{"collection":"Classics","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/cla/eurip/phoeni.htm","path":"cla/eurip/phoeni.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/cla/eurip/phoeni.htm","text":"The Phoenissae\nBy Euripides\nTranslated by E. P. Coleridge\n----------------------------------------------------------------------\nDramatis Personae\nJOCASTA, wife of OEDIPUS\nOLD SERVANT, an attendant of ANTIGONE\nANTIGONE, daughter Of OEDIPUS\nCHORUS OF PHOENICIAN MAIDENS\nPOLYNEICES, exiled son of OEDIPUS\nETEOCLES, now King of Thebes; son of OEDIPUS\nCREON, brother of JOCASTA\nTEIRESIAS, a blind prophet\nMENOECEUS, son of CREON\nFIRST MESSENGER\nSECOND MESSENGER\nOEDIPUS, formerly King of Thebes\n----------------------------------------------------------------------\nBefore the royal palace of Thebes. JOCASTA enters from the palace\nalone.\n----------------------------------------------------------------------\nJOCASTA O sun-god, who cleavest thy way along the starry sky, mounted\non golden-studded car, rolling on thy path of flame behind fleet coursers,\nhow curst the beam thou didst shed on Thebes, the day that Cadmus\nleft Phoenicia's realm beside the sea and reached this land! He it\nwas that in days long gone wedded Harmonia, the daughter of Cypris,\nand begat Polydorus from whom they say sprung Labdacus, and Laius\nfrom him. I am known as the daughter of Menoeceus, and Creon is my\nbrother by the same mother. Men called me Jocasta, for so my father\nnamed me, and I am married to Laius. Now when he was still childless\nafter being wedded to me a long time, he went and questioned Phoebus,\ncraving moreover that our love might be crowned with sons born to\nhis house. But the god said, \"King of Thebes for horses famed! seek\nnot to beget children against the will of heaven; for if thou beget\na son, that child shall slay thee, and all thy house shall wade through\nblood.\" But he, yielding to his lust in a drunken fit, begat a son\nof me, and when his babe was born, conscious of his sin and of the\ngod's warning, he gave the child to shepherds to expose in Hera's\nmeadow on mount Cithaeron, after piercing his ankles with iron spikes;\nwhence it was that Hellas named him Oedipus. But the keepers of the\nhorses of Polybus finding him took him home and laid him in the arms\nof their mistress. So she suckled the child that I had borne and persuaded\nher husband she was its mother. Soon as my son was grown to man's\nestate, the tawny beard upon his cheek, either because he had guessed\nthe fraud or learnt it from another, he set out for the shrine of\nPhoebus, eager to know for certain who his parents were; and likewise\nLaius, my husband, was on his way thither, anxious to find out if\nthe child he had exposed was dead. And they twain met where the branching\nroads to Phocis unite; and the charioteer of Laius called to him,\n\"Out of the way, stranger, room for my lord!\" But he, with never a\nword, strode on in his pride; and the horses with their hoofs drew\nblood from the tendons of his feet. Then-but why need I tell aught\nbeyond the sad issue?-son slew father, and taking his chariot gave\nit to Polybus his foster-father. Now when the Sphinx was grievously\nharrying our city after my husband's death, my brother Creon proclaimed\nthat he would wed me to any who should guess the riddle of that crafty\nmaiden. By some strange chance, my own son, Oedipus, guessed the Sphinx's\nriddle, and so he became king of this land and received its sceptre\nas his prize, and married his mother, all unwitting, luckless wretch!\nnor did I his mother know that I was wedded to my son; and I bore\nhim two sons, Eteocles and the hero Polyneices, and two daughters\nas well; the one her father called Ismene, the other, which was the\nelder, I named Antigone. Now when Oedipus, that awful sufferer, learnt\nthat I his wedded wife was his mother too, he inflicted a ghastly\noutrage upon his eyes, tearing the bleeding orbs with a golden brooch.