A wave of men, a moving armament.
These are their dispositions: 'tis for thee
To grapple with them quickly; for the rest
My eye shall watch with sure reconnaissance
The progress of the day, and thou, well served
With sure intelligence of all without,
Shalt take no hurt nor harm.
Eteocles.
Harken, O Zeus!
Earth and all tutelary Godheads, hear!
And shall I name thee, thou paternal Curse,
With dark Erinys' strong resentment armed?
O pluck not out this city by the roots,
Nor utterly destroy it, rendered up,
The prize of war! with all its settled homes
Sweet with suave fluctuance of Hellenic speech!
Grant that this free earth and King Cadmus' Town
May never pass beneath the yoke of slaves!
Help us! Our common cause methinks, I plead,
For when a happy City sees good days
Laud and great honour have the gods she worships!
The Chorus enter and rush up to the citadel.
Chorus.
I cry with great pangs of dread! For the foe quit their camp! Yea, their forces
Are loosed as a flood is loosed! and a multitude riding on horses
Runneth before, and mine ear no audible tidings seeks:
An airy signal flies! The dust, dumb messenger, speaks!
