ETEOCLES.
Let men with sacrifice and augury
Approach the gods, when comes the tug of war;
Maids must be silent and abide within.
CHORUS.
By grace of the gods we hold it, a city untamed of the spear,
And the battlement wards from the wall the foe and his aspect of fear!
What need of displeasure herein?
ETEOCLES.
Ay, pay thy vows to Heaven; I grudge them not,
But—so thou strike no fear into our men—
Have calm at heart, nor be too much afraid.
CHORUS.
Alack, it is fresh in mine ears, the clamour and crash of the fray,
And up to our holiest height I sped on my timorous way,
Bewildered, beset by the din!
ETEOCLES.
Now, if ye hear the bruit of death or wounds,
Give not yourselves o’ermuch to shriek and scream,
For Ares ravens upon human flesh.
CHORUS.
Ah, but the snorting of the steeds I hear!
ETEOCLES.
Then, if thou hearest, hear them not too well!
CHORUS.
Hark, the earth rumbles, as they close us round!
ETEOCLES.
Enough if I am here, with plans prepared.
CHORUS.
Alack, the battering at the gates is loud!