On these Argive halls!
Ne’er may Mars, the wanton daring,
With his shrill trump, joyless-blaring,
Wrap, in wild flames, fiercely flaring,
These Pelasgian walls!
Go! thy gory harvest reaping
Far from us: thy bloody weeping
Distant tribes may know.
Bless, O Jove, this Argive nation!
They have heard the supplication