Prevod

But the father, though rejoicing that his son was safe, was stunned to think how narrowly he had escaped committing so monstrous a crime. He kindled fires on the altars and heaped gifts upon the gods, while axes struck the muscular necks of oxen whose bodies were bound with sacred ribbons. No day, they say, ever dawned more festive than this for the people of Erechtheus. Nobles and common folk alike held feasts, and, their inspiration stirred by wine, sang songs as well: “You, mighty Theseus, Marathon marvelled at, when you shed the Cretan bull’s blood; and if the farmer ploughs Cromyon safe from the sow, that is your gift, your doing. Through you the land of Epidaurus

saw Vulcan’s club-bearing son fall dead; the banks of Cephisus saw cruel Procrustes fall, and Eleusis, sacred to Ceres, witnessed Cercyon’s death. Sinis too fell, who put his mighty strength to evil use, who could bend tree trunks, dragging tall pines down to the earth to fling men’s bodies far and wide. The road to Alcathoe, the city of the Leleges, lies safe now Sciron is laid low; neither earth nor sea would grant the robber’s scattered bones a resting place.

Long tossed about, they hardened with time, so the story goes, into rocks: those rocks still bear Sciron’s name. If we tried to count your honours and your years, your deeds would outnumber your years. For you, bravest of men, we offer public prayers; in your honour we drink the wine of Bacchus.” The palace rang with the people’s acclaim and their loving prayers, and nowhere in all the city was there any sorrow.