THE BIRDS. 153

Plaus, “T guess that you want the tunic. Here,
fellow; off with it. You ought to help a poor poet.”

The next visitor was a dealer in prophecies. “Stop
the sacrifice,” he cried, as soon as he appeared; “I
have a prophecy of Bacis that speaks expressly about
Cloud Cuckoo Land.”

Plaus. “But why did we not hear of it before the
city was founded ?”

Soothsayer. “The divine voice forbade me.”

Plaus, “Well, there is nothing like having the
words.”

Sooth. “In the days when the jackdaws and crows shall
unite, - :
Midway between Corinth and Sicyon’s height,
A fair city to build —”

Plaus. “ But what have I got to do with Cor-
inth?”

Sooth. “Oh! Bacis meant the air under the figure
of Corinth, —

“A fair city to build, you must offer a goat
Milk-white to Pandora, presenting a coat
Without spot, and of sandals a handsome new pair,
To the man who this prophecy first shall declare.”

Plaus. “ Does he mention the sandals?”

Sooth. “Yes; look at the book. But listen
again :—

“And a cup he must have and some flesh for his share.”

Plaus. “Does he mention the flesh ?”