Come what come may, 'tis Fate's decree.
Soft is thy word-the doom is hard.
Thou know'st not what the Fates provide.
How should I scan Zeus' mighty will,
The depth of counsel undescried?
Pray thou no word of omen ill.
What timely warning wouldst thou teach?
Beware, nor slight the gods in speech.
Zeus, hold from my body the wedlock detested, the bridegroom
It was thou, it was thou didst release
Mine ancestress Io from sorrow: thine healing it was that restored,
The touch of thine hand gave her peace.
Be thy will for the cause of the maidens! of two ills, the lesser
The exile that leaveth me pure.
May thy justice have heed to my cause, my prayers to thy mercy find
For the hands of thy saving are sure.