Or just as we reach the top we'll find it's died. Ough, phew! I choke with the smoke. Lord Heracles, how acrid-hot Out of the pot This mad-dog smoke leaps, worrying me And biting angrily.... 'Tis Lemnian fire that smokes, Or else it would not sting my eyelids thus.... Haste, all of us; Athene invokes our aid. Laches, now or never the assault must be made! Ough, phew! I choke with the smoke. .. Thanked be the gods! The fire peeps up and crackles as it should. Now why not first slide off our backs these weary loads of wood And dip a vine-branch in the brazier till it glows, then straight Hurl it at the battering-ram against the stubborn gate? If they refuse to draw the bolts in immediate compliance, We'll set fire to the wood, and smoke will strangle their defiance. Phew, what a spluttering drench of smoke! Come, now from off my back.... Is there no Samos-general to help me to unpack? Ah there, that's over! For the last time now it's galled my shoulder. Flare up thine embers, brazier, and dutifully smoulder, To kindle a brand, that I the first may strike the citadel. Aid me, Lady Victory, that a triumph-trophy may tell How we did anciently this insane audacity quell! _Chorus of_ WOMEN. What's that rising yonder? That ruddy glare, that smoky skurry? O is it something in a blaze? Quick, quick, my comrades, hurry! Nicodice, helter-skelter! Or poor Calyce's in flames And Cratylla's stifled in the welter. O these dreadful old men And their dark laws of hate! There, I'm all of a tremble lest I turn out to be too late. I could scarcely get near to the spring though I rose before dawn, What with tattling of tongues and rattling of pitchers in one jostling din With slaves pushing in!.... Still here at last the water's drawn And with it eagerly I run To help those of my friends who stand In danger of being burned alive. For I am told a dribbling band Of greybeards hobble to the field,