Flashed flames of the Argives' sacrifice;
And the voices were ringing of flutes most sweet,
Which render the Muses service meet:
Aye richer-swelling did glad songs rise
Of the golden lamb, of Thyestes' prize.
For the nets of a love with dark guile fraught 720
O'er the soul of Atreus' bride did he fling;
And the marvel so to his halls hath he brought,
And hath sped to the thronged folk, publishing
How his palace had gotten that strange horned thing,
The golden-fleeced:—and the strife so ceased, and they hailed him king,[1]
(Str. 2)
Then, then, in his anger arose Zeus, turning
The stars' feet back on the fire-fretted way;
Yea, and the Sun's car splendour-burning,
And the misty eyes of the morning grey. 730
And with flash of his chariot-wheels back-flying
Flushed crimson the face of the fading day:
To the north fled the clouds with their burden sighing;
And for rains withheld, and for dews fast-drying
The dwellings of Ammon in faintness were yearning,
For sweet showers crying to heavens denying.
(Ant. 2)
It is told of the singers—scant credence such story,
Touching secrets of Gods, of my spirit hath won—
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