142 ARISTOPHANES.

K. H. “You. They know Greek now; before I
came among them they had only their own foreign
lingo, but I have taught them the language.”

Plaus. “And how can you collect them?”

K. H. “will just step into the thicket here and
call the nightingale. They'll come fast enough when
they hear her voice.” :

The king then summoned his herald by a song : —

“Come, gentle mate, from sleep awake ;
Begin again
The sacred strain
With which, O minstrel bird, you make
For Itys lost complaint so sweet,
That through the woodland to the feet
Of Zeus above, the song ascends,
Where golden-haired Apollo lends,
Touching his ivory-pedalled lyre,
Such answering music that the choir
Of all the blessed gods who throng
The courts of heaven join the song.” _

This was answered by a burst of music, as of the
most exquisitely played flute, from the neighbouring
thicket : — ;

“ Epopopopopopopopopopoi
Io io, ito ito, tio tio, tiu.”

Then the king began again: —

“Now come at my call,
Now come one and all,
From ploughland and plain,
Ye feeders on grain;