Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/507

Rh From us will hold their sacrilegious hand;

Too proud their hearts, mad with unhallowed fire,

Reckless as dogs, they scorn the gods' command.

But wolves o'ermaster dogs, so runs the rede;

And fruit of byblos is no match for corn.

Since they the tempers have of brutes unclean

And wanton, of their power we must beware.

No speedy task the manage of a fleet,

Nor yet to fix its moorings, nor ashore

Safely to bring the stern-ropes; nor at once

Are shepherds of swift galleys wont to trust

Their anchor-hold, the more when they approach

A region harbourless, what time the sun

Sinks into night; for anxious travail-throes

In wary pilot night is wont to breed.

Trust me, the army will not disembark,

Till in her moorings safe the galley rides;

Though fear-oppressed, beware, slight not the gods,

Who succour brought; nor shall the city blame

Your herald, old, but young in eloquence.

O hilly land, which all revere,

What woe awaits us? where, oh where,