Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/108

10 Cast out all ruthlessly;

And wives and mothers, grey with hoary age,

Some here, some there, by every altar mourn,

With woe and sorrow crushed,

And chant their wailing plaint.

Clear thrills the sense their solemn Pæan cry,

And the sad anthem song;

Hear, golden child of Zeus,

And send us bright-eyed help.

And Ares the destroyer drive away!

Who now, though hushed the din

Of brazen shield and spear,

With fiercest battle-cry

Wars on me mightily.

Bid him go back in flight,

Retreat from this our land,

Or to the ocean bed,

Where Amphitrite sleeps,

Or to that haven of the homeless sea

Which sweeps the Thracian shore.

If waning night spares aught,

That doth the day assail:

Do thou, then. Sire almighty,

Wielding the lightning's strength,

Blast him with thy dread fiery thunderbolts.

And thou, Lykeian king, the wolf's dread foe,

Fain would I see thy darts