O wofullest of women, yet of allHappiest, thy word be hallowed; in all timeThy name shall blossom, and from strange new tonguesHigh things be spoken of thee; for such graceThe Gods have dealt to no man, that on none1080Have laid so heavy sorrow. From this dayLive thou assured of godhead in thy blood,And in thy fate no lowlier than a GodIn all good things and evil; such a nameShall be thy child this city's, and thine ownNext hers that called it Athens. Go now forthBlest, and grace with thee to the doors of death.
O wofullest of women, yet of allHappiest, thy word be hallowed; in all timeThy name shall blossom, and from strange new tonguesHigh things be spoken of thee; for such graceThe Gods have dealt to no man, that on none1080Have laid so heavy sorrow. From this dayLive thou assured of godhead in thy blood,And in thy fate no lowlier than a GodIn all good things and evil; such a nameShall be thy child this city's, and thine ownNext hers that called it Athens. Go now forthBlest, and grace with thee to the doors of death.
O city, O glory of Athens, O crown of my father's land, farewell.
O city, O glory of Athens, O crown of my father's land, farewell.
For welfare is given her of thee.
For welfare is given her of thee.
O Goddess, be good to thy people, that in them dominion and freedom may dwell.
O Goddess, be good to thy people, that in them dominion and freedom may dwell.
1090Turn from us the strengths of the sea.
1090Turn from us the strengths of the sea.
Let glory's and theirs be one name in the mouths of all nations made glad with the sun.
Let glory's and theirs be one name in the mouths of all nations made glad with the sun.
For the cloud is blown back with thy breath.
For the cloud is blown back with thy breath.
With the long last love of mine eyes I salute thee,O land where my days now are done.
With the long last love of mine eyes I salute thee,O land where my days now are done.
But her life shall be born of thy death.
But her life shall be born of thy death.
I put on me the darkness thy shadow, my mother, and symbol, O Earth, of my name.
I put on me the darkness thy shadow, my mother, and symbol, O Earth, of my name.
For thine was her witness from birth.
For thine was her witness from birth.
In thy likeness I come to thee darkling, a daughter whose dawn and her even are the same.
In thy likeness I come to thee darkling, a daughter whose dawn and her even are the same.
Be thine heart to her gracious, O Earth.
Be thine heart to her gracious, O Earth.
To thine own kind be kindly, for thy son's name's sake.
To thine own kind be kindly, for thy son's name's sake.
1100That sons unborn may praise thee and thy first-born son.
1100That sons unborn may praise thee and thy first-born son.
Give me thy sleep, who give thee all my life awake.
Give me thy sleep, who give thee all my life awake.
Too swift a sleep, ere half the web of day be spun.
Too swift a sleep, ere half the web of day be spun.
Death brings the shears or ever life wind up the weft.
Death brings the shears or ever life wind up the weft.
Their edge is ground and sharpened; who shall stay his hand?
Their edge is ground and sharpened; who shall stay his hand?
The woof is thin, a small short life, with no thread left.
The woof is thin, a small short life, with no thread left.
Yet hath it strength, stretched out, to shelter all the land.
Yet hath it strength, stretched out, to shelter all the land.
Too frail a tent for covering, and a screen too strait.
Too frail a tent for covering, and a screen too strait.
Yet broad enough for buckler shall thy sweet life be.
Yet broad enough for buckler shall thy sweet life be.
A little bolt to bar off battle from the gate.
A little bolt to bar off battle from the gate.
1110A wide sea-wall, that shatters the besieging sea.
1110A wide sea-wall, that shatters the besieging sea.
[Str.I lift up mine eyes from the skirts of the shadow,From the border of death to the limits of light;O streams and rivers of mountain and meadowThat hallow the last of my sight,O father that wast of my motherCephisus, O thou too his brotherFrom the bloom of whose banks as a preyWinds harried my sister away,O crown on the world's head lying1120Too high for its waters to drown,Take yet this one word of me dying,O city, O crown.[Ant.Though land-wind and sea-wind with mouths that blow slaughterShould gird them to battle against thee again,New-born of the blood of a maiden thy daughter,The rage of their breath shall be vain.For their strength shall be quenched and made idle,And the foam of their mouths find a bridle,And the height of their heads bow down1130At the foot of the towers of the town.Be blest and beloved as I love theeOf all that shall draw from thee breath;Be thy life as the sun's is above thee;I go to my death.
[Str.I lift up mine eyes from the skirts of the shadow,From the border of death to the limits of light;O streams and rivers of mountain and meadowThat hallow the last of my sight,O father that wast of my motherCephisus, O thou too his brotherFrom the bloom of whose banks as a preyWinds harried my sister away,O crown on the world's head lying1120Too high for its waters to drown,Take yet this one word of me dying,O city, O crown.[Ant.Though land-wind and sea-wind with mouths that blow slaughterShould gird them to battle against thee again,New-born of the blood of a maiden thy daughter,The rage of their breath shall be vain.For their strength shall be quenched and made idle,And the foam of their mouths find a bridle,And the height of their heads bow down1130At the foot of the towers of the town.Be blest and beloved as I love theeOf all that shall draw from thee breath;Be thy life as the sun's is above thee;I go to my death.
