to deliver me—
 Chorus 
 That the mighty race of our honorable mother may escape the embrace of man (ah me), unwedded, unvanquished.
 Chorus 
 Yet, if she will not, we, a dark, sun-burned race, with suppliant boughs will invoke the underworld Zeus, Zeus the great host of the dead; for if the gods of Olympus hear us not, we will hang ourselves.