Capitolo 30
Not pestilence cancels never
This urban run,
Neither it is the earth with shed dead bodies,
Neither stained with civic blood!
The stem of youth, unpluckt, to come virility,
Neither Ares rises from the pergola of Aphrodite,
The gentleman of death and bad luck, to waste our young flower.
From very the old one
You crowd to the altars it made to turn on to consume
Gifts rich and manifold--
Offered to win from the powers I divine
A benison on city and on shrine:
You leave the whole sacred he/she would adore
Of taller Zeus, the gentleman
Of guestright and the hospitable axle,
Of who doth of the law immemorial correctly dominate the staircases of Fate:
The storage bins of the shop of earth
Is always full for,
And the grace of Artemis makes the light of suffering of women;
Any devastating curse of illness of skin
This city grabs;
Any clamour of the State they wake up to wage war
Ares, from who far
Shrinketh the lutes, from who the error of dances--
Ares, the gentleman of moan.
You swarm far to distance from the citizens of Argos
Every sore and pestilence,
And is able the archer-God that our children save!
May Zeus with foison and with fruitfulness
The earth every season blesses,
And, it hastened with the generosity of manifold Sky,
You abound scratching flock and fold.
Close to the altars of Sky you/he/she is sanctifying
Noise let the minstrels sing,
And from pure lips is floating before I force him/it harp-duct in air!
And it made the voice of the people the power,
That ripples the State in the time of danger,
Is aware, wise for everybody;
Neither honour in taking of shame,
But--first the voice of war is daring--
Do them to concession of stranger peoples
Fair and alliance of unbloody--
Justice and withal of peace;
And to the powers of Argive preaches
The sacrifice of laurelled kine,
From ancestral rite, you pay.
Between three words of the power and reverential fear,