Fair the service that I render to thee, Phoebus, before thy house, honouring thy seat of prophecy; a glorious task I count it, to serve not mortal man but deathless gods; wherefore I never weary of performing holy services. Phoebus is to me as the father that begot me, for as such I praise the god that gives me food. Whom I call by that helpful name of father, Tis Phoebus, who dwelleth in the temple, Hail Paean, healing god, good luck to thee and blessing, child of Latona!

IonMy task is nearly done of sweeping with the laurel broom, so now from a golden ewer will I sprinkle o’er the ground water from Castalia’s gushing spring, scattering the liquid dew with hands from all defilement free. Oh may I never cease thus to serve Phoebus, or, if I do, may fortune smile upon me!Ha! they come, the feathered tribes, leaving their nests on Parnassus. I forbid ye to settle on the coping or enter the gilded dome. Thou herald of Zeus, that masterest the might of other birds with those talons of thine, once more shall my arrow o’ertake thee.Lo! another comes sailing towards the altar, a swan this time; take thy bright plumes elsewhere; the lyre that Phoebus tuneth to thy song shall never save thee from the bow; so fly away, and settle at the Delian mere, for if thou wilt not hearken, thy blood shall choke the utterance of thy fair melody.Ha! what new bird comes now? Does it mean to lodge a nest of dry straw for its brood beneath the gables? Soon shall my twanging bow drive thee away. Dost not hear me?Away and rear thy young amid the streams of swirling Alpheus, or get thee to the woody Isthmian glen, that Phoebus’ offerings and his shrine may take no hurt. I am loth to slay ye, ye messengers to mortal man of messages from heaven; still must I serve Phoebus, to whose tasks I am devoted, nor will I cease to minister to those that give me food.

(First) ChorusIt is not in holy Athens only that there are courts of the gods with fine colonnades, and the worship of Apollo, guardian of highways; but here, too, at the shrine of Loxias, son of Latona, shines the lovely eye of day on faces twain.(Second) ChorusJust look at this! here is the son of Zeus killing with his scimitar of gold the watersnake of Lerna. Do look at him, my friend!

(First) ChorusYes, I see. And close to him stands another with a blazing torch uplifted; who is he? Can this be the warrior Iolaus whose story is told on my broidery, who shares with the son of Zeus his labours and helps him in the moil?(Third) ChorusOh! but look at this! a man mounted on a winged horse, killing a fire-breathing monster with three bodies.

(First) ChorusI am turning my eyes in every direction. Behold the rout of the giants carved on these walls of stone.(Fourth) ChorusYes, yes, good friends, I am looking.(Fifth) ChorusDost see her standing over Enceladus brandishing her shield with the Gorgon’s head?(Sixth) ChorusI see Pallas, my own goddess.(Seventh) ChorusAgain, dost see the massy thunderbolt all aflame in the far-darting hands of Zeus?(Eighth) ChorusI do; ’tis blasting with its flame Mimas, that deadly foe.(Ninth) ChorusBromius too, the god of revelry, is slaying another of the sons of Earth with his thyrsus of ivy, never meant for battle.

(First) ChorusThou that art stationed by this fane, to thee I do address me,