[Str.1.Many loves of many a mood and many a kindFill the life of man, and mould the secret mind;Many days bring many dooms, to loose and bind;Sweet is each in season, good the gift it brings,Sweet as change of night and day with altering wings,1140Night that lulls world-weary day, day that comforts night,Night that fills our eyes with sleep, day that fills with light.[Ant.1.None of all is lovelier, loftier love is none,Less is bride's for bridegroom, mother's less for son,Child, than this that crowns and binds up all in one;Love of thy sweet light, thy fostering breast and hand,Mother Earth, and city chosen, and natural land;Hills that bring the strong streams forth, heights of heavenlier air,Fields aflower with winds and suns, woods with shadowing hair.[Str.2.But none of the nations of men shall they liken to thee,1150Whose children true-born and the fruit of thy body are we.The rest are thy sons but in figure, in word are thy seed;We only the flower of thy travail, thy children indeed.Of thy soil hast thou fashioned our limbs, of thy waters their blood,And the life of thy springs everlasting is fount of our flood.No wind oversea blew us hither adrift on thy shore,None sowed us by land in thy womb that conceived us and bore.But the stroke of the shaft of the sunlight that brought us to birthPierced only and quickened thy furrows to bear us, O Earth.With the beams of his love wast thou cloven as with iron or fire,1160And the life in thee yearned for his life, and grew great with desire.And the hunger and thirst to be wounded and healed with his dartMade fruitful the love in thy veins and the depth of thine heart.And the showers out of heaven overflowing and liquid with loveFulfilled thee with child of his godhead as rain from above.[Ant.2.Such desire had ye twain of each other, till molten in oneYe might bear and beget of your bodies the fruits of the sun.And the trees in their season brought forth and were kindled anewBy the warmth of the moisture of marriage, the child-bearing dew.And the firstlings were fair of the wedlock of heaven and of earth;1170All countries were bounteous with blossom and burgeon of birth,Green pastures of grass for all cattle, and life-giving corn;But here of thy bosom, here only, the man-child was born.All races but one are as aliens engrafted or sown,Strange children and changelings; but we, O our mother, thine own.Thy nurslings are others, and seedlings they know not of whom;For these hast thou fostered, but us thou hast borne in thy womb.Who is he of us all, O beloved, that owe thee for birth,Who would give not his blood for his birth's sake, O mother, O Earth?What landsman is he that was fostered and reared of thine hand1180Who may vaunt him as we may in death though he die for the land?Well doth she therefore who gives thee in guerdon[Epode.The bloom of the life of thy giving;And thy body was bowed by no fruitless burden,That bore such fruit of thee living.For her face was not darkened for fear,For her eyelids conceived not a tear,Nor a cry from her lips craved pity;But her mouth was a fountain of song,And her heart as a citadel strong1190That guards the heart of the city.
[Str.1.Many loves of many a mood and many a kindFill the life of man, and mould the secret mind;Many days bring many dooms, to loose and bind;Sweet is each in season, good the gift it brings,Sweet as change of night and day with altering wings,1140Night that lulls world-weary day, day that comforts night,Night that fills our eyes with sleep, day that fills with light.[Ant.1.None of all is lovelier, loftier love is none,Less is bride's for bridegroom, mother's less for son,Child, than this that crowns and binds up all in one;Love of thy sweet light, thy fostering breast and hand,Mother Earth, and city chosen, and natural land;Hills that bring the strong streams forth, heights of heavenlier air,Fields aflower with winds and suns, woods with shadowing hair.[Str.2.But none of the nations of men shall they liken to thee,1150Whose children true-born and the fruit of thy body are we.The rest are thy sons but in figure, in word are thy seed;We only the flower of thy travail, thy children indeed.Of thy soil hast thou fashioned our limbs, of thy waters their blood,And the life of thy springs everlasting is fount of our flood.No wind oversea blew us hither adrift on thy shore,None sowed us by land in thy womb that conceived us and bore.But the stroke of the shaft of the sunlight that brought us to birthPierced only and quickened thy furrows to bear us, O Earth.With the beams of his love wast thou cloven as with iron or fire,1160And the life in thee yearned for his life, and grew great with desire.And the hunger and thirst to be wounded and healed with his dartMade fruitful the love in thy veins and the depth of thine heart.And the showers out of heaven overflowing and liquid with loveFulfilled thee with child of his godhead as rain from above.[Ant.2.Such desire had ye twain of each other, till molten in oneYe might bear and beget of your bodies the fruits of the sun.And the trees in their season brought forth and were kindled anewBy the warmth of the moisture of marriage, the child-bearing dew.And the firstlings were fair of the wedlock of heaven and of earth;1170All countries were bounteous with blossom and burgeon of birth,Green pastures of grass for all cattle, and life-giving corn;But here of thy bosom, here only, the man-child was born.All races but one are as aliens engrafted or sown,Strange children and changelings; but we, O our mother, thine own.Thy nurslings are others, and seedlings they know not of whom;For these hast thou fostered, but us thou hast borne in thy womb.Who is he of us all, O beloved, that owe thee for birth,Who would give not his blood for his birth's sake, O mother, O Earth?What landsman is he that was fostered and reared of thine hand1180Who may vaunt him as we may in death though he die for the land?
Well doth she therefore who gives thee in guerdon[Epode.The bloom of the life of thy giving;And thy body was bowed by no fruitless burden,That bore such fruit of thee living.For her face was not darkened for fear,For her eyelids conceived not a tear,Nor a cry from her lips craved pity;But her mouth was a fountain of song,And her heart as a citadel strong1190That guards the heart of the city.
High things of strong-souled men that loved their landOn brass and stone are written, and their deedsOn high days chanted; but none graven or sungThat ever set men's eyes or spirits on fire,Athenians, has the sun's height seen, or earthHeard in her depth reverberate as from heaven,More worth men's praise and good report of GodsThan here I bring for record in your ears.For now being come to the altar, where as priest1200Death ministering should meet her, and his handSeal her sweet eyes asleep, the maiden stood,With light in all her face as of a brideSmiling, or shine of festal flame by nightFar flung from towers of triumph; and her lipsTrembled with pride in pleasure, that no fearBlanched them nor death before his time drank dryThe blood whose bloom fulfilled them; for her cheeksLightened, and brighter than a bridal veilHer hair enrobed her bosom and enrolled1210From face to feet the body's whole soft lengthAs with a cloud sun-saturate; then she spakeWith maiden tongue words manlike, but her eyesLit mildly like a maiden's:Countrymen,With more goodwill and height of happier heartI give me to you than my mother bare,And go more gladly this great way to deathThan young men bound to battle.Then with faceTurned to the shadowiest part of all the shrineAnd eyes fast set upon the further shade,1220Take me, dear Gods; and as some form had shoneFrom the deep hollow shadow, some God's tongueAnswered,I bless you that your guardian graceGives me to guard this country, takes my blood,Your child's by name, to heal it. Then the priestSet to the flower-sweet snow of her soft throatThe sheer knife's edge that severed it, and loosedFrom the fair bondage of so spotless fleshSo strong a spirit; and all that girt them roundGazing, with souls that hung on that sad stroke,1230Groaned, and kept silence after while a manMight count how far the fresh blood crept, and bathedHow deep the dark robe and the bright shrine's baseRed-rounded with a running ring that grewMore large and duskier as the wells that fedWere drained of that pure effluence: but the queenGroaned not nor spake nor wept, but as a dreamFloats out of eyes awakening so past forthGhost-like, a shadow of sorrow, from all sightTo the inner court and chamber where she sits1240Dumb, till word reach her of this whole day's end.
