See ye, where Ares, breathing slaughter still,
Speeds on his onward way,
Slaughter that none may check;
E'en at this very hour, beneath the roof,
They go who track all evil deeds of guile,
The hands whom none escape;
And lo! my soul's dream doth not tarry long
Floating in wild suspense;

For now beneath the roof-tree he has passed,
The avenger of the dead,
Treading with subtle feet,
E'en to his father's high ancestral halls,
And in his hands bears slaughter newly edged;
And Hermes, Maia's son,
Hiding their counsel, leads them to the goal,
Leads on, and tarries not.

Sophocles

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/avenger-of-the-dead/