MESSENGER. Speed well your pious prayers! The lot hath placed Proud Capaneus before the Electran gate,[n26] A giant warrior mightier than the first, And boasting more than mortal. His high threats May never Chance[f13] fulfil! for with the aid Of gods, or in the gods' despite, he vows To sack the city, and sets the bolted wrath Of Jove at nought, his lightnings and his thunders Recking no more--so speaks the vauntful tongue-- Than vulgar noonday heat. His orbéd shield The blazon of a naked man displays, Shaking a flaring torch with lofty threat In golden letters--I WILL BURN THE CITY. Such is the man: who shall not quail before A pride that flings defiance to the gods? {275} ETEOCLES. Here, too, we meet the strong with something stronger. When men are proud beyond the mark of right, They do proclaim with forward tongue their folly, Themselves their own accuser. This brave Capaneus With empty threats and wordy exercise, Fights mortal 'gainst immortals, and upcasts Loud billowy boasts in Jove's high face. But I In Jove have faith that he will smite this boaster With flaming bolts, to vulgar heat of noon In no wise like. The gallant Polyphontus, A man of glowing heart, against this blusterer I'll send, himself a garrison to pledge Our safety, by the grace of Artemis, And the protecting gods. Name now the others. ANTISTROPHE I. CHORUS. Perish, with his boasts, the boaster, By strong thunder prostrate laid! Never, never may I see him Into holy homes of virgins Rushing, with his godless blade! MESSENGER. Hear more. The third lot to Eteocles Leapt from the upturned brazen helm,[n27] and fixed him At the Netaean gate.[n28] His eager steeds, Their frontlets tossed in the breeze, their swelling nostrils High-snorting with the impatient blast of war, Their bridles flapping with barbaric clang, He curbs, and furious 'gainst the city wheels them, Even as a whirling storm. His breadth of shield, Superbly rounded, shows an armed man Scaling a city, with this proud device, NOT MARS HIMSELF SHALL HURL ME FROM THESE TOWERS. Choose thou a champion worthy to oppose This haughty chief, and pledge his country's weal. ETEOCLES. Fear not: with happy omen, I will send, Have sent already, one to meet this foe, Whose boasts are deeds, brave Megareus, a son Of the dragon's race, a warrior recking nothing The snortings of impatient steeds. This man Will, with his heart's blood, pay the nursing fee Due to his Theban mother,[f14] or come back-- Which grant the gods!--bearing on that proud shield {276} Rich spoil to garnish forth his father's halls, The painted champion, and the painted city, And him that living bore the false-faced sign. Now name the fourth, and spare me not your boasts.