Stasimon 1
All fair-formed as at birth,
It hid them — what they have and hold — the hostile earth.
455
And big with anger goes the city’s word,
And pays a debt by public curse incurred.
And ever with me— as about to hear
A something night-involved — remains my fear:
460
Since of the many-slayers — not
The black Erinues, at due periods —
Of fortune with no right —
Him, by life’s strain and stress
465
Back-again-beaten from success,
465
They strike blind: and among the out-of-sight
For who has got to be, avails no might.
The being praised outrageously
Is grave, for at the eyes of such an one
Is launched, from Zeus, the thunder-stone.
470
For so much and no more prosperity
Than of his envy passes unespied.
Neither a city-sacker would I be,
Nor life, myself by others captive, see.
A swift report has gone our city through,
475
From fire, the good-news messenger: if true,
Who knows? Or is it not a god-sent lie?
Who is so childish and deprived of sense
That, having, at announcements of the flame
480
Thus novel, felt his own heart fired thereby,
He then shall at a change of evidence,
