At home, afield, or on some foreign soil?

CR. He had left us, as he said, to visit Delphi;
But nevermore returned since he set forth.

OED. And was there none, no fellow traveller,
To see, and tell the tale, and help our search?

CR. No, they were slain; save one, who, flying in fear,
Had nought to tell us but one only thing.

OED. What was that thing? A little door of hope,
Once opened, may discover much to view.

CR. A random troop of robbers, meeting him,
Outnumbered and o'erpowered him. So 'twas told.

OED. What robber would have ventured such a deed,
If unsolicited with bribes from hence?

CR. We thought of that. But Laius being dead,
We found no helper in our miseries.

OED. When majesty was fallen, what misery
Could hinder you from searching out the truth?

CR. A present trouble had engrossed our care.
The riddling Sphinx compelled us to observe
The moment's grief, neglecting things unknown.

OED. But I will track this evil to the spring
And clear it to the day. Most worthily
Doth great Apollo, worthily dost thou
Prompt this new care for the unthought of dead.
And me too ye shall find a just ally,
Succouring the cause of Phoebus and the land.
Since, in dispelling this dark cloud, I serve
No indirect or distant claim on me,
But mine own life, for he that slew the king
May one day turn his guilty hand 'gainst me
With equal rage. In righting Laius, then,
I forward mine own cause.--Now, children, rise
From the altar-steps, and lift your suppliant boughs,
And let some other summon to this place
All Cadmus' people, and assure them, I
Will answer every need. This day shall see us
Blest with glad fortune through God's help, or fallen.

PR. Rise then, my children. Even for this we came
Which our good lord hath promised of himself.
Only may Phoebus, who hath sent this word,
With healing power descend, and stay the plague. [_Exeunt severally_

CHORUS (_entering_).
Kind voice of Heaven, soft-breathing from the height I 1
Of Pytho's opulent home to Thebe bright,
What wilt thou bring to day?
Ah, Delian Healer, say!
My heart hangs on thy word with trembling awe:
What new giv'n law,
Or what returning in Time's circling round
Wilt thou unfold? Tell us, immortal sound,
Daughter of golden Hope, tell us, we pray, we pray!

First, child of Zeus, Pallas, to thee appealing, I 2
Then to sweet Artemis, thy sister, kneeling,
Who with benignant