Chor. I in wild terror utter cries of woe;

      An army leaves its camp and is let loose:

      Hither the vanguard of the horsemen flows,

      And the thick cloud of dust,

      That suddenly is seen,

      Dumb herald, yet full clear,

      Constrains me to believe;

      And smitten with the horses' hoofs, the plain

      Of this my country rings with noise of war;

      It floats and echoes round,

      Like voice of mountain torrent dashing down

      Resistless in its might.

      Ah Gods! Ah Goddesses!

      Ward off the coming woe.

      With battle-shout that rises o'er the walls,

      The host whose shields are white78

      Marches in full array against our city.

      Who then, of all the Gods

      Or Goddesses, will come to help and save?

      Say, shall I fall before the shrines of Gods?

      O blessed Ones firm fixed!

      'Tis time to clasp your sacred images.

      Why linger we in wailing overmuch?

      Hear ye, or hear ye not, the din of shields?

      When, if not now, shall we

      Engage in prayer with peplos and with boughs?79

      I hear a mighty sound; it is the din

      Not of a single spear.

      O Ares! ancient guardian of our land!

      What wilt thou do? Wilt thou betray thy land?

      O God of golden casque,

      Look on our city, yea, with favour look,

      The city thou did'st love.

      And ye, ye Gods who o'er the city rule,

      Come all of you, come all.

      Behold the band of maidens suppliant,

      In fear of bondage foul;

      For now around the town

      The wave of warriors bearing slopèd crests,

      With blasts of Ares rushing, hoarsely sounds:

      But thou, O Zeus! true father of us all,

      Ward off, ward off our capture by the foe.

      For Argives now surround the town of Cadmos,

      And dread of Ares' weapons falls on us;

      And, bound to horses' mouths,

      The bits and curbs ring music as of death;

      And seven chief rulers of the mighty host,

      With warriors' arms, at each of seven tall gates,

      Spear-armed and harnessed all,

      Stand, having cast their lots.

      And thou, O Zeus-born power in war delighting,

      O Pallas! be our city's saviour now;

      And Thou who curb'st the steed,

      Great King of Ocean's waves,

      Poseidon, with thy trident fish-spear armed,80

      Give respite from our troubles, respite give!

      And Thou, O Ares, guard the town that takes

      Its name from Cadmos old,81

      Watch o'er it visibly.

      And thou, O Kypris, of our race the mother,

      Ward off these ills, for we are thine by blood:

      To thee in many a prayer,

      With voice that calls upon the Gods we cry,

      And unto thee draw near as suppliants:

      And Thou, Lykeian king, Lykeian be,82

      Foe of our hated foes,

      For this our wailing cry;

      And Thou, O child of Leto, Artemis,

      Make ready now thy bow.

      Ah! ah! I hear a din of chariot wheels

      Around the city walls;

      O Hera great and dread!

      The heavy axles of the chariots groan,

      O Artemis beloved!

      And the air maddens with the clash of spears;

      What must our city bear?

      What now shall come on us?

      When will God give the end?

      Ah! ah! a voice of stones is falling fast

      On battlements attacked;83

      O Lord, Apollo loved,

      A din of bronze-bound shields is in the gates;

      And oh! that Zeus may give

      A faultless issue of this war we wage!

      And Thou, O blessed queen,

      As Guardian Onca known,84

      Save thy seven-gated seat.

      And ye, all-working Gods,

      Of either sex divine,

      Protectors of our towers,

      Give not our city, captured by the spear,

      To host of alien speech.85

      Hear ye our maidens; hear,

      As is most meet, our prayers with outstretched hands.

      O all ye loving Powers,

      Compass our State to save;

      Show how that State ye love;

      Think on our public votive offerings,

      And as ye think, oh, help:

      Be mindful ye, I pray,

      Of all our city's rites of sacrifice.

      Eteoc. (to the Chorus) I ask you, O ye brood intolerable,

      Is this course best and safest for our city?

      Will it give heart to our beleaguered host,

      That ye before the forms of guardian Gods

      Should wail and howl, ye loathèd of the wise;86

      Ne'er be it mine, in ill estate or good,

      To dwell together with the race of women;

      For when they rule, their daring bars approach,

      And when they fear, alike to house and State

      Comes greater ill; and now with these your rushings

      Hither