At the king's word I rode afoam for thine.


ALTHAEA.

Thou sayest he tarrieth till they bring the spoil?


HERALD.

Hard by the quarry, where they breathe, O queen.


ALTHAEA.

Speak thou their chance; but some bring flowers and crown
These gods and all the lintel, and shed wine,
Fetch sacrifice and slay, for heaven is good.


HERALD.

Some furlongs northward where the brakes begin
West of that narrowing range of warrior hills
Whose brooks have bled with battle when thy son
Smote Acarnania, there all they made halt,
And with keen eye took note of spear and hound,
Royally ranked; Laertes island-born,
The young Gerenian Nestor, Panopeus,
And Cepheus and Ancaeus, mightiest thewed,