Hark to the words of the prophet, oracular words of Apollo,Touching the shivery strife in which heroes are facing each other.Loudly they shout in the battle, and fast-flying words are their weapons ; Many a blow while the hisses of conflict are ebbing and flowingThis way and that shall be dealt on the crest of the plowtail stubborn ;Yet when the hook-taloned vulture the grasshopper grips in his clutches,Then shall the rainbearing crows make an end of their cawing forever :Vict’ry shall go to the mules, and the ass will rejoice in his offspring !
What are you guffawing about, Momus? Surely
there is nothing to laugh at in the situation we are
facing. Stop, hang you! You'll choke yourself to
death with your laughing.
How can I, Zeus, when the oracle is so clear and
manifest ?
Well then, suppose you tell us what in the world
it means.
It is quite manifest, so that we shan’t need a
Themistocles.See p. 121, note.. The prophecy says as plainly as you
please that this fellow is a humbug and that you who
believe in him are pack-asses and mules, without
as much sense as grasshoppers.