MESSENGER
One more, a fourth, the neighbour-gate who holds,
Onca-Athena's, shouting stands hard by;
The mighty form of huge Hippomedon;
I shook with terror, I deny it not,
As the vast orb he whirled, his buckler's disk;
Certes no vulgar artist was the man
Who this device hath wrought upon his shield;
Typhon forth darting from fire-breathing lips
Flame's quivering sister, smoke of dusky hue;
And all around the hollow-bellied shield
Circled a coil of intertwining snakes.
Himself hath raised his war-cry, and inspired
By Ares, raves like Thyiad for the fight,
Death in his glance. Against such man's attack
Needs must we be prepared, for at our gates
Rout is already boastfully proclaimed.
Seven Against Thebes. Aeschylus. Anna Swanwick (Translator). London. 1886.
Sponsored by University of Leipzig.
Funding provided by European Social Fund Saxony.