ANT.
PHOR.

ANT.

Th' Ætolian warriors lift the long square targe,
And hurl with certain aim the flying lance.
Say whence this perfect knowledge.

To yon camp

Sent with the offer of a truce I mark'd
The impress of each shield; these now I see,
And by them recognize each martial chief.
What leader he, that marches by the tomb
Of Zethus? O'er his eyes of gorgon glare

His locks hang clust'ring: Ah, what numbers, clad
In complete arms attend the dreadless youth!
PHOR. Parthenopaus this, th' illustrious son
Of Atalanta.

ANT.

May Diana's shafts,

Who o'er the mountains with his mother leads
The chase, extend him breathless on the plain,
That comes in arms to lay my country waste.

PHOR. Be thy vows heard: but Justice leads their march;
And much I fear the gods with righteous eyes
Regard their cause.

But Euripides here uses the word cáxos in caxcopógos in its precise and proper sense as a barbaric shield of a figure different from the Grecian arris, perhaps like that which sculptors have generally given to Mezentius; with the same precision Homer calls this hero σακέσπαλος ἱππότα Τύδους. Didymus says that this shield was called ráxos from the Sacæ, a people of Thrace, who first formed it. The spear was a common weapon, and in the hand of every warrior of old times, but not uniformly of the same size and use: in Homer the combatants generally threw their spears, measuring the distance by their strength;

*Η ῥα, καὶ ἀμπέπαλων προΐει δολιχόσκιον ἔγχος

is said of almost every hero, except the Abantes, who are celebrated for that

Their hands dismiss not the long lance in air;

But with protended spears in fighting fields

Pierce the tough cors'lets, and the brazens shields.-POPE.

This protended spear, igusrn piλxín, is the weapon with which Euripides arms the contending brothers, who use it in close fight till it is broken in the hand of each: the missive javelin, the barbaric λ6yxn, was in use only among the troops of Tydeus, who in the attack on the town drove the Thebans from the walls Airwλírv λόγχαισιν ἀκοντίζοντες, hurling their Etolian spears to the battlements.

ANT.

But where, ah, where is he,

Whom with a rugged fate one mother bore With me? where is my Polynices, tell me. PHOR. He near the tomb, where Niobe interr'd

ANT.

Her seven slain virgin daughters, stands in arms
Associate with Adrastus. Dost thou see him?
I see him, yes, but indistinctly; see
Distant what wears the semblance of his form.
O could I, like a nimble-moving cloud,

Fly through the air, borne on the winged winds,
Fly to my brother; I would throw my arms
Round his dear neck, unhappy youth, so long
An exile. Mark him, good old man, O mark
How graceful in his golden arms he stands,

And glitters like the bright sun's orient rays.
PHOR. The truce will bring him hither; in this house
His presence soon will fill thy soul with joy.

ANT. But what is he, high-seated in his car,

Ruling his milk-white coursers; whence the chief?

PHOR. Amphiaräus, who foretells the fates,

ANT.

As bleeding on the earth the victims lie.

O daughter of the glitt'ring-cinctur'd Sun,

Thou golden-circled light, fair Moon, how calm,
With what a sober dignity he guides

His steeds! But where is he, whose dreadful threats
Insult the city, the proud Capaneus.

PHOR. Rolling his eager eye to each access

ANT.

Of the seven gates, see how he scans the walls,
From their foundation to the battlements

Nothing their height.

O ye deep-roaring thunders
Of Jove, ye livid lightnings' blasting flames,
Vengeance, 'tis thine to quell his arrogance !
Shall he to proud Mycenæ, and the fount
Of Lerna gushing from the trident's stroke,
To Amymone's banks, Neptunian stream,
In slavery lead th' unhappy dames of Thebes
The captives of his spear? Never, ah! never,

PHON.

STRO. 1.

Daughter of Jove, revered Diana, thou
That braid'st with gold thy tresses, may I live
To suffer slavery!

Go, my child, retire

To thy apartments, there remain, thine eyes
Have been indulged with what they wish'd to see.
For, as the storm of war rolls near the town,
A troop of females to this royal house

Advances; and that sex hath nature form'd
Prone to complain; if once they take th' occasion,
Small though it be, to give their words a vent,
Another, and another still is added;

And 'tis their pleasure 'mongst themselves to speak
Nothing that owns the pow'r of moderation.

