While, weeping for her lord,
Her tears the poor wife poured,
And her sad heart grew faint with misery,
But now to fury wrought,
Great Ares hath the end of all her dark days brought.
Antistroph. II.
Oh, may he come, yes, come!
Ne'er, till he reach his home,
May his swift ship know hazards nor delays!
Leaving the sea-washed shrine,
Where he, in rite divine,
Is said to offer sacrifice and praise,
So may he come, all calm,
Soothed at the Kentaur's hest by that anointing balm!
821–861.
Stroph. I.
See, Ο ye maidens, how the sacred word
Of that far-seeing Providence of Heaven
Hath sped, through which we heard
That, when the twelfth full harvest-tide should come,
Its months completed, there should then be given
To the true son of Zeus full rest at home
From many a toil and woe;
And rightly all things go;
For how can one who seeth not the day
In bondage still to evils wear his life away?
Antistroph. I.
For if with murderous cloud from Kentaur fierce
A subtle fate wrap all his stalwart frame,
And the hot venom pierce,
