Chorus
The tongs will firmly grasp the neck [610] of the guest-eater: for by fire he will soon lose his shining eyes. Already the fire-brand, burnt to charcoal, [615] is hid in the ashes, huge offshoot of an oak. But let Maron come, the giver of the wine, let it act, let it extract the eye of the mad Cyclops so that he may prove to have drunk to his cost! [620] And after that I long to see the lovely ivy-garlanded Dionysus and to leave behind the Cyclops' lonely dwelling. Shall I ever attain such joy?