200
Chorus.
Now the long blade of the sun, lying
Level east to west, touches with glory
Thebes of the Seven Gates. Open, unlidded
Eye of golden day! O marching light
Across the eddy and rush of Dirce’s stream,
Striking the white shields of the enemy
Thrown headlong backward from the blaze of
morning!
What is being described?
What is morning sun shining down on the enemy army?