from Women of Trachis
KHOROS:
Strophe
KUPRIS bears trophies away.
Kronos’ Son, Dis and Poseidon,
There is no one
shaker unshaken.
Into dust go they all.
Neath Her they must
give way.
Antistrophe
TWO gods fought for a girl,
Battle and dust!
Might of a River with horns
crashing.
Four bulls together
Shall no man tether,
Akheloös neither,
lashing through Oneudai
As bow is bent
The Theban Cub,
Bacchus’ own, spiked is his club,
HE is God’s Son.
Hurled to one bed,
Might of waters like a charge of bulls crashing.
Get a dowsing rod.
Kupris decides
To whom brides
fall.
Epode
ROCK and wrack,
Horns into back,
Slug, grunt and groan,
Grip through to bone.
Crash and thud
Blows against blood
Grip and grind
Bull’s head and horn.
BUT the wide-eyed girl on the hill,
Out of it all,
frail,
Who shall have her?
To stave her and prove her,
Cowless calf lost,
Hurtled away,
prized for a day?