CHORUS.
(various voices confusedly)
1
To arms! To arms, Lord Hector!—Send
First where the allied armies lie,
Bid them draw sword and make an end
25
Of sleep.—Let someone fly
And get the horses’ armour on!—
Who goes with me to Panthoös’ son?—
Who’s for Sarpêdon and the Lycians?—None
Hath seen the priest
2
go by?—
30
Ho, Captain of the Runners, ho!—
Ho, Trojans of the hornèd bow!
String, string! For need is nigh.
Rhesus. Euripides. Gilbert Murray (Translator). London. 1913.
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