_Agamemnon:_ Keep her, ye faithful slaves, in careful guard, 800 Till she shall throw this mood of madness off, Lest in unbridled rage she harm herself. To thee, O father, who the blinding bolt Dost hurl, at whose command the clouds disperse, Who rul'st the starry heavens and the lands, To whom triumphant victors bring their spoils; And thee, O sister of thy mighty lord, 805 Argolic Juno, here I offer now All fitting gifts--and so fulfil my vow. [_Exit into the palace._] _Chorus of Argive women:_ O Argos, famed for thy worthy sons, And dear to the jealous Juno's heart, How mighty the children who feed at thy breast! 810 Thou hast added a god to the ranks of immortals; For Alcides has won by his labors heroic The right to be named with the lords of the sky. Alcides the great! at his birth were the laws Of the universe broken; for Jove bade the night To double the dew-laden hours of the darkness. 815 At his command did the god of the sun To a sluggish pace restrain his car; And slow of foot around their course, O pale, white moon, thy horses paced. He also checked his feet, the star, Which hails the dawn, but glows as oft 820 In the evening sky; and he marveled that he Should be called Hesperus. 'Tis said that Aurora Roused to her wonted task, but again Sank back to her sleep on the breast of Tithonus: For long must the night be, and tardy the morning, That waits for the birth of a hero divine. 825 The swift-whirling vault of the sky stood still To greet thee, O youth to the heavens appointed. Thy labors how many and mighty! Thy hand Has the terrible lion of Nemea felt, 830 The fleet-footed hind, and the ravaging boar That Arcadia feared. Loud bellowed the bull When torn from the fields of Crete; Thou didst conquer the Hydra, which fed on destruction, 835 And severed the last of its multiplied heads. The dread giant, Geryon, three monsters in one, Fell slain with one blow of thy crashing club; But his oxen, the famous Hesperian herds, Were driven away as the spoils of the east. 840 The terrible steeds of the Thracian king, Which their master fed not on the grass of the Strymon, Or the green banks of Hebrus (but, cruel and bloody, With flesh of the hapless wayfarer he fed them), 845 These steeds did our Hercules take, and in vengeance, As their last gory feast gave the flesh of their master. The spoil of her girdle Hippolyte saw A-gleam on her conqueror's breast. The Stymphalian bird fell down from the clouds 850 By his arrows death-smitten, And the tree which bears the fruit of gold Feared his approach, but, despoiled of its treasures, Lifted high in the air its burdenless branches.