In her sire’s guest-hall, by the well-heaped boardHad she made music, — lovingly with chimeOf her chaste voice, that unpolluted thing,Honoured the third libation, — paian that should bringGood fortune to the sire she loved so well. What followed — those things I nor saw nor tell.But Kalchas’ arts, — whate’er they indicate, —Miss of fulfilment never: it is fate.True, justice makes, in sufferers, a desireTo know the future woe preponderate.But — hear before is need?To that, farewell and welcome! ’t is the same, indeed,As grief beforehand: clearly, part for part,Conformably to Kalchas’ art,Shall come the event.But be they as they may, things subsequent, —What is to do, prosperity betideE’en as we wish it! — we, the next allied,Sole guarding barrier of the Apian land.

CHOROS.I am come, reverencing power in thee,