Like to a chill tide, sounding as it goes,
Runs through all orders of the Commonweal!
And,—while the foe without are mightily
Advantaged—we ourselves within the gates
Work for our own destruction! Whoso shares
With womankind his fortunes, let him look
For the like issue! Whatsoe'er he be,
Man, woman,—or some despicable thing
Halfway betwixt them both—that from henceforth
Fails in most strict obedience to my will,
The damning pebble shall his lot decide,
And he shall publicly be stoned to death!
It longeth to a man—let womankind
Keep their own counsel and not mell with ours—
To manage matters in the world outside.
Keep within doors and thwart not our designs!
Now—hast thou heard? Or hast thou failed to hear?
Or speak I to the deaf—a girl at that?
Chorus.
Dear Son of Oedipus! Fear smote
My heart, by reason of the din
Of chariots! For the axle's spin,
The whirring wheel's flute-note!
Because of the bit by fire begot,
That pipeth harsh with breathings hot
Of war-steeds, by the long rein swayed,
I was afraid!
Eteocles.
Think ye that when she labours by the head
With panic rush from high-pooped stern to prow
The seaman goes about to save his ship?
