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Chorus
Tightly the pincers shall grip the neck
of him who feasts upon his guest; for soon will he lose the light of his eye by fire; already the brand, a tree’s huge limb,
610
lurks amid the embers charred.
615
Oh! come ye then and work his doom, pluck out the maddened Cyclops’ eye, that he may rue his drinking.
And I too fain would leave the Cyclops’ lonely land and see king Bromius, ivy-crowned, the god I sorely miss. Ah! shall I ever come to that?
620
Tightly the pincers shall grip the neck
of him who feasts upon his guest; for soon will he lose the light of his eye by fire; already the brand, a tree’s huge limb,
610
lurks amid the embers charred.
615
Oh! come ye then and work his doom, pluck out the maddened Cyclops’ eye, that he may rue his drinking.
And I too fain would leave the Cyclops’ lonely land and see king Bromius, ivy-crowned, the god I sorely miss. Ah! shall I ever come to that?
620
Cyclops. Euripides. London. 1891.
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