Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/344

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274
The Seven against Thebes.

My city, where the speech of Hellas flows,
With utter ruin, captured by the foe,
Uproot ye not, nor our domestic hearths,
But grant that our free land and Cadmos' town
In vassal bondage never may be held.
Be ye our strength;—our common weal, I urge,
For thriving cities honour best the gods.

[Exit.


[Enter Chorus of Theban Maidens.]


Chorus.

I wail forth mighty, fear-inspiring woes!
An army hurries, from its camp set free!
A mounted host onward in ample tide
Towards our city flows. 80
Dust that on air doth ride,
Dumb herald, clear and true, persuadeth me.
Clatter of horse-hoofs on my natal plain
Brings to mine ear war's dismal sound;
Air-borne it floats around;
Like mountain-lashing flood's resistless flow
It roars amain.
Alas! ah me!
Ye gods and goddesses, oh turn aside
The impending woe.


Leader of the 1st Half Chorus.

With battle-shout, straight to our city-wall
The host white-shielded speeds in fair array. 90


1st Maiden.

Who will deliver?