And now, no more shall my prophecy peer forth from behind a veil
like a new-wedded bride
But it will rush upon me clear as a fresh wind
blowing against the sun's uprising so as to dash against its rays,
like a wave, a woe far mightier than mine.
No more by riddles will I instruct you.
And bear me witness, as, running close behind,
I scent the track of crimes done long ago.
For from this roof never departs a choir chanting in unison,
but singing no harmonious tune;
for it tells of no good.
Aeschilus, Agamemnon
