CHORUS. Bitter springs have barren issues; these bedew grief's arid sands. ATHENIAN HERALD. Such thank-offerings ask such altars as expect thy suppliant hands. CHORUS. Tears for triumph, wail for welfare, what strange godhead's shrine requires? ATHENIAN HERALD. Death's or victory's be it, a funeral torch feeds all its festal fires. CHORUS. Like a star should burn the beacon flaming from our city's head. ATHENIAN HERALD. Like a balefire should the flame go up that says the king is dead. CHORUS. Out of heaven, a wild-haired meteor, shoots this new sign, scattering fear. ATHENIAN HERALD. Yea, the word has wings of fire that hovered, loth to burn thine ear. CHORUS. From thy lips it leapt forth loosened on a shrill and shadowy wing. 1470 ATHENIAN HERALD. Long they faltered, fain to hide it deep as death that hides the king. CHORUS. Dead with him blind hope lies blasted by the lightning of one sword. ATHENIAN HERALD. On thy tongue truth wars with error; no man's edge hath touched thy lord. CHORUS. False was thine then, jangling menace like a war-steed's brow-bound bell? ATHENIAN HERALD. False it rang not joy nor sorrow; but by no man's hand he fell. CHORUS. Vainly then good news and evil through so faint a trumpet spake. ATHENIAN HERALD. All too long thy soul yet labours, as who sleeping fain would wake, Waking, fain would fall on sleep again; the woe thou knowest not yet, When thou knowest, shall make thy memory thirst and hunger to forget. CHORUS. Long my heart has hearkened, hanging on thy clamorous ominous cry, 1480 Fain yet fearful of the knowledge whence it looks to live or die; Now to take the perfect presage of thy dark and sidelong flight Comes a surer soothsayer sorrowing, sable-stoled as birds of night. PRAXITHEA. Man, what thy mother bare thee born to say Speak; for no word yet wavering on thy lip Can wound me worse than thought forestalls or fear. ATHENIAN HERALD.