Hath my pious father slain
Many meadow-cropping kine,
To appease the wrath divine.
Where it lieth it shall lie,
Ancient Ilium: and I
On the ground, when all is past,
Soon my reeking heart shall cast.[n78]
ANTISTROPHE X.
Chorus.
Ah! the mighty god, wrath-laden,
He hath smote the burdened maiden