Would raise the peal of Conquest.

_2nd Strophe._

"Foil'd in his frantic rush,
Though still with blasts of hate against us raving,
Down dropt he, torch and all,
And heavy struck the Earth, who upward spurn'd him.
Such auspice of the war
To us was fair; and elsewhere new successes
Befel, whereon the right
Great Ares routing wheel'd the chariot-battle.

For, posted at the seven gates,
Equals to equals, seven chiefs
To trophy-bearing Jupiter
Payments of solid brass bequeath'd.
Save that the gloomy-hearted twain,
Sprung from one mother and one sire,
Planted with adverse dint the spear
And earn'd a fate in common.

_2nd Antistrophe_

"But now, since Victory
Mighty of name at length is come, delighted
In car-borne Thebe's joy;
Henceforth forget we battle's past annoyance.
But through the livelong night
Let us in sacred band approach the temples,