Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/538



Ray of the golden sun,

Fairest of all

That e'er in Thebes have lit

Her seven gates tall,

Then did'st thou shine on us,

In golden gleams;

As day's bright eye did'st come,

O'er Dirkè's streams,

Driving the warrior strong,

With snow-white shield

Who had from Argos come,

Armed for the field:

Him Thou did'st put to flight,

With headlong speed,

Yea, hurl in shameful rout,

Spurring his steed.

Him Polyneikes, urged by quarrel dread,

Brought to our land a foe;

He with shrill scream, as eagle over-head,

Hovered with wing of snow,

With many armed warriors, shield on breast,

And helmet's waving crest.