_Dan._ Not rapid is the getting under weigh Of naval squadron, nor their anchoring, Nor the safe putting into shore with cables. Nor have the shepherds of swift ships quick trust In anchor-fastenings, most of all, as now, When coming to a country havenless; And when the sun has yielded to the night, That night brings travail to a pilot wise, 750 [Though it be calm and all the waves sleep still;] So neither can this army disembark Before the ship is safe in anchorage. And thou beware lest in thy panic fear Thou slight the Gods whom thou hast called to help. The city will not blame your messenger, Old though he be, being young in clear-voiced thought. _Exit_ STROPHE I _Chor._ Ah, me! thou land of jutting promontory Which justly all revere, What lies before us? Where in Apian land Shall we a refuge find, If still there be dark hiding anywhere? Ah! that I were as smoke That riseth full and black Nigh to the clouds of Zeus, 760 Or soaring up on high invisible, Like dust that vanishes, Pass out of being with no help from wings! ANTISTROPHE I *E'en so the ill admits not now of flight; My heart in dark gloom throbs; My father's work as watcher brings me low; I faint for very fear, And I would fain find noose that bringeth death, In twisted cordage hung, Before the man I loathe Draws near this flesh of mine: 770 Sooner than that may Hades rule o'er me Sleeping the sleep of death! STROPHE II Ah, might I find a place in yon high vault, Where the rain-clouds are passing into snow, Or lonely precipice Whose summit none can see, Rock where the vulture haunts, Witness for me of my abysmal fall, Before the marriage that will pierce my heart Becomes my dreaded doom! ANTISTROPHE II I shrink not from the thought of being the prey 780 Of dogs and birds that haunt the country round; For death shall make me free From ills all lamentable: Yea, let death rather come Than the worse doom of hated marriage-bed! What other refuge now remains for me That marriage to avert? STROPHE III Yea, to the Gods raise thou Cloud-piercing, wailing cry Of songs and litanies, Prevailing, working freedom out for me: 790 And thou, O Father, look, Look down upon the strife, With glance of wrath against our enemies From eyes that see the right; With pity look on us thy suppliants, O Lord of Earth, O Zeus omnipotent! ANTISTROPHE III