_
at last the King spoke: great woe to disobey the prophet, great woe to
slay my child! how shed a maiden's blood? yet how lose my expedition, my
allies? May all be well in the end! {210}
_Strophe IV: change of rhythm; movements to the left of Orchestra._
So when he himself had harnessed
To the yoke of Fate unbending,
With a blast of strange new feeling
Sweeping o'er his heart and spirit,
Aweless, godless and unholy,
He his thoughts and purpose altered
To full measure of all daring,
(Still base counsel's fatal frenzy,
Wretched primal source of evils,
Gives to mortal hearts strange boldness,)
And at last his heart be hardened
His own child to slay as victim,
Help in war that they were waging
To avenge a woman's frailty,
Victim for the good ship's safety. {219}
_Antistrophe IV: back to Altar._
All her prayers and eager callings
On the tender name of Father,
All her young and maiden freshness,
They but set at naught, those rulers,
In their passion for the battle.
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