_Chor._ No reverence for these tridents or the shrines
Of Gods, my father, will restrain their hands:
Full stout of heart, of godless mood unblest,
Fed to the full, and petulant as dogs,
And for the voice of high Gods caring not,—
Such, such in soul are they.
_Dan._ Nay, the tale runs that wolves prevail o'er dogs; 740
And byblos fruit excels not ear of corn.[259]
_Chor._ But since their minds are as the minds of brutes,
Restless and vain, we must beware of force.
_Dan._ Not rapid is the getting under weigh
Of naval squadron, nor their anchoring,
Nor the safe putting into shore with cables.
Nor have the shepherds of swift ships quick trust
In anchor-fastenings, most of all, as now,
When coming to a country havenless;
And when the sun has yielded to the night,
That night brings travail to a pilot wise, 750
[Though it be calm and all the waves sleep still;]
So neither can this army disembark
Before the ship is safe in anchorage.
And thou beware lest in thy panic fear
Thou slight the Gods whom thou hast called to help.
The city will not blame your messenger,
Old though he be, being young in clear-voiced thought. _Exit_