Messenger Ho there! Who is at the palace-gates? Open the door, summon Jocasta forth. Ho there! once again I call; in spite of this long delay, come forth; listen, noble wife of Oedipus, cease your lamentation and your tears of woe.
Jocasta Surely you have not come, dear friend, with the sad news of Eteocles’ death, beside whose shield you have always marched, warding off from him the enemy’s darts? Is my son alive or dead? Tell me.
Messenger He is alive, do not fear that, so that I may rid you of your terror.
Jocasta Well? How is it with the seven towers that wall us in?
Messenger They stand unshattered; the city is not plundered.
Jocasta Have they been in jeopardy of the Argive spear?
Messenger Yes, on the very brink; but our Theban warriors proved stronger than Mycenae’s might.
Jocasta One thing tell me, by the gods, if you know anything of Polyneices; for this too is my concern, if he is alive.
Messenger As yet your sons are living, the pair of them.
Jocasta God bless you! How did you succeed in beating off from our gates the Argive army, when beleaguered? Tell me, so that I may go within and cheer the old blind man, since our city is still safe.
Messenger After Creon’s son, who gave up his life for his country, had taken his stand on the turret’s top and plunged a dark-hilted sword through his throat to save this land, your son told off seven companies with their captains to the seven gates to keep watch on the Argive warriors, and stationed cavalry to cover cavalry, and infantry to support infantry, so that assistance might be close at hand for any weak point in the walls. Then from our lofty towers we saw the Argive army with their white shields leaving Teumesus, and, when near the trench, they charged up to our Theban city at a run. In one loud burst from their ranks and from our walls rang out the battle-cry and trumpet-call.
Messenger
First to the Neitian gate, Parthenopaeus, son of the huntress, led a company bristling with thick rows of shields, and he had his own device in the centre of his shield: Atalanta slaying the Aetolian boar with an arrow shot from far. To the gates of Proetus came the prophet Amphiaraus, bringing the victims on a chariot; he had no boastful sign, but weapons chastely plain. Next lord Hippomedon came marching to the Ogygian gates with this device in the middle of his shield: Argus the all-seeing dappled with eyes on the watch, some open with the rising stars, others hiding when they set, as could be seen after he was slain. At the Homoloian gates Tydeus had his post, a lion’s skin with shaggy mane upon his shield, while the Titan Prometheus bore a torch in his right hand, to fire the town. Your own Polyneices led the battle against the Fountain gate; upon his shield for a device were the colts of Potniae galloping at frantic speed, revolving by some clever contrivance on pivots by the handle, so as to appear distraught. At Electra’s gate Capaneus brought up his company, bold as Ares for the battle; this device his shield bore upon its iron back: an earth-born giant carrying on his shoulders a whole city which he had wrenched from its base, a hint to us of the fate in store for Thebes. Adrastus was at the seventh gate; a hundred vipers engraved on his shield, the boast of Argos, and serpents were carrying off in their jaws the sons of Thebes from within our very walls. Now I was able to see each of them, as I carried the watch-word along to the leaders of our companies. To begin with, we fought with bows and thonged javelins, with slings that shoot from far and crashing stones; and as we were conquering, Tydeus and your son suddenly cried aloud: You sons of Danaus, before you are torn to pieces by their attack, why delay to fall upon the gates with all your might, light-armed and cavalry and charioteers? No loitering then, soon as they heard that call; and many fell with bloody head, and many of us you could have seen thrown to the earth like tumblers before the walls, breathing their last, bedewing the dry ground with streams of blood.
Messenger Then Atalanta’s son, who was not an Argive but an Arcadian, hurling himself like a hurricane at the gates, called for fire and picks to raze the town; but Periclymenus, son of the ocean-god, stayed his wild career, heaving on his head a wagon-load of stone, the coping from the battlements; and it shattered his head with yellow hair and crashed through the seams of the skull, dabbling with blood his fresh cheek; and he will never go back alive to his mother with her lovely bow, the maid of Maenalus. Your son then, seeing these gates secure, went on to the next, and I followed him. I saw Tydeus and his thick rows of targeteers hurling their Aetolian spears into the opening at the top of the turrets, so that our men fled and left the battlements; but your son rallied them once more, as a huntsman cheers his hounds, and stationed them at the towers again. And then we hastened to other gates, after stopping the affliction there. As for the madness of Capaneus, how can I describe it? He was going about with a long scaling-ladder, and boasting that even the holy fire of Zeus would not hold him back from giving the city to utter destruction. And even as he spoke, he climbed up beneath the hail of stones, crouched under the shelter of his shield, rung by smooth rung going up the ladder. But, just as he was scaling the parapet of the wall, Zeus smote him with a thunderbolt; the earth re-echoed, and fear seized everyone; for from the ladder he was hurled, spinning; his burning corpse fell to the ground. But when Adrastus saw that Zeus was hostile to his army, he drew the Argive troops outside the trench. Meanwhile our armed cavalry, seeing the lucky omen of Zeus before us, were driving forth their chariots, and the armed men charged with spears into the middle of the Argives, and all troubles happened at once: men were dying, hurled headlong from chariots, wheels flew off, axles crashed together, while the dead were heaped up on the dead. So for to-day we have prevented destruction of the towers of our land; but if this land will be fortunate for the future, that rests with the gods; for even now it owes its safety to some deity.
Chorus Leader Victory is fair; and if the gods are growing kinder, it would be well with me.
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