Athena.
'Tis well, O King. For that which needs must be
Holdeth the high gods as it holdeth thee.
Winds of the north, O winds that laugh and run,
Bear now to Athens Agamemnon's son;
Myself am with you, o'er long leagues of foam
Guiding my sister's hallowed Image home.
(She floats away.)
Chorus.
Some women.
Go forth in bliss, O ye whose lot
God shieldeth, that ye perish not!
Others.
O great in our dull world of clay,
And great in heaven's undying gleam,
Pallas, thy bidding we obey:
And bless thee, for mine ears have heard
The joy and wonder of a word
Beyond my dream, beyond my dream.