Antistrophe II.
Driven from her streams and woodlands green,
Lamenting the familiar scene,
She pours a strange wild strain.
Her child she mourns in tuneful breath,
By her own hand consigned to death,
Through rage maternal slain.
Strophe III.
Thus in Ionian strain,
Of plaint enamoured, I complain,
The while my soft, Nile-mellowed cheek I rend,
And heart aflood with tears.
Blossoms I cull of grief, while fears
Possess me, lest our suppliant band, 70
Escaped from that mist-shrouded land,
Find here no guardian friend.
Antistrophe III.
But natal gods, whose eye
Justice regardeth, hear our cry,
Nor, beyond right, let youth its goal attain;
Abhorring haughty wrong,
Let sacred law o'er wedlock reign.
From bale, in war who worsted fly
The altar shieldeth,—bulwark strong,—
Dread awe of gods on high.
Strophe IV.
Though Zeus plan all things right,[1] 80
- ↑ The text is corrupt.
