And thou, in hearing, wouldst not gain at all. _Io._ Eleleu, eleleu! How the spasm and the pain And the fire on the brain Strike, burning me through! How the sting of the curse, all aflame as it flew, Pricks me onward again! How my heart in its terror is spurning my breast, And my eyes, like the wheels of a chariot, roll round! I am whirled from my course, to the east, to the west, In the whirlwind of phrensy all madly inwound-- And my mouth is unbridled for anguish and hate, And my words beat in vain, in wild storms of unrest, On the sea of my desolate fate. [_IO rushes out._ _Chorus.--Strophe._ Oh, wise was he, oh, wise was he Who first within his spirit knew And with his tongue declared it true That love comes best that comes unto The equal of degree! And that the poor and that the low Should seek no love from those above, Whose souls are fluttered with the flow Of airs about their golden height, Or proud because they see arow Ancestral crowns of light. _Antistrophe._ Oh, never, never may ye, Fates, Behold me with your awful eyes Lift mine too fondly up the skies Where Zeus upon the purple waits! Nor let me step too near--too near To any suitor, bright from heaven: Because I see, because I fear This loveless maiden vexed and laden By this fell curse of Heré, driven On wanderings dread and drear. _Epode._ Nay, grant an equal troth instead Of nuptial love, to bind me by! It will not hurt, I shall not dread To meet it in reply. But let not love from those above Revert and fix me, as I said, With that inevitable Eye! I have no sword to fight that fight, I have no strength to tread that path, I know not if my nature hath The power to bear, I cannot see Whither from Zeus's infinite I have the power to flee.