Chorus
Ho! ye peaks of Parnassus
that rear your rocky heads to heaven, where Bacchus with uplifted torch of blazing pine bounds nimbly amid his bacchanals, that range by night! Never to my city come this boy!
715
let him die and leave his young life as it dawns! For should our city fall on evil days, this bringing-in of strangers would supply it with a reason. Enough, enough for us Erechtheus’ line that erst held sway!
720
Ion. Euripides. Edward P. Coleridge (Translator). London. 1906.
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