Now, be she far away in Libyan land
Where flows from Triton's lake her natal wave,-
Stand she with planted feet, or in some hour
Of rest conceal them, champion of her friends
Where'er she be,-Or whether o'er the plain
Phlegraean she look forth, as warrior bold-
I cry to her to come, where'er she be,
(And she, as goddess, from afar can hear)
And aid and free me, set among my foes.
Leader of the Chorus:
Thee not Apollo nor Athena's strength
Can save from perishing, a castaway
Amid the Lost, where no delight shall meet
Thy soul-a bloodless prey of nether powers,
A shadow among shadows. Answerest thou
Nothing? dost cast away my words with scorn,
Thou, prey prepared and dedicate to me?
Not as a victim slain upon the shrine,
But living shalt thou see thy flesh my food.
Hear now the binding chant that makes thee mine.
Studies
