Chosen from my city as beauty's gift for Loxias, to the land of Cadmus
I came, sent thither to the towers of Laius, the home of my kin, the
famous sons of Agenor; and there I became the handmaid of Phoebus,
dedicated like his offerings of wrought gold. But as yet the water
of Castaly is waiting for me to bedew the maiden glory of my tresses
for the service of Phoebus.
(epode)
Hail! thou rock that kindlest bright fire above the twin-peaked heights
of Dionysus. Hail! thou vine, that, day by day, makest the lush bunches
of thy grapes to drip. Hail! awful cavern of the serpent, and the
god's outlook on the hills, and sacred mount by snow-storms lashed!
would I were now circling in the dance of the deathless god, free
from wild alarms, having left Dirce ere this for the vales of Phoebus
at the centre of the world!
(strophe 2)
But now I find the impetuous god of war is come to battle before
these walls, and hath kindled murder's torch in this city. God grant
he fail! for a friend's sorrows are also mine; and if this land with
its seven towers suffer any mischance, Phoenicia's realm must share
it. Ah me! our stock is one; all children we of Io, that horned maid,
whose sorrows I partake.