Unhonoured by the men who dwell therein.
But, if Persuasion's grace be sacred to thee,
Soft in the soothing accents of my tongue,
Tarry, I Dray thee, yet, if go thou wilt.
Not rightfully wilt thou on this my town
Sway down the scale that beareth wrath and teen
Or wasting plague uport this folk. 'Tis thine,
If so thou wilt, inheritress to be
Of this my land, its utmost grace to win.
LEADER OF THE CHORUS
O queen, what refuge dost thou promise me?
Refuge untouched by bale: take thou my boon.
What, if I take it, shall mine honour be?
No house shall prosper without grace of thine.
Canst thou achieve and grant such power to me?
Yea, for my hand shall bless thy worshippers.
And wilt thou pledge me this for time eterne?
Yea: none can bid me pledge beyond my power.
Lo, I desist from wrath, appeased by thee.
Then in the land's heart shalt thou win thee friends.
What chant dost bid me raise, to greet the land?
Such as aspires towards a victory
Unrued by any: chants from breast of earth,
From wave, from sky; and let the wild winds' breath
Pass with soft sunlight o'er the lap of land,-
Strong wax the fruits of earth, fair teem the kine,
Unfailing, for my town's prosperity,
And constant be the growth of mortal seed.
But more and more root out the impious,
For as a gardener fosters what he sows,
So foster I this race, whom righteousness
Doth fend from sorrow. Such the proffered boon.
But I, if wars must be, and their loud clash
And carnage, for my town, will ne'er endure
That aught but victory shall crown her fame.
Lo, I accept it; at her very side
Doth Pallas bid me dwell:
I will not wrong the city of her pride,
Which even Almighty Zeus and Ares hold
Heaven's earthly citadel,
Loved home of Grecian gods, the young, the old,