Ah, rage not. No dishonour comes you nigh;
Nor, being immortal, blast for these who die
Their little life and land. I, even as you,
Obey the supreme Father, yea, I too.
What boots it to say more? To me alone
The keys of that great treasure-house are known
Where sleep the lightnings.—But He needs them not!
Accept my word, and cast not here the hot
Fruits of a passion that turns all to ill:
Bid the dark tempest’s bitter surge be still,
Thou great in glory, partner of my home!
From many miles of land to thee shall come
First-fruits for maidens wed, for children born;46
Then shall ye bless this peace that we have sworn.
That this should fall on me,
Me of the ancient way,
The faithful of heart! To be
Unclean, abominable,
In the darkness where I dwell,
And mine honour shorn away!
My breath is as a fire flung far and wide,
And a strange anguish stabbeth at my side.
Hear thou my wrath, O Mother, Night, mine own,
Hear what these young false-handed gods have wrought!
Mine immemorial honour is overthrown,
And I am naught!
Thine heaviness myself will help thee bear.
Older thou art than I, and surely ware
Of wisdom that I wot not: yet also
To me Zeus giveth both to think and know.
And if ye leave us for the stranger’s shore,
This know I, that your heart shall still be sore
For Athens. Time’s great river in its flow
From darkness shall but make her glory grow.
And here in honour at Erechtheus’ side
Enthronèd, thou shalt garner gifts of pride
From men and women worshippers, in fair
Procession moving, richer and more rare
Than eye of man hath seen in other lands.
Such offering now awaits thee at my hands:
Blessing and blest, ’mid glories gladly given,
To share this land, the best beloved of Heaven.
That this should fall on me,
Me of the ancient way,
The faithful of heart! To be
Unclean, abominable,
In the darkness where I dwell,
And mine honour shorn away!
My breath is as a fire flung far and wide,
And a strange anguish stabbeth at my side.
Hear thou my wrath, O Mother, Night, mine own,
Hear what these young false-handed gods have wrought!
Mine immemorial honour is overthrown,
And I am naught!
I will not cease thine anger to assuage
With good words. None shall say that, in thine age,
By younger gods and city-building men
Thou and thy law were mocked, cast out again
To walk the wilderness, exiles from hence.
If thou canst hold that spirit in reverence
Which hears Persuasion and which thinks again,
Whose understanding and whose peace doth reign
By God’s appointment in my word and thought,
Here thou wilt stay. Or, if that please thee not,
Thou shalt not justly lay upon this land
Or wrath, or vengeance, or afflicting hand.
Stay, if ye will. Let this soil be your own
With Right made perfect and an ageless throne.
Great Pallas, what abode shall be my lot?
A throne unwashed by tears; reject it not.
Say I consent; what shall mine office be?
No house shall prosper save by aid of thee.
Such greatness mine! Wilt thou thereof have care?
Yea; and through life uphold thy worshipper.
For dateless time thou giv’st me warranty?
How should I speak the thing that shall not be?
Thou wilt soften me. … Methinks mine anger bends.
Stay, and that softened mood will find thee friends.
What spell upon the land wouldst have me lay?
All that brings Victory and not Dismay.
From earth and dewy sea—be this thy prayer—
From moving winds and the still dome of air
Let breaths of gladness and sweet sunlight come;
The fruit of flocks and fields round every home
Abundant flow and, year by year, be true.
The seeds of human life make fruitful, too,
Save in the ungodly:47 them thy Rule of Right
Shall uproot, as of old. For I delight,
Like one that tends his garden, to uprear
These plants of righteousness, untouched by fear
Of evil. Cast not on this soil of mine
Thy whet-stones of the blood, like poisonous wine
In young men’s hearts, till rage and death be stirred.
Oh, take not from the fierce mate-murdering bird
The heart to give my people, the blind war
Within, that burneth most where brethren are.
War with the stranger, yes; no stint thereof;
Terror is there, and glory, and great love;
But not the mad bird-rage that slays at home.48
Such let thine office be. And if there come
True-hearted war, I will not fail to uphold
This land victorious where great deeds are told. At a sign from the Leader, the Furies take formation for a Song of Blessing.
A home with Pallas shall be mine.
I will not give this City nay,
The Fort of Heaven, which Zeus divine
And faithful Ares hold in sway,
A shining loveliness to enfold
The altars of the gods of old.
For whom—so do I weave my prayer
And move with words of presage good—
All fortunes whereby life is fair,
Like springing fountains, up shall flood,
From Earth’s deep-bosomed caverns won
By wooing of the enthronèd Sun.
I love my City; and with plan
Aforethought here have welcomed these,
The Awarders great and hard to appease,
Whose realm is all the estate of man.
Justice is theirs: though many an one
May meet their wrath in innocence,
Not knowing why the wound nor whence,
That striketh. Some great evil done
Aforetime, with no payment just,
Casts him to These. Strange wrath and hate
Are round him, and he cries: but Fate,
Unanswering, grindeth him to dust.
No storm-wind—so I speak my prize—
Shall breathe the blight that poisoneth trees;
No burning things that blind the eyes
Of plants, shall pass her boundaries:
The groaning pest shall come not nigh,
Nor fruit upon the branches die.
The flocks shall browse in happy cheer,
And Pan, the Shepherd, guard them true,
With twofold increase, as the year
Repays her seeds in season due;
And deep-hid treasures of the ground
Shall be in God’s
