Erechtheus | Page 2

me wronged,

By this fair wreath of towers we have decked thee with, This chaplet
that we give thee woven of walls,
This girdle of gate and temple and
citadel
Drawn round beneath thy bosom, and fast linked
As to thine
heart's root--this dear crown of thine,
This present light, this city--be
not thou
Slow to take heed nor slack to strengthen her,
Fare we so
short-lived howsoe'er, and pay
What price we may to ransom thee thy
town, 90 Not me my life; but thou that diest not, thou,
Though all our
house die for this people's sake,
Keep thou for ours thy crown our
city, guard
And give it life the lovelier that we died.
CHORUS.
Sun, that hast lightened and loosed by thy might
Ocean and Earth
from the lordship of night,
Quickening with vision his eye that was
veiled,
Freshening the force in her heart that had failed,
That sister
fettered and blinded brother
Should have sight by thy grace and
delight of each other, 100
Behold now and see
What profit is given them of thee;
What wrath
has enkindled with madness of mind
Her limbs that were bounden,
his face that was blind,
To be locked as in wrestle together, and
lighten
With fire that shall darken thy fire in the sky,
Body to body
and eye against eye
In a war against kind,
Till the bloom of her fields and her high hills
whiten
With the foam of his waves more high. 110 For the sea-marks
set to divide of old
The kingdoms to Ocean and Earth assigned,
The

hoar sea-fields from the cornfields' gold,
His wine-bright waves from
her vineyards' fold,
Frail forces we find
To bridle the spirit of Gods or bind
Till the heat
of their hearts wax cold.
But the peace that was stablished between
them to stand Is rent now in twain by the strength of his hand
Who
stirs up the storm of his sons overbold 120 To pluck from fight what he
lost of right,
By council and judgment of Gods that spake
And gave
great Pallas the strife's fair stake,
The lordship and love of the lovely
land,
The grace of the town that hath on it for crown
But a headband to wear
Of violets one-hued with her hair:
For the
vales and the green high places of earth
Hold nothing so fair,
And the depths of the sea bear no such birth 130
Of the manifold births they bear.
Too well, too well was the great
stake worth
A strife divine for the Gods to judge,
A crowned God's
triumph, a foiled God's grudge,
Though the loser be strong and the
victress wise
Who played long since for so large a prize,
The
fruitful immortal anointed adored
Dear city of men without master or
lord,
Fair fortress and fostress of sons born free,
Who stand in her
sight and in thine, O sun, 140 Slaves of no man, subjects of none;
A
wonder enthroned on the hills and sea,
A maiden crowned with a
fourfold glory
That none from the pride of her head may rend,

Violet and olive-leaf purple and hoary,
Song-wreath and story the
fairest of fame,
Flowers that the winter can blast not or bend;
A
light upon earth as the sun's own flame,
A name as his name,
Athens, a praise without end. 150
A noise is arisen against us of waters, [_Str._ 1. A sound as of battle
come up from the sea.
Strange hunters are hard on us, hearts without
pity;
They have staked their nets round the fair young city, That the
sons of her strength and her virgin daughters Should find not whither
alive to flee.
And we know not yet of the word unwritten, [_Ant._ 1.

The doom of the Pythian we have not heard;
From the navel of earth
and the veiled mid altar
We wait for a token with hopes that falter,
160 With fears that hang on our hearts thought-smitten
Lest her
tongue be kindled with no good word.
O thou not born of the womb,
nor bred [_Str._ 2. In the bride-night's warmth of a changed God's bed,

But thy life as a lightning was flashed from the light of thy
father's head,
O chief God's child by a motherless birth,
If aught in
thy sight we indeed be worth,
Keep death from us thou, that art none
of the Gods of the dead
under earth.
Thou that hast power on us, save, if thou wilt; [_Ant._ 2.
Let the blind wave breach not thy wall scarce built; 170 But bless us
not so as by bloodshed, impute not for grace to us
guilt,
Nor by price of pollution of blood set us free;
Let the hands
be taintless that clasp thy knee,
Nor a maiden be slain to redeem for a
maiden her shrine from the
sea.
O earth, O sun, turn back [_Str._ 3. Full on his deadly track

Death, that would smite you black and mar your creatures,
And with one hand disroot
All tender flower and fruit,
With one
strike blind and mute the heaven's fair features, 180
Pluck out the eyes of morn, and make
Silence in the east and
blackness whence