This text is part of:
Search the Perseus Catalog for:
Table of Contents:
ANOTHER.
Nay, hearken! Again she is crying
Where death-laden Simois falls,
Of the face of dead Itys that stunned her,
Of grief grown to music and wonder:
Most changeful and old and undying
The nightingale calls.
ANOTHER.
And on Ida the shepherds are waking
Their flocks for the upland. I hear
The skirl of a pipe very distant.
ANOTHER.
And sleep, it falls slow and insistent.
'Tis perilous sweet when the breaking
Of dawn is so near.
DIVERS GUARDS (talking).
Why have we still no word nor sign
Of that scout in the Argive line?
ANOTHER.
I know not; he is long delayed.
ANOTHER.
God send he trip not on the blade
Of some Greek in an ambuscade!
ANOTHER.
It may be. I am half afraid.
LEADER.
Our time is past! Up, men, and tell
The fifth watch. 'Tis the Lycians' spell
Now, as the portions fairly fell.
The Rhesus of Euripides. Translated into English rhyming verse with explanatory notes by Gilbert Murray, LL.D., D.Litt, F.B.A., Regius Professor of Greek in the University of Oxford. Euripides. Gilbert Murray. New York. Oxford University Press. 1913.
This text has been proofread to a medium level of accuracy.
This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.
An XML version of this text is available for download, with the additional restriction that you offer Perseus any modifications you make. Perseus provides credit for all accepted changes, storing new additions in a versioning system.