Before the Homoloidian gate stands forth,n33And speaks harsh words against the might of Tydeus,Rating him murderer, teacher of all illTo Argos, troubler of the city’s peace,The Furies’ herald, crimson slaughter’s minion,And councillor of folly to Adrastus.Thy brother too, the might of Polynices,He whips with keen reproaches, and upcastsWith bitter taunts his evil-omened name,Making it spell his ugly sin that owns it.n34O fair and pious deed, even thus he cries,To blot thy native soil with war, and leadA foreign host against thy country’s gods!Soothly a worthy deed, a pleasant taleFor future years to tell! Most specious right,To stop the sacred fountain up whence sprungThy traitor life! How canst thou hope to liveA ruler well acknowledged in the land,That thou hast wounded with invading spear?Myself this foreign soil, on which I tread,Shall feed with prophet’s blood. I hope to die,Since die I must, an undishonoured death.Thus spake the seer, and waved his full-orb’d shieldOf solid brass, but plain, without device.Of substance studious, careless of the show,The wise man is what fools but seem to be,n35Reaping rich harvest from the mellow soilOf quiet thought, the mother of great deeds.Choose thou a wise and virtuous man to meetThe wise and virtuous. Whoso fears the godsIs fearful to oppose.Eteocles.Alas! the fateThat mingles up the godless and the justIn one companionship! wise was the manWho taught that evil converse is the worstOf evils, that death’s unblest fruit is reapedBy him who sows in Até’s fields.f16The manWho, being godly, with ungodly menAnd hot-brained sailors mounts the brittle bark,He, when the god-detested crew goes down,Shall with the guilty guiltless perish. WhenOne righteous man is common citizenWith godless and unhospitable men,One god-sent scourge must smite the whole, one netSnare bad and good. Even so, Oïcleus’ son,This sober, just, and good, and pious man,This mighty prophet and soothsayer, he,Leagued with the cause of bad and bold-mouthed menIn his own despite—so Jove hath willed—shall leadDown to the distant city of the deadThe murky march with them. He will not evenApproach the walls, so I may justly judge.No dastard soul is his, no wavering will;But well he knows, if Loxias’ words bear fruit,(And, when he speaks not true, the god is dumb)Amphiaraus dies by Theban spear.Yet to oppose this man I will dispatchThe valiant Lasthenes, a Theban true,Who wastes no love on strangers; swift his eye,Nor slow his hand to make the eager spearLeap from behind the shield. The gods be with him!ANTISTROPHE III.Chorus.May the gods our just entreatiesFor the cause of Cadmus hear!Jove! when the sharp spear approaches,Sit enthroned upon our rampires,Darting bolts, and darting fear!Messenger.Against the seventh gate the seventh chiefLeads on the foe, thy brother Polynices;And fearful vows he makes, and fearful doomHis prayers invoke. Mounted upon our walls,By herald’s voice Thebes’ rightful prince proclaimed,Shouting loud hymns of capture, hand to handHe vows to encounter thee, and either dieHimself in killing thee, or should he liveAnd spare thy recreant life, he will repayLike deed with like, and thou in turn shalt knowDishonouring exile. Thus he speaks and praysThe family gods, and all the gods of Thebes,To aid his traitor suit. Upon his shield,New-forged, and nicely fitted to the hand,He bears this double blazonry—a womanLeading with sober pace an armed manAll bossed in gold, and thus the superscription,“I, Justice, bring this injured exile back,To claim his portion in his father’s hall.”Such are the strange inventions of the foe.Choose thou a man that’s fit to meet thy brother;Nor blame thy servant: what he saw he says:To helm the state through such rude storm be thine!Eteocles.O god-detested! god-bemadded race!n36Woe-worthy sons of woe-worn Oedipus!Your father’s curse is ripe! but tears are vain,And weeping might but mother worser woe.O Polynices! thy prophetic nameSpeaks more than all the emblems of thy shield;Soon shall we see if gold-bossed words can save thee,Babbling vain madness in a proud device.If Jove-born Justice, maid divine, might beOf thoughts and deeds like thine participant,Thou mightst have hope; but, Polynices, never,Or when the darkness of the mother’s wombThou first didst leave, or in thy nursling prime,Or in thy bloom of youth, or in the gatheringOf beard on manhood’s chin, hath Justice owned thee,Or known thy name; and shall she know thee nowThou leadst a stranger host against thy country?Her nature were a mockery of her nameIf she could fight for knaves, and still be Justice.In this faith strong, this traitor I will meetMyself: the cause is mine, and I will fight it.For equal prince to prince, to brother brother,Fell foe to foe, suits well. And now to arms!Bring me my spear and shield, hauberk and greaves![ExitMessenger.Chorus.Dear son of Oedipus! let not thy wrathWax hot as his whom thou dost chiefly chide!Let the Cadméans with the Argives fight;This is enough: their blood may be atoned.But, when a brother falls by brother’s hands,Age may not mellow such dark due of guilt.Eteocles.If thou canst bear an ill, and fear no shame,Bear it: but if to bear is to be base,Choose death, thy only refuge from disgrace.STROPHE IV.Chorus.Whither wouldst thou? calm thy bosom,Tame the madness of thy blood;Ere it bear a crimson blossom,Pluck thy passion in the bud.Eteocles.Fate urges on; the god will have it so.n37Now drift the race of Laius, with full sail,Abhorred by Phœbus, down Cocytus’ stream!ANTISTROPHE IV.Chorus.Let not ravening rage consume thee!Bitter fruit thy wrath will bear;Sate thy hunger with the thousands,But of brother’s blood beware!Eteocles.The Curse must work its will: and thus it speaks,Watching beside me with dry tearless eyes,Death is thy only gain, and death to-dayIs better than to-morrow!n38STROPHE V.Chorus.Save thy life: the wise will praise thee;To the gods with incense come,And the storm-clad black