King.
As from what soil this troop may we salute, 230
Band un-Hellenic, in barbaric robes
And folds luxuriant? This female gear
Nor Argos knows, nor any tract of Hellas.
How without heralds, without public hosts,
E'en destitute of guides, ye to this land
Fearless have dared to come, is marvellous!
Branches, indeed, as is the suppliant's wont,
Lie near you, hard by these Agonian gods;
By this alone may Hellas form surmise;
And many other things to guess were just, 240
Were none at hand by living voice to tell.
Chorus.
Touching my garb not falsely hast thou spoken;
But whom do I address? A citizen,
Or temple-guard, or leader of the state?
King.
In that regard speak thou and answer make
Fearless; earth-born Palaechthon's son am I,
Of this Pelasgic country potentate.
And they this soil who reap, from me, their lord,
Race of Pelasgi rightfully are named.
For all the land through which clear Strymon flows, 250
Towards the setting sun, my sway doth own.
My realm the lands of the Perrhæbi gird,
Those beyond Pindus to Paeonia near,
And high Dodona; ocean's watery bourne
