_Eteoc._ Should the Gods give them what they plan 'gainst us, Then they, with those their godless boastings high, Would perish shamefully and utterly. And for this man of Arcady thou tell'st of, We have a man who boasts not, but his hand Sees the right thing to do;—Actôr, of him 550 I named but now the brother,—who no tongue Divorced from deeds will ever let within Our gates, to spread and multiply our ills, Nor him who bears upon his foeman's shield The image of the hateful venomed beast; But she without shall blame him as he tries To take her in, when she beneath our walls Gets sorely bruised and battered.[105] And herein, If the Gods will, I prophet true shall prove. STROPHE III _Chor._ Thy words thrill through my breast; My hair stands all on end, To hear the boastings great Of those who speak great things 560 Unholy. May the Gods Destroy them in our land! _Mess._ A sixth I tell of, one of noblest mood, Amphiaraos, seer and warrior famed; He, stationed at the Homolôian gates, Reproves the mighty Tydeus with sharp words As 'murderer,' and 'troubler of the State,'[106] 'To Argos teacher of all direst ills, Erinnys' sumpnour,'[107] 'murder's minister,' 570 Whose counsels led Adrastos to these ills. *And at thy brother Polyneikes glancing With eyes uplifted for his father's fate, And ending, twice he syllabled his name,[108] And called him, and thus speaketh with his lips:— “A goodly deed, and pleasant to the Gods, Noble for after age to hear and tell, Thy father's city and thy country's Gods To waste through might of mercenary host! And how shall Justice stay thy mother's tears?[109] 580 And how, when conquered, shall thy fatherland, Laid waste, become a true ally to thee? As for myself, I shall that land make rich,[110] A prophet buried in a foeman's soil: To arms! I look for no inglorious death.” So spake the prophet, bearing full-orbed shield Wrought all of bronze, no ensign on that orb. He wishes to be just, and not to seem,[111] Reaping full harvest from his soul's deep furrows, Whence ever new and noble counsels spring. 590 I bid thee send defenders wise and brave Against him. Dread is he who fears the Gods.