_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, Leaped the third lot from upturned brazen helm: And he his mares, in head-gear snorting, whirls, Full eager at the gates to fall and die; Their whistling nozzles of barbaric mode, Are filled with loud blast of the panting nostrils.[99] In no poor fashion is his shield devised; 460 A full-armed warrior climbs a ladder's rungs, And mounts his foeman's towers as bent to sack; And he too cries, in words of written speech, That “NOT E'EN ARES FROM THE TOWERS SHALL DRIVE HIM.” Send thou against him some defender true, To ward the yoke of bondage from our State. _Eteoc._ Such would I send now; by good luck indeed He has been sent, his vaunting in his deeds, Megareus, Creon's son, who claims descent From those as Sparti known, and not by noise Of neighings loud of warlike steeds dismayed, 470 Will he the gates abandon, but in death Will pay our land his nurture's debt in full,[100] Or taking two men, and a town to boot, (That on the shield,) will deck his father's house With those his trophies. Of another tell The bragging tale, nor grudge thy words to me. STROPHE II _Chor._ Him I wish good success, O guardian of my home, and for his foes All ill success I pray; And since against our land their haughty words With maddened soul they speak, May Zeus, the sovran judge, With fiery, hot displeasure look on them! 480 _Mess._ Another stands as fourth at gates hard by, Onca-Athenà's, with a shout of war, Hippomedon's great form and massive limbs; And as he whirled his orb, his vast shield's disk, I shuddered; yea, no idle words I speak. No cheap and common draughtsman sure was he Who wrought this cunning ensign on his shield: Typhon emitting from his lips hot blast Of darkling smoke, the flickering twin of fire: And round the belly of the hollow shield A rim was made with wreaths of twisted snakes. 490 And he too shouts his war-cry, and in frenzy, As man possessed by Ares, hastes to battle, Like Thyiad, darting terror from his eyes.[101] 'Gainst such a hero's might we well may guard; Already at the gates men brag of rout.