THE KING OF ARGOS
Hard is the cause—make me not
judge thereof. Already I have vowed it, to
do nought Save after counsel with my people ta’en,
King though I be; that ne’er in after time,
If ill fate chance, my people then may say—
In aid of strangers thou the state hast slain.
Zeus, lord of kinship, rules at will
The swaying balance, and surveys
Evil and good; to men of ill
Gives evil, and to good men
praise.
And thou—since true those scales
do sway—
Shall thou from justice shrink away?
THE KING OF ARGOS
A deep, a saving counsel here there needs—
An eye that like a diver to the depth
Of dark perplexity can pass and see,
Undizzied, unconfused. First must
we care
That to the State and to ourselves this
thing
Shall bring no ruin; next, that wrangling
hands
Shall grasp you not as prey, nor we ourselves
Betray you thus embracing sacred shrines,
Nor make the avenging all-destroying god,
Who not in hell itself sets dead men free,
A grievous inmate, an abiding bane.—
Spake I not right, of saving counsel’s
need?
Yea, counsel take and stand to aid
At Justice’ side and
mine.
Betray not me, the timorous maid
Whom far beyond the brine
A godless violence cast forth forlorn.
O King, wilt thou behold—
Lord of this land, wilt thou behold me
torn
From altars manifold?
Bethink thee of the young men’s
wrath and lust,
Hold off their evil pride;
Steel not thyself to see the suppliant
thrust
From hallowed statues’
side,
Haled by the frontlet on my forehead bound,
As steeds are led, and drawn
By hands that drag from shrine and altar-mound
My vesture’s fringed
lawn.
Know thou that whether for Aegyptus’
race
Thou dost their wish fulfil,
Or for the gods and for each holy place—
Be thy choice good or ill,
Blow is with blow requited, grace with
grace
Such is Zeus’ righteous
will.
THE KING OF ARGOS
Yea, I have pondered: from the sea
of doubt
Here drives at length the bark of thought
ashore;
Landward with screw and windlass haled,
and firm,
Clamped to her props, she lies. The
need is stern;
With men or gods a mighty strife we strive
Perforce, and either hap in grief concludes.
For, if a house be sacked, new wealth
for old
Not hard it is to win—if Zeus
the lord
Of treasure favour—more than
quits the loss,
Enough to pile the store of wealth full
high;
Or if a tongue shoot forth untimely speech,
Bitter and strong to goad a man to wrath,
Soft words there be to soothe that wrath
away:
