First there shall come a Zeus who bears the name of Zeus Lapersios; who shall come with swooping thunderbolt to burn all the habitations of the foe. With him shall I die, and when I flit among the dead I shall hear these further things which I am about to utter.
And, second, the son of him that was slain in a net, like a dumb fish, shall lay waste with fire the alien land, coming, at the bidding of the oracles of the Physician, with a host of many tongues.
And third, the son of the woodcutter king, beguiling the potter maiden of Branchidae to give him in his need earth mixed with water, wherewith to set on a tablet his finger-seal, shall found the mountain monarchy of the Phtheires, when he has destroyed the host of the Carians—the first to fight for hire —what time his wanton daughter shall abuse her nakedness and say in mockery of marriage that she will conclude her nuptials in the brothels of barbarians,
And then, again, the fourth, of the seed of Dymas, the Codrus-ancients of Lacmon and Cytina—who shall dwell in Thigros and the hill of Satnion and the extremity of the peninsula, of him who of old was utterly hated by the goddess Cyrita: the father of the crafty vixen who by daily traffic assuaged the raging hunger of her sire—even Aethon, plougher of alien shires.
And the Phrygian, avenging the blood of his brothers, will sack again the land that nursed the ruler of the dead, who in loveless wise pronounces relentless judgement on the departed. He shall spoil the ears of the ass, lobes and all, and deck his temples, fashioning a terror for the ravenous bloodsuckers. By him all the land of Phlegra shall be enslaved and the ridge of Thrambus and spur of Titon by the sea and the plains of the Sithonians and the fields of Pallene, which the ox-horned Brychon, who served the giants, fattens with his waters.
And many woes, on this side and that alternately, shall be taken as an offering by Candaeus or Mamertus—or what name should be given to him who banquets in gory battles?
Yet the mother of Epimetheus shall not yield, but in return for all shall send a single giant of the seed of Perseus, who shall walk over the sea on foot and sail over the earth, smiting the dry land with the oar. And the shrines of Laphria Mamerse shall be consumed with fire together with their defence of wooden walls, and shall blame for their hurt the prater of oracles, the false prophesying lackey of Pluto. By his unapproachable host every fruit-bearing oak and wild tree flourishing on the mountain shall be devoured, stripping off its double covering of bark, and every flowing torrent shall be dried up, as they slake with open mouth their black thirst. And they shall raise overhead clouds of arrows hurtling from afar, whose shadow shall obscure the sun, like a Cimmerian darkness dimming the sun. And blooming for a brief space, as a Locrian rose, and burning all things like withered ear of corn, he shall in his turn taste of homeward flight, glancing fearfully towards the oaken bulwark hard at hand, even as a girl in the dusky twilight frightened by a brazen sword.
And many contests and slaughters in between shall solve the struggles of men, contending for dread empire, now on land, now on the plough-turned backs of earth, until a tawny lion—sprung from Aeacus and from Dardanus, Thesprotian at once and Chalastraean— shall lull to rest the grievous tumult, and, overturning on its face all the house of his kindred, shall compel the chiefs of the Argives to cower and fawn upon the wolf-leader of Galadra, and to hand over the sceptre of the ancient monarchy.
With him, after six generations, my kinsman, an unique wrestler, shall join battle by sea and land and come to terms, and shall be celebrated among his friends as most excellent, when he has received the first fruits of the spear-won spoils.
Why, unhappy, do I call to the unheeding rocks, to the deaf wave, and to the awful glades, twanging the idle noise of my lips? For Lepsieus has taken credit from me, daubing with rumour of falsity my words and the true prophetic wisdom of my oracles, for that he was robbed of the bridal which he sought to win. Yet will he make my oracles true. And in sorrow shall many a one know it, when there is no means any more to help my fatherland and shall praise the frenzied swallow.
So much she spake, and then sped back and went within her prison. But in her heart she wailed her latest Siren song—like some Mimallon of Claros’ or babbler of Melancraera, Neso’s daughter, or Phician monster, mouthing darkly her perplexed words. And I came, O King, to announce to thee this the crooked speech of the maiden prophetess, since thou didst appoint me to be the warder of her stony dwelling and didst charge me to come as a messenger to report all to thee and truly recount her words.
But may God turn her prophecies to fairer issue—even he that cares for thy throne, preserving the ancient inheritance of the Bebryces.
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