ErinnysPasses by thy holy home.Eteocles.The gods will reck the curse, but not the prayersOf Laius’ race. Our doom is their delight.’Tis now too late to fawn the Fate away.ANTISTROPHE V.Chorus.Nay! but yet thou mayst: the god,That long hath raged, and burneth now,With a gentler sway soft-wafted,Soon may fan thy fevered brow.Eteocles.The Curse must sway, my father’s burning curse.The visions of the night were true, that showed meHis heritage twin-portioned by the sword.Chorus.We are but women: yet we pray thee hear us.Eteocles.Speak things that may be, and I’ll hear. Be brief.Chorus.Fight not before the seventh gate, we pray thee.Eteocles.My whetted will thy words may never blunt.Chorus.Why rush on danger? Victory’s sure without thee.Eteocles.So speak to slaves; a soldier may not hear thee.Chorus.But brother’s blood—pluck not the bloody blossom.Eteocles.If gods are just, he shall not ’scape from harm. [Exit.CHORAL HYMN.STROPHE I.I fear the house-destroying power; I fearThe goddess most ungodlike,n39The all-truth-speaking seerOf evil things, whose sleepless wrath doth nurseFulfilment of the frenzied father’s curse.The time doth darkly lower;This strife of brother’s blood with brother’s bloodSpurs the dread hour.ANTISTROPHE I.O son of Scythia, must we ask thine aid?Chalybian stranger thine,n40Here with the keen unsparing bladeTo part our fair possessions? thou dost dealA bitter lot, O savage-minded steel!Much loss is all the gain,When mighty lords with their stark corpses measureTheir whole domain.STROPHE II.When the slain shall slay the slayer,And kindred blood with bloodShall mingle, when the thirsty Theban soilDrinks eager the black-clotting sanguine flood,Who then shall purge the murderous stain,Who wash it clean again?When ancient guilt and new shall burst,In one dire flood of woe?ANTISTROPHE II.With urgent pace the Fury treadeth,To generations threeAvenging Laius’ sin on Laius’ race;What time he sinned against the gods’ decree,When Phœbus from Earth’s central shrinef17Thrice sent the word divine—Live childless, Laius, for thy seedShall work thy country’s woe.STROPHE III.But he to foolish words gave ear,And ruin to himself begot,The parricidal Oedipus, who joinedA frenzied bond in most unholy kind,Sowing where he was sown; whence sprung a budOf bitterness and blood.ANTISTROPHE III.The city tosses to and fro,Like a drifted ship; wave after wave,Now high, now low, with triple-crested flowNow reared sublime, brays round the plunging prow.These walls are but a plank: if the kings fall’Tis ruin to us all.STROPHE IV.The ancestral curse, the hoary doom is ripe.Who now shall smooth such hate?What hand shall stay, when it hath willed to strike,The uplifted arm of Fate?When the ship creaks beneath the straining gale,The wealthy merchantf18flings the well-stowed baleInto the gulf below.f19ANTISTROPHE IV.When the enigma of the baleful SphynxBy Oedipus was read,And the man-rending monster on a stoneDespairful dashed her head;What mortal man by herd-possessing men,What god by gods above was honoured then,Like Oedipus below!STROPHE V.But when his soul was conscious, and he sawThe monstrous wedlock made ’gainst Nature’s law,Him struck dismay,In wild deray,He from their socket roots uptoreHis eyes, more dear than children, worthy no moreTo look upon the day.ANTISTROPHE V.And he, for sorry tendance wrathful,n41flungCurses against his sons with bitter tongue,“They shall disputeA dire dispute,And share their land with steel.” I fearThe threatened harm; with boding heart I hearThe Fury’s sleepless foot.Re-enterMessenger.Messenger.Fear not, fair maids of Theban mothers nursed!The city hath ’scaped the yoke; the insolent boastsOf violent men hath fallen; the ship o’ the stateIs safe; in sunshine calm we float; in vainHath wave on wave lashed our sure-jointed beams,No leaky gap our close-lipped timbers knew,Our champions with safety hedged us round,Our towers stand firm. Six of the seven gatesShow all things prosperous; the seventh PhœbusChose for his own (for still in four and threeThe god delights),n42he led the seventh pair,Crowning the doom of evil-counselled Laius.Chorus.What sayst thou? What new ills to ancient Thebes?Messenger.Two men are dead—by mutual slaughter slain.Chorus.Who?—what?—my wit doth crack with apprehension.Messenger.Hear soberly: the sons of Oedipus—Chorus.O wretched me! true prophet of true woe.Messenger.Too true. They lie stretched in the dust.Chorus.Sayst so?Sad tale! yet must I school mine ears to hear it.Messenger.Brother by brother’s hand untimely slain.Chorus.The impartial god smote equally the twain.Messenger.A wrathful god the luckless race destroys,And I for plaints no less than pæans bring theen43Plentiful food. The state now stands secure,But the twin rulers, with hard-hammered steel,Have sharply portioned all their heritage,By the dire curse to sheer destruction hurried.What land they sought they find it in the grave,The hostile kings in one red woe are brothered;The soil that called them lord hath drunk their blood.[Exit.Chorus.O Jove almighty! gods of Cadmus,By whose keeping Thebes is strong,Shall I sing a joyful pæan,Thee the god full-throated hymningThat saved the state from instant harm?Or shall drops of swelling pityTo a wail invert my ditty?O wretched, hapless, childless princes!Truly, truly was his nameProphet of your mutual shame!f20Godless was the strife ye cherished,And in godless strife ye perished!CHORAL HYMN.STROPHE I.The curse that rides on sable wing,Hath done its part,And horror, like a creeping thing,Freezes my heart.Their ghastly death in kindred bloodDoth pierce me thorough,And deeply stirs the Thyad floodf21Of wail and sorrow.An evil bird on boding wingDid darkly sway,When steel on steel did sternly ringIn strife to-day.ANTISTROPHE I.The voice that from the blind old kingWith cursing came,In rank fulfilment forth doth bringIts fruit of shame.O Laius, thou didst work our woeWith faithless heart;Nor Phœbus with a half-dealt blowWill now depart.His word is sure, or pacing slow,Or winged with speed,And now the burthened cloud of woe,Bursts black indeed.