The sacred seed-plot, his own mother's womb, He sowed, his house's doom, A root of blood! by frenzy lured, they came Unto their wedded shame.
antistrophe 3
And now the waxing surge, the wave of fate, Rolls on them, triply great-One billow sinks, the next towers, high and dark, Above our city's bark-Only the narrow barrier of the wal Totters, as soon to fall;And, if our chieftains in the storm go down, What chance can save the town?
strophe 4
Curses, inherited from long ago, Bring heavy freight of woe:
Rich stores of merchandise o'erload the deck, Near, nearer comes the wreck-And all is lost, cast out upon the wave, Floating, with none to save!
antistrophe 4
Whom did the gods, whom did the chief of men, Whom did each citizen In crowded concourse, in such honour hold, As Oedipus of old, When the grim fiend, that fed on human prey, He took from us away?
strophe 5
But when, in the fulness of days, he knew of his bridal unblest, A twofold horror he wrought, in the frenzied despair of his breast-Debarred from the grace of the banquet, the service of goblets of gold He flung on his children a curse for the splendour they dared to withhold.
antistrophe 5
A curse prophetic and bitter-The glory of wealth and of pride, With iron, not gold, in your hands, ye shall come, at the last, to divide!
Behold, how a shudder runs through me, lest now, in the fulness of time, The house-fiend awake and return, to mete out the measure of crime!
(THE Spy enters.)
THE SPY
Take heart, ye daughters whom your mothers' milk Made milky-hearted! lo, our city stands, Saved from the yoke of servitude: the vaunts Of overweening men are silent now, And the State sails beneath a sky serene, Nor in the manifold and battering waves Hath shipped a single surge, and solid stands The rampart, and the gates are made secure, Each with a single champion's trusty guard.
So in the main and at six gates we hold A victory assured; but, at the seventh, The god that on the seventh day was born, Royal Apollo, hath ta'en up his rest To wreak upon the sons of Oedipus Their grandsire's wilfulness of long ago.
LEADER OF THE CHORUS
What further woefulness besets our home?
THE SPY
The home stands safe-but ah, the princes twain-LEADER
Who? what of them? I am distraught with fear.
THE SPY
Hear now, and mark! the sons of Oedipus-
LEADER
Ah, my prophetic soul! I feel their doom.
THE SPY
Have done with questions!-with I-with their lives crushed out-LEADER
Lie they out yonder? the full horror speak!
Did hands meet hands more close than brotherly?
Came fate on each.and in the selfsame hour?
THE SPY
Yea, blotting out the lineage ill-starred!
Now mix your exultation and your tears, Over a city saved, the while its lords, Twin leaders of the fight, have parcelled out With forged arbitrament of Scythian steel The full division of their fatherland, And, as their father's imprecation bade, Shall have their due of land, a twofold grave.
So is the city saved; the earth has drunk Blood of twin princes, by each other slain.
CHORUS (chanting)
O mighty Zeus and guardian powers, The strength and stay of Cadmus' towers!
Shall I send forth a joyous cry, Hail to the lord of weal renewed?
Or weep the misbegotten twain, Born to a fatal destiny Each numbered now among the slain, Each dying in ill fortitude, Each truly named, each child of feud?
O dark and all-prevailing ill, That broods o'er Oedipus and all his line, Numbing my heart with mortal chill!
Ah me, this song of mine, Which, Thyad-like, I woke, now falleth still, Or only tells of doom, And echoes round a tomb!
Dead are they, dead! in their own blood they lie Ill-omened the concent that hails our victory!
The curse a father on his children spake Hath faltered not, nor failed!
Nought, Laius! thy stubborn choice availed-First to beget, then, in the after day And for the city's sake, The child to slay!
For nought can blunt nor mar The speech oracular!
Children of teen! by disbelief ye erred-
Yet in wild weeping came fulfilment of the word!
(ANTIGONE and ISMENE approach, with a train of mourners.
bearing the bodies of ETEOCLES and POLYNEICES.)Look up, look forth! the doom is plain, Nor spake the messenger in vain!
A twofold sorrow, twofold strife-
Each brave against a brother's life!
In double doom hath sorrow come How shall I speak it?-on the home!
Alas, my sisters! be your sighs the gale, The smiting of your brows the plash of oars, Wafting the boat, to Acheron's dim shores That passeth ever, with its darkened sail, On its uncharted voyage and sunless way, Far from thy beams, Apollo, god of day-The melancholy bark Bound for the common bourn, the harbour of the dark!
Look up, look yonder! from the home Antigone, Ismene come, On the last, saddest errand bound, To chant a dirge of doleful sound, With agony of equal pain Above their brethren slain!
Their sister-bosoms surely swell, Heart with rent heart according well In grief for those who fought and fell!
Yet-ere they utter forth their woe We must awake the rueful strain To vengeful powers, in realms below, And mourn hell's triumph o'er the slain!
Alas! of all, the breast who bind,-
Yea, all the race of womankind-
O maidens, ye are most bereaved!
For you, for you the tear-drops start-
Deem that in truth, and undeceived, Ye hear the sorrows of my heart!
(To the dead)
Children of bitterness, and sternly brave-One, proud of heart against persuasion's voice, One, against exile proof! ye win your choice-Each in your fatherland, a separate grave!
Alack, on house and heritage They brought a baneful doom, and death for wage!
One strove through tottering walls to force his way, One claimed, in bitter arrogance, the sway, And both alike, even now and here, Have closed their suit, with steel for arbiter!
And lo, the Fury-fiend of Oedipus, their sire, Hath brought his curse to consummation dire Each in the left side smitten, see them laid-The children of one womb, Slain by a mutual doom!
Alas, their fate! the combat murderous, The horror of the house, The curse of ancient bloodshed, now repaid!
