Antistrophe I
Chor. A curse on him who 'gainst our city boasts!
May thunder smite him down
450
Before he force his way
Into my home, and drive
Me from my maiden bower with haughty spear?
Mess. And now I'll tell of him who by the gates
Stands next; for to Eteocles, as third,
To march his cohort to Neïstian gates,