_Chor._ Gods of my city, from the slave's lot save me! _Eteoc._ 'Tis thou enslav'st thyself and all thy city. _Chor._ Oh, turn thy darts, great Zeus, against our foes! _Eteoc._ Oh, Zeus, what race of women thou hast given us! _Chor._ A sorry race, like men whose city falls. _Eteoc._ What? Cling to these statues, yet speak words of ill? _Chor._ Fear hurries on my tongue in want of courage. _Eteoc._ Could'st thou but grant one small boon at my prayer!250 _Chor._ Speak it out quickly, and I soon shall know. _Eteoc._ Be still, poor fool, and frighten not thy friends. _Chor._ Still am I, and with others bear our fate. _Eteoc._ These words of thine I much prefer to those: And further, though no longer at the shrines, Pray thou for victory, that the Gods fight with us. And when my prayers thou hearest, then do thou Raise a loud, welcome, holy pæan-shout, The Hellenes' wonted cry at sacrifice; So cheer thy friends, and check their fear of foes; And I unto our country's guardian Gods, 260 Who hold the plain or watch the agora, The springs of Dirkè, and Ismenos' stream;— If things go well, and this our city's saved,— I vow that staining with the blood of sheep The altar-hearths of Gods, or slaying bulls, We'll fix our trophies, and our foemen's robes On the spear's point on consecrated walls, Before the shrines I'll hang.[92] Pray thou this prayer, Not weakly wailing, nor with vain wild sobs, For no whit more thou'lt 'scape thy destined lot: 270 And I six warriors, with myself as seventh, Against our foes in full state like their own, Will station at the seven gates' entrances, Ere hurrying heralds and swift-rushing words Come and inflame them in the stress of need. [_Exit_ STROPHE I _Chor._ My heart is full of care and knows not sleep, By panic fear o'ercome; And troubles throng my soul, And set a-glow my dread Of the great host encamped around our walls, As when a trembling dove Fears, for her callow brood, 280 The snakes that come, ill mates for her soft nest; For some upon our towers March in full strength of mingled multitude; And what will me befall? And others on our men on either hand Hurl rugged blocks of stone. In every way, ye Zeus-born Gods, defend 290 The city and the host That Cadmos claim as sire. ANTISTROPHE I