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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=340171" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Defiance Of Eteocles</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">MESSENGER</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now at the Seventh Gate the seventh chief,<br>Thy proper mother's son, I will announce,<br>What fortune for this city, for himself,<br>With curses he invoketh:--on the walls<br>Ascending, heralded as king, to stand,<br>With paeans for their capture; then with thee<br>To fight, and either slaying near thee die,<br>Or thee, who wronged him, chasing forth alive,<br>Requite in kind his proper banishment.<br>Such words he shouts, and calls upon the gods<br>Who o'er his race preside and Fatherland,<br>With gracious eye to look upon his prayers.<br>A well-wrought buckler, newly forged, he bears,<br>With twofold blazon riveted thereon,<br>For there a woman leads, with sober mien,<br>A mailed warrior, enchased in gold;<br>Justice her style, and thus the legend speaks:--<br>'This man I will restore, and he shall hold<br>The city and his father's palace homes.'<br>Such the devices of the hostile chiefs.<br>'Tis for thyself to choose whom thou wilt send;<br>But never shalt thou blame my herald-words.<br>To guide the rudder of the State be thine!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>ETEOCLES</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O heaven-demented race of Oedipus,<br>My race, tear-fraught, detested of the gods!<br>Alas, our father's curses now bear fruit.<br>But it beseems not to lament or weep,<br>Lest lamentations sadder still be born.<br>For him, too truly Polyneikes named,--<br>What his device will work we soon shall know;<br>Whether his braggart words, with madness fraught,<br>Gold-blazoned on his shield, shall lead him back.<br>Hath Justice communed with, or claimed him hers,<br>Guided his deeds and thoughts, this might have been;<br>But neither when he fled the darksome womb,<br>Or in his childhood, or in youth's fair prime,<br>Or when the hair thick gathered on his chin,<br>Hath Justice communed with, or claimed him hers,<br>Nor in this outrage on his Fatherland<br>Deem I she now beside him deigns to stand.<br>For Justice would in sooth belie her name,<br>Did she with this all-daring man consort.<br>In these regards confiding will I go,<br>Myself will meet him. Who with better right?<br>Brother to brother, chieftain against chief,<br>Foeman to foe, I'll stand. Quick, bring my spear,<br>My greaves, and armor, bulwark against stones.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Aeschylus">Aeschylus</a><div class=q>
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Now at the Seventh Gate the seventh chief,
Thy proper mother's son, I will announce,
What fortune for this city, for himself,
With curses he invoketh:--on the walls
Ascending, heralded as king, to stand,
With paeans for their capture; t..."></div>
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