might share his ill-luck, he mistrusted your peevish nature and, to prevent all danger to himself, he threw out that little spark, the Megarian decree,[1] set the city aflame, and blew up the conflagration with a hurricane of war, so that the smoke drew tears from all Greeks both here and over there. At the very outset of this fire our vines were a-crackle, our casks knocked together;[2] it was beyond the power of any man to stop the disaster, and Peace disappeared.
Trygæus.
That, by Apollo! is what no one ever told me; I could not think what connection there could be between Phidias and Peace.
Chorus.
Nor I; I know it now. This accounts for her beauty, if she is related to him. There are so many things that escape us.
Hermes.
Then, when the towns subject to you saw that you were angered one against the other and were showing each other your teeth like dogs, they hatched a thousand plots to pay you no more dues and gained over the chief citizens of Sparta at the price of gold. They, being as shamelessly greedy as they were faithless in diplomacy, chased off Peace with ignominy to let loose War. Though this was profitable to them, ’twas the ruin of the husbandmen, who were innocent of all blame; for, in revenge, your galleys went out to devour their figs.
Trygæus.
And ’twas with justice too; did they not break down my black fig tree, which I had planted and dunged with my own hands?
- ↑ He had issued a decree, which forbade the admission of any Megarian on Attic soil, and also all trade with that people. The Megarians, who obtained all their provisions from Athens, were thus almost reduced to starvation.
- ↑ That is, the vineyards were ravaged from the very outset of the war, and this increased the animosity.
