The gray-bearded servant of Zeus, as accomplished in speaking as kicking;

The deep-voiced seer of all, with an arm like the oak of the forest;

The tottering son of the mountains, delight of the New York reporters;

The bringer of tidings from Corinth, whose courage o'ercame his misfortune;

The lightly-clad ???, so "youthful and handsome" on-rushing;

The suppliants not keeping step, and the graceful, swift-footed attendants;

Least, but not last in our hearts, the golden-haired little Ismene.

Pleasant the lot of the Chorus, for 'tis said that he hath not known pleasure

Who hath not known Paine, then how happy their studies in music!

The Grecians who stood at the helm and the one who provided the money,

Likewise the tireless one, who sits up at night and drinks coffee,

Smoke up-curling around, have all deserved well at our hands;

Old friends they are and not new, their names writ in gold in Olympus.

Listen, thou son of Menoeceus, and carry this question to Cambridge :

What have ye saved from the glory, what have ye saved of the splendor?