High things of strong-souled men that loved their landOn brass and stone are written, and their deedsOn high days chanted; but none graven or sungThat ever set men's eyes or spirits on fire,Athenians, has the sun's height seen, or earthHeard in her depth reverberate as from heaven,More worth men's praise and good report of GodsThan here I bring for record in your ears.For now being come to the altar, where as priest1200Death ministering should meet her, and his handSeal her sweet eyes asleep, the maiden stood,With light in all her face as of a brideSmiling, or shine of festal flame by nightFar flung from towers of triumph; and her lipsTrembled with pride in pleasure, that no fearBlanched them nor death before his time drank dryThe blood whose bloom fulfilled them; for her cheeksLightened, and brighter than a bridal veilHer hair enrobed her bosom and enrolled1210From face to feet the body's whole soft lengthAs with a cloud sun-saturate; then she spakeWith maiden tongue words manlike, but her eyesLit mildly like a maiden's:Countrymen,With more goodwill and height of happier heartI give me to you than my mother bare,And go more gladly this great way to deathThan young men bound to battle.Then with faceTurned to the shadowiest part of all the shrineAnd eyes fast set upon the further shade,1220Take me, dear Gods; and as some form had shoneFrom the deep hollow shadow, some God's tongueAnswered,I bless you that your guardian graceGives me to guard this country, takes my blood,Your child's by name, to heal it. Then the priestSet to the flower-sweet snow of her soft throatThe sheer knife's edge that severed it, and loosedFrom the fair bondage of so spotless fleshSo strong a spirit; and all that girt them roundGazing, with souls that hung on that sad stroke,1230Groaned, and kept silence after while a manMight count how far the fresh blood crept, and bathedHow deep the dark robe and the bright shrine's baseRed-rounded with a running ring that grewMore large and duskier as the wells that fedWere drained of that pure effluence: but the queenGroaned not nor spake nor wept, but as a dreamFloats out of eyes awakening so past forthGhost-like, a shadow of sorrow, from all sightTo the inner court and chamber where she sits1240Dumb, till word reach her of this whole day's end.
[Str.More hapless born by farBeneath some wintrier star,One sits in stone among high Lydian snows,The tomb of her own woes:Yet happiest was once of the daughters of Gods, and divine by her sire and her lord,Ere her tongue was a shaft for the hearts of her sons, for the heart of her husband a sword.[Ant.For she, too great of mind,Grown through her good things blind.With godless lips and fire of her own breath1250Spake all her house to death;But thou, no mother unmothered, nor kindled in spirit with pride of thy seed,Thou hast hallowed thy child for a blameless blood-offering, and ransomed thy race by thy deed.
[Str.More hapless born by farBeneath some wintrier star,One sits in stone among high Lydian snows,The tomb of her own woes:Yet happiest was once of the daughters of Gods, and divine by her sire and her lord,Ere her tongue was a shaft for the hearts of her sons, for the heart of her husband a sword.[Ant.For she, too great of mind,Grown through her good things blind.With godless lips and fire of her own breath1250Spake all her house to death;But thou, no mother unmothered, nor kindled in spirit with pride of thy seed,Thou hast hallowed thy child for a blameless blood-offering, and ransomed thy race by thy deed.
As flower is graffed on flower, so grief on griefEngraffed brings forth new blossoms of strange tears,Fresh buds and green fruits of an alien pain;For now flies rumour on a dark wide wing,Murmuring of woes more than ye knew, most likeHers whom ye hailed most wretched; for the twainLast left of all this house that wore last night1260A threefold crown of maidens, and to-dayShould let but one fall dead out of the wreath,If mad with grief we know not and sore loveFor this their sister, or with shame soul-stungTo outlive her dead or doubt lest their lives tooThe Gods require to seal their country safeAnd bring the oracular doom to perfect end,Have slain themselves, and fallen at the altar-footLie by their own hands done to death; and fearShakes all the city as winds a wintering tree,1270And as dead leaves are men's hearts blown aboutAnd shrunken with ill thoughts, and flowerless hopesParched up with presage, lest the piteous bloodShed of these maidens guiltless fall and fixOn this land's forehead like a curse that cleavesTo the unclean soul's inexpiate hunted headWhom his own crime tracks hotlier than a houndTo life's veiled end unsleeping; and this hourNow blackens toward the battle that must closeAll gates of hope and fear on all their hearts1280Who tremble toward its issue, knowing not yetIf blood may buy them surety, cleanse or soilThe helpless hands men raise and reach no stay.
As flower is graffed on flower, so grief on griefEngraffed brings forth new blossoms of strange tears,Fresh buds and green fruits of an alien pain;For now flies rumour on a dark wide wing,Murmuring of woes more than ye knew, most likeHers whom ye hailed most wretched; for the twainLast left of all this house that wore last night1260A threefold crown of maidens, and to-dayShould let but one fall dead out of the wreath,If mad with grief we know not and sore loveFor this their sister, or with shame soul-stungTo outlive her dead or doubt lest their lives tooThe Gods require to seal their country safeAnd bring the oracular doom to perfect end,Have slain themselves, and fallen at the altar-footLie by their own hands done to death; and fearShakes all the city as winds a wintering tree,1270And as dead leaves are men's hearts blown aboutAnd shrunken with ill thoughts, and flowerless hopesParched up with presage, lest the piteous bloodShed of these maidens guiltless fall and fixOn this land's forehead like a curse that cleavesTo the unclean soul's inexpiate hunted headWhom his own crime tracks hotlier than a houndTo life's veiled end unsleeping; and this hourNow blackens toward the battle that must closeAll gates of hope and fear on all their hearts1280Who tremble toward its issue, knowing not yetIf blood may buy them surety, cleanse or soilThe helpless hands men raise and reach no stay.
