Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (1908) Morshead.djvu/153

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THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES
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Eteocles

Cry not on Heaven, in impotent debate!
What saith the saw?—Good saving Strength, in verity,
Out of Obedience breeds the babe Prosperity.


Chorus

'Tis true: yet stronger is the power divine,
And oft, when man's estate is overbowed
With bitter pangs, disperses from his eyne
The heavy, hanging cloud!


Eteocles

Let men with sacrifice and augury
Approach the gods, when comes the tug of war:
Maids must be silent and abide within.


Chorus

By grace of the gods we hold it, a city untamed of the spear,
And the battlement wards from the wall the foe and his aspect of fear!
What need of displeasure herein?


Eteocles

Ay, pay thy vows to Heaven; I grudge them not,
But—so thou strike no fear into our men—
Have calm at heart, nor be too much afraid.


Chorus

Alack, it is fresh in mine ears, the clamour and crash of the fray,
And up to our holiest height I sped on my timorous way,
Bewildered, beset by the din!