How grievous 'tis far from their homes to wend
On hateful journey! What then? I declare
Who sleep in death than these far better fare.
Full many woes a captured town attend;
As captive one his enemy doth seize, 330
Another slays, or round him scatters fire,
While the whole city is with smoke defil'd,
And people-taming Ares, wild
With frenesy, all sanctities
Foully polluting, doth their rage inspire.
Strophe III.
Loud clamour through the town prevails,
Destruction's net draws near,
And man by man is slaughtered with the spear;
The new-born infant wails, 340
Its gory bleating at the breast is heard;
There Rapine, sister to wild Tumult, reigns.
Spoiler to spoiler gives the word;
The empty-handed empty-handed hails,
Seeking a partner in his gains,
Each greedy for nor less nor equal share.
In scenes like these how may we hope to fare?
Antistrophe III.
And fruitage too of every sort 350
Is wasted ruthlessly,
Earth-strewn, sad sight to housewife's cheerless eye;
And earth's fair gifts, the sport
Of worthless surge, are swept away
