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