Where the thundering Bosphorus answers the thunder of Pontic seas.
Oeneus
“Dost thou mock at our praise
And the singing begun
And the men of strange days
Praising my son
In the folds of the hills of home, high places of Calydon?
Where the thundering Bosphorus answers the thunder of Pontic seas.
Oeneus
“Dost thou mock at our praise
And the singing begun
And the men of strange days
Praising my son
In the folds of the hills of home, high places of Calydon?