and give vent to their delight in a passionate burst of joy, which must have been far more effective in the original music of the ode than it can ever be in an English translation, however gracefully rendered. Once more they may see the "white glory of happy days;" and they call on Pan himself to lead their dance of triumph.
"I thrill with eager delight,
And with passionate joy I leap;
Io Pan! Io Pan! Io Pan!
Come over the waves from the height
Of the cliffs of Cyllene, where sweep
The storm-blasts of snow in their might!
Come, come, O King, at the head
Of the dance of the Gods as they tread.
******
And over Icarian wave,
Coming with will to save,
May Delos' king, Apollo, gloriously advance!
Yes, the dark sorrow and pain
Far from me Ares hath set;
Io Pan! Io Pan! once more;
And now, O Zeus! yet again
May our swift-sailing vessels be met
By the dawn with clear light in its train."—(P.)
But hardly have these joyous strains died away, when a messenger from the Greek camp enters, inquiring for Ajax. Teucer has just returned from the foray, and has with difficulty made his way through the crowd of soldiers, who assailed him with a storm of insults and threats as "the madman's brother." On his entering the council chamber, Calchas, the