[The bodies ofEteoclesandPolynicesare brought on the stage.EPODE.Lo! where it comes the murky pomp,No wandering voice, but clear, too clearThe visible body of our fear!Twin-faced sorrow, twin-faced slaughter,And twin-fated woe is here.Ills on ills of monstrous birthRush on Laius’ god-doom’d-hearth.Sisters raise the shrill lament,Let your lifted arms be oars!Let your sighs be breezes lent,Down the wailing stream to floatThe black-sail’d Stygian boat;Down to the home which all receiveth,Down to the land which no man leaveth,By Apollo’s foot untrodden,Sullen, silent, sunless shores!But I see the fair Ismene,And Antigone the fair,Moving to this place of mourning,Slow, a sorrow-guided pair.We shall see a sight for weeping(They obey a doleful hest)Lovely maids deep-bosomed pouringWails from heavy-laden breast.Chaunts of sorrow, dismal preludeOf their grief, to us belong:Let us hymn the dread Erinnys!To the gloomy might of Hades,Let us lift the sombre song.[EnterAntigoneandIsmenein sorrowful silence.Hapless sisters! maids more haplessNe’er were girded with a zone:I weep, and wail, and mine, believe me,Is a heart’s sigh, no hireling moan.f22[Here commences the Funeral Wail over the dead bodies ofEteoclesandPolyniceswith mournful music.STROPHE I.Semi-Chorus 1.Alas! alas! the hapless pair.To friendly voice and warning FateThey stopped the ear: and now too lateDear bought with blood their father’s wealthIn death they share.Semi-Chorus 2.Outstretched in death, and prostrate lowThem and their house the iron WoeHath sternly crushed.ANTISTROPHE I.Semi-Chorus 1.Alas! alas! the old thrones reel,The lofty palace topples down;And Death hath won a bloody crown,And thou sure end of strife hast made,O keen cold steel!Semi-Chorus 2.And, with fulfilment on her wing,Curse-laden from the blind old kingThe Fury rushed.STROPHE II.Semi-Chorus 1.Pierced through the left, with gaping gashesGory they lie.Semi-Chorus 2.All gashed and gored, by fratricidalWounds they die.Semi-Chorus 1.* * * ** * * *Semi-Chorus 2.A god, a god doth rule the hour,Slaughter meets slaughter, and the curseDoth reign with power.Semi-Chorus 1.See where the steel clean through hath cutTheir bleeding life,Even to the marrow deep hath piercedThe ruthless knife.Semi-Chorus 2.Deep in their silent hearts they cherishedThe fateful curse,And, with fell purpose sternly hating,Defied remorse.ANTISTROPHE II.Semi-Chorus 1.From street to street shrill speeds the cryOf wail and woe.Semi-Chorus 2.And towers and peopled plains replyWith wail and woe.Semi-Chorus 1.And all their wealth a stranger heirShall rightly share.Semi-Chorus 2.The wealth that waked the deadly strife,The strife that raged till rage and strifeCeased with their life.Semi-Chorus 1.With whetted heart, and whetted glaive,They shared the lot;Victor and vanquished each in the graveSix feet hath got.Semi-Chorus 2.A harsh allotment! who shall praise it,Friend or foe?Harsh strife in pride begun, and endingIn wail and woe.STROPHE III.Semi-Chorus 1.Sword-stricken here they lie, they lieA breathless pair.Semi-Chorus 2.Sword-stricken here they find, they findWhat home, and where?Semi-Chorus 1.A lonely home, a home of gloomIn their fathers’ tomb.Semi-Chorus 2.And wailing follows from the hallsThe dismal bier;Wailing and woe the heart-strings breaking,And sorrow from its own self takingThe food it feeds on, moody sadness,Shunning all sights and sounds of gladness,And from the eye spontaneous bringingNo practised tear;My heart within me wastes, beholdingThis dismal bier.ANTISTROPHE III.Semi-Chorus 1.And on the bier we drop the tearAnd justly say,Semi-Chorus 2.To friend and foe, they purchased woeAnd wail to-day.Semi-Chorus 1.And to Hades showed full many the roadIn the deadly fray.Semi-Chorus 2.O ill-starred she!—there hath not beenNor will be more,Of sore-tried women children-bearing,One like her, like sorrow sharing.With her own body’s fruit she joinedWedlock in most unholy kind,And to her son, twin sons the mother,O monstrous! bore:And here they lie, by brother brotherNow drenched in gore.STROPHE IV.Semi-Chorus 1.Ay, drenched in gore, in brothered gore,n44Weltering they lie;Mad was the strife, and sharp the knifeThat bade them die.Semi-Chorus 2.The strife hath ceased: life’s purple floodThe dry Earth drinks;And kinsman’s now to kinsman’s bloodKeen slaughter links.The far sea stranger forged i’ the fireThe pointed iron soothed their ire.A bitter soother! Mars hath madeA keen divisionOf all their lands, and lent swift wingTo the curse that came from the blind old kingWith harsh completion.ANTISTROPHE IV.Semi-Chorus 1.They strove for land, and did demandAn equal share;In the ground deep, deep, where now they sleep,There’s land to spare.Semi-Chorus 2.A goodly crop to you hath grownOf woe and wailing;Ye reaped the seed by Laius sown,The god prevailing.Shrill yelled the curse, a deathful shout,And scattered sheer in hopeless routThe kingly race did fall; and lo!Fell Até plantethHer trophy at the gate; and thereTriumphant o’er the princely pairHer banner flaunteth.