Then yielding to such Loxian Oracles,
He drave me forth, and barred me from his home,
Against his will and mine; but, forcefully,
The curb of Zeus constrained him this to do. 690
Forthwith my shape and mind distorted were,
And horned, as ye behold me, goaded on
By gad-fly, keen of fang, with frenzied bounds
I to Kerchneias' limpid current rush'd,
And fount of Lerna. Then the earth-born herdsman,
Hot-tempered Argos, ever dogged my steps,
Gazing upon me with his myriad eyes.[1]
But him a sudden and unlooked-for fate
Did reave of life; but I, brize-tortured, still
Before the scourge divine am driven on 700
From land to land; the past thou hearest; now
If thou canst tell my future toils, say on,
Nor, pity-moved, soothe me with lying tales,
For garbled words, I hold, are basest ills.
Chorus.
Alas! Alas! Let be!
Never, oh never, had I thought
That words with such strange meaning fraught
Would reach mine ear, 710
Nor that such horrors, woes, such cruel ill,
