Ah that somewhere in the upper air I might find a seat against which the dank clouds turn into snow, or some bare, inaccessible crag, beyond sight, brooding in solitude, beetling, vulture-haunted, to bear witness to my plunge into the depths before I am ever forced into a marriage that would pierce my heart!
 Chorus Thereafter I refuse not to become a booty for dogs and a banquet for the local birds; for death is freedom from misery-loving evils. Come death, death be my doom, before the marriage-bed! How can I yet find some means of escape to deliver me from marriage?
 Chorus 
 Shriek aloud, with a cry that reaches heaven, strains of supplication to the gods;