in night-long joy—Hyakinthos, whom Phoebus killed with the round discus, contesting for the farthest throw—a day of the sacrifice of oxen in the Lakonian land; the son of Zeus declared that his race would be honored; and you may find the girl whom you left at home, Hermione , for as yet no torch has lit the way to her marriage. Chorus Oh, that we had wings to cleave the air, where the birds of Libya go in their ranks, leaving the winter rain, obedient to the piping of their veteran leader, who raises his exultant cry as he wings his way over unmoistened and crop-bearing plains of the earth. O you winged long-necked comrades of the racing clouds, go on beneath the Pleiades in their central station