Ill thoughts breed fear, and fear ill words; but theseThe Gods turn from us that have kept their law.[Str.1.Let us lift up the strength of our hearts in song,And our souls to the height of the darkling day.If the wind in our eyes blow blood for spray,Be the spirit that breathes in us life more strong,Though the prow reel round and the helm point wrong,1290And sharp reefs whiten the shoreward way.[Ant.1.For the steersman time sits hidden astern,With dark hand plying the rudder of doom,And the surf-smoke under it flies like fumeAs the blast shears off and the oar-blades churnThe foam of our lives that to death return,Blown back as they break to the gulfing gloom.[Str.2.What cloud upon heaven is arisen, what shadow, what sound,From the world beyond earth, from the night underground,That scatters from wings unbeholden the weight of its darkness around?[Ant.2.1300For the sense of my spirit is broken, and blinded its eye,As the soul of a sick man ready to die,With fear of the hour that is on me, with dread if an end be not nigh.[Str.3.O Earth, O Gods of the land, have ye heart now to see and to hearWhat slays with terror mine eyesight and seals mine ear?O fountains of streams everlasting, are all ye not shrunk up and withered for fear?[Ant.3.Lo, night is arisen on the noon, and her hounds are in quest by day,And the world is fulfilled of the noise of them crying for their prey,And the sun's self stricken in heaven, and cast out of his course as a blind man astray.[Str.4.From east to west of the south sea-line1310Glitters the lightning of spears that shine;As a storm-cloud swoln that comes up from the skirts of the seaBy the wind for helmsman to shoreward ferried,So black behind them the live storm serriedShakes earth with the tramp of its foot, and the terror to be.[Ant.4.Shall the sea give death whom the land gave birth?O Earth, fair mother, O sweet live Earth,Hide us again in thy womb from the waves of it, help us or hide.As a sword is the heart of the God thy brother,But thine as the heart of a new-made mother,1320To deliver thy sons from his ravin, and rage of his tide.[Str.5.O strong north wind, the pilot of cloud and rain,For the gift we gave thee what gift hast thou given us again?O God dark-winged, deep-throated, a terror to forth-faring ships by night,What bride-song is this that is blown on the blast of thy breath?A gift but of grief to thy kinsmen, a song but of death,For the bride's folk weeping, and woe for her father, who finds thee against him in fight.[Ant.5.Turn back from us, turn thy battle, take heed of our cry;Let thy dread breath sound, and the waters of war be dry;Let thy strong wrath shatter the strength of our foemen, the sword of their strength and the shield;1330As vapours in heaven, or as waves or the wrecks of ships,So break thou the ranks of their spears with the breath of thy lips,Till their corpses have covered and clothed as with raiment the face of the sword-ploughed field.[Str.6.O son of the rose-red morning, O God twin-born with the day,O wind with the young sun waking, and winged for the same wide way,Give up not the house of thy kin to the host thou hast marshalled from northward for prey.[Ant.6.From the cold of thy cradle in Thrace, from the mists of the fountains of night,From the bride-bed of dawn whence day leaps laughing, on fire for his flight,Come down with their doom in thine hand on the ships thou hast brought up against us to fight.[Str.7.For now not in word but in deed is the harvest of spears begun,1340And its clamour outbellows the thunder, its lightning outlightens the sun.From the springs of the morning it thunders and lightens across and afarTo the wave where the moonset ends and the fall of the last low star.With a trampling of drenched red hoofs and an earthquake of men that meet,Strong war sets hand to the scythe, and the furrows take fire from his feet.Earth groans from her great rent heart, and the hollows of rocks are afraid,And the mountains are moved, and the valleys as waves in a storm-wind swayed.From the roots of the hills to the plain's dim verge and the dark loud shore,Air shudders with shrill spears crossing, and hurtling of wheels that roar.As the grinding of teeth in the jaws of a lion that foam as they gnash1350Is the shriek of the axles that loosen, the shock of the poles that crash.The dense manes darken and glitter, the mouths of the mad steeds champ,Their heads flash blind through the battle, and death's foot rings in their tramp.For a fourfold host upon earth and in heaven is arrayed for the fight,Clouds ruining in thunder and armies encountering as clouds in the night.Mine ears are amazed with the terror of trumpets, with darkness mine eyes,At the sound of the sea's host charging that deafens the roar of the sky's.White frontlet is dashed upon frontlet, and horse against horse reels hurled,And the gorge of the gulfs of the battle is wide for the spoil of the world.[Ant.7.And the meadows are cumbered with shipwreck of chariots that founder on land,1360And the horsemen are broken with breach as of breakers, and scattered as sand.Through the roar and recoil of the charges that mingle their cries and confound,Like fire are the notes of the trumpets that flash through the darkness of sound.As the swing of the sea churned yellow that sways with the wind as it swellsIs the lift and relapse of the wave of the chargers that clash with their bells;And the clang of the sharp shrill brass through the burst of the wave as it shocksRings clean as the clear wind's cry through the roar of the surge on the rocks:And the heads of the steeds in their headgear of war, and their corsleted breasts,Gleam broad as the brows of the billows that brighten the storm with their crests,Gleam dread as their bosoms that heave to the shipwrecking wind as they rise,1370Filled full of the terror and thunder of water, that slays as it dies.So dire is the glare of their foreheads, so fearful the fire of their breath,And the light of their eyeballs enkindled so bright with the lightnings of death;And the foam of their mouths as the sea's when the jaws of its gulf are as graves,And the ridge of their necks as the wind-shaken mane on the ridges of waves:And their fetlocks afire as they rear drip thick with a dewfall of bloodAs the lips of the rearing breaker with froth of the manslaying flood.And the whole plain reels and resounds as the fields of the sea by nightWhen the stroke of the wind falls darkling, and death is the seafarer's light.