ETEOCLES. Alas! the fate That mingles up the godless and the just In one companionship! wise was the man Who taught that evil converse is the worst Of evils, that death's unblest fruit is reaped By him who sows in Até's fields.[f16] The man Who, being godly, with ungodly men And hot-brained sailors mounts the brittle bark, He, when the god-detested crew goes down, Shall with the guilty guiltless perish. When One righteous man is common citizen With godless and unhospitable men, One god-sent scourge must smite the whole, one net Snare bad and good. Even so, Oïcleus' son, This sober, just, and good, and pious man, This mighty prophet and soothsayer, he, Leagued with the cause of bad and bold-mouthed men In his own despite--so Jove hath willed--shall lead Down to the distant city of the dead The murky march with them. He will not even Approach the walls, so I may justly judge. No dastard soul is his, no wavering will; But well he knows, if Loxias' words bear fruit, (And, when he speaks not true, the god is dumb) Amphiaraus dies by Theban spear. Yet to oppose this man I will dispatch The valiant Lasthenes, a Theban true, Who wastes no love on strangers; swift his eye, Nor slow his hand to make the eager spear Leap from behind the shield. The gods be with him!
ANTISTROPHE III. CHORUS. May the gods our just entreaties For the cause of Cadmus hear! Jove! when the sharp spear approaches, Sit enthroned upon our rampires, Darting bolts, and darting fear!
MESSENGER. Against the seventh gate the seventh chief Leads on the foe, thy brother Polynices; And fearful vows he makes, and fearful doom His prayers invoke. Mounted upon our walls, By herald's voice Thebes' rightful prince proclaimed, Shouting loud hymns of capture, hand to hand He vows to encounter thee, and either die Himself in killing thee, or should he live And spare thy recreant life, he will repay Like deed with like, and thou in turn shalt know Dishonouring exile. Thus he speaks and prays The family gods, and all the gods of Thebes, To aid his traitor suit. Upon his shield, New-forged, and nicely fitted to the hand, He bears this double blazonry--a woman Leading with sober pace an armed man All bossed in gold, and thus the superscription, "I, JUSTICE, BRING THIS INJURED EXILE BACK, TO CLAIM HIS PORTION IN HIS FATHER'S HALL." Such are the strange inventions of the foe. Choose thou a man that's fit to meet thy brother; Nor blame thy servant: what he saw he says: To helm the state through such rude storm be thine!