CHORUS.

Bounding o'er the Tyrian flood

From Phoenicia's sea-girt isle,

Hallow'd to the Delphic god,

I come, the first-fruits of the spoil;
Destin'd to dwell, attendant at his shrine,
Where cover'd with eternal snow
Parnassus lifts his forked brow:

Our oars brush'd lightly o'er th' Ionian brine,
Along Cilicia's wave-wash'd strand,

A wide wild waste of barren sand;
Whilst the mild Zephyr through the liquid skies
Whispers pleasure as he flies.

ANTIS. 1.

Cull'd from Tyre, its brightest grace,
Worthy of the god, I came

To Agenor's high-born race,

Glorying, Cadmus, in thy name,

To kindred tow'rs where sceptred Laius reign'd;
Nor will the god more precious hold

The sculptur'd forms that breathe in gold.
Yet thus far have these walls my zeal detain'd;
yet Castalia's silver wave

As

These flowing tresses waits to lave,

Delicious stream, where bathes the virgin train,
Serving at Apollo's fane.

EPOD. Thou rock irradiate with the sacred flame,
That blazing on thy awful brow

STRO. 2.

Seems double to the vale below!
Thou kindred cliff, on whose rude height

To Bacchus swells the tow'ring shrine;
Whose crags among, a wond'rous sight,
Glows the daily-ripening vine,

And fills the goblet with its nectar'd stream!
Ye caves, beneath whose horrid shade
His bulk the Delphic Dragon laid!
Ye mountain watch-tow'rs of the gods,
Whose steeps with snows eternal crown'd
The virgin train encompass round,
O take me to your bless'd abodes;
And far from Dirce's troubled waves
Protect me, Phœbus, in thy hallow'd caves!
Now th' impetuous god of war

Shakes these walls with loud alarms;

And his squadrons leading near

Fires their blood, and shouts to arms;
Ah, be their fury 'gainst these bulwarks vain!
For touch'd with pity's social glow

Friend shares with friend the common woe;
And sad Phoenicia, should misfortune's train
Around these seven-tow'r'd rampires spread,
Would bow with friendly grief her head;
From Io boasting each their high descent,
I the woes of each lament.

ANTIS. 2.

Now the thund'ring storm of war

Rolls along these groaning fields;

252. So the Scholiast well explains it. The fire was on that head of Parnassus which was sacred to Apollo and Diana; to those below it appeared double, being divided to the eye by a pointed rock which rose before it.

259. The Python.

276. Libye the daughter of Epaphus bore to Neptune Agenor and Belus : Cadmus was the son of Agenor, and Antiope the daughter of Belus.

POL.

Now with fierce terrific glare

Blaze around the fiery shields,

Portending carnage red with gushing gore:
And Mars in all his ruthless pride,
With rage and horror at his side,
Bids on this royal house the ruin roar.
Pelasgian Argos, how I fear,

The fury of thy vengeful spear;

For the brave youth the sword of justice draws,
And the gods assert his cause.

POLYNICES, CHORUS.

These guarded gates turn'd on their easy hinges
T'admit my entrance; caught within the net,
Not without blood, I fear, to yield me passage
Returning each way therefore let me roll
My cautious eye, lest treachery steal upon me.
But with this good sword arm'd my hand shall work
My safety with brave daring.-Ha! Who's this!-
What, does a noise appal me?-To th' advent'rous
All things cause terror, when on hostile ground
He sets his foot. Confiding in my mother,
And scarce confiding hither am I come
Beneath the sanction of a truce. But see
Protection nigh, the blazing altars here,
And houses not forsaken: come, my sword,
Rest in thy sheath; and let me question these,
Whoe'er they are, that stand before the palace.
Ye female strangers, tell me, from what country
Advance you to the houses of our Greece?
CHOR. Phoenicia is my country, gave me birth,

And nurtured me, till captive by the spear,
Selected from the virgin train, the sons
Of Cadmus led me hither, to Apollo

An hallow'd off'ring. Whilst th' illustrious house
Of Edipus prepared that I attend

The awful shrine and altars of the god,

Th' embattled Argives march'd against the city.