Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/355

Rh I, at the seven outlets of the ports,

In gallant style will marshal 'gainst the foe,

Ere hurrying scouts and swiftly-rushing news

Arrive, and by the stress set all ablaze.

[Exit.

I heed, but terror leaves my heart no rest,

And in my bosom anxious care,

Sad neighbour, doth enkindle there

Dread of the wall-surrounding multitude;

Like trembling dove am I, that for her brood

Doth serpents fear, fell inmates of her nest;

For some against our towers,

A warlike throng, in numbers strong,

Advance;—ah what will me betide?

Others, 'gainst citizens on every side

Sore pelted, hurl the rugged stone;

Put forth, O kindred gods, your utmost powers,

Save host and State as Sire who Cadmos own.

And say what soil of earth will ye obtain

Better than this, if ye betray

To foreign foes this fertile land

And Dirka's water, richest draught of all

That the earth-circling God sends forth amain,