He shall be vanquished. Our land’s chivalry
Are valiant, valiant every warrior son
Of Theseus.—On they run?
Frontlet and bridle glancing to the light,
Forward each steed is straining to the fight,
Forward each eye and hand
Of all that mounted band,
Athena’s knighthood, champions of her name
And his who doth the mighty waters tame,
Rhea’s son that from of old
Doth the Earth with seas enfold.
Strive they? Or is the battle still to be? II 1
An eager thought in me
Is pleading, ‘Soon must they restore
The enduring maid, whose kinsmen vex her sore!’
To-day shall Zeus perform his will.
The noble cause wins my prophetic skill.
Oh! had I wings, and like a storm-swift dove
Poised on some aëry cloud might there descry
The conflict from above,
Scouring the region with mine eye!
Sovran of Heaven, all-seeing Zeus, afford II 2
Unto this nation’s lord
Puissance to crown the fair emprise,
Thou, and all-knowing Pallas, thy dread child!
Apollo, huntsman of the wild,
—Thou and thy sister, who doth still pursue
Swift many-spotted stags,—arise, arise,
With love we pray you, be our champions true!
Yea, both together come
To aid our people and our home!
Leader of Ch. Ah! wanderer friend, thou wilt not have to accuse
Thy seer of falsehood. I behold the maids
This way once more in safe protection brought.
Oed. Where? Is it true? How say you?
Ant. Father, father!
Oh that some God would give thee once to see
The man whose royal virtue brings us hither!
