Directing or land-labor or sea-search—
To Lukia or the sand-waste, Ammon's seat—
Might you set free their hapless lady's soul
From the abrupt Fate's footstep instant now.
Not a sheep-sacrificer at the hearths
Of Gods had they to go to: one there was
Who, if his eyes saw light still,—Phoibos' son,—
Had wrought so, she might leave the shadowy place
And Hades' portal: for he propped up Death's
Subdued ones, till the Zeus-flung thunder-flame