To the music glance and fleet.
Bacchus, O beloved, where, _65
Shaking wide thy yellow hair,
Wanderest thou alone, afar?
To the one-eyed Cyclops, we,
Who by right thy servants are,
Minister in misery, _70
In these wretched goat-skins clad,
Far from thy delights and thee.

SILENUS:
Be silent, sons; command the slaves to drive
The gathered flocks into the rock-roofed cave.

CHORUS:
Go! But what needs this serious haste, O father? _75

SILENUS:
I see a Grecian vessel on the coast,
And thence the rowers with some general
Approaching to this cave.--About their necks
Hang empty vessels, as they wanted food,
And water-flasks.--Oh, miserable strangers! _80
Whence come they, that they know not what and who
My master is, approaching in ill hour
The inhospitable roof of Polypheme,
And the Cyclopian jaw-bone, man-destroying?
Be silent, Satyrs, while I ask and hear _85
Whence coming, they arrive the Aetnean hill.