was wasting as incense the liquid myrrh, and in his charge he took the golden beakers, setting himself unasked to this office.Now when they were come to the time for the flute-players and the general libation, cried out that aged servitor, Hence with these tiny cups! bring larger goblets, that our guests may find a quicker route to joyousness. Thereon came servants bending ’neath the weight of goblets chased with silver and golden chalices; and that old man, as if to do his youthful lord a special service, chose out and offered to him a brimming bumper, when he had cast into the wine that potent philtre which, men say, his mistress gave to him to end the young man’s days on earth; and no man knew of this; but just as he so lately found held in his hand the drink-offering, the others following suit, some servant there uttered a word of evil import; whereat the stripling, as one who had been reared within the shrine amid reputed seers, deemed this an omen and bade them fill a fresh goblet, but that first drink-offering to the god he poured upon the ground and bade all others do the like. And silence stole upon them; while we with water and Phoenician wine were filling high the sacred bowls. While thus we were busied, comes a flight of doves and settles in the tent, for these dwell fearlessly in the courts of Loxias. Soon as the guests had poured away the luscious juice, those thirsty birds did dip their beaks therein, drawing it up into their feathered throats. Now all the rest received no hurt from the god’s libation, but one that settled on the spot where the son newfound had poured his wine, no sooner had tasted thereof, than convulsions seized her feathered form and she went triad, and screaming aloud uttered strange unwonted cries; and all the feasters gathered there marvelled to see the bird’s cruel agony, for she lay writhing in the toils of death, and her red claws relaxed their hold.Forthwith the son, vouchsafed by oracles, bared his arm by casting off his cloak and stretched it out across the board crying Who was it strove to slay me? Proclaim it, old sirrah, for thine was the officious zeal and thine the hand from which I took the cup. With that he caught the grey-beard by the arm and set to searching him that he might take the old man red-handed in the act. So was he detected, and under strong constraint declared Creusa’s daring deed and all the trick of the poisoned draught. Forth rushed the young man, whom the oracle of Loxias to his sire assigned, taking with him the banqueters, and standing mid the Delphic nobles made harangue, O! hallowed soil, a stranger woman, daughter of Erechtheus, seeks to poison me. And the lords of Delphi decreed by general vote that my mistress should be hurled from the rock to die, because she strove to slay the priest and compass his death in the temple. So now is the whole city seeking her, who hath to her sorrow sped a hapless journey; for, coming to crave the boon of offspring from Phoebus, she hath lost her life and children too.

ChorusAh me! I see no way at all to turn death’s hand aside; all, all, ere this, is brought to light owing to that fatal draught of the wine-god’s juice mixed for death with drops of viper’s gore, quick to slay; detected is our offering to the dead; for me my life must end in woe, while death by stoning waits my mistress. How can I escape? Shall I take wings and fly away, or creep beneath the darksome caverns of the earth, striving to shun the doom of death by stoning? or shall I mount the car drawn by swiftest steeds, or embark upon a ship?

ChorusNo man may hide his guilt, save when some god of his own will steals him away. Ah! my poor mistress! what suffering now awaits thy soul? Must then our wish to work another harm end in our own discomfiture, as justice doth decree?

CreusaMy trusty maids, the men of death are on my track; the vote of Delphi goes against me; they give me up to die.ChorusUnhappy one! we know thy sad mischance, how thou art placed. CreusaOh! whither can I fly? for scarce had I the start of my pursuers from the house in my race for life; ’tis by stealth alone that I have thus far escaped my foes.ChorusWhere shouldst thou fly except to the altar?CreusaWhat good is that to me?ChorusTo slay a suppliant is forbidden.CreusaAye, but the law has given me over to death.ChorusOnly if thou fall into their hands.CreusaLook! here they come, cruel champions of vengeance, eagerly brandishing their swords.ChorusSit thee down upon the altar of burnt-offering! for if thou art slain there, thou wilt fix