CHORUS
O mountainous, all-nourishing Mother Earth, Mother of Zeus, our lord, himself, you who range the golden Paktolos, Mother of pain and sorrow, I begged you, Blessed Mother, borne by bull-slaying lions, on that day when the arrogant Atreids insulted him, when they gave away his weapons to the son of Laertes. Hail, goddess, the highest object of our awe.