Æschylos Tragedies and Fragments. Aeschylus

our foes in full state like their own,

      Will station at the seven gates' entrances,

      Ere hurrying heralds and swift-rushing words

      Come and inflame them in the stress of need. [Exit

Strophe I

      Chor. My heart is full of care and knows not sleep,

      By panic fear o'ercome;

      And troubles throng my soul,

      And set a-glow my dread

      Of the great host encamped around our walls,

      As when a trembling dove

      Fears, for her callow brood,

      The snakes that come, ill mates for her soft nest;

      For some upon our towers

      March in full strength of mingled multitude;

      And what will me befall?

      And others on our men on either hand

      Hurl rugged blocks of stone.

      In every way, ye Zeus-born Gods, defend

      The city and the host

      That Cadmos claim as sire.

Antistrophe I

      What better land will ye receive for this,

      If ye to foes resign

      This rich and fertile clime,

      And that Dirkæan stream,

      Goodliest of founts by great Poseidon sent,

      Who circleth earth, or those

      Who Tethys parent call?93

      And therefore, O ye Gods that guard our city,

      Sending on those without

      Our towers a woe that robs men of their life,

      And makes them lose their shield,

      Gain glory for these countrymen of mine;

      And take your standing-ground,

      As saviours of the city, firm and true,

      In answer to our cry

      Of wailing and of prayer.

Strophe II

      For sad it were to hurl to Hades dark

      A city of old fame,

      The spoil and prey of war,

      With foulest shame in dust and ashes laid,

      By an Achæan foe at God's decree;

      And that our women, old and young alike,

      Be dragged away, ah me!

      Like horses, by their hair

      Their robes torn off from them.

      And lo, the city wails, made desolate,

      While with confusèd cry

      The wretched prisoners meet doom worse than death.

      Ah, at this grievous fate

      I shudder ere it comes.

Antistrophe II

      And piteous 'tis for those whose youth is fresh

      Before the rites that cull

      Their fair and first-ripe fruit,

      To take a hateful journey from their homes.

      Nay, but I say the dead far better fare

      Than these, for when a city is subdued

      It bears full many an ill.

      This man takes prisoner that,

      Or slays, or burns with fire;

      And all the city is defiled with smoke,

      And Ares fans the flame

      In wildest rage, and laying many low,

      Tramples with foot unclean

      On all men sacred hold.

Strophe III

      And hollow din is heard throughout the town,

      Hemmed in by net of towers;

      And man by man is slaughtered with the spear,

      And cries of bleeding babes,

      Of children at the breast,

      Are heard in piteous wail,

      And rapine, sister of the plunderer's rush,

      Spoiler with spoiler meets,

      And empty-handed empty-handed calls,

      Wishing for share of gain,

      Both eager for a portion no whit less,

      For more than equal lot

      With what they deem the others' hands have found.

Antistrophe III

      And all earth's fruits cast wildly on the ground,

      Meeting the cheerless eye

      Of frugal housewives, give them pain of heart;

      And many a gift of earth

      In formless heaps is whirled

      In waves of nothingness;

      And the young maidens know a sorrow new;

      For now the foe prevails,

      And gains rich prize of wretched captive's bed;

      And now their only hope

      Is that the night of death will come at last,

      Their truest, best ally,

      To rescue them from sorrow fraught with tears.

Enter Eteocles, followed by his Chief Captains, and by the Scout

      Semi-Chor. A. The army scout, so deem I, brings to us,

      Dear friends, some tidings new, with quickest speed

      Plying the nimble axles of his feet.

      Semi-Chor. B. Yea, the king's self, the son of Œdipus,

      Is nigh to hear the scout's exact report;

      And haste denies him too an even step.

      Mess. I knowing well, will our foes' state report,

      How each his lot hath stationed at the gates.

      At those of Prœtos, Tydeus thunders loud,

      And him the prophet suffers not to cross

      Ismenos' fords, the victims boding ill.94

      And Tydeus, raging eager for the fight,

      Shouts like a serpent in its noontide scream,

      And on the prophet, Œcleus' son, heaps shame,

      That he, in coward fear, doth crouch and fawn

      Before the doom and peril of the fight.

      And with such speech he shakes his triple crest,

      O'ershadowing all his helm, and 'neath his shield

      Bells wrought in bronze ring out their chimes of fear;

      And on his shield he bears this proud device, —

      A firmament enchased, all bright with stars;95

      And in the midst the full moon's glittering orb,

      Sovran of stars and eye of Night, shines forth.

      And thus exulting in o'er boastful arms,

      By the stream's bank he shouts in lust of war,

      [E'en as a war-horse panting in his strength

      Against the

93

Rivers and streams as the children of Tethys and Okeanos.

94

Here, as in v. 571, Tydeus appears as the real leader of the expedition, who had persuaded Adrastos and the other chiefs to join in it, and Amphiaraos, the prophet, the son of Œcleus, as having all along foreseen its disastrous issue. The account of the expedition in the Œdipus at Colonos (1300-1330) may be compared with this.

95

The legend of the Medusa's head on the shield of Athena shows the practice of thus decorating shields to have been of remote date. In Homer it does not appear as common, and the account given of the shield of Achilles lays stress upon the work of the artist (Hephæstos) who wrought the shield in relief, not, as here, upon painted insignia. They were obviously common in the time of Æschylos.