That seat,which mid Erechtheus'royal heirs His pride claims,it shall claim no more:
Never may one of alien blood disgrace The imperial honours of that high-born race!
antistrophe 1
Should not this work of fate succeed,Nor the just vengeance of my queen prevail;Should this apt time of daring fail,And hope,that flatters now,desert the deed;Slaughter shall other means afford,The strangling cord,the piercing sword;For rage from disappointed rage shall flow,And try each.various form of death;For never shall my queen this torment know;
Ne'er while she draws this vital breath,Brook in her house that foreign lords should shine,Clothed with the splendours of her ancient line.
strophe 2
Thou whom the various hymn delights,Then thy bright choir of beauteous dames among,Dancing the stream's soft brink along,Thou seest the guardian of thy mystic rites,Thy torch its midnight vigils keep,Thine eye meantime disdaining sleep;While with thee dances Jove's star-spangled plain.
And the moon dances up the sky:
Ye nymphs,that lead to grots your frolic train,Beneath the gulfy founts that lie:
Thou gold-crown'd queen,through night's dark regions fear'd,And thou,her mother,power revered,How should I blush to see this youth unknown!
This Delphic vagrant,hope to seize the throne.
antistrophe 2
You,who the melting soul to move,In loose,dishonest airs the Muse employ To celebrate love's wanton joy,The joy of unallow'd,unholy love,See how our pure and modest law Can lavish man's lewd deeds o'erawe!
Ye shameless bards,revoke each wanton air;