Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1898) v3.djvu/486

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King, still through days to come be it mine to bear

Such tidings to my lords as now I bring!

Dull-witted oft the spirits are of clowns.

Thou com'st, meseems, to place that ill befits,

With tidings of thy flocks to warring lords.

Know'st not my mansion, or my father's throne?

Thither shouldst thou bear word of flocks' increase.

Dull-witted are we clowns, I gainsay not:

Yet none the less I bring thee welcome news.

Forbear to tell me how the sheep-pens thrive.

Battles have we in hand, and brandish spears.

Even such the tidings are wherewith I come.

A warrior captaining a countless host

Draws nigh,—thy friend, and this land's war-ally.

Leaving what country's plains untenanted?

Thrace: and he bears the name of Strymon's son.