To utter what they wish not, 'twere the excess
Of rudeness; what with violence we urge
'Gainst their consent would to no good avail us:
What their spontaneous grace confers on us,
That, lady, as a blessing we esteem.

CHO. How numberless the ills to mortal man,
And various in their form! One single blessing
By any one through life is scarcely found.

370

375

CREU. Nor here, nor there, O Phoebus, art thou just

To her; though absent, yet her words are present.
Nor didst thou save thy son, whom it became thee 380
To save; nor, though a prophet, wilt thou speak
To the sad mother who inquires of thee;
That, if he is no more, to him a tomb

May rise; but, if he lives, that he may bless

His mother's eyes. But even thus behoves us
To omit these things, if by the god denied
To know what most I wish.-But, for I see
The noble Xuthus this way bend, return'd
From the Trophonian cave; before my husband
Resume not, generous stranger, this discourse,
Lest it might cause me shame that thus I act
In secret, and perchance lead on to questions
I would not have explain'd. Our hapless sex
Oft feel our husbands' rigor with the bad

385

390

The virtuous they confound, and treat us harshly. 395

XUTHUS, CREUSA, ION, CHORUS.

XUTH. With reverence to the god my first address I pay: hail, Phœbus!, Lady, next to thee:

Absent so long, have I not caused thee fear?

CREU. Not much as anxious thoughts 'gan rise, thou 'rt come.

But, tell me, from Trophonius what reply

400

Bearest thou; what means whence offspring may arise?
XUTH. Unmeet he held it to anticipate

The answer of the god: one thing he told me,
That childless I should not return, nor thou,
Home from the oracle.

CREU.

Goddess revered,

Mother of Phoebus, be our coming hither
In lucky hour; and our connubial bed
Be by thy son made happier than before!

405

XUTH. It shall be so. But who is president here? ION. Without, that charge is mine; within, devolved On others, stranger, seated near the tripod; The chiefs of Delphi these, chosen by lot.

411

XUTH. 'Tis well: all that I want is then complete.

Let me now enter; for the oracle

Is given, I hear, in common to all strangers
Before the shrine: on such a day, that falls
Propitious thus, the answer of the god

Would I receive: meanwhile, these laurel boughs
Bear round the altars; lady, breathe thy prayers
Το every god, that from Apollo's shrine

I may bring back the promise of a son.

CREUSA, ION, CHORUS.

415

420

CREU. It shall, it shall be so. Should Phoebus now At least be willing to redress the fault

Of former times, he would not through the whole
Be friendly to us: yet will I accept
What he vouchsafes us, for he is a god.

425

ION. Why does this stranger always thus revile
With obscure speech the god? Is it through love
Of her, for whom she asks? or to conceal
Some secret of importance? But to me
What is the daughter of Erectheus? Naught
Concerns it me. Then let me to my task,

430

And sprinkle from the golden vase the dew.
Yet must I blame the god, if thus perforce
He mounts the bed of virgins, and by stealth
Becomes a father, leaving then his children
To die, regardless of them. Do not thou
Act thus; but, as thy power is great, respect
The virtues; for whoe'er, of mortal men,

435

Dares impious deeds, him the gods punish: how 440 Is it then just that you, who gave the laws

To mortals, should yourselves transgress those laws? If, (though it is not thus, yet will I urge

The subject,)-if to mortals you shall pay

The penalty of forced embraces, thou,

445

Neptune, and Jove, that reigns supreme in hea

ven,

Will leave your temples treasureless by paying
The mulcts of your injustice; for unjust
You are, your pleasures to grave temperance
Preferring and to men these deeds no more
Can it be just to charge as crimes, these deeds
If from the gods they imitate: on those,
Who gave the ill examples, falls the charge.

CHORUS.

450

STROPHE.

Thee, prompt to yield thy lenient aid,

And soothe a mother's pain;

And thee, my Pallas, martial maid,

I call; O, hear the strain!

Thou, whom the Titan from the head of Jove,

Prometheus, drew, bright Victory, come,

Descending from thy golden throne above;

Haste, goddess, to the Pythian dome,
Where Phoebus, from his central shrine,
Gives the oracle divine,

455

460

By the raving maid repeated,

On the hallow'd tripod seated:

O haste thee, goddess, and with thee
The daughter of Latona bring;

A virgin thou, a virgin she,
Sisters to the Delphian king;
Him, virgins, let your vows implore,
That now his pure oracular power
Will to Erectheus' ancient line declare
The blessing of a long-expected heir!

ANTISTROPHE.

To mortal man this promised grace
Sublimest pleasure brings,

When round the father's hearth a race

In blooming lustre springs.

The wealth, the honors, from their high-drawn line

From sire to son transmitted down,

Shall with fresh glory through their offspring shine,

465

470

475

And brighten with increased renown:
A guard, when ills begin to lower,

481

Dear in fortune's happier hour;

For their country's safety waking,

Firm in fight the strong spear shaking;

485

More than proud wealth's exhaustless store,

More than a monarch's bride to reign,

The dear delight, to virtue's lore

:

Careful the infant mind to train.
Doth any praise the childless state?
The joyless, loveless life I hate :

No; my desires to moderate wealth I bound,
But let me see my children smile around.

EPODE.

490

Ye rustic seats, Pan's dear delight;
Ye caves of Macrai's rocky height,

495

Where oft the social virgins meet,

And weave the dance with nimble feet;
Descendants from Aglauros they
In the third line, with festive play,
Minerva's hallow'd fane before
The verdant plain light-tripping o'er,
When thy pipe's quick-varying sound
Rings, O Pan, these caves around;
Where, by Apollo's love betray'd,
Her child some hapless mother laid,
Exposed to each night-prowling beast,
Or to the ravenous birds a feast:
For never have I heard it told,

500

505

Nor wrought it in historic gold,

That happiness attends the race,

510

When gods with mortals mix the embrace.

ION, CHORus.

ION. Ye female train, that place yourselves around This incense-breathing temple's base, your lord Awaiting, hath he left the sacred tripod

And oracle, or stays he in the shrine

Making inquiries of his childless state?

CHO. Yet in the temple, stranger, he remains.

515

ION. But he comes forth; the sounding doors an

nounce

His near approach: behold, our lord is here.

XUTHUS, ION, CHORUS.

XUTH. Health to my son! This first address is

proper.

ION. I have my health: be in thy senses thou, And both are well.

520

XUTH.

O let me kiss thy hand,