No More Learning

Up and away, then, to the battlements,
The gates, the bulwarks! don your panoplies,
Array you at the breast-work, take your stand
On floorings of the towers, and with good heart
Stand firm for sudden sallies at the gates,
Nor hold too heinous a respect for hordes
Sent on you from afar: some god will guard!
I too, for shrewd espial of their camp,
Have sent forth scouts, and confidence is mine
They will not fail nor tremble at their task,
And, with their news, I fear no foeman's guile.
[_Enter_ A SPY.

THE SPY

Eteocles, high king of Cadmus' folk,
I stand here with news certified and sure
From Argos' camp, things by myself descried.
Seven warriors yonder, doughty chiefs of might,
Into the crimsoned concave of a shield
Have shed a bull's blood, and, with hands immersed
Into the gore of sacrifice, have sworn
By Ares, lord of fight, and by thy name,
Blood-lapping Terror, _Let our oath be heard--
Either to raze the walls, make void the hold
Of Cadmus--strive his children as they may--
Or, dying here, to make the foemen's land
With blood impasted_. Then, as memory's gift
Unto their parents at the far-off home,
Chaplets they hung upon Adrastus' car,
With eyes tear-dropping, but no word of moan.
For their steeled spirit glowed with high resolve,
As lions pant, with battle in their eyes.
For them, no weak alarm delays the clear
Issues of death or life! I parted thence
Even as they cast the lots, how each should lead,
Against which gate, his serried company.
Rank then thy bravest, with what speed thou may'st,
Hard by the gates, to dash on them, for now,
Full-armed, the onward ranks of Argos come!
The dust whirls up, and from their panting steeds
White foamy flakes like snow bedew the plain.
Thou therefore, chieftain! like a steersman skilled,
Enshield the city's bulwarks, ere the blast
Of war comes darting on them! hark, the roar
Of the great landstorm with its waves of men!
Take Fortune by the forelock! for the rest,
By yonder dawn-light will I scan the field
Clear and aright, and surety of my word
Shall keep thee scatheless of the coming storm.

ETEOCLES

O Zeus and Earth and city-guarding gods,
And thou, my father's Curse, of baneful might,
Spare ye at least this town, nor root it up,
By violence of the foemen, stock and stem!
For here, from home and hearth, rings Hellas' tongue.
Forbid that e'er the yoke of slavery
Should bow this land of freedom, Cadmus' hold!
Be ye her help! your cause I plead with mine--
A city saved doth honour to her gods!
[_Exit_ ETEOCLES, _etc. Enter the_ CHORUS OF MAIDENS.

CHORUS

I wail in the stress of my terror,
and shrill is my cry of despair.
The foemen roll forth from their camp
as a billow, and onward they bear!
Their horsemen are swift in the forefront,
the dust rises up to the sky,
A signal, though speechless, of doom,
a herald more clear than a cry!
Hoof-trampled, the land of my love
bears onward the din to mine ears.
As a torrent descending a mountain,
it thunders and echoes and nears!
The doom is unloosened and cometh!
O kings and O queens of high Heaven,
Prevail that it fall not upon us:
the sign for their onset is given--
They stream to the walls from without,
white-shielded and keen for the fray.