102
ATALANTA IN CALYDON.
CHORUS.
It is sung, it is told,
And the light thereof hurled
And the noise thereof rolled
From the Acroceraunian snow to the ford of the fleece
of gold.
MELEAGER.
Forth of all these;
Heap sand and bury me
By the Chersonese
Where the thundering Bosphorus answers the thunder of
Pontic seas.
ŒNEUS.
And the singing begun
And the men of strange days
Praising my son
In the folds of the hills of home, high places of Calydon?
