Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1898) v3.djvu/290

262 And the things for the Gods' decision

Yet waiting beyond our ken,

Through the darkness of slumber she spake, and from Phœbus—in fierce heart-ache

Of jealous wrath for her daughter's sake—

His honour so did she wrest.

Swift hasted our King to Olympus' palace,

And with child-arms clinging to Zeus' throne prayed

That the night-visions born of the Earth-mother's malice

Might be banished the fane in the Pythian glade.

Smiled Zeus, that his son, for the costly oblations

Of his worshippers jealous, so swiftly had come:

And he shook his locks for the great oath-plight,

And he made an end of the voices of night;

For he took from mortals the visitations

Of the night-dreams born of the Earth's dark womb;

And he sealed by an everlasting right

Loxias' honours, that all men might

Trust wholly his word, when the thronging nations

Bowed at the throne where he sang fate's doom.

Enter Messenger.

O temple-warders, altar-ministers,

Whither hath Thoas gone, this country's king?

Fling wide the closely-bolted doors, and call

Forth of these halls the ruler of the land.

What is it?—if unbidden I may speak.