Wrought by a ruthless woman. Was she stung
By heavy-handed wrath, to life that sprung
When on the altar Iphigeneia lay
Beside Euripus’ sea-gorge, far away
From her own land? Or was she adultery’s thrall
Passion-seduced to sin beneath night’s pall?—
For brides new-wedded hatefullest transgression,
Not to be hidden, made the world’s possession