On sandy pillow
Bedded low,
’Neath Sarpedon’s breezy brow,[f20]
With the shifting sands shift thou!
Herald.
Scream—rend your robes in rags!—call on the gods!
The Egyptian bark thou shalt not overleap.
Pour ye the bitter bootless wail at will!
ANTISTROPHE I.
Chorus.
With fierce heart swelling