Page:Eumenides (Murray 1925).djvu/65

vv. 911–926 Like one that tends his garden, to uprear

These plants of righteousness, untouched by fear

Of evil. Cast not on this soil of mine

Thy whet-stones of the blood, like poisonous wine

In young men's hearts, till rage and death be stirred.

Oh, take not from the fierce mate-murdering bird

The heart to give my people, the blind war

Within, that burneth most where brethren are.

War with the stranger, yes; no stint thereof;

Terror is there, and glory, and great love;

But not the mad bird-rage that slays at home.

Such let thine office be. And if there come

True-hearted war, I will not fail to uphold

This land victorious where great deeds are told.

A home with Pallas shall be mine.

I will not give this City nay,

The Fort of Heaven, which Zeus divine

And faithful Ares hold in sway,

A shining loveliness to enfold

The altars of the gods of old.

For whom—so do I weave my prayer

And move with words of presage good—

All fortunes whereby life is fair,

Like springing fountains, up shall flood,

From Earth's deep-bosomed caverns won

By wooing of the enthronèd Sun.