Zeus, hear and save!
The searching, poisonous hate, that Io vexed and
drave,
Was of a goddess: well I know
The bitter ire, the wrathful woe
Of Hera, queen of heaven—–
A storm, a storm her breath, whereby we yet are driven!
Bethink thee, what dispraise
Of Zeus himself mankind will raise,
If now he turn his face averted from our cries!
If now, dishonoured and alone,
The ox-horned maiden’s race shall be undone,
Children of Epaphus, his own begotten son—–
Zeus, listen from on high!—to thee our
prayers arise.
Zeus, hear and save!
The searching poisonous hate, that Io vexed
and drave,
Was of a goddess: well I know
The bitter ire, the wrathful woe
Of Hera, queen of heaven—
A storm, a storm her breath, whereby we yet
are driven!
Children, be wary—wary he with
whom
Ye come, your trusty sire and steersman
old:
And that same caution hold I here on land,
And bid you hoard my words, inscribing
them
On memory’s tablets. Lo, I
see afar
Dust, voiceless herald of a host, arise;
And hark, within their grinding sockets
ring
Axles of hurrying wheels! I see approach,
Borne in curved cars, by speeding horses
drawn,
A speared and shielded band. The
chiefs, perchance,
Of this their land are hitherward intent
To look on us, of whom they yet have heard
By messengers alone. But come who
may,
And come he peaceful or in ravening wrath
Spurred on his path, ’twere best,
in any case,
Damsels, to cling unto this altar-mound
Made sacred to their gods of festival,—
A shrine is stronger than a tower to save,
A shield that none may cleave. Step
swift thereto,
And in your left hands hold with reverence
The white-crowned wands of suppliance,
the sign
Beloved of Zeus, compassion’s lord,
and speak
To those that question you, words meek
and low
And piteous, as beseems your stranger
state,
Clearly avowing of this flight of yours
The bloodless cause; and on your utterance
See to it well that modesty attend;
From downcast eyes, from brows of pure
control,
Let chastity look forth; nor, when ye
speak,
Be voluble nor eager—they that
dwell
Within this land are sternly swift to
chide.
And be your words submissive: heed
this well;
For weak ye are, outcasts on stranger
lands,
And froward talk beseems not strengthless
hands.
CHORUS
O father, warily to us aware
Thy words are spoken, and thy wisdom’s
best
My mind shall hoard, with Zeus our sire
to aid.
Even so—with gracious aspect
let him aid.
CHORUS
Fain were I now to seat me by thy side.
