Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (1908) Morshead.djvu/177

Rh And the State sails beneath a sky serene,

Nor in the manifold and battering waves

Hath shipped a single surge, and solid stands

The rampart, and the gates are made secure,

Each with a single champion's trusty guard.

So in the main and at six gates we hold

A victory assured; but, at the seventh,

The god that on the seventh day was born,

Royal Apollo, hath ta'en up his rest

To wreak upon the sons of Oedipus

Their grandsire's wilfulness of long ago.

What further woefulness besets our home?

The home stands safe—but ah, the princes twain—

Who? what of them? I am distraught with fear.

Hear now, and mark! the sons of Oedipus—

Ah, my prophetic soul! I feel their doom.

Have done with questions!—with their lives crushed out—