And now without the city these had died In that wild battle, as their husbands died And the strong Amazons died, had not one voice Of wisdom cried to stay their maddened feet, When with dissuading words Theano spake: "Wherefore, ah wherefore for the toil and strain Of battle's fearful tumult do ye yearn, Infatuate ones? Never your limbs have toiled In conflict yet. In utter ignorance Panting for labour unendurable, Ye rush on all-unthinking; for your strength Can never be as that of Danaan men, Men trained in daily battle. Amazons Have joyed in ruthless fight, in charging steeds, From the beginning: all the toil of men Do they endure; and therefore evermore The spirit of the War-god thrills them through. 'They fall not short of men in anything: Their labour-hardened frames make great their hearts For all achievement: never faint their knees Nor tremble. Rumour speaks their queen to be A daughter of the mighty Lord of War. Therefore no woman may compare with her In prowess--if she be a woman, not A God come down in answer to our prayers. Yea, of one blood be all the race of men, Yet unto diverse labours still they turn; And that for each is evermore the best Whereto he bringeth skill of use and wont. Therefore do ye from tumult of the fray Hold you aloof, and in your women's bowers Before the loom still pace ye to and fro; And war shall be the business of our lords. Lo, of fair issue is there hope: we see The Achaeans falling fast: we see the might Of our men waxing ever: fear is none Of evil issue now: the pitiless foe Beleaguer not the town: no desperate need There is that women should go forth to war."