[AntigoneandIsmenenow come forward, and standing beside the dead bodies, pointing now to the one, and now to the other, finish the Wail as chief mourners.PRELUDE.Antigone.Wounded, thou didst wound again.Ismene.Thou didst slay, and yet wert slain.Antigone.Thou didst pierce him with the spear.Ismene.Deadly-pierced thou liest here.Antigone.Sons of sorrow!Ismene.Sons of pain!Antigone.Break out grief!Ismene.Flow tears amain!Antigone.Weep the slayer.Ismene.And the slain.STROPHE.Antigone.Ah! my soul is mad with moaning.Ismene.And my heart within is groaning.Antigone.O thrice-wretched, wretched brother!Ismene.Thou more wretched than the other!Antigone.Thine own kindred pierced thee thorough.Ismene.And thy kin was pierced by thee.Antigone.Sight of sadness!Ismene.Tale of sorrow!Antigone.Deadly to say!Ismene.Deadly to see!Antigone.We with you the sorrow bear.Ismene.And twin woes twin sisters share.Chorus.Alas! alas!Moera, baneful gifts dispensingn45To the toilsome race of mortals,Now prevails thy murky hour:Shade of Oedipus thrice sacred,Night-clad Fury, dread Erinnys,Mighty, mighty is thy power!ANTISTROPHE.Antigone.Food to feed the eyes with mourning,Ismene.Exile sad, more sad returning!Antigone.Slain wert thou, when thou hadst slain.Ismene.Found wert thou and lost again.Antigone.Lost, in sooth, beyond reprieving.Ismene.Life-bereft and life-bereaving.Antigone.Race of Laius, woe is thee!Ismene.Woe, and wail, and misery!Antigone.Woe, woe, thy fatal name!Ismene.Prophet of our triple shame.Antigone.Deadly to say!Ismene.Deadly to see!Chorus.Alas! alas!Moera, baneful gifts dispensingTo the toilsome race of mortals,Now prevails thy murky hour;Shade of Oedipus thrice sacred,Night-clad Fury, dread Erinnys,Mighty, mighty is thy power.EPODE.Antigone.Thou hast marched a distant road.Ismene.Thou hast gone to the dark abode.Antigone.Cruel welcome met thee here.Ismene.Falling by thy brother’s spear.Antigone.Deadly to say!Ismene.Deadly to see!Antigone.Woe and wailing.Ismene.Wail and woe!Antigone.To my home and to my country.Ismene.And to me much wail and woe.Antigone.Chief woe to me!Ismene.Weeping and woe!Antigone.Alas! Eteocles, laid thus low!Ismene.O thrice woe-worthy pair!Antigone.A god, a god, hath dealt the blow!Ismene.Where shall they find their clay-cold lair?Antigone.An honoured place their bones shall keep.Ismene.With their fathers they shall sleep.EnterHerald.Herald.Hear ye my words—my herald’s voice declaringWhat seemed and seems good to the Theban senate.Eteocles, his country’s friend, shall findDue burial in its friendly bosom.n46HeIs free from sin against the gods of Cadmus,And died, the champion of his country’s cause,As generous youths should die. Severer doomFalls on his brother Polynices. HeShall lie in the breeze unburied, food for dogs,Most fit bestowal of a traitor’s corpse;For, had some god not stept between to save us,And turned the spear aside, Cadméan ThebesHad stood no more. His country’s gods demandSuch stern atonement of the impious willThat led a hireling host against their shrines.On him shall vultures banquet, ravening birdsHis flesh shall tear; no pious hand shall pileThe fresh green mound, no wailing notes for himBe lifted shrill, no tearful friends attendHis funeral march. Thus they who rule in ThebesHave strictly ordered.Antigone.Go thou back, and giveThis message to the rulers.—If none otherWill grant the just interment to my brotherMyself will bury him. The risk I reck not,Nor blush to call rebellion’s self a virtue,Where I rebel, being kind to my own kin.Our common source of life, a mother doomedTo matchless woes, nor less the father doomed,Demand no vulgar reverence. I will shareReproach with the reproached, and with my kinKnow kindred grief, the living with the dead.For his dear flesh, no hollow-stomach’d wolvesShall tear it—no! myself, though I’m but woman,Will make his tomb, and do the sacred office.Even in this bosom’s linen folds, I’ll bearEnough of earth to cover him withal.This thing I’ll do. I will. For bold resolvesStill find bold hands; the purpose makes the plan.Herald.When Thebes commands, ’tis duty to obey.Antigone.When ears are deaf, ’tis wisdom to be dumb.Herald.Fierce is a people with young victory flushed.Antigone.Fierce let them be; he shall not go unburied.Herald.What? wilt thou honour whom the city hates?Antigone.And did the gods not honour whom I honour?Herald.Once: ere he led the spear against his country.Antigone.Evil entreatment he repaid with evil.Herald.Should thousands suffer for the fault of one?Antigone.Strife is the last of gods to end her tale;My brother I will bury. Make no more talk.Herald.Be wilful, if thou wilt. I counsel wisdom.Chorus.Mighty Furies that triumphantRide on ruin’s baleful wings,n47Crushed ye have and clean uprootedThis great race of Theban kings.Who shall help me? Who shall give me,Sure advice, and counsel clear?Shall mine eyes freeze up their weeping?Shall my feet refuse to followThy loved remnant? but I fearMuch the rulers, and their mandateSternly sanctioned. Shall it be?Him shall many mourners follow?Thee, rejected by thy country,Thee no voice of wailing nears,All thy funeral march a sisterWeeping solitary tears?[TheChorusnow divides itself into two parts, of which one attaches itself toAntigoneand the corpse ofPolynices;the other toIsmeneand the corpse ofEteocles.Semi-Chorus.Let them threaten, or not threaten,We will drop the friendly tear,With the pious-minded sister,We will tend the brother’s bier.And though public law forbidsThese tears, free-shed for public sorrow,Laws oft will change, and in one stateWhat’s right to-day is wrong to morrow.Semi-Chorus.For us we’ll follow, where the cityAnd the law of Cadmus leads us,To the funeral of the brave.By the aid of Jove Supernal,And the gods that keep the city,Mighty hath he been to save;He hath smote the proud invader,He hath rolled the ruin backwardOf the whelming Argive wave.[The End]
Before the Homoloidian gate stands forth,n33
And speaks harsh words against the might of Tydeus,
Rating him murderer, teacher of all ill
To Argos, troubler of the city’s peace,
The Furies’ herald, crimson slaughter’s minion,
And councillor of folly to Adrastus.
Thy brother too, the might of Polynices,
He whips with keen reproaches, and upcasts
With bitter taunts his evil-omened name,
Making it spell his ugly sin that owns it.n34
O fair and pious deed, even thus he cries,
To blot thy native soil with war, and lead
A foreign host against thy country’s gods!
Soothly a worthy deed, a pleasant tale
For future years to tell! Most specious right,
To stop the sacred fountain up whence sprung
Thy traitor life! How canst thou hope to live
A ruler well acknowledged in the land,
That thou hast wounded with invading spear?
