Chorus.
Mother, we would not by aught we might say
Alarm unduly or raise hopes too high.
Better approach the gods, better go pray,
If shapes of ugly seeming haunt thine eye.
Beseech them to deliver thee from ill,
And for thyself, thy children and the State
And all thou lovest good things to fulfil.
This done, with drink-offerings propitiate
Earth and the dead; and then entreat thy spouse,
Darius, whom thou say'st that yesternight
Thou did'st behold, for thee and for thy house
Up from the underworld into the light
To' send good luck, and adverse things blindfold
Muffle in nether darkness. Not untaught
By my prophetic soul have I made bold
To speak, convinced so best may good be sought.
Queen.
Well, come what may, my dream hath found in thee
A first expounder loyal to our son
And all our house. May fair as fair can be
Befall. I'll get me home. All shall be done
In honour of the gods and the dear dead
That dwell beneath the earth, as thou hast said.
But, good my friends, tell me where Athens lies?
Chorus.
Far, far away, westwards—beyond these skies,—
Where kingly Helios pales his golden fires.
Queen.
Is that the land that our dear son desires,
Gone on so long a chase, to make his prey?
