Against the people's herds with sword to go.
Was it for conquest whence she did not bear
In war's success her share?
Or was she tricked of gifts of glorious spoils,
Or wild deer quarry, taken in the toils?
Or was it Enyalios, brazen-clad,
Brooding o'er fancied slight
For help in war whence he no booty had,
Who thus avenged his wrong in stratagems of night?
Antistrophe.
For never else, Ο son of Telamon,
Had'st thou, from peace and healthy calmness driven,
(Turning so far astray
As these poor brutes to slay,)
To dark, sinister ill so madly gone!
It may be that this evil comes from Heaven;
But Zeus and Phœbos, may they still avert
The Argives' words of hurt!
But if the mighty kings, with evil will,
Spread tidings false, or, sunk m deepest ill,
That off-shoot of the stock of Sisyphos,
Do not, Ο king, I pray,
Still by the waves in tents abiding thus,
Take to thy shame and mine the evil that they say.
Epode.
Rise from thy seat, arise,
Where all too long thou hast unmoved stayed on,
Kindling a woe that spreadeth to the skies,
While thy foes' haughty scorn its course doth run,
With nothing to restrain,
As in a thicket when the wind blows fair;
And all take up the strain,