[Epode.But thou, fair beauty of heaven, dear face of the day nigh dead,1380What horror hath hidden thy glory, what hand hath muffled thine head?O sun, with what song shall we call thee, or ward off thy wrath by what name,With what prayer shall we seek to thee, soothe with what incense, assuage with what gift,If thy light be such only as lightens to deathward the seaman adriftWith the fire of his house for a beacon, that foemen have wasted with flame?Arise now, lift up thy light; give ear to us, put forth thine hand,Reach toward us thy torch of deliverance, a lamp for the night of the land.Thine eye is the light of the living, no lamp for the dead;O, lift up the light of thine eye on the dark of our dread.Who hath blinded thee? who hath prevailed on thee? who hath ensnared?1390Who hath broken thy bow, and the shafts for thy battle prepared?Have they found out a fetter to bind thee, a chain for thine arm that was bared?Be the name of thy conqueror set forth, and the might of thy master declared.O God, fair God of the morning, O glory of day,What ails thee to cast from thy forehead its garland away?To pluck from thy temples their chaplet enwreathed of the light,And bind on the brows of thy godhead a frontlet of night?Thou hast loosened the necks of thine horses, and goaded their flanks with affright,To the race of a course that we know not on ways that are hid from our sight.As a wind through the darkness the wheels of their chariot are whirled,1400And the light of its passage is night on the face of the world.And there falls from the wings of thy glory no help from on high,But a shadow that smites us with fear and desire of thine eye.For our hearts are as reeds that a wind on the water bows down and goes by,To behold not thy comfort in heaven that hath left us untimely to die.But what light is it now leaps forth on the landEnkindling the waters and ways of the airFrom thy forehead made bare,From the gleam of thy bow-bearing hand?Hast thou set not thy right hand again to the string,1410With the back-bowed horns bent sharp for a springAnd the barbed shaft drawn,Till the shrill steel sing and the tense nerve ringThat pierces the heart of the dark with dawn,O huntsman, O king,When the flame of thy face hath twilight in chaseAs a hound hath a blood-mottled fawn?He has glanced into golden the grey sea-strands,And the clouds are shot through with the fires of his hands,And the height of the hollow of heaven that he fills1420As the heart of a strong man is quickened and thrills;High over the folds of the low-lying lands,On the shadowless hillsAs a guard on his watchtower he stands.All earth and all ocean, all depth and all height,At the flash of an eyebeam are filled with his might:The sea roars backward, the storm drops dumb,And silence as dew on the fire of the fightFalls kind in our ears as his face in our sightWith presage of peace to come.1430Fresh hope in my heart from the ashes of dreadLeaps clear as a flame from the pyres of the dead,That joy out of woeMay arise as the spring out of tempest and snow,With the flower-feasted month in her hands rose-redBorne soft as a babe from the bearing-bed.Yet it knows not indeed if a God be friend,If rescue may be from the rage of the sea,Or the wrath of its lord have end.For the season is full now of death or of birth,1440To bring forth life, or an end of all;And we know not if anything stand or fallThat is girdled about with the round sea's girthAs a town with its wall;But thou that art highest of the Gods most high,That art lord if we live, that art lord though we die,Have heed of the tongues of our terror that cryFor a grace to the children of Earth.
Ill thoughts breed fear, and fear ill words; but theseThe Gods turn from us that have kept their law.[Str.1.Let us lift up the strength of our hearts in song,And our souls to the height of the darkling day.If the wind in our eyes blow blood for spray,Be the spirit that breathes in us life more strong,Though the prow reel round and the helm point wrong,1290And sharp reefs whiten the shoreward way.[Ant.1.For the steersman time sits hidden astern,With dark hand plying the rudder of doom,And the surf-smoke under it flies like fumeAs the blast shears off and the oar-blades churnThe foam of our lives that to death return,Blown back as they break to the gulfing gloom.[Str.2.What cloud upon heaven is arisen, what shadow, what sound,From the world beyond earth, from the night underground,That scatters from wings unbeholden the weight of its darkness around?[Ant.2.1300For the sense of my spirit is broken, and blinded its eye,As the soul of a sick man ready to die,With fear of the hour that is on me, with dread if an end be not nigh.[Str.3.O Earth, O Gods of the land, have ye heart now to see and to hearWhat slays with terror mine eyesight and seals mine ear?O fountains of streams everlasting, are all ye not shrunk up and withered for fear?[Ant.3.Lo, night is arisen on the noon, and her hounds are in quest by day,And the world is fulfilled of the noise of them crying for their prey,And the sun's self stricken in heaven, and cast out of his course as a blind man astray.[Str.4.From east to west of the south sea-line1310Glitters the lightning of spears that shine;As a storm-cloud swoln that comes up from the skirts of the seaBy the wind for helmsman to shoreward ferried,So black behind them the live storm serriedShakes earth with the tramp of its foot, and the terror to be.[Ant.4.Shall the sea give death whom the land gave birth?O Earth, fair mother, O sweet live Earth,Hide us again in thy womb from the waves of it, help us or hide.As a sword is the heart of the God thy brother,But thine as the heart of a new-made mother,1320To deliver thy sons from his ravin, and rage of his tide.[Str.5.O strong north wind, the pilot of cloud and rain,For the gift we gave thee what gift hast thou given us again?O God dark-winged, deep-throated, a terror to forth-faring ships by night,What bride-song is this that is blown on the blast of thy breath?A gift but of grief to thy kinsmen, a song but of death,For the bride's folk weeping, and woe for her father, who finds thee against him in fight.[Ant.5.Turn back from us, turn thy battle, take heed of our cry;Let thy dread breath sound, and the waters of war be dry;Let thy strong wrath shatter the strength of our foemen, the sword of their strength and the shield;1330As vapours in heaven, or as waves or the wrecks of ships,So break thou the ranks of their spears with the breath of thy lips,Till their corpses have covered and clothed as with raiment the face of the sword-ploughed field.[Str.6.O son of the rose-red morning, O God twin-born with the day,O wind with the young sun waking, and winged for the same wide way,Give up not the house of thy kin to the host thou hast marshalled from northward for prey.[Ant.6.From the cold of thy cradle in Thrace, from the mists of the fountains of night,From the bride-bed of dawn whence day leaps laughing, on fire for his flight,Come down with their doom in thine hand on the ships thou hast brought up against us to fight.