Hyllos. But, so I hear, from this he has escaped.
Deian. Where now, or dead or living, tell they of him?
Hyllos. 'Tis said that he makes war, or plans to make,
On some Eubœan town of Eurytos'.
Deian. And dost thou know, my son, that he has left
With me true oracles of that same land?
Hyllos. What were they, mother? I know nought of them.
Deian. This, or that he shall find the end of life,
Or having this his task accomplished,80
Shall, through the coming years of all his life,
Rejoice and prosper. When the scales thus hang,
Wilt thou not go, my child, to give thy help,
*When either we a great deliverance gain,
*Or, if he perish, perish too with him?
Hyllos. Yes, I will go, my mother. Had I known
The utterance of these oracles, long since
I had been there. And, now that I have heard,
I will not fail in aught to learn the truth,90
The whole truth, of these matters. Yet the fate
Which waits upon my father gives no cause
For hasty dread and over-anxious care.
Deian. Go then, my son. To hear he prospers well,
Though one hear late, brings balance large of gain.
Stroph. I.
Chor. Thee, whom the Night, star-spangled, bringeth forth,
Smitten and spoiled by thee,
Whom, in thy strength of fire,
She lulls to calmest couch,[1]
- ↑ The words embody the old mythos that the sun each night lay down to rest in a winged boat in the far West, and that the boat bore him over the great ocean till he appeared once again in the East.
