Lo! A ship! A ship!
On the waters, a ship!
In her bilge, are stowed,
Rumors of the fleet,
With her planks decrepit,
And her sails all tattered.
What word, what word,
Of the army and the fleet?
What in the bright world,
Was the fate, of our men, silver and ships,
Who unto Sicily were destined?
The fleet was drowned,
The silver is lost,
The men are all chained,
And our cause forlorn.
Lost are the men,
Who in Paereus harbor
Libation did proudly pour,
And their arms, to Athena had dedicated.
Lost are the good ships,
With masts adorn,
Of oaks ancient, whose acorns'
Acorns are so widely scattered.
Lost is the silver,
Who long have been kept
In many a holly treasure
On shield and spear was spent,
And by much toil gathered
Did we not, Oh hoary- bearded Poseidon,
Loved thee better of all the Greeks?
Had you not, on calves and swine and cattle,
Your godly cravings satiated?
Why have you not,
The treacherous Sikellian fleet,
In thy white foam-locks covered?
Oh Athena, our virginal matron,
Why have ye not come,
To support your children's manhood,
As theirb enemies
In blood they contested?
Oh sweet Nemesis,
Our pure lady of Rhemnos,
Whose treasure with ours
Had been robbed-
A vengeance devise,
Most wicked and wise,
Upon the meek Sikelliot
Let them be by tyrants plagued
By metics rulled
By themselves dishonored
May their phalnxes be halted
Their laws oft altered
And their gods' altars
By citizen-blood be spattered.
Oh, Strife, daughter of Night,
And of Chaos, the Living Power,
As her mother's gown,
Or her father's eye,
Her heart is darkened.
Give them contentious hearts,
And wide-open eyes,
And mind that inquires
After things best hidden.
Give them arms too feeble,
To carry their shield in line,
And feet that refuse to tread
The war-path, old and beaten.
Give them courage
Against their brethren
But against their foes,
Let them have
The hearts of dogs beaten.
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