_Jocasta:_ Oh, fortunate Agave! for she bore, Within the hand which did the deed, the spoil, The horrid spoil of her dismembered son, 365 A raging Maenad. Yea, she did the deed; But naught in all her sinfulness did she Save that one crime.[7] It is my least of sins That I am guilty; this my greater crime, That I have made another sinful too. But even this seems light when I reflect That I have given birth to sinful sons. Till now 'twas wanting to my sum of woe That I should love my country's enemy. 370 Three times has winter put away his snows, And thrice have Ceres' golden harvests fall'n Beneath the sickle, since my hapless son In exile wanders, robbed of fatherland, And craves assistance from the Grecian kings. He has become Adrastus' son-in-law, Whose sway is o'er the waters of the sea Which Isthmus cleaves. Adrastus even now 375 Is leading on his tribes, and with him march Seven other royal hosts. Ah, woe is me, I know not what I ought to wish or say. My exiled son with justice claims his share Of empire, but he seeks it wrongfully. How shall I pray? I count them both my sons, 380 And yet, alas, without impiety, Can I for neither pray. If for one son I call a blessing down, 'tis but a curse Upon the other's head. Yet this I know: Although I love them both with equal love, My heart inclines toward the better cause, 385 The worser fortune, ever favoring him Who suffers more; for this is fortune's way To win the wretched to their own again. [_Enter_ Messenger _in haste_.] _Messenger:_ O queen, while thou dost utter these complaints, And spend'st the precious time in useless tears, With weapons drawn the battle lines approach. The trumpet's blare incites to bloody war, And even now the eagles are advanced. 390 The kings in seven-fold battle are arrayed, While the sons of Thebes with equal spirit go To meet the enemy. With hurrying tread, Now here, now there, advance the soldiery. Behold, dark clouds of dust obscure the day, And from the plain dense, smokelike billows rise, 395 Which earth, beneath the tread of countless hoofs, Sends rolling heavenward. And through the dust, If terror-stricken eyes can see aright, The hostile standards shine; with lifted spears The foremost ranks advance; while banners gleam, Bearing the names of famous generals wrought 400 In golden characters. Then haste, O queen: Unto the warring brothers love restore, Give peace to all, and by a mother's hands Prevent the conflict of these impious bands.