STROPHE I. Jove, or what other name[n18] The god that reigns supreme delights to claim, Him I invoke; him of all powers that be, Alone I find, Who from this bootless load of doubt can free My labouring mind. ANTISTROPHE I. Who was so great of yore, With all-defiant valour brimming o'er,[n19] Is mute; and who came next by a stronger arm Thrice-vanquished fell; But thou hymn victor Jove: so in thy heart His truth shall dwell {48} STROPHE II. For Jove doth teach men wisdom, sternly wins To virtue by the tutoring of their sins; Yea! drops of torturing recollection chill The sleeper's heart; 'gainst man's rebellious will Jove works the wise remorse: Dread Powers, on awful seats enthroned, compel Our hearts with gracious force.[n20] ANTISTROPHE II. The elder chief, the leader of the ships, Heard the dire doom, nor dared to ope his lips Against the seer, and feared alone to stand 'Gainst buffeting fate, what time the Chalcian strand[f11] Saw the vexed Argive masts In Aulis tides hoarse-refluent,[n21] idly chained By the fierce Borean blasts; STROPHE III. Blasts from Strymon[f12] adverse braying, Harbour-vexing, ship-delaying, Snapping cables, shattering oars, Wasting time, consuming stores, With vain-wandering expectation, And with long-drawn slow vexation Wasting Argive bloom. At length the seer forth-clanged the doom, A remedy strong to sway the breeze, And direful Artemis to appease, But to the chiefs severe: The Atridans with their sceptres struck the ground, Nor could restrain the tear. ANTISTROPHE III. Then spake the elder. To deny, How hard! still harder to comply! My daughter dear, my joy, my life, To slay with sacrificial knife, And with life's purple-gushing tide, Imbrue a father's hand, beside The altar of the gods. This way or that is ill: for how Shall I despise my federate vow? {49} How leave the ships? That all conspire Thus hotly to desire The virgin's blood--wind-soothing sacrifice-- Is the gods' right. So be it.[n22] STROPHE IV. Thus to necessity's harsh yoke he bared His patient neck. Unblissful blew the gale That turned the father's heart[n23] To horrid thoughts unholy, thoughts that dared The extreme of daring. Sin from its primal spring Mads the ill-counsel'd heart, and arms the hand With reckless strength. Thus he Gave his own daughter's blood, his life, his joy, To speed a woman's war, and consecrate[n24] His ships for Troy.