For mine own blood.—Up! Leave this altar-stair, Children. Take from it every suppliant bough. Then call the folk of Thebes. Say, 'tis my vow To uphold them to the end. So God shall crown Our greatness, or for ever cast us down. [He goes in to the Palace. Priest. Priest. My children, rise.—The King most lovingly Hath promised all we came for. And may He vv. 149-161 [Pg 11] Who sent this answer, Phoebus, come confessed Helper to Thebes, and strong to stay the pest. [The suppliants gather up their boughs and stand at the side. The chorus of Theban elders enter. Chorus. Chorus. [They speak of the Oracle which they have not yet heard, and cry to Apollo by his special cry "I-ê." Apollo A Voice, a Voice, that is borne on the Holy Way! What art thou, O Heavenly One, O Word of the Houses of Gold?
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