Heracleidae (260-329)

’Tis time to use our forethought, ere the host of Argos approach our frontier,

for exceeding fierce are the warriors of Mycenae, and in the present case still more than heretofore. For all heralds observe this custom, to exaggerate what happened twofold. Bethink thee what a tale he will tell his master

of his dreadful treatment, how he came very near losing his life altogether.

Children have no fairer prize than this, the being born of a good and noble sire, and the power to wed from noble families; but whoso is enslaved by passion

and makes a lowborn match, I cannot praise for leaving to his children a legacy of shame, to gratify himself. For noble birth offers a stouter resistance to adversity than base parentage; we, for instance, in the last extremity of woe, have found friends

and kinsmen here, the only champions of these children through all the length and breadth of this Hellenic world. Give, children, give to them your hand, and they the same to you; draw near to them. Ah! children, we have made trial of our friends,

and if ever ye see the path that leads you back to your native land, and possess your home and the honours of your father, count them ever as your friends and saviours, and never lift against their land the foeman’s spear, in memory of this, but hold this city

first midst those ye love. Yea, they well deserve your warm regard, in that they have shifted from our shoulders to their own the enmity of so mighty a land as Argos and its people, though they saw we were vagabonds and beggars; still they did not give us up nor drive us forth.

So while I live, and after death,—come when it will,—loudly will I sing thy praise, good friend, and will extol thee as I stand at Theseus’ side, and cheer his heart, as I tell how thou didst give kind welcome and protection to the sons of Heracles, and how nobly

thou dost preserve thy father’s fame through the length of Hellas, and hast not fallen from the high estate, to which thy father brought thee, a lot which few others can boast; for ’mongst the many wilt thou find one maybe, that is not degenerate from his sire.

This land is ever ready