Chorus
Danaus; his brother fifty sons begat.
The King of Argos
Grudge not, in telling, his name too to tell.
Chorus
Aegyptus: thou my lineage old hast heard—
Strive then to aid a kindred Argive band.
The King of Argos
Yea of a truth, in backward scope of time,
Of Argive race ye seem: but say what chance
Fell on you, goading you from home and land?
Chorus
Lord of Pelasgian men, calamity
Is manifold and diverse; as of birds
Feather from feather differs, so of men
The woes are sundry. Who had dared foretell
That this our sudden flight, this hate and fear
Of loathly wedlock, would on Argos' shore
Set forth a race of kindred lineage?
The King of Argos
What crave ye of these gods of festival,
Holding up newly-plucked white-tufted boughs?
Chorus
Ne'er to be slaves unto Aegyptus' race.
