Oeneus
What thing wilt thou leave me
Now this thing is done?
A man wilt thou give me,
A son for my son,
For the light of mine eyes, the desire of my life,
the desirable one?
CHORUS.
Thou wert glad above others,
Yea, fair beyond word,
Thou wert glad among mothers;
For each man that heard
Of thee, praise there was added unto thee, as wings
to the feet of a bird.