Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (1908) Morshead.djvu/153

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Cry not on Heaven, in impotent debate!

What saith the saw?—Good saving Strength, in verity,

Out of Obedience breeds the babe Prosperity.

'Tis true: yet stronger is the power divine,

And oft, when man's estate is overbowed

With bitter pangs, disperses from his eyne

The heavy, hanging cloud!

Let men with sacrifice and augury

Approach the gods, when comes the tug of war:

Maids must be silent and abide within.

By grace of the gods we hold it, a city untamed of the spear,

And the battlement wards from the wall the foe and his aspect of fear!

What need of displeasure herein?

Ay, pay thy vows to Heaven; I grudge them not,

But—so thou strike no fear into our men—

Have calm at heart, nor be too much afraid.

Alack, it is fresh in mine ears, the clamour and crash of the fray,

And up to our holiest height I sped on my timorous way,

Bewildered, beset by the din!