Danaus monologue — Four Plays of Aeschylus

Dear children, well and wisely have ye prayed; I bid you now not shudder, though ye hear New and alarming tidings from your sire. From this high place beside the suppliants’ shrine The bark of our pursuers I behold, By divers tokens recognized too well. Lo, the spread canvas and the hides that screen The gunwale; lo, the prow, with painted eyes That seem her onward pathway to descry, Heeding too well the rudder at the stern That rules her, coming for no friendly end. And look, the seamen—all too plain their race— Their dark limbs gleam from out their snow-white garb; Plain too the other barks, a fleet that comes All swift to aid the purpose of the first, That now, with furled sail and with pulse of oars Which smite the wave together, comes aland. But ye, be calm, and, schooled not scared by fear, Confront this chance, be mindful of your trust In these protecting gods. And I will hence, And champions who shall plead your cause aright Will bring unto your side. There come perchance Heralds or envoys, eager to lay hand And drag you captive hence; yet fear them not; Foiled shall they be. Yet well it were for you (If, ere with aid I come, I tarry long), Not by one step this sanctuary to leave. Farewell, fear nought: soon shall the hour be born When he that scorns the gods shall rue his scorn