_Chor._ Do thou then cheer our soul by words and deeds. _King._ Nay, no long time thy sire will leave thee lorn; 510 And I, all people of the land convening, Will the great mass persuade to kindly words; And I will teach thy father what to say. Wherefore remain and ask our country's Gods, With suppliant prayers, to grant thy soul's desire, And I will go in furtherance of thy wish: Sweet Suasion follow us, and Fortune good! [_Exit_ STROPHE I _Chor._ O King of kings! and blest Above all blessed ones, And Power most mighty of the mightiest! O Zeus, of high estate! 520 Hear thou and grant our prayer! Drive thou far off the wantonness of men, The pride thou hatest sore, And in the pool of darkling purple hue Plunge thou the woe that comes in swarthy barque. ANTISTROPHE I Look on the women's cause; Recall the ancient tale, Of one whom Thou did'st love in time of old, The mother of our race: Remember it, O Thou Who did'st on Io lay thy mystic touch. We boast that we are come Of consecrated land the habitants, 530 And from this land by lineage high descended. STROPHE II Now to the ancient track, Our mother's, I have passed, The flowery meadow-land where she was watched,— The pastures of the herd, Whence Io, by the stinging gadfly driven, Flees, of her sense bereft, Passing through many tribes of mortal men; And then by Fate's decree Crossing the billowy straits, On either side she leaves a continent.[241] 540 ANTISTROPHE II Now through the Asian land She hastens o'er and o'er, Right through the Phrygian fields where feed the flocks; And passes Teuthras' fort, Owned by the Mysians,[242] and the Lydian plains; And o'er Kilikian hills, And those of far Pamphylia rushing on, By ever-flowing streams, On to the deep, rich lands, And Aphrodite's home in wheat o'erflowing.[243] STROPHE III And so she cometh, as that herdsman winged 550 Pierces with sharpest sting, To holy plain all forms of life sustaining, Fields that are fed from snows,[244] Which Typhon's monstrous strength has traversed,[245] And unto Neilos' streams, By sickly taint untouched,[246] Still maddened with her toil of ignominy, By torturing stings driven on, great Hera's frenzied slave. ANTISTROPHE III