LICH. Yea, dear my Queen, now I have seen thee hold Thy mortal wishes within mortal bound So meekly, I will freely tell thee all. It is as he avers. This maiden's love, Piercing through Heracles, was the sole cause, Why her Oechalia, land of plenteous woe, Was made the conquest of his spear. And he-- For I dare so far clear him--never bade Concealment or denial. But myself, Fearing the word might wound thy queenly heart, Sinned, if thou count such tenderness a sin. But now that all is known, for both your sakes, His, and thine own no less, look favouringly Upon the woman, and confirm the word Thou here hast spoken in regard to her:-- For he, whose might is in all else supreme, Is wholly overmastered by her love. DE. Yea, so my mind is bent. I will do so. I will not, in a bootless strife 'gainst Heaven, Augment my misery with self-sought ill. Come, go we in, that thou may'st bear from me Such message as is meet, and also carry Gifts, such as are befitting to return For gifts new-given. Thou ought'st not to depart Unladen, having brought so much with thee. [_Exeunt_ CHORUS. Victorious in her might, I 1 The Queen of soft delight Still ranges onward with triumphant sway. What she from Kronos' son And strong Poseidon won, And Pluto, King of Night, I durst not say. But who, to earn this bride, Came forth in sinewy pride To strive, or e'er the nuptial might be known With fearless heart I tell What heroes wrestled well, With showering blows, and dust in clouds upthrown. One was a river bold, I 2 Horn-crowned, with tramp fourfold, Bull Acheloues, Acarnania's Fear; And one from Bacchus' town, Own son of Zeus, came down, With brandished mace, bent bow, and barbed spear. Who then in battle brunt, Together, front to front, Hurled, eager both to win the beauteous prize; And Cypris 'mid the fray Alone, that dreadful day, Sate umpire, holding promise in her eyes. Then clashed the fist, then clanged the bow; II Then horns gave crashing blow for blow, Whilst, as they clung, The twining hip throw both essay And hurtling foreheads' fearful play, And groans from each were wrung. But the tender fair one far away Sate watching with an eye of piteous cheer (A mother's heart will heed the thing I say,) Till won by him who freed her from her fear. Sudden she leaves her mother's gentle side, Borne through the waste, our hero's tender bride. _Enter_ DEANIRA.