No More Learning

Therefore if any shall resist my rule--
Or man, or woman, or some sexless thing--
The vote of sentence shall decide their doom,
And stones of execution, past escape,
Shall finish all. Let not a woman's voice
Be loud in council! for the things without,
A man must care; let women keep within--
Even then is mischief all too probable!
Hear ye? or speak I to unheeding ears?

CHORUS

Ah, but I shudder, child of Oedipus!
I heard the clash and clang!
The axles rolled and rumbled; woe to us
Fire-welded bridles rang!

ETEOCLES

Say--when a ship is strained and deep in brine,
Did e'er a seaman mend his chance, who left
The helm, t'invoke the image at the prow?

CHORUS

Ah, but I fled to the shrines, I called to our helpers on high,
When the stone-shower roared at the portals!
I sped to the temples aloft, and loud was my call and my cry,
_Look down and deliver. Immortals_!

ETEOCLES

Ay, pray amain that stone may vanquish steel!
Were not that grace of gods? ay, ay--methinks,
When cities fall, the gods go forth from them!
CHORUS

Ah, let me die, or ever I behold
The gods go forth, in conflagration dire!
The foemen's rush and raid, and all our hold
Wrapt in the burning fire!

ETEOCLES

Cry not: on Heaven, in impotent debate!
What saith the saw? --_Good saving Strength, in verity,
Out of Obedience breeds the babe Prosperity_.

CHORUS

'Tis true: yet stronger is the power divine,
And oft, when man's estate is overbowed
With bitter pangs, disperses from his eyne
The heavy, hanging cloud!

ETEOCLES

Let men with sacrifice and augury
Approach the gods, when comes the tug of war;
Maids must be silent and abide within.

CHORUS

By grace of the gods we hold it,
a city untamed of the spear,
And the battlement wards from the wall
the foe and his aspect of fear!
What need of displeasure herein?

ETEOCLES

Ay, pay thy vows to Heaven; I grudge them not,
But--so thou strike no fear into our men--
Have calm at heart, nor be too much afraid.

CHORUS

Alack, it is fresh in mine ears,
the clamour and crash of the fray,
And up to our holiest height
I sped on my timorous way,
Bewildered, beset by the din!

ETEOCLES

Now, if ye hear the bruit of death or wounds,
Give not yourselves o'ermuch to shriek and scream,
For Ares ravens upon human flesh.

CHORUS

Ah, but the snorting of the steeds I hear!

ETEOCLES

Then, if thou hearts, hear them not too well!

CHORUS

Hark, the earth rumbles, as they close us round!

ETEOCLES

Enough if I am here, with plans prepared.