[Str.7.For now not in word but in deed is the harvest of spears begun,1340And its clamour outbellows the thunder, its lightning outlightens the sun.From the springs of the morning it thunders and lightens across and afarTo the wave where the moonset ends and the fall of the last low star.With a trampling of drenched red hoofs and an earthquake of men that meet,Strong war sets hand to the scythe, and the furrows take fire from his feet.Earth groans from her great rent heart, and the hollows of rocks are afraid,And the mountains are moved, and the valleys as waves in a storm-wind swayed.From the roots of the hills to the plain's dim verge and the dark loud shore,Air shudders with shrill spears crossing, and hurtling of wheels that roar.As the grinding of teeth in the jaws of a lion that foam as they gnash1350Is the shriek of the axles that loosen, the shock of the poles that crash.The dense manes darken and glitter, the mouths of the mad steeds champ,Their heads flash blind through the battle, and death's foot rings in their tramp.For a fourfold host upon earth and in heaven is arrayed for the fight,Clouds ruining in thunder and armies encountering as clouds in the night.Mine ears are amazed with the terror of trumpets, with darkness mine eyes,At the sound of the sea's host charging that deafens the roar of the sky's.White frontlet is dashed upon frontlet, and horse against horse reels hurled,And the gorge of the gulfs of the battle is wide for the spoil of the world.[Ant.7.And the meadows are cumbered with shipwreck of chariots that founder on land,1360And the horsemen are broken with breach as of breakers, and scattered as sand.Through the roar and recoil of the charges that mingle their cries and confound,Like fire are the notes of the trumpets that flash through the darkness of sound.As the swing of the sea churned yellow that sways with the wind as it swellsIs the lift and relapse of the wave of the chargers that clash with their bells;And the clang of the sharp shrill brass through the burst of the wave as it shocksRings clean as the clear wind's cry through the roar of the surge on the rocks:And the heads of the steeds in their headgear of war, and their corsleted breasts,Gleam broad as the brows of the billows that brighten the storm with their crests,Gleam dread as their bosoms that heave to the shipwrecking wind as they rise,1370Filled full of the terror and thunder of water, that slays as it dies.So dire is the glare of their foreheads, so fearful the fire of their breath,And the light of their eyeballs enkindled so bright with the lightnings of death;And the foam of their mouths as the sea's when the jaws of its gulf are as graves,And the ridge of their necks as the wind-shaken mane on the ridges of waves:And their fetlocks afire as they rear drip thick with a dewfall of bloodAs the lips of the rearing breaker with froth of the manslaying flood.And the whole plain reels and resounds as the fields of the sea by nightWhen the stroke of the wind falls darkling, and death is the seafarer's light.
[Epode.But thou, fair beauty of heaven, dear face of the day nigh dead,1380What horror hath hidden thy glory, what hand hath muffled thine head?O sun, with what song shall we call thee, or ward off thy wrath by what name,With what prayer shall we seek to thee, soothe with what incense, assuage with what gift,If thy light be such only as lightens to deathward the seaman adriftWith the fire of his house for a beacon, that foemen have wasted with flame?Arise now, lift up thy light; give ear to us, put forth thine hand,Reach toward us thy torch of deliverance, a lamp for the night of the land.Thine eye is the light of the living, no lamp for the dead;O, lift up the light of thine eye on the dark of our dread.Who hath blinded thee? who hath prevailed on thee? who hath ensnared?1390Who hath broken thy bow, and the shafts for thy battle prepared?Have they found out a fetter to bind thee, a chain for thine arm that was bared?Be the name of thy conqueror set forth, and the might of thy master declared.O God, fair God of the morning, O glory of day,What ails thee to cast from thy forehead its garland away?To pluck from thy temples their chaplet enwreathed of the light,And bind on the brows of thy godhead a frontlet of night?Thou hast loosened the necks of thine horses, and goaded their flanks with affright,To the race of a course that we know not on ways that are hid from our sight.As a wind through the darkness the wheels of their chariot are whirled,1400And the light of its passage is night on the face of the world.And there falls from the wings of thy glory no help from on high,But a shadow that smites us with fear and desire of thine eye.For our hearts are as reeds that a wind on the water bows down and goes by,To behold not thy comfort in heaven that hath left us untimely to die.But what light is it now leaps forth on the landEnkindling the waters and ways of the airFrom thy forehead made bare,From the gleam of thy bow-bearing hand?Hast thou set not thy right hand again to the string,1410With the back-bowed horns bent sharp for a springAnd the barbed shaft drawn,Till the shrill steel sing and the tense nerve ringThat pierces the heart of the dark with dawn,O huntsman, O king,When the flame of thy face hath twilight in chaseAs a hound hath a blood-mottled fawn?He has glanced into golden the grey sea-strands,And the clouds are shot through with the fires of his hands,And the height of the hollow of heaven that he fills1420As the heart of a strong man is quickened and thrills;High over the folds of the low-lying lands,On the shadowless hillsAs a guard on his watchtower he stands.All earth and all ocean, all depth and all height,At the flash of an eyebeam are filled with his might:The sea roars backward, the storm drops dumb,And silence as dew on the fire of the fightFalls kind in our ears as his face in our sightWith presage of peace to come.1430Fresh hope in my heart from the ashes of dreadLeaps clear as a flame from the pyres of the dead,That joy out of woeMay arise as the spring out of tempest and snow,With the flower-feasted month in her hands rose-redBorne soft as a babe from the bearing-bed.Yet it knows not indeed if a God be friend,If rescue may be from the rage of the sea,Or the wrath of its lord have end.For the season is full now of death or of birth,1440To bring forth life, or an end of all;And we know not if anything stand or fallThat is girdled about with the round sea's girthAs a town with its wall;But thou that art highest of the Gods most high,That art lord if we live, that art lord though we die,Have heed of the tongues of our terror that cryFor a grace to the children of Earth.
Sons of Athens, heavy-laden with the holy weight of years,Be your hearts as young men's lightened of their loathlier load of fears;1450For the wave is sunk whose thunder shoreward shook the shuddering lands,And unbreached of warring waters Athens like a sea-rock stands.
Sons of Athens, heavy-laden with the holy weight of years,Be your hearts as young men's lightened of their loathlier load of fears;1450For the wave is sunk whose thunder shoreward shook the shuddering lands,And unbreached of warring waters Athens like a sea-rock stands.
Well thy word has cheered us, well thy face and glittering eyes, that spakeEre thy tongue spake words of comfort: yet no pause, behoves it makeTill the whole good hap find utterance that the Gods have given at length.
