On towers of Ilion, free no more, Hast flung the mighty mesh of war, And closely girt them round, Till neither warrior may 'scape, Nor stripling lightly overleap The trammels as they close, and close, Till with the grip of doom our foes In slavery's coil are bound!
Zeus, Lord of hospitality, In grateful awe I bend to thee-'Tis thou hast struck the blow!
At Alexander, long ago, We marked thee bend thy vengeful bow, But long and warily withhold The eager shaft, which, uncontrolled And loosed too soon or launched too high, Had wandered bloodless through the sky.
strophe 1
Zeus, the high God!-whate'er be dim in doubt, This can our thought track out-The blow that fells the sinner is of God, And as he wills, the rod Of vengeance smiteth sore. One said of old, The gods list not to hold A reckoning with him whose feet oppress The grace of holiness-An impious word! for whenso'er the sire Breathed forth rebellious fire-What time his household overflowed the measure Of bliss and health and treasure-His children's children read the reckoning plain, At last, in tears and pain.
On me let weal that brings no woe be sent, And therewithal, content!
Who spurns the shrine of Right, nor wealth nor power Shall be to him a tower, To guard him from the gulf: there lies his lot, Where all things are forgot.
antistrophe 1
Lust drives him on-lust, desperate and wild, Fate's sin-contriving child-And cure is none; beyond concealment clear, Kindles sin's baleful glare.
As an ill coin beneath the wearing touch Betrays by stain and smutch Its metal false-such is the sinful wight.
Before, on pinions light, Fair Pleasure flits, and lures him childlike on, While home and kin make moan Beneath the grinding burden of his crime;Till, in the end of time, Cast down of heaven, he pours forth fruitless prayer To powers that will not hear.
And such did Paris come Unto Atreides' home, And thence, with sin and shame his welcome to repay, Ravished the wife away-strophe 2
And she, unto her country and her kin Leaving the clash of shields and spears and arming ships, And bearing unto Troy destruction for a dower, And overbold in sin, Went fleetly thro' the gates, at midnight hour.