In pressure of sore ill,
It raises one perplexed from direst woe,
When dark clouds gather thickly o'er his eyes.
Eteoc. 'Tis work of men to offer sacrifice
And victims to the Gods, when foes press hard;
220
Thine to be dumb and keep within the house.
Strophe III
Chor. 'Tis through the Gods we live
In city unsubdued, and that our towers