Parodos
Predictions from the birds, in journeying,
Above the abode of either king.
With these, symphonious, sing —
Ah, Linos, say — ah, Linos, song of wail!
But may the good prevail!
Zeus, whosoe’er he be, — if that express
160
Aught dear to him on whom I call —
I cannot liken out, by all
Any but Zeus for refuge at such hours,
165
If veritably needs I must
165
From off my soul its vague care-burthen thrust.
Not — whosoever was the great of yore,
Bursting to bloom with bravery all round —
Is in our mouths: he was, but is no more.
And who it was that after came to be,
170
Met the thrice-throwing wrestler, — he
But Zeus — if any, heart and soul, that name —
Shouting the triumph-praise — proclaim,
Complete in judgment shall that man be found.
175
Zeus, who leads onward mortals to be wise,
Appoints that suffering masterfully teach.
In sleep, before the heart of each,
A woe-remembering travail sheds in dew
Discretion, — ay, and melts the unwilling too
180
By what, perchance, may be a graciousness
Of gods, enforced no less, —
