[Antistrophe.]

  He slew the Snake; he cast, men say,
  Themis, the child of Earth, away
  From Pytho and her hallowed stream;
    Then Earth, in dark derision,
  Brought forth the Peoples of the Dream
    And all the tribes of Vision.

  And men besought them; and from deep
  Confused underworlds of sleep
  They showed blind things that erst had been
    And are and yet shall follow
  So did avenge that old Earth Queen
    Her child’s wrong on Apollo.

  Then swiftly flew that conquering one
  To Zeus on high, and round the throne
  Twining a small indignant hand,
    Prayed him to send redeeming
  To Pytho from that troublous band
    Sprung from the darks of dreaming.

  Zeus laughed to see the babe, I trow,
  So swift to claim his golden rite;
  He laughed and bowed his head, in vow
  To still those voices of the night. 
  And so from out the eyes of men
  That dark dream-truth was lost again;
  And Phoebus, throneed where the throng
    Prays at the golden portal,
  Again doth shed in sunlit song
    Hope unto all things mortal.

[enter a messenger, running.]

Messenger. 
Ho, watchers of the fane!  Ho, altar-guard,
Where is King Thoas gone?  Undo the barred
Portals, and call the King!  The King I seek.

Leader. 
What tidings—­if unbidden I may speak?

Messenger. 
The strangers both are gone, and we beguiled,
By some dark plot of Agamemnon’s child: 
Fled from the land!  And on a barque of Greece
They bear the heaven-sent shape of Artemis.

Leader. 
Thy tale is past belief.—­Go, swiftly on,
And find the King.  He is but newly gone.

Messenger. 
Where went he?  He must know of what has passed!

Leader. 
I know not where he went.  But follow fast
And seek him.  Thou wilt light on him ere long.

Messenger. 
See there!  The treason of a woman’s tongue! 
Ye all are in the plot, I warrant ye!

Leader. 
Thy words are mad!  What are the men to me? ... 
Go to the palace, go!

Messenger (seeing the great knocker on the
           temple door.)
I will not stir
Till word be come by this good messenger
If Thoas be within these gates or no.—­

[thundering at the door.]

Ho, loose the portals!  Ye within!  What ho! 
Open, and tell our master one doth stand
Without here, with strange evil in his hand.

[enter THAOS from the temple.]

Thoas. 
Who dares before this portal consecrate
Make uproar and lewd battering of the gate? 
Thy noise hath broke the Altar’s ancient peace.

Messenger. 
Ye Gods!  They swore to me—­and bade me cease
My search—­the King was gone.  And all the while ...!