Aeschylus, Seven against Thebes 78–180: Parodos: the Theban women in terror

In terror I wail loud cries of sorrow. Their army is let loose! Leaving camp, —look!—the mounted throng floods swiftly ahead. The dust whirling in the air tells me this is so—its message is speechless, yet clear and true. And now the plains of my native land under the blows of hooves send a roar to my ears; the sound flies and rumbles like a resistless torrent crashing down a mountainside. Ah, ah, you gods and goddesses, raise your war cry over our walls to drive away the onrushing evil! The army of the white shield, ready for battle, rushes at full speed against the city. Who then will rescue us, which of the gods or goddesses will help? Or shall I fall in supplication at the feet of our ancestral gods’ statues? Ah, blessed gods, firmly enthroned, the time has come to hold fast to your statues. Why do we delay, who are much to be lamented? Do you hear the clash of shields, or does it escape you? When, if not now, shall we place sacred robes and wreaths on the statues to accompany our prayers? I see the clash—it is not the clatter of a single spear. What will you do? Will you betray your own land, Ares, where you have dwelt since long ago? God of the golden helmet, look, look upon the city that you once cherished!

Oh come all you gods who guard our city and its land! See this suppliant band of maidens praying to be saved from slavery. A torrent of men, their helmet plumes tossing, crashes around the city, sped on by the blasts of Ares. No! Father Zeus, all-accomplishing, fend from us altogether capture at the hands of the enemy. The Argives encircle the citadel of Cadmus. Terror of their weapons of war shakes us, as the bridles in the horse’s jaws rattle the sound of death. Seven bold captains, conspicuous among the army in spear-wielding harnesses, at the seven gates […] take their stand each according to his lot.

Pallas, Zeus-born power delighting in battle, prove yourself the savior of the city! And you, lord of steeds, ruler of the deep, Poseidon, with your fish-striking weapon grant us release from our fears, grant us release! You too, Ares—pity us!—guard the city named for Cadmus and make evident your closeness to us! And Cypris, you who are the first mother of our race, defend us who are sprung from your blood. We come to you, crying out in prayers for your divine ears. And you, Apollo, lord of the Wolf, be a wolf to the enemy force and give them groan for groan! You too, maiden child of Leto, ready your bow!

Ah! Ah! I hear the rattle of chariots encircling the town. O lady Hera! The hubs are creaking beneath the axles’ load. Beloved Artemis! The air rages at the shaking of spears! What is happening to our city? What will the future bring? And where does God finally lead us?

Ah! Ah! A hail of stones strikes our battlements from afar. O beloved Apollo! There is the clang of bronze-bound shields at the gates. O son of Zeus, in whom dwells the sacred power to decide in battle war’s outcome! And you, blessed queen Onca, on behalf of the city, defend your seven-gated home!

All-powerful divinities, you gods and goddesses who wield the power to guard the towers of our land, do not betray our city that now toils under the spear to an alien-tongued army. Hear us, hear, as is right, the prayers we maidens offer with outstretched hands.

Beloved spirits, encompass the city to deliver it from ruin and show that you love it. Consider the people’s offerings, and as you consider, help us. Remember, I beg, our city’s worship, rich in sacrifice.