O Argos, home of steeds, my native land! ye have heard with your
ears these words, the king's pious will toward the gods in the sight
of great Pelasgia and throughout Argos.
(antistrophe 1)
May he reach the goal! yea, and triumph o'er my sorrows, rescuing
the gory corpse, the mother's idol and making the land of Inachus
his friend by helping her.
(strophe 2)
For pious toil is a fair ornament to cities, and carries with it
grace that never wastes away. What will the city decide, I wonder?
Will it conclude a friendly truce with me, and shall we obtain burial
for our sons?
(antistrophe 2)
Help, O help, city of Pallas, the mother's cause, that so they may
not pollute the laws of all mankind. Thou, I know, dost reverence
right, and to injustice dealest out defeat, a protection at all times
to the afflicted. (Theseus addresses one of his own heralds. As he
speaks, the Herald from King Creon of Thebes enters.)
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