The fate that hath chased me from danger

To the home of the heifer divine.

O son, with the mother that bore thee,

Stamp my tale with thy truth for a sign!

STROPHE AND ANTISTROPHE II.

While we cry, should there haply be near us

An Argive, an augur,[f7] to hear us,

When our shrill-piercing wail

His ear shall assail,

’Tis the cry he will deem, and none other,