KING. Guilt lie on those that hate me! but your prayers Harmless I may not hear; and to reject them Were harsh. To do, and not to do alike Perplex me; on the edge of choice I tremble. ANTISTROPHE II. CHORUS. Him worship who sitteth a watchman in Heaven, And looks on this life of our labour; {231} Nor looketh in vain, when the wretched is driven From the gate of his pitiless neighbour. On our knees when we fall, and for mercy we call, If his right thou deny to the stranger, Jove shall look on thy home, from his thunder dome, Sternly wrathful, the suppliants' avenger. KING. But if Ægyptus' sons shall claim you, pleading Their country's laws, and their near kinship, who Shall dare to stand respondent? You must plead Your native laws, so the laws plead for you, And speak you free from who would force your love. STROPHE III. CHORUS. Ah ne'er to the rough-handed youth let me yield, But rather alone, 'neath the wide starry field, Let me wander, an outcast, a stranger! The ill-sorted yoke I abhor: and do thou, With Justice to second thee, judge for me now, And fear Him above, the Avenger! KING. Not I shall judge: it is no easy judgment. What I have said, I said. Without the people I cannot do this thing;[n31] being absolute king, I would not. Justly, if mischance shall follow, The popular tongue will blame the ruler, who, To save the stranger, ruined his own flock. ANTISTROPHE III. CHORUS. Where kindred with kindred contendeth in war, Jove looks on the strife, and decides from afar, Where he holdeth the scales even-handed;[f13] O why wilt thou doubt to declare for the right? He blesseth the good, but in anger will smite, Where the sons of the wicked are banded. KING. To advise for you in such confounding depths, My soul should be a diver, to plunge down Far in the pool profound with seeing eye, And feel no dizziness. 'Tis no light matter Here to unite your safety and the state's. If that your kindred claim you as their right, And we withstand, a bloody strife ensues. If from these altars of the gods we tear you, Your chosen refuge, we shall surely bring {232} The all-destroying god, the stern Alastor,[f14] To house with us, whom not the dead in Hades Can flee. Is here no cause to ponder well? STROPHE I. CHORUS. Ponder well; With thee to dwell, A righteous-minded host receive us! Weary-worn, Exiles lorn, From the godless men that grieve us Save to-day; Nor cast-a-way Homeless, houseless, hopeless leave us! ANTISTROPHE I. Shall rash assaulters From these altars Rudely drag the friendless stranger? Thou art king, 'Neath thy wing Cowers in vain the weak from danger? Thy terror show To our fierce foe, Fear, O fear our High Avenger!