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Chorus Hail, all hail! O mighty prince! fair the cub you have bred, 0 Thrace, a ruler in his every look. See his stalwart frame in golden corslet! Hark to the ringing bells that peal so proudly from his shield-handle. A god, O Troy, a god, a very Ares, Strymon's colt and the tuneful Muse's, has come to breathe courage into you.
Rhesus I too am just the same; straight to the point I cut my way; no shuffling nature is mine. My heart was wrung with sorer anguish than yours at my absence from this land; I fumed and chafed, but Scythian people, whose borders march with mine, made war on me on the very eve of my departure for Ilium; I had reached the strand of the Euxine sea, there to transport my Thracian army. Then my spear poured out over Scythia's land great drops of bloody rain, and Thrace too shared in the mingled slaughter. This then was what chanced to keep me from coming to the land of Troy and joining your standard. But as soon as I had conquered these and taken their children as hostages and appointed the yearly tribute they should pay my house, I have come, sailing across the sea's mouth, and on foot traversing the other borders of your land—not as you in your jeers at those carousals of my countrymen hint, nor sleeping soft in gilded palaces, but amid the frozen hurricanes that vex the Thracian s
Charioteer oh, oh! woe to me and to you, O king of Thrace, how cursed the sight of Troy to you! what an end to your life!