No fancy would I take of soul sleep-burthened.CHOROS.But has there Puffed thee up some unwinged omen?KLUTAIMNESTRA.As a young maid’s my mind thou mockest grossly.CHOROS.Well, at what time was — even sacked, the city?KLUTAIMNESTRA.Of this same mother Night — the dawn, I tell thee.CHOROS.And who of messengers could reach this swiftness? KLUTAIMNESTRA.Hephaistos — sending a bright blaze from Ide.Beacon did beacon send, from fire the poster,Hitherward: Ide to the rock HermaianOf Lemnos: and a third great torch o’ the islandZeus’ seat received in turn, the Athoan summit.And, — so upsoaring as to stride sea over,The strong lamp-voyager, and all for joyance —Did the gold-glorious splendour, any sun like,Pass on — the pine-tree — to Makistos’ watch-place;Who did not, — tardy, — caught, no wits about him,