Chor. [*]I strike an Arian stroke, and in the strain
Of Kissian mourner skilled,[[428]]
Ye might have seen the stretching forth of hands,
With rendings of the hair, and random blows,
In quick succession given,
Dealt from above with arm at fullest length,
And with the beating still my head is stunned,
420
Battered and full of woe.
Elect. O mother, hostile found, and daring all!