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When these were wrathful and denied;

But Zeus, whose Word is in the Mart,

Prevailed; and of our strife no part,

Save strife in blessing, shall abide.

Let her who hungereth still for wrong,

Faction, in Athens ne'er again

Lift on the air her ravening song;

Let not the dust of Pallas' Plain

Drink the dark blood of any son

By fury of revenge fordone.

Rage not to smite the smiter, lest

By rage the City's heart be torn:

Bless him that blesseth: in each breast

So shall a single love be born,

And 'gainst Her foes a single hate.

This also maketh firm a state.

Wise are they and have found the way

Of peace. And in each awful face

I see for you, my People, grace:

If ye are gentle, even as they,

And do them worship, this shall be

Your work: to guide through ill, through good,

Both land and town in that pure mood

Of truth that shuns iniquity.