Well thy word has cheered us, well thy face and glittering eyes, that spakeEre thy tongue spake words of comfort: yet no pause, behoves it makeTill the whole good hap find utterance that the Gods have given at length.
All is this, that yet the city stands unforced by stranger strength.
All is this, that yet the city stands unforced by stranger strength.
Sweeter sound might no mouth utter in man's ear than this thy word.
Sweeter sound might no mouth utter in man's ear than this thy word.
Feed thy soul then full of sweetness till some bitterer note be heard.
Feed thy soul then full of sweetness till some bitterer note be heard.
None, if this ring sure, can mar the music fallen from heaven as rain.
None, if this ring sure, can mar the music fallen from heaven as rain.
If no fire of sun or star untimely sear the tender grain.
If no fire of sun or star untimely sear the tender grain.
1460Fresh the dewfall of thy tidings on our hopes reflowering lies.
1460Fresh the dewfall of thy tidings on our hopes reflowering lies.
Till a joyless shower and fruitless blight them, raining from thine eyes.
Till a joyless shower and fruitless blight them, raining from thine eyes.
Bitter springs have barren issues; these bedew grief's arid sands.
Bitter springs have barren issues; these bedew grief's arid sands.
Such thank-offerings ask such altars as expect thy suppliant hands.
Such thank-offerings ask such altars as expect thy suppliant hands.
Tears for triumph, wail for welfare, what strange godhead's shrine requires?
Tears for triumph, wail for welfare, what strange godhead's shrine requires?
Death's or victory's be it, a funeral torch feeds all its festal fires.
Death's or victory's be it, a funeral torch feeds all its festal fires.
Like a star should burn the beacon flaming from our city's head.
Like a star should burn the beacon flaming from our city's head.
Like a balefire should the flame go up that says the king is dead.
Like a balefire should the flame go up that says the king is dead.
Out of heaven, a wild-haired meteor, shoots this new sign, scattering fear.
Out of heaven, a wild-haired meteor, shoots this new sign, scattering fear.
Yea, the word has wings of fire that hovered, loth to burn thine ear.
Yea, the word has wings of fire that hovered, loth to burn thine ear.
1470From thy lips it leapt forth loosened on a shrill and shadowy wing.
1470From thy lips it leapt forth loosened on a shrill and shadowy wing.
Long they faltered, fain to hide it deep as death that hides the king.
Long they faltered, fain to hide it deep as death that hides the king.
Dead with him blind hope lies blasted by the lightning of one sword.
Dead with him blind hope lies blasted by the lightning of one sword.
On thy tongue truth wars with error; no man's edge hath touched thy lord.
On thy tongue truth wars with error; no man's edge hath touched thy lord.
False was thine then, jangling menace like a war-steed's brow-bound bell?
False was thine then, jangling menace like a war-steed's brow-bound bell?
False it rang not joy nor sorrow; but by no man's hand he fell.
False it rang not joy nor sorrow; but by no man's hand he fell.
Vainly then good news and evil through so faint a trumpet spake.
Vainly then good news and evil through so faint a trumpet spake.
All too long thy soul yet labours, as who sleeping fain would wake,Waking, fain would fall on sleep again; the woe thou knowest not yet,When thou knowest, shall make thy memory thirst and hunger to forget.
All too long thy soul yet labours, as who sleeping fain would wake,Waking, fain would fall on sleep again; the woe thou knowest not yet,When thou knowest, shall make thy memory thirst and hunger to forget.
1480Long my heart has hearkened, hanging on thy clamorous ominous cry,Fain yet fearful of the knowledge whence it looks to live or die;Now to take the perfect presage of thy dark and sidelong flightComes a surer soothsayer sorrowing, sable-stoled as birds of night.
1480Long my heart has hearkened, hanging on thy clamorous ominous cry,Fain yet fearful of the knowledge whence it looks to live or die;Now to take the perfect presage of thy dark and sidelong flightComes a surer soothsayer sorrowing, sable-stoled as birds of night.
Man, what thy mother bare thee born to saySpeak; for no word yet wavering on thy lipCan wound me worse than thought forestalls or fear.
Man, what thy mother bare thee born to saySpeak; for no word yet wavering on thy lipCan wound me worse than thought forestalls or fear.
I have no will to weave too fine or far,O queen, the weft of sweet with bitter speech,Bright words with darkling; but the brief truth shown1490Shall plead my pardon for a lingering tongue,Loth yet to strike hope through the heart and slay.The sun's light still was lordly housed in heavenWhen the twain fronts of war encountering smoteFirst fire out of the battle; but not longHad the fresh wave of windy fight begunHeaving, and all the surge of swords to sway,When timeless night laid hold of heaven, and tookWith its great gorge the noon as in a gulf,Strangled; and thicker than the shrill-winged shafts1500Flew the fleet lightnings, held in chase through heavenBy headlong heat of thunders on their trailLoosed as on quest of quarry; that our hostSmit with sick presage of some wrathful GodQuailed, but the foe as from one iron throatWith one great sheer sole thousand-throated cryShook earth, heart-staggered from their shout, and cloveThe eyeless hollow of heaven; and breached therewithAs with an onset of strength-shattering soundThe rent vault of the roaring noon of night1510From her throned seat of usurpation rangReverberate answer; such response there pealedAs though the tide's charge of a storming seaHad burst the sky's wall, and made broad a breachIn the ambient girth and bastion flanked with starsGuarding the fortress of the Gods, and allCrashed now together on ruin; and through that cryAnd higher above it ceasing one man's noteTore its way like a trumpet:Charge, make end,Charge, halt not, strike, rend up their strength by the roots,1520Strike, break them, make your birthright's promise sure,Show your hearts hardier than the fenced land breedsAnd souls breathed in you from no spirit of earth,Sons of the sea's waves; and all ears that heardRang with that fiery cry, that the fine airThereat was fired, and kindling filled the plainFull of that fierce and trumpet-quenching breathThat spake the clarions silent; no glad songFor folk to hear that wist how dire a GodBegat this peril to them, what strong race1530Fathered the sea-born tongue that sang them death,Threatening; so raged through the red foam of fightPoseidon's son Eumolpus; and the warQuailed round him coming, and our side bore back,As a stream thwarted by the wind and seaThat meet it midway mouth to mouth, and beatThe flood back of its issue; but the kingShouted against