Page:Electra of Euripides (Murray 1913).djvu/64

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A lamb from a mother mild,

But the gold of it curled and beat;

And Pan, who holdeth the keys of the wild,

Bore it to Atreus' feet:

His wild reed pipes he blew,

And the reeds were filled with peace,

And a joy of singing before him flew,

Over the fiery fleece:

And up on the basèd rock,

As a herald cries, cried he:

"Gather ye, gather, O Argive folk,

The King's Sign to see,

The sign of the blest of God,

For he that hath this, hath all!"

Therefore the dance of praise they trod

In the Atreïd brethren's hall.

They opened before men's eyes

That which was hid before,

The chambers of sacrifice,

The dark of the golden door,

And fires on the altar floor.

And bright was every street,

And the voice of the Muses' tree,

The carven lotus, was lifted sweet;

When afar and suddenly,

Strange songs, and a voice that grew:

"Come to your king, ye folk!

Mine, mine, is the Golden Ewe!"

'Twas dark Thyestes spoke.

For, lo, when the world was still,

With his brother's bride he lay,

And won her to work his will,

And they stole the Lamb away!