Stasimon 1
[Choral 1]
Dark straits of the sea, dark, where the gadfly flying from Argos
Chorus
crossed over the inhospitable wave . . . taking the Asian land in exchange for Europe. Whoever are the ones who left the lovely waters
395
of Eurotas, green with reeds, or the holy streams of Dirce, to come here, to come to the unsociable land, where, for the divine maiden, the blood of mortals stains
400
the altars and columned temples?
405
Did they sail the pine-wood oars with double beat of surge, over the waves of the sea,
a chariot of a ship in breezes that move the linen sails, to increase the contest of wealth for their halls? For hope is sweet, and
410
insatiable in mortals, to their hurt, for those who bear away the weight of wealth, wandering over the wave and crossing to barbarian cities, with one expectation. But thought of wealth comes at the wrong time for some,
415
while for others it comes moderately.
420
[Choral 2]
The rocks that rush together, the sleepless shores of Phineus—how did they cross them, running along the salty coast
Chorus
on Amphitrite’s surge, where the fifty daughters of Nereus . . . the circular choruses sing,
425
with wind in the sails, the guiding rudder creaking under the stern, with southern breezes or by the blasts of the west wind,
430
to the land of many birds, the white strand, Achilles’ lovely race-course, over the Black Sea?
435
Would that, by my mistress’ prayers, Helen, Leda’s dear child,
might happen to leave Troy and come here, where she might die, crowned over her hair by the bloody water,
440
her throat cut by the hands of my mistress, and so pay her requital. But what a sweet message I should receive, if a sailor came from Hellas,
445
to put an end to my wretched slavery! For may I even in dreams be at home and in my ancestral city, the enjoyment of pleasant sleep,
450
a grace we have in common with prosperity.
455