“*For she, the fair One, though so kind of heart
*To fresh-dropt dew from mighty lion's womb,[279]
And young that suck the teats
Of all that roam the fields, 140
*Yet prays Him bring to pass
The portents of those birds,
The omens good yet also full of dread.
And Pæan I invoke
As Healer, lest she on the Danai send
Delays that keep the ships
Long time with hostile blasts,
So urging on a new, strange sacrifice,
Unblest, unfestivalled,[280]
By natural growth artificer of strife,
Bearing far other fruit than wife's true fear,
For there abideth yet,
Fearful, recurring still,
Ruling the house, full subtle, unforgetting,
Vengeance for children slain.”[281] 150
Such things, with great good mingled, Calchas spake,
In voice that pierced the air,
As destined by the birds that crossed our path
To this our kingly house:
And in accord with them,
Wail as for Linos, wail, wail bitterly;
And yet may good prevail.