"
With reverence they obey the call,
And fill th' Atridae's spacious hall.
_Antis._ Its gates with gold o'erlaid,
Wide oped each Argive shrine,
And from the altar hallow'd flames arise;
Amidst the rites divine,
Joying the Muse to aid,
Breath'd the brisk pipe its sweet notes to the skies;
Accordant to the tuneful strain
Swell'd the loud acclaiming voice,
Now with Thyestes to rejoice:
He, all on fire the glorious prize to gain,
With secret love the wife of Atreus won,
And thus the shining wonder made his own;
Then to the assembly vaunting cried,
"Mine is the rich Ram's golden pride."
_Strophe_ 2. Then, oh then, indignant Jove
Bade the bright sun backward move,
And the golden orb of day,
And the morning's orient ray;
Glaring o'er the Western sky
Hurl'd his ruddy lightnings fly;
Clouds, no more to fall in rain,
Northward roll their deep'ning train;
Libyan Ammon's thirsty seat,
Wither'd with the scorching heat,
Feels nor show'rs nor heavenly dews
Grateful moisture round diffuse.
Pages:
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116