Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/268

170 Send forth, the guardian lord

Of the wide streets of Thebes.

Above all cities Thou,

With her, thy mother whom the thunder slew,

Dost look on it with love;

And now, since all the city bendeth low

Beneath the sullen plague,

Come Thou with cleansing tread

O'er the Parnassian slopes,

Or o'er the moaning straits.

Ο Thou, who lead'st the band,

The choral band of stars still breathing fire,

Lord of the hymns of night,

The child of highest Zeus; appear, Ο king,

With Thyian maidens wild,

Who all night long in dance,

With frenzied chorus sing

Thy praise, their lord, Iacchos.

Mess. Ye men of Cadmos and Amphion's house,

I know no life of mortal man which I

Would either praise or blame. 'Tis Fortune's chance

That raiseth up, and Fortune bringeth low,

The man who lives in good or evil plight;