Myself this foreign soil, on which I tread,
Shall feed with prophet’s blood. I hope to die,
Since die I must, an undishonoured death.
Thus spake the seer, and waved his full-orb’d shield
Of solid brass, but plain, without device.
Of substance studious, careless of the show,
The wise man is what fools but seem to be,n35
Reaping rich harvest from the mellow soil
Of quiet thought, the mother of great deeds.
Choose thou a wise and virtuous man to meet
The wise and virtuous. Whoso fears the gods
Is fearful to oppose.
Eteocles.
Alas! the fate
That mingles up the godless and the just
In one companionship! wise was the man
Who taught that evil converse is the worst
Of evils, that death’s unblest fruit is reaped
By him who sows in Até’s fields.f16The man
Who, being godly, with ungodly men
And hot-brained sailors mounts the brittle bark,
He, when the god-detested crew goes down,
Shall with the guilty guiltless perish. When
One righteous man is common citizen
With godless and unhospitable men,
One god-sent scourge must smite the whole, one net
Snare bad and good. Even so, Oïcleus’ son,
This sober, just, and good, and pious man,
This mighty prophet and soothsayer, he,
Leagued with the cause of bad and bold-mouthed men
In his own despite—so Jove hath willed—shall lead
Down to the distant city of the dead
The murky march with them. He will not even
Approach the walls, so I may justly judge.
No dastard soul is his, no wavering will;
But well he knows, if Loxias’ words bear fruit,
(And, when he speaks not true, the god is dumb)
Amphiaraus dies by Theban spear.
Yet to oppose this man I will dispatch
The valiant Lasthenes, a Theban true,
Who wastes no love on strangers; swift his eye,
Nor slow his hand to make the eager spear
Leap from behind the shield. The gods be with him!
ANTISTROPHE III.Chorus.
May the gods our just entreaties
For the cause of Cadmus hear!
Jove! when the sharp spear approaches,
Sit enthroned upon our rampires,
Darting bolts, and darting fear!
Messenger.
Against the seventh gate the seventh chief
Leads on the foe, thy brother Polynices;
And fearful vows he makes, and fearful doom
His prayers invoke. Mounted upon our walls,
By herald’s voice Thebes’ rightful prince proclaimed,
Shouting loud hymns of capture, hand to hand
He vows to encounter thee, and either die
Himself in killing thee, or should he live
And spare thy recreant life, he will repay
Like deed with like, and thou in turn shalt know
Dishonouring exile. Thus he speaks and prays
The family gods, and all the gods of Thebes,
To aid his traitor suit. Upon his shield,
New-forged, and nicely fitted to the hand,
He bears this double blazonry—a woman
Leading with sober pace an armed man
All bossed in gold, and thus the superscription,
“I, Justice, bring this injured exile back,
To claim his portion in his father’s hall.”
Such are the strange inventions of the foe.
Choose thou a man that’s fit to meet thy brother;
Nor blame thy servant: what he saw he says:
To helm the state through such rude storm be thine!
Eteocles.
O god-detested! god-bemadded race!n36
Woe-worthy sons of woe-worn Oedipus!
Your father’s curse is ripe! but tears are vain,
And weeping might but mother worser woe.
O Polynices! thy prophetic name
Speaks more than all the emblems of thy shield;
Soon shall we see if gold-bossed words can save thee,
Babbling vain madness in a proud device.
If Jove-born Justice, maid divine, might be
Of thoughts and deeds like thine participant,
Thou mightst have hope; but, Polynices, never,
Or when the darkness of the mother’s womb
Thou first didst leave, or in thy nursling prime,
Or in thy bloom of youth, or in the gathering
Of beard on manhood’s chin, hath Justice owned thee,
Or known thy name; and shall she know thee now
Thou leadst a stranger host against thy country?
Her nature were a mockery of her name
If she could fight for knaves, and still be Justice.
In this faith strong, this traitor I will meet
Myself: the cause is mine, and I will fight it.
For equal prince to prince, to brother brother,
Fell foe to foe, suits well. And now to arms!
Bring me my spear and shield, hauberk and greaves!
[ExitMessenger.
Chorus.
Dear son of Oedipus! let not thy wrath
Wax hot as his whom thou dost chiefly chide!
Let the Cadméans with the Argives fight;
This is enough: their blood may be atoned.
But, when a brother falls by brother’s hands,
Age may not mellow such dark due of guilt.
Eteocles.
If thou canst bear an ill, and fear no shame,
Bear it: but if to bear is to be base,
Choose death, thy only refuge from disgrace.
STROPHE IV.Chorus.
Whither wouldst thou? calm thy bosom,
Tame the madness of thy blood;
Ere it bear a crimson blossom,
Pluck thy passion in the bud.
Eteocles.
Fate urges on; the god will have it so.n37
Now drift the race of Laius, with full sail,
Abhorred by Phœbus, down Cocytus’ stream!
ANTISTROPHE IV.Chorus.
Let not ravening rage consume thee!
Bitter fruit thy wrath will bear;
Sate thy hunger with the thousands,
But of brother’s blood beware!
Eteocles.
The Curse must work its will: and thus it speaks,
Watching beside me with dry tearless eyes,
Death is thy only gain, and death to-day
Is better than to-morrow!n38
STROPHE V.Chorus.
Save thy life: the wise will praise thee;
To the gods with incense come,
And the storm-clad black Erinnys
Passes by thy holy home.
Eteocles.
The gods will reck the curse, but not the prayers
Of Laius’ race. Our doom is their delight.
’Tis now too late to fawn the Fate away.
ANTISTROPHE V.Chorus.
Nay! but yet thou mayst: the god,
That long hath raged, and burneth now,
With a gentler sway soft-wafted,
Soon may fan thy fevered brow.
Eteocles.
The Curse must sway, my father’s burning curse.
The visions of the night were true, that showed me
His heritage twin-portioned by the sword.
Chorus.
We are but women: yet we pray thee hear us.
Eteocles.
Speak things that may be, and I’ll hear. Be brief.
Chorus.
Fight not before the seventh gate, we pray thee.
Eteocles.
My whetted will thy words may never blunt.
Chorus.
Why rush on danger? Victory’s sure without thee.
Eteocles.
So speak to slaves; a soldier may not hear thee.
Chorus.
But brother’s blood—pluck not the bloody blossom.
Eteocles.
If gods are just, he shall not ’scape from harm. [Exit.
CHORAL HYMN.STROPHE I.
I fear the house-destroying power; I fear
The goddess most ungodlike,n39
The all-truth-speaking seer
Of evil things, whose sleepless wrath doth nurse
Fulfilment of the frenzied father’s curse.
The time doth darkly lower;
This strife of brother’s blood with brother’s blood
Spurs the dread hour.
ANTISTROPHE I.
O son of Scythia, must we ask thine aid?
Chalybian stranger thine,n40
Here with the keen unsparing blade
To part our fair possessions? thou dost deal
A bitter lot, O savage-minded steel!
Much loss is all the gain,
When mighty lords with their stark corpses measure
Their whole domain.
STROPHE II.
When the slain shall slay the slayer,
And kindred blood with blood
Shall mingle, when the thirsty Theban soil
Drinks eager the black-clotting sanguine flood,
Who then shall purge the murderous stain,
Who wash it clean again?
When ancient guilt and new shall burst,
In one dire flood of woe?
ANTISTROPHE II.
With urgent pace the Fury treadeth,
To generations three
Avenging Laius’ sin on Laius’ race;
What time he sinned against the gods’ decree,
When Phœbus from Earth’s central shrinef17
Thrice sent the word divine—
Live childless, Laius, for thy seed
Shall work thy country’s woe.
STROPHE III.
But he to foolish words gave ear,
And ruin to himself begot,
The parricidal Oedipus, who joined
A frenzied bond in most unholy kind,
Sowing where he was sown; whence sprung a bud
Of bitterness and blood.
ANTISTROPHE III.
The city tosses to and fro,
Like a drifted ship; wave after wave,
Now high, now low, with triple-crested flow
Now reared sublime, brays round the plunging prow.
These walls are but a plank: if the kings fall
’Tis ruin to us all.
STROPHE IV.
The ancestral curse, the hoary doom is ripe.
Who now shall smooth such hate?
What hand shall stay, when it hath willed to strike,
The uplifted arm of Fate?
When the ship creaks beneath the straining gale,
The wealthy merchantf18flings the well-stowed bale
Into the gulf below.f19
ANTISTROPHE IV.
When the enigma of the baleful Sphynx
By Oedipus was read,
And the man-rending monster on a stone
Despairful dashed her head;
What mortal man by herd-possessing men,
What god by gods above was honoured then,
Like Oedipus below!
STROPHE V.
But when his soul was conscious, and he saw
The monstrous wedlock made ’gainst Nature’s law,
Him struck dismay,
In wild deray,
He from their socket roots uptore
His eyes, more dear than children, worthy no more
To look upon the day.
ANTISTROPHE V.
And he, for sorry tendance wrathful,n41flung
Curses against his sons with bitter tongue,
“They shall dispute
A dire dispute,
And share their land with steel.” I fear
The threatened harm; with boding heart I hear
The Fury’s sleepless foot.
Re-enterMessenger.
Messenger.
Fear not, fair maids of Theban mothers nursed!
The city hath ’scaped the yoke; the insolent boasts
Of violent men hath fallen; the ship o’ the state
Is safe; in sunshine calm we float; in vain
Hath wave on wave lashed our sure-jointed beams,
No leaky gap our close-lipped timbers knew,
Our champions with safety hedged us round,
Our towers stand firm. Six of the seven gates
Show all things prosperous; the seventh Phœbus
Chose for his own (for still in four and three
The god delights),n42he led the seventh pair,
Crowning the doom of evil-counselled Laius.
Chorus.
What sayst thou? What new ills to ancient Thebes?
Messenger.
Two men are dead—by mutual slaughter slain.
Chorus.
Who?—what?—my wit doth crack with apprehension.
Messenger.
Hear soberly: the sons of Oedipus—
Chorus.
O wretched me! true prophet of true woe.
Messenger.
Too true. They lie stretched in the dust.
Chorus.
Sayst so?
Sad tale! yet must I school mine ears to hear it.
Messenger.
Brother by brother’s hand untimely slain.
Chorus.
The impartial god smote equally the twain.
Messenger.
A wrathful god the luckless race destroys,
And I for plaints no less than pæans bring theen43
Plentiful food. The state now stands secure,
But the twin rulers, with hard-hammered steel,
Have sharply portioned all their heritage,
By the dire curse to sheer destruction hurried.
What land they sought they find it in the grave,
The hostile kings in one red woe are brothered;
The soil that called them lord hath drunk their blood.
[Exit.
Chorus.
O Jove almighty! gods of Cadmus,
By whose keeping Thebes is strong,
Shall I sing a joyful pæan,
Thee the god full-throated hymning
That saved the state from instant harm?
Or shall drops of swelling pity
To a wail invert my ditty?
O wretched, hapless, childless princes!
Truly, truly was his name
Prophet of your mutual shame!f20
Godless was the strife ye cherished,
And in godless strife ye perished!
CHORAL HYMN.STROPHE I.
The curse that rides on sable wing,
Hath done its part,
And horror, like a creeping thing,
Freezes my heart.
Their ghastly death in kindred blood
Doth pierce me thorough,
And deeply stirs the Thyad floodf21
Of wail and sorrow.
An evil bird on boding wing
Did darkly sway,
When steel on steel did sternly ring
In strife to-day.
ANTISTROPHE I.
The voice that from the blind old king
With cursing came,
In rank fulfilment forth doth bring
Its fruit of shame.
O Laius, thou didst work our woe
With faithless heart;
Nor Phœbus with a half-dealt blow
Will now depart.
His word is sure, or pacing slow,
Or winged with speed,
And now the burthened cloud of woe,
Bursts black indeed.
[The bodies ofEteoclesandPolynicesare brought on the stage.
EPODE.
Lo! where it comes the murky pomp,
No wandering voice, but clear, too clear
The visible body of our fear!
Twin-faced sorrow, twin-faced slaughter,
And twin-fated woe is here.
Ills on ills of monstrous birth
Rush on Laius’ god-doom’d-hearth.
Sisters raise the shrill lament,
Let your lifted arms be oars!
Let your sighs be breezes lent,
Down the wailing stream to float
The black-sail’d Stygian boat;
Down to the home which all receiveth,
Down to the land which no man leaveth,
By Apollo’s foot untrodden,
Sullen, silent, sunless shores!
But I see the fair Ismene,
And Antigone the fair,
Moving to this place of mourning,
Slow, a sorrow-guided pair.
We shall see a sight for weeping
(They obey a doleful hest)
Lovely maids deep-bosomed pouring
Wails from heavy-laden breast.
Chaunts of sorrow, dismal prelude
Of their grief, to us belong:
Let us hymn the dread Erinnys!
To the gloomy might of Hades,
Let us lift the sombre song.
[EnterAntigoneandIsmenein sorrowful silence.
Hapless sisters! maids more hapless
Ne’er were girded with a zone:
I weep, and wail, and mine, believe me,
Is a heart’s sigh, no hireling moan.f22
[Here commences the Funeral Wail over the dead bodies ofEteoclesandPolyniceswith mournful music.
STROPHE I.Semi-Chorus 1.
Alas! alas! the hapless pair.
To friendly voice and warning Fate
They stopped the ear: and now too late
Dear bought with blood their father’s wealth
In death they share.
Semi-Chorus 2.
Outstretched in death, and prostrate low
Them and their house the iron Woe
Hath sternly crushed.
ANTISTROPHE I.Semi-Chorus 1.
Alas! alas! the old thrones reel,
The lofty palace topples down;
And Death hath won a bloody crown,
And thou sure end of strife hast made,
O keen cold steel!
Semi-Chorus 2.
And, with fulfilment on her wing,
Curse-laden from the blind old king
The Fury rushed.
STROPHE II.Semi-Chorus 1.
Pierced through the left, with gaping gashes
Gory they lie.
Semi-Chorus 2.
All gashed and gored, by fratricidal
Wounds they die.
Semi-Chorus 1.
* * * *
* * * *
Semi-Chorus 2.
A god, a god doth rule the hour,
Slaughter meets slaughter, and the curse
Doth reign with power.
Semi-Chorus 1.
See where the steel clean through hath cut
Their bleeding life,
Even to the marrow deep hath pierced
The ruthless knife.
Semi-Chorus 2.
Deep in their silent hearts they cherished
The fateful curse,
And, with fell purpose sternly hating,
Defied remorse.
ANTISTROPHE II.Semi-Chorus 1.
From street to street shrill speeds the cry
Of wail and woe.
Semi-Chorus 2.
And towers and peopled plains reply
With wail and woe.
Semi-Chorus 1.
And all their wealth a stranger heir
Shall rightly share.
Semi-Chorus 2.
The wealth that waked the deadly strife,
The strife that raged till rage and strife
Ceased with their life.
Semi-Chorus 1.
With whetted heart, and whetted glaive,
They shared the lot;
Victor and vanquished each in the grave
Six feet hath got.
Semi-Chorus 2.
A harsh allotment! who shall praise it,
Friend or foe?
Harsh strife in pride begun, and ending
In wail and woe.
STROPHE III.Semi-Chorus 1.
Sword-stricken here they lie, they lie
A breathless pair.
Semi-Chorus 2.
Sword-stricken here they find, they find
What home, and where?
Semi-Chorus 1.
A lonely home, a home of gloom
In their fathers’ tomb.
Semi-Chorus 2.
And wailing follows from the halls
The dismal bier;
Wailing and woe the heart-strings breaking,
And sorrow from its own self taking
The food it feeds on, moody sadness,
Shunning all sights and sounds of gladness,
And from the eye spontaneous bringing
No practised tear;
My heart within me wastes, beholding
This dismal bier.
ANTISTROPHE III.Semi-Chorus 1.
And on the bier we drop the tear
And justly say,
Semi-Chorus 2.
To friend and foe, they purchased woe
And wail to-day.
Semi-Chorus 1.
And to Hades showed full many the road
In the deadly fray.
Semi-Chorus 2.
O ill-starred she!—there hath not been
Nor will be more,
Of sore-tried women children-bearing,
One like her, like sorrow sharing.
With her own body’s fruit she joined
Wedlock in most unholy kind,
And to her son, twin sons the mother,
O monstrous! bore:
And here they lie, by brother brother
Now drenched in gore.
STROPHE IV.Semi-Chorus 1.
Ay, drenched in gore, in brothered gore,n44
Weltering they lie;
Mad was the strife, and sharp the knife
That bade them die.
Semi-Chorus 2.
The strife hath ceased: life’s purple flood
The dry Earth drinks;
And kinsman’s now to kinsman’s blood
Keen slaughter links.
The far sea stranger forged i’ the fire
The pointed iron soothed their ire.
A bitter soother! Mars hath made
A keen division
Of all their lands, and lent swift wing
To the curse that came from the blind old king
With harsh completion.
ANTISTROPHE IV.Semi-Chorus 1.
They strove for land, and did demand
An equal share;
In the ground deep, deep, where now they sleep,
There’s land to spare.
Semi-Chorus 2.
A goodly crop to you hath grown
Of woe and wailing;
Ye reaped the seed by Laius sown,
The god prevailing.
Shrill yelled the curse, a deathful shout,
And scattered sheer in hopeless rout
The kingly race did fall; and lo!
Fell Até planteth
Her trophy at the gate; and there
Triumphant o’er the princely pair
Her banner flaunteth.
[AntigoneandIsmenenow come forward, and standing beside the dead bodies, pointing now to the one, and now to the other, finish the Wail as chief mourners.
PRELUDE.Antigone.
Wounded, thou didst wound again.
Ismene.
Thou didst slay, and yet wert slain.
Antigone.
Thou didst pierce him with the spear.
Ismene.
Deadly-pierced thou liest here.
Antigone.
Sons of sorrow!
Ismene.
Sons of pain!
Antigone.
Break out grief!
Ismene.
Flow tears amain!
Antigone.
Weep the slayer.
Ismene.
And the slain.
STROPHE.Antigone.
