What man shall fear not to put forth his hand and take? For the fruit of a sweet life plucked in its pure green prime [_Ant._ 4. On his hand who plucks is as blood, on his soul as crime. With cursing ye buy not blessing, nor peace with strife, 800 And the hand is hateful that chaffers with death for life. Hast thou heard, O my heart, and endurest [_Str._ 5. The word that is said, What a garland by sentence found surest Is wrought for what head? With what blossomless flowerage of sea-foam and blood-coloured foliage inwound It shall crown as a heifer's for slaughter the forehead for marriage uncrowned? How the veils and the wreaths that should cover [_Ant._ 5. The brows of the bride Shall be shed by the breath of what lover 810 And scattered aside? With a blast of the mouth of what bridegroom the crowns shall be cast from her hair, And her head by what altar made humble be left of them naked and bare? At a shrine unbeloved of a God unbeholden a gift shall be given for the land, [_Str._ 6. That its ramparts though shaken with clamour and horror of manifold waters may stand; That the crests of its citadels crowned and its turrets that thrust up their heads to the sun May behold him unblinded with darkness of waves overmastering their bulwarks begun. As a bride shall they bring her, a prey for the bridegroom, a flower for the couch of her lord; [_Ant._ 6. They shall muffle her mouth that she cry not or curse them, and cover her eyes from the sword. They shall fasten her lips as with bit and with bridle, and darken the light of her face, 820 That the soul of the slayer may not falter, his heart be not molten, his hand give not grace. If she weep then, yet may none that hear take pity; [_Str._ 7. If she cry not, none should hearken though she cried. Shall a virgin shield thine head for love, O city, With a virgin's blood anointed as for pride? Yet we held thee dear and hallowed of her favour, [_Ant._ 7. Dear of all men held thy people to her heart; Nought she loves the breath of blood, the sanguine savour, Who hath built with us her throne and chosen her part. Bloodless are her works, and sweet [_Epode._ 830 All the ways that feel her feet; From the empire of her eyes Light takes life and darkness flies; From the harvest of her hands Wealth strikes root in prosperous lands; Wisdom of her word is made; At her strength is strength afraid;