hate
From the Furies shall mark them, and hounded they’ll go
To the depths of the earth, and Tartarus below.
For the goddesses suffer that nothing should live
If it’s guilty; their vengeance will never forgive;
For the soul that is wicked, the three will repay,
And escape he will not, to his dread and dismay.