Make wide a waste for tongueless water-herds

[Pg 3]

And spoil of ravening fishes; that no more

40

Should men say, Here was Athens. This shalt thou

Sustain not, nor thy son endure to see,

Nor thou to live and look on; for the womb

Bare me not base that bare me miserable,

To hear this loud brood of the Thracian foam

Break its broad strength of billowy-beating war

Here, and upon it as a blast of death

Blowing, the keen wrath of a fire-souled king,

A strange growth grafted on our natural soil,

A root of Thrace in Eleusinian earth

50

Set for no comfort to the kindly land,

Son of the sea's lord and our first-born foe,

Eumolpus; nothing sweet in ears of thine

The music of his making, nor a song

Toward hopes of ours auspicious; for the note

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