Who sent this answer, Phoebus, come confessed Helper to Thebes, and strong to stay the pest. [_The suppliants gather up their boughs and stand at the side. The chorus of Theban elders enter._ CHORUS. [_They speak of the Oracle which they have not yet heard, and cry to_ APOLLO _by his special cry "I-e."_ A Voice, a Voice, that is borne on the Holy Way! What art thou, O Heavenly One, O Word of the Houses of Gold? Thebes is bright with thee, and my heart it leapeth; yet is it cold, And my spirit faints as I pray. I-e! I-e! What task, O Affrighter of Evil, what task shall thy people essay? One new as our new-come affliction, Or an old toil returned with the years? Unveil thee, thou dread benediction, Hope's daughter and Fear's. [_They pray to_ ATHENA, ARTEMIS, _and_ APOLLO. Zeus-Child that knowest not death, to thee I pray, O Pallas; next to thy Sister, who calleth Thebes her own, Artemis, named of Fair Voices, who sitteth her orbed throne In the throng of the market way: [Sidenote: vv. 162-189] And I-e! I-e! Apollo, the Pure, the Far-smiter; O Three that keep evil away, If of old for our city's desire, When the death-cloud hung close to her brow, Ye have banished the wound and the fire, Oh! come to us now! [_They tell of the Pestilence._ Wounds beyond telling; my people sick unto death; And where is the counsellor, where is the sword of thought? And Holy Earth in her increase perisheth: The child dies and the mother awaketh not. I-e! I-e! We have seen them, one on another, gone as a bird is gone, Souls that are flame; yea, higher, Swifter they pass than fire, To the rocks of the dying Sun. [_They end by a prayer to_ ATHENA, Their city wasteth unnumbered; their children lie Where death hath cast them, unpitied, unwept upon. The altars stand, as in seas of storm a high Rock standeth, and wives and mothers grey thereon Weep, weep and pray. Lo, joy-cries to fright the Destroyer; a flash in the dark they rise, Then die by the sobs overladen. Send help, O heaven-born Maiden, Let us look on the light of her eyes! [Sidenote: vv. 190-217] [_To_ ZEUS, _that he drive out the Slayer,_ And Ares, the abhorred Slayer, who bears no sword, But shrieking, wrapped in fire, stands over me, Make that he turn, yea, fly Broken, wind-wasted, high Down the vexed hollow of the Vaster Sea; Or back to his own Thrace, To harbour shelterless. Where Night hath spared, he bringeth end by day. Him, Him, O thou whose hand Beareth the lightning brand, O Father Zeus, now with thy thunder, slay and slay! [_To_ APOLLO, ARTEMIS, _and_ DIONYSUS.