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Let the maidens raise a joyous strain for the house, with songs of triumph at the hearth; and, amidst them, let the shout of the men go up with one accord for Apollo of the bright quiver, our Defender! And at the same time, ye maidens, lift up a paean, cry aloud to his sister, the Ortygian Artemis, smiter of deer, goddess of the twofold torch, and to the Nymphs her neighbours!

My spirit soars; I will not reject the wooing of the flute.—O thou sovereign of my soul! Lo, the ivy's spell begins to work upon me! Euoe!—even now it moves me to whirl in the swift dance of Bacchanals!

Praise, praise unto the Healer! See, dear lady, see! Behold, these tidings are taking shape before thy gaze.

. I see it, dear maidens; my watching eyes had not failed to note yon company. [Enter, followed by Captive Maidens.]—All hail to the herald, whose coming hath been so long delayed!—if indeed thou bringest aught that can give joy.

We are happy in our return, and happy in thy greeting, lady, which befits the deed achieved; for when a man hath fair fortune, he needs must win good welcome.

. O best of friends, tell me first what first I would know,—shall I receive Heracles alive?