Though loud thy boasts, there be others care no more for thee for
that, O stranger from the land of Argos; nor wilt thou scare my soul
with swelling words. Not yet be this the fate of mighty Athens, beauteous
town! But thou art void of sense, and so is he, who lords it o'er
Argos, the son of Sthenelus,
(antistrophe)
thou that comest to another state, in no wise weaker than Argos,
and, stranger that thou art, wouldst drag away by force suppliants
of the gods, wanderers that cling to my land for help, refusing to
yield to our king, nor yet having any honest plea to urge. How can
such conduct count as honourable, at least in wise men's judgment?
(epode)
I am for peace myself; yet I tell thee, wicked king, although thou
come unto my city, thou shalt not get so easily what thou expectest.
Thou art not the only man to wield a sword or targe with plates of
brass. Nay, thou eager warrior, I warn thee, bring not war's alarms
against our lovely town; restrain thyself. (Demophon re-enters.)
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