CHORUS. Never, O never The nurturing river, Of life the giver, The healthful flood That quickens the blood Let me behold! An Argive am I,[f19] From Inachus old, These gods deny Thy claim. Withhold! {246} HERALD. To the ships, to the ships, with march not slow, Will ye, nill ye, ye must go! Quickly, quickly, hence away! Know thy master and obey! Ere a worse thing thou shalt know-- Blows and beating--gently go! STROPHE I. CHORUS. Worse than worsest May'st thou know! As thou cursest, Curst be so! The briny billow O'er thee flow! On sandy pillow Bedded low, 'Neath Sarpedon's breezy brow,[f20] With the shifting sands shift thou! HERALD. Scream--rend your robes in rags!--call on the gods! The Egyptian bark thou shalt not overleap. Pour ye the bitter bootless wail at will! ANTISTROPHE I. CHORUS. With fierce heart swelling To work my woe, With keen hate yelling Barks the foe. Broad Nile welling O'er thee flow! Find thy dwelling Bedded low, 'Neath the towering Libyan waters, Towering thou 'gainst Libya's daughters! HERALD. To the ships! to the ships! the swift ships even-oared! Quickly! no laggard shifts! the hand that drags thee Will lord it o'er thy locks, not gently handled! STROPHE II. CHORUS. O father, oh! From the altar The assaulter Drags me to my woe! Step by step, a torturing guider, Like the slowly-dragging spider, {247} Cruel-minded so! Like a dream, A dusky dream, My hope away doth go! O Earth, O Earth, From death redeem! O Earth, O Jove deliver! HERALD. Your Argive gods I know not; they nor nursed My infant life, nor reared my riper age. ANTISTROPHE II. CHORUS. O father, oh! From the altar The assaulter Drags me to my woe! A snake two-footed fiercely fretted Swells beside me! from his whetted Fangs, black death doth flow! Like a dream, A dusky dream, My hope is vanished so! O Earth, O Earth, From death redeem! O Earth, O Jove deliver! HERALD. To the ships! to the ships! Obey! I say, obey! Pity thy robes, if not thy flesh--away! STROPHE III. CHORUS. Ye chiefs of the city, By force they subdue me! HERALD. Well! I must drag thee by the hair! come! come! Point thy dull ears, and hear me!--come! come! come! ANTISTROPHE III. CHORUS. I'm lost! I'm ruined! O king, they undo me! HERALD. Thou shalt see kings enough anon, believe me, Ægyptus' sons--kingless thou shalt not die. [_Enter_ KING _with Attendants._ KING. Fellow, what wouldst thou? With what purpose here Dost flout this land of brave Pelasgian men? Deem'st thou us women? A barbarian truly Art thou, if o'er the Greek to sport it thus {248} The fancy tempts thee. Nay, but thou art wrong Both root and branch in this.