This is not then thy grief, to see me die?
Die shalt thou not, yet give thy blood to death.
If this ring worse I know not; strange it rang. 290
Alas, thou knowest not; woe is me that know.
And woe shall mine be, knowing; yet halt not here.
Guiltless of blood this state may stand no more.
Firm let it stand whatever bleed or fall.
O Gods, that I should say it shall and weep.
Weep, and say this? no tears should bathe such words.
Woe's me that I must weep upon them, woe.
What stain is on them for thy tears to cleanse?
Whence? for thou sayest it is and is not mine. 300
Hear then and know why only of all men I That bring such news as mine is, I alone Must wash good words with weeping; I and thou, Woman, must wail to hear men sing, must groan To see their joy who love us; all our friends Save only we, and all save we that love This holiness of Athens, in our sight Shall lift their hearts up, in our hearing praise Gods whom we may not; for to these they give Life of their children, flower of all their seed, 310 For all their travail fruit, for all their hopes Harvest; but we for all our good things, we Have at their hands which fill all these folk full Death, barrenness, child-slaughter, curses, cares, Sea-leaguer and land-shipwreck; which of these, Which wilt thou first give thanks for? all are thine.
What first they give who give this city good, For that first given to save it I give thanks First, and thanks heartier from a happier tongue, More than for any my peculiar grace 320 Shown me and not my country; next for this, That none of all these but for all these I Must bear my burden, and no eye but mine Weep of all women's in this broad land born Who see their land's deliverance; but much more, But most for this I thank them most of all, That this their edge of doom is chosen to pierce My heart and not my country's; for the sword Drawn to smite there and sharpened for such stroke Should wound more deep than any turned on me. 330
Well fares the land that bears such fruit, and well The spirit that breeds such thought and speech in man.
O woman, thou hast shamed my heart with thine, To show so strong a patience; take then all; For all shall break not nor bring down thy soul. The word that journeying to the bright God's shrine Who speaks askance and darkling, but his name Hath in it slaying and ruin broad writ out, I heard, hear thou: thus saith he; There shall die One soul for all this people; from thy womb 340 Came forth the seed that here on dry bare ground Death's hand must sow untimely, to bring forth Nor blade nor shoot in season, being by name To the under Gods made holy, who require For this land's life her death and maiden blood To save a maiden city. Thus I heard, And thus with all said leave thee; for save this No word is left us, and no hope alive.