I have come, having left the Tyrian wave, the first-fruits of Loxias, from
the sea-washed Phœnicia, a slave for the shrine of Apollo, that I might
dwell under the snowy brows of Parnassus, having sped my way over the
Ionian flood by the oar, the west wind with its blasts riding over the
barren plains of waters[16] which flow round Sicily, the sweetest murmur in
the heavens. Chosen out from my city the fairest present to Apollo, I came
to the land of the Cadmeans, the illustrious descendants of Agenor, sent
hither to these kindred towers of Laius. And I am made the slave of Apollo
in like manner with the golden-framed images. Moreover the water of
Castalia awaits me, to lave the virgin pride of my tresses, in the ministry
of Apollo. O blazing rock, the flame of fire that seems[17] double above
the Dionysian heights of Bacchus, and thou vine, who distillest the daily
nectar, producing the fruitful cluster from the tender shoot; and ye divine
caves of the dragon,[18] and ye mountain watch-towers of the Gods, and thou
hallowed snowy mountain, would that I were the chorus of the immortal God
free from alarms encompassing thee around, by the caves of Apollo in the
centre of the earth, having left Dirce. But now impetuous Mars having
advanced before the walls lights up against this city, which may the Gods
avert, hostile war; for common are the misfortunes of friends, and common
is it, if this land defended by its seven turrets should suffer any
calamity, to the Phœnician country, alas! alas! common is the affinity,[19]
common are the descendants of Io bearing horns; of which woes I have a
share. But a thick cloud of shields glares around the city, the likeness of
gory battle, bearing which destruction from the Furies to the children of
Œdipus Mars shall quickly advance. O Pelasgian Argos, I dread thy power,
and vengeance from the Gods, for he rushes not his arms to this war
unjustly, who seeks to recover his home.