No! 'neath our walls, sore-batter'd, she will rail
At him who fain would carry her within.
If heaven so wills, herein I truth shall speak.
Chorus. Strophe III.
His word my breast doth rend,
Standeth my hair on end,
Hearing the haughty boast 560
Of haughty men profane;
Ye Gods, above who reign,
Here, in our land, smite ye their alien host!
Messenger.
Sixth, let me name a man most sage of heart,
Amphiarâos, prophet, first in arms;
He, marshall'd at the Homoloian gates,
Tydeus with keen reproaches oft assails,
As homicide, disturber of the State,
To Argos prime instructor in these harms,
Erinys' herald, Slaughter's minister, 570
Adviser to Adrastos of these ills;
And on thy brother Polyneikes' might,
He calls, dissecting his ill-omened name;[1]
Then in conclusion, twice with emphasis
His name repeating, utters forth these words:
"Pleasing to gods in sooth is such a deed,
Lovely for future years to hear and toll,
The city of thy sires and native gods
To spoil, made captive by an alien host.
- ↑ Πολυ-νεικης—much strife.
