Chor. Hear, O ye Gods! our prayers,

      Our just entreaties grant,

      That so our State be blest.

      Turn ye the toils of war

      Upon the invading host.

      Outside the walls may Zeus

      With thunder smite them low!

      Mess. The seventh chief then who at the seventh gate stands,

      Thine own, own brother, I will speak of now,

      What curses on our State he pours, and prays

      That he the towers ascending, and proclaimed

      By herald's voice to all the territory,

      And shouting out the captor's pæan-cry,

      May so fight with thee, slay, and with thee die;

      Or driving thee alive, who did'st him wrong,

      May on thee a vengeance wreak like in kind.

      So clamours he, and bids his father's Gods,

      His country's guardians, look upon his prayers,

      [And grant them all. So Polyneikes prays.]

      And he a new and well-wrought shield doth bear,

      And twofold sign upon it riveted;

      For there a woman with a stately tread

      Leads one who seems a warrior wrought in gold:

      Justice she calls herself, and thus she speaks:

      “I will bring back this man, and he shall have

      The city and his father's dwelling-place.”

      Such are the signs and mottoes of those men;

      And thou, know well whom thou dost mean to send:

      So thou shalt never blame my heraldings;

      And thou thyself know how to steer the State.

      Eteoc. O frenzy-stricken, hated sore of Gods!

      O woe-fraught race (my race!) of Œdipus!

      Ah me! my father's curse is now fulfilled;

      But neither is it meet to weep or wail,

      Lest cry more grievous on the issue come.

      Of Polyneikes, name and omen true,

      We soon shall know what way his badge shall end,

      Whether his gold-wrought letters shall restore him,

      His shield's great swelling words with frenzied soul.

      An if great Justice, Zeus's virgin child,

      Ruled o'er his words and acts, this might have been;

      But neither when he left his mother's womb,

      Nor in his youth, nor yet in ripening age,

      Nor when his beard was gathered on his chin,

      Did Justice count him meet for fellowship;

      Nor do I think that she befriends him now

      In this great outrage on his father's land.

      Yea, justly Justice would as falsely named

      Be known, if she with one all-daring joined.

      In this I trust, and I myself will face him:

      Who else could claim a greater right than I?

      Brother with brother fighting, king with king,

      And foe with foe, I'll stand. Come, quickly fetch

      My greaves that guard against the spear and stones.

      Chor. Nay, dearest friend, thou son of Œdipus,

      Be ye not like to him with that ill name.

      It is enough Cadmeian men should fight

      Against the Argives. That blood may be cleansed;

      But death so murderous of two brothers born,

      This is pollution that will ne'er wax old.

      Eteoc. If a man must bear evil, let him still

      Be without shame – sole profit that in death.

      [No glory comes of base and evil deeds].

      Chor. What dost thou crave, my son? Let no ill fate,

      Frenzied and hot for war,

      Carry thee headlong on;

      Check the first onset of an evil lust.

      Eteoc. Since God so hotly urges on the matter,

      Let all of Laios' race whom Phœbos hates,

      Drift with the breeze upon Cokytos' wave.

      Chor. An over-fierce and passionate desire

      Stirs thee and pricks thee on

      To work an evil deed

      Of guilt of blood thy hand should never shed.

      Eteoc. Nay, my dear father's curse, in full-grown hate,

      Dwells on dry eyes that cannot shed a tear,

      And speaks of gain before the after-doom.

      Chor. But be not thou urged on. The coward's name

      Shall not be thine, for thou

      Hast ordered well thy life.

      Dark-robed Erinnys enters not the house,

      When