Hardly had the darkness waned, [Half-Chorus I.
      When our ears were filled and pained
      With huge scandal on thy fame. 
      Telling, thine the arm that came
      To the cattle-browsed mead,
      Wild with prancing of the steed,
      And that ravaged there and slew
      With a sword of fiery hue
      All the spoils that yet remain,
      By the sweat of spearmen ta’en.

      Such report against thy life, [Half-Chorus II.
      Whispered words with falsehood rife,
      Wise Odysseus bringing near
      Shrewdly gaineth many an ear: 
      Since invention against thee
      Findeth hearing speedily,
      Tallying with the moment’s birth;
      And with loudly waxing mirth
      Heaping insult on thy grief,
      Each who hears it glories more
      Than the tongue that told before. 
      Every slander wins belief
      Aimed at souls whose worth is chief: 
      Shot at me, or one so small,
      Such a bolt might harmless fall. 
      Ever toward the great and high
      Creepeth climbing jealousy
      Yet the low without the tall
      Make at need a tottering wall
      Let the strong the feeble save
      And the mean support the brave.

CHORUS
      Ah! ’twere vain to tune such song
      ’Mid the nought discerning throng
      Who are clamouring now ’gainst thee
      Long and loud, and strengthless we,
      Mighty chieftain, thou away,
      To withstand the gathering fray
      Flocking fowl with carping cry
      Seem they, lurking from thine eye,
      Till the royal eagle’s poise
      Overawe the paltry noise
      Till before thy presence hushed
      Sudden sink they, mute and crushed.

Did bull slaying Artemis, Zeus’ cruel daughter I 1
  (Ah, fearful rumour, fountain of my shame!)
Prompt thy fond heart to this disastrous slaughter
  Of the full herd stored in our army’s name! 
Say, had her blood stained temple[1] missed the kindness
  Of some vow promised fruit of victory,
Foiled of some glorious armour through thy blindness,
  Or fell some stag ungraced by gift from thee? 
Or did stern Ares venge his thankless spear
Through this night foray that hath cost thee dear!

For never, if thy heart were not distracted I 2
  By stings from Heaven, O child of Telamon,
Wouldst thou have bounded leftward, to have acted
  Thus wildly, spoiling all our host hath won! 
Madness might fall some heavenly power forfend it
  But if Odysseus and the tyrant lords
Suggest a forged tale, O rise to end it,
  Nor fan the fierce flame of their withering words! 
Forth from thy tent, and let thine eye confound
The brood of Sisyphus[2] that would thee wound!

Too long hast thou been fixed in grim repose, III
  Heightening the haughty malice of thy foes,
That, while thou porest by the sullen sea,
  Through breezy glades advanceth fearlessly,
A mounting blaze with crackling laughter fed
From myriad throats; whence pain and sorrow bred
Within my bosom are established.