Of this strife's issue. I will keep good watch, 695
Holding the sword aye ready in my grasp:
For never, overmastered, to my foes
Will I for vengeance-outrage yield me up.
Orestes, Pylades, and Old Man.
Chorus.
(Str. 1)
In ancient song is the tale yet told[1]
How Pan, the Master of forest and mead, 700
Unearthly sweet while the melody rolled
From his pipes of cunningly-linkèd reed,
Did of yore from the mountains of Argos lead,
From the midst of the tender ewes of the fold,
A lamb bright-fleeced with the splendour of gold.
From the steps of marble the herald then
Cried all the folk to the market-place—
"To the gathering away, Mycenian men!
On the awesome portent press to gaze 710
Of the lords of the heaven-favoured race!"
And with blithe acclaim the dancers came, and with songs of praise.
(Ant. 1)
And the gold-laid pavements in glorious wise
Were tapestry-spread: through street on street
- ↑ When Atreus and Thyestes, sons of Pelops, both claimed the throne, it was decided that whichever of them should display a divine portent should be king. A lamb with golden fleece appeared amongst the flocks of Atreus; but Aeropê, his wife, conveyed it to her paramour Thyestes. Atreus, in revenge, threw Aeropê into the sea, murdered Thyestes' sons, and served their flesh up at a feast to their father. In horror at the deed the sun turned his course backward from west to east for one day.
