Man’s best friend, and, therefore, hated
For excess of love.
Hark, again! I hear the whirring
As of winged birds approaching;
With the light strokes of their pinions
Ether pipes ill-boding whispers!—
Alas! alas! that I should fear
Each breath that nears me.
[The Oceanides approach, borne through the air in a winged car.
STROPHE I.
Chorus.