Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (Cookson).djvu/148

136 A noble gest, which they who come hereafter

Will much delight to tell or harken to:—

To wreck thy father's kingdom and thy Gods,

Hurling upon them an invading host!

Is it in Justice' name thou would'st drain dry

The fount that flowed for thee with mother's milk?

And if thou master with thy jealous sword

Thy fatherland, how will it profit thee?

I shall make fat this earth! Yea, prophesy

Here in my grave, in hostile ground interred.

On then to battle! And for me—to death

Not all unhonoured'! So the prophet spake.

His shield of bronze at rest. It bore no blazon:

For his affections hang not on the show

Of seeming to be best, but being so!

And he reaps only where the soil hath depth

The golden wisdom of well-pondered thought!

My counsel is that thou despatch against him

Antagonists: as wise as they are brave;

He's to be feared who reverences the Gods!

This moves me much! 'Tis the unhappy chance

That couples oft the just with many wicked!

In the affairs of men no ill compares

With bad associates! There springeth thence

A crop no man would harvest. The field of Sin

Brings forth the fruits of Death. For, peradventure,

One righteous man who reverences the Gods

Shall shipmate be with a ruffianly crew,

And, furthering some scheme of villainy,

Perish with the whole tribe by God accursed!