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Rh And thou my faithful brother, who alone

Hast cared for me. O Victory, be our own

This day, with Justice who doth hold us fast,

And Zeus most high, who saveth at the last!

O Zeus, O Zeus, look down on our estate!

Hast seen thine eagle's brood left desolate,

The father in the fell toils overborne

Of some foul serpent, and the young forlorn

And starved with famine, still too weak of wing

To bear to the nest their father's harvesting?

Even so am I, O Zeus, and even so

This woman, both disfathered long ago,

Both to one exile cast, both desolate.

He was thy worshipper, thy giver great

Of sacrifice. If thou tear down his nest,

What hand like his shall glorify thy feast?

Blot out the eagle's brood, and where again

Hast thou thy messenger to speak to men?

Blast this most royal oak, what shade shall cool

Thine altars on the death-day of the Bull?

But cherish us, and from a little seed

Thou shalt make great a House now fallen indeed.

O Children, Saviours of your father's House,

Be silent! Children, all is perilous;

And whoso hears may idly speak of ye

To our masters; whom may I yet live to see

Dead where the pine logs ooze in fragrant fire!