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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - The Masque Of Pandora
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EPIMETHEUS. 
May the Eumenides 
Put out their torches and behold us not, 
And fling away their whips of scorpions 
And touch us not. 

PANDORA. 
Me let them punish. 
Only through punishment of our evil deeds, 
Only through suffering, are we reconciled 
To the immortal Gods and to ourselves. 

CHORUS OF THE EUMENIDES. 
   Never shall souls like these 
   Escape the Eumenides, 
The daughters dark of Acheron and Night! 
   Unquenched our torches glare, 
   Our scourges in the air 
Send forth prophetic sounds before they smite. 

   Never by lapse of time 
   The soul defaced by crime 
Into its former self returns again; 
   For every guilty deed 
   Holds in itself the seed 
Of retribution and undying pain. 

   Never shall be the loss 
   Restored, till Helios 
Hath purified them with his heavenly fires; 
   Then what was lost is won, 
   And the new life begun, 
Kindled with nobler passions and desires.
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