Ah! my soul is mad with moaning.
Ismene.
And my heart within is groaning.
Antigone.
O thrice-wretched, wretched brother!
Ismene.
Thou more wretched than the other!
Antigone.
Thine own kindred pierced thee thorough.
Ismene.
And thy kin was pierced by thee.
Antigone.
Sight of sadness!
Ismene.
Tale of sorrow!
Antigone.
Deadly to say!
Ismene.
Deadly to see!
Antigone.
We with you the sorrow bear.
Ismene.
And twin woes twin sisters share.
Chorus.
Alas! alas!
Moera, baneful gifts dispensingn45
To the toilsome race of mortals,
Now prevails thy murky hour:
Shade of Oedipus thrice sacred,
Night-clad Fury, dread Erinnys,
Mighty, mighty is thy power!
ANTISTROPHE.Antigone.
Food to feed the eyes with mourning,
Ismene.
Exile sad, more sad returning!
Antigone.
Slain wert thou, when thou hadst slain.
Ismene.
Found wert thou and lost again.
Antigone.
Lost, in sooth, beyond reprieving.
Ismene.
Life-bereft and life-bereaving.
Antigone.
Race of Laius, woe is thee!
Ismene.
Woe, and wail, and misery!
Antigone.
Woe, woe, thy fatal name!
Ismene.
Prophet of our triple shame.
Antigone.
Deadly to say!
Ismene.
Deadly to see!
Chorus.
Alas! alas!
Moera, baneful gifts dispensing
To the toilsome race of mortals,
Now prevails thy murky hour;
Shade of Oedipus thrice sacred,
Night-clad Fury, dread Erinnys,
Mighty, mighty is thy power.
EPODE.Antigone.
Thou hast marched a distant road.
Ismene.
Thou hast gone to the dark abode.
Antigone.
Cruel welcome met thee here.
Ismene.
Falling by thy brother’s spear.
Antigone.
Deadly to say!
Ismene.
Deadly to see!
Antigone.
Woe and wailing.
Ismene.
Wail and woe!
Antigone.
To my home and to my country.
Ismene.
And to me much wail and woe.
Antigone.
Chief woe to me!
Ismene.
Weeping and woe!
Antigone.
Alas! Eteocles, laid thus low!
Ismene.
O thrice woe-worthy pair!
Antigone.
A god, a god, hath dealt the blow!
Ismene.
Where shall they find their clay-cold lair?
Antigone.
An honoured place their bones shall keep.
Ismene.
With their fathers they shall sleep.
EnterHerald.
Herald.
Hear ye my words—my herald’s voice declaring
What seemed and seems good to the Theban senate.
Eteocles, his country’s friend, shall find
Due burial in its friendly bosom.n46He
Is free from sin against the gods of Cadmus,
And died, the champion of his country’s cause,
As generous youths should die. Severer doom
Falls on his brother Polynices. He
Shall lie in the breeze unburied, food for dogs,
Most fit bestowal of a traitor’s corpse;
For, had some god not stept between to save us,
And turned the spear aside, Cadméan Thebes
Had stood no more. His country’s gods demand
Such stern atonement of the impious will
That led a hireling host against their shrines.
On him shall vultures banquet, ravening birds
His flesh shall tear; no pious hand shall pile
The fresh green mound, no wailing notes for him
Be lifted shrill, no tearful friends attend
His funeral march. Thus they who rule in Thebes
Have strictly ordered.
Antigone.
Go thou back, and give
This message to the rulers.—If none other
Will grant the just interment to my brother
Myself will bury him. The risk I reck not,
Nor blush to call rebellion’s self a virtue,
Where I rebel, being kind to my own kin.
Our common source of life, a mother doomed
To matchless woes, nor less the father doomed,
Demand no vulgar reverence. I will share
Reproach with the reproached, and with my kin
Know kindred grief, the living with the dead.
For his dear flesh, no hollow-stomach’d wolves
Shall tear it—no! myself, though I’m but woman,
Will make his tomb, and do the sacred office.
Even in this bosom’s linen folds, I’ll bear
Enough of earth to cover him withal.
This thing I’ll do. I will. For bold resolves
Still find bold hands; the purpose makes the plan.
Herald.
When Thebes commands, ’tis duty to obey.
Antigone.
When ears are deaf, ’tis wisdom to be dumb.
Herald.
Fierce is a people with young victory flushed.
Antigone.
Fierce let them be; he shall not go unburied.
Herald.
What? wilt thou honour whom the city hates?
Antigone.
And did the gods not honour whom I honour?
Herald.
Once: ere he led the spear against his country.
Antigone.
Evil entreatment he repaid with evil.
Herald.
Should thousands suffer for the fault of one?
Antigone.
Strife is the last of gods to end her tale;
My brother I will bury. Make no more talk.
Herald.
Be wilful, if thou wilt. I counsel wisdom.
Chorus.
Mighty Furies that triumphant
Ride on ruin’s baleful wings,n47
Crushed ye have and clean uprooted
This great race of Theban kings.
Who shall help me? Who shall give me,
Sure advice, and counsel clear?
Shall mine eyes freeze up their weeping?
Shall my feet refuse to follow
Thy loved remnant? but I fear
Much the rulers, and their mandate
Sternly sanctioned. Shall it be?
Him shall many mourners follow?
Thee, rejected by thy country,
Thee no voice of wailing nears,
All thy funeral march a sister
Weeping solitary tears?
[TheChorusnow divides itself into two parts, of which one attaches itself toAntigoneand the corpse ofPolynices;the other toIsmeneand the corpse ofEteocles.
Semi-Chorus.
Let them threaten, or not threaten,
We will drop the friendly tear,
With the pious-minded sister,
We will tend the brother’s bier.
And though public law forbids
These tears, free-shed for public sorrow,
Laws oft will change, and in one state
What’s right to-day is wrong to morrow.
Semi-Chorus.
For us we’ll follow, where the city
And the law of Cadmus leads us,
To the funeral of the brave.
By the aid of Jove Supernal,
And the gods that keep the city,
Mighty hath he been to save;
He hath smote the proud invader,
He hath rolled the ruin backward
Of the whelming Argive wave.
[The End]