them, crying,O Father-God,Source of the God my father, from thine handSend me what end seems good now in thy sight,1540But death from mine to this man; and the wordQuick on his lips yet like a blast of fireBlew them together; and round its lords that metPaused all the reeling battle; two main wavesMeeting, one hurled sheer from the sea-wall backThat shocks it sideways, one right in from seaCharging, that full in face takes at one blowThat whole recoil and ruin, with less fearStartle men's eyes late shipwrecked; for a breathCrest fronting crest hung, wave to wave rose poised,1550Then clashed, breaker to breaker; cloud with cloudIn heaven, chariot with chariot closed on earth,One fourfold flash and thunder; yet a breath,And with the king's spear through his red heart's rootDriven, like a rock split from its hill-side, fellHurled under his own horsehoofs dead on earthThe sea-beast that made war on earth from sea,Dumb, with no shrill note left of storming song,Eumolpus; and his whole host with one strokeSpear-stricken through its dense deep iron heart1560Fell hurtling from us, and in fierce recoilDrew seaward as with one wide wail of waves,Resorbed with reluctation; such a groanRose from the fluctuant refluence of its ranks,Sucked sullen back and strengthless; but scarce yetThe steeds had sprung and wheels had bruised their lordFallen, when from highest height of the sundering heavenThe Father for his brother's son's sake slainSent a sheer shaft of lightning writhen and smoteRight on his son's son's forehead, that unhelmed1570Shone like the star that shines down storm, and gaveLight to men's eyes that saw thy lord their kingStand and take breath from battle; then too soonSaw sink down as a sunset in sea-mistThe high bright head that here in van of the earthRose like a headland, and through storm and nightTook all the sea's wrath on it; and now deadThey bring thee back by war-forsaken waysThe strength called once thy husband, the great guardThat was of all men, stay of all men's lives,1580They bear him slain of no man but a God,Godlike; and toward him dead the city's gatesFling their arms open mother-like, through himSaved; and the whole clear land is purged of war.What wilt thou say now of this weal and woe?
I have no will to weave too fine or far,O queen, the weft of sweet with bitter speech,Bright words with darkling; but the brief truth shown1490Shall plead my pardon for a lingering tongue,Loth yet to strike hope through the heart and slay.The sun's light still was lordly housed in heavenWhen the twain fronts of war encountering smoteFirst fire out of the battle; but not longHad the fresh wave of windy fight begunHeaving, and all the surge of swords to sway,When timeless night laid hold of heaven, and tookWith its great gorge the noon as in a gulf,Strangled; and thicker than the shrill-winged shafts1500Flew the fleet lightnings, held in chase through heavenBy headlong heat of thunders on their trailLoosed as on quest of quarry; that our hostSmit with sick presage of some wrathful GodQuailed, but the foe as from one iron throatWith one great sheer sole thousand-throated cryShook earth, heart-staggered from their shout, and cloveThe eyeless hollow of heaven; and breached therewithAs with an onset of strength-shattering soundThe rent vault of the roaring noon of night1510From her throned seat of usurpation rangReverberate answer; such response there pealedAs though the tide's charge of a storming seaHad burst the sky's wall, and made broad a breachIn the ambient girth and bastion flanked with starsGuarding the fortress of the Gods, and allCrashed now together on ruin; and through that cryAnd higher above it ceasing one man's noteTore its way like a trumpet:Charge, make end,Charge, halt not, strike, rend up their strength by the roots,1520Strike, break them, make your birthright's promise sure,Show your hearts hardier than the fenced land breedsAnd souls breathed in you from no spirit of earth,Sons of the sea's waves; and all ears that heardRang with that fiery cry, that the fine airThereat was fired, and kindling filled the plainFull of that fierce and trumpet-quenching breathThat spake the clarions silent; no glad songFor folk to hear that wist how dire a GodBegat this peril to them, what strong race1530Fathered the sea-born tongue that sang them death,Threatening; so raged through the red foam of fightPoseidon's son Eumolpus; and the warQuailed round him coming, and our side bore back,As a stream thwarted by the wind and seaThat meet it midway mouth to mouth, and beatThe flood back of its issue; but the kingShouted against them, crying,O Father-God,Source of the God my father, from thine handSend me what end seems good now in thy sight,1540But death from mine to this man; and the wordQuick on his lips yet like a blast of fireBlew them together; and round its lords that metPaused all the reeling battle; two main wavesMeeting, one hurled sheer from the sea-wall backThat shocks it sideways, one right in from seaCharging, that full in face takes at one blowThat whole recoil and ruin, with less fearStartle men's eyes late shipwrecked; for a breathCrest fronting crest hung, wave to wave rose poised,1550Then clashed, breaker to breaker; cloud with cloudIn heaven, chariot with chariot closed on earth,One fourfold flash and thunder; yet a breath,And with the king's spear through his red heart's rootDriven, like a rock split from its hill-side, fellHurled under his own horsehoofs dead on earthThe sea-beast that made war on earth from sea,Dumb, with no shrill note left of storming song,Eumolpus; and his whole host with one strokeSpear-stricken through its dense deep iron heart1560Fell hurtling from us, and in fierce recoilDrew seaward as with one wide wail of waves,Resorbed with reluctation; such a groanRose from the fluctuant refluence of its ranks,Sucked sullen back and strengthless; but scarce yetThe steeds had sprung and wheels had bruised their lordFallen, when from highest height of the sundering heavenThe Father for his brother's son's sake slainSent a sheer shaft of lightning writhen and smoteRight on his son's son's forehead, that unhelmed1570Shone like the star that shines down storm, and gaveLight to men's eyes that saw thy lord their kingStand and take breath from battle; then too soonSaw sink down as a sunset in sea-mistThe high bright head that here in van of the earthRose like a headland, and through storm and nightTook all the sea's wrath on it; and now deadThey bring thee back by war-forsaken waysThe strength called once thy husband, the great guardThat was of all men, stay of all men's lives,1580They bear him slain of no man but a God,Godlike; and toward him dead the city's gatesFling their arms open mother-like, through himSaved; and the whole clear land is purged of war.What wilt thou say now of this weal and woe?