\nBut since my sons have grown to bearded men, they have confined their\nfather closely, that his misfortune, needing as it did full many a\nshift to hide it, might be forgotten. He is still living in the palace,\nbut his misfortunes have so unhinged him that he imprecates the most\nunholy curses on his sons, praying that they may have to draw the\nsword before they share this house between them. So they, fearful\nthat heaven may accomplish his prayer if they dwell together, have\nmade an agreement, arranging that Polyneices, the younger, should\nfirst leave the land in voluntary exile, while Eteocles should stay\nand hold the sceptre for a year and then change places. But as soon\nas Eteocles was seated high in power, he refused to give up the throne,\nand drove Polyneices into exile from the kingdom; so Polyneices went\nto Argos and married into the family of Adrastus, and having collected\na numerous force of Argives is leading them hither; and he is come\nup against our seven-gated walls, demanding the sceptre of his father\nand his share in the kingdom. Wherefore I, to end their strife, have\nprevailed on one son to meet the other under truce, before appealing\nto arms; and the messenger I sent tells me that he will come. O Zeus,\nwhose home is heaven's radiant vault, save us, and grant that my sons\nmay be reconciled! For thou, if thou art really wise, must not suffer\nthe same poor mortal to be for ever wretched. (JOCASTA re-enters\nthe palace, as the OLD SERVANT appears on the roof.)\nOLD SERVANT Antigone, choice blossom in a father's house, although\nthy mother allowed thee at thy earnest treaty to leave thy maiden\nchamber for the topmost story of the house, thence to behold the Argive\nhost, yet a stay moment that I may first reconnoitre the path, whether\nthere be any of the citizens visible on the road, lest reproach, little\nas it matters to a slave like me, fasten on thee, my royal mistress;\nand when I am quite sure will tell thee everything that I saw and\nheard from the Argives, when carried the terms of the truce to and\nfro between this city and Polyneices. (After a slight pause) No,\nthere is no citizen approaching the palace; so mount the ancient cedar\nsteps, and view the plains that skirt Ismenus and the fount of Dirce\nto see the mighty host of foemen. (ANTIGONE appears beside him. She\nchants her replies to him.)\nANTIGONE Stretch out thy hand to me from the stairs, the hand of\nage to youth, helping me to mount.\nOLD SERVANT There! clasp it, my young mistress; thou art come at\na lucky moment; for Pelasgia's host is just upon the move, and their\nseveral contingents are separating.\nANTIGONE O Hecate, dread child of Latona! the plain is one blaze\nof bronze.\nOLD SERVANT Ah! this is no ordinary home-coming of Polyneices; with\nmany a knight and clash of countless arms he comes.\nANTIGONE Are the gates fast barred, and the brazen bolts shot home\ninto Amphion's walls of stone?\nOLD SERVANT Never fear! all is safe within the town. But mark him\nwho cometh first, if thou wouldst learn his name.\nANTIGONE Who is that with the white crest, who marches in the van,\nlightly bearing on his arm a buckler all of bronze?\nOLD SERVANT A chieftain, lady-\nANTIGONE Who is he? whose son? his name? tell me, old man.\nOLD SERVANT Mycenae claims him for her son; in Lerna's glens he dwells,\nthe prince Hippomedon.\nANTIGONE Ah! how proud and terrible his mien! like to an earth-born\ngiant he moves, with stars engraved upon his targe, resembling not\na child of earth.\nOLD SERVANT Dost see yon chieftain crossing Dirce's stream?\nANTIGONE His harness is quite different. Who is that?\nOLD SERVANT Tydeus, the son of Oeneus; true Aetolian spirit fires\nhis breast.\nANTIGONE Is this he, old man, who wedded a sister of the wife of\nPolyneices? What a foreign look his armour has! a half-barbarian he!\nOLD SERVANT Yes, my child; all Aetolians carry shields, and are most\nunerring marksmen with their darts.\nANTIGONE How art thou so sure of these descriptions, old man?\nOLD SERVANT I carefully noted the blazons on their shields before\nwhen I went with the terms of the truce to thy brother; so when I\nsee them now I know who carry them.\nANTIGONE Who is that youth passing close to the tomb of Zethus, with\nlong flowing hair, but a look of fury in his eye? is he a captain?\nfor crowds of warriors follow at his heels.\nOLD SERVANT That is Parthenopaeus, Atalanta's son.\nANTIGONE May Artemis, who hies o'er the hills with his mother, lay\nhim low with an arrow, for coming against my city to sack it!\nOLD SERVANT May it be so, my daughter; but with justice are they\ncome hither, and my fear is that the gