Herakles.
Go to—thus banquet mountain-beasts, not horses. 495
Chorus.
Nay, thou shalt see their cribs with gore bespattered.
Herakles.
Whom boasteth he for father, he that reared them?
Chorus.
Ares, the king of Thracia's golden shield.
Herakles.
Thou say'st: such toil my fate imposeth still,
Harsh evermore, uphillward straining aye, 500
If I must still in battle close with sons
Gotten of Arês; with Lykaon first,
And Kyknus then: and lo, I come to grapple—
The third strife this—with yon steeds and their lord.
But never man shall see Alkmênê's child 505
Quailing before the hand of any foe.
Chorus.
Lo, there himself, the ruler of the land,
Admetus, cometh forth his palace-hall.
Enter Admetus.
Admetus.
Hail, O thou sprung from Zeus' and Perseus' blood!
Herakles.
Admetus, hail thou too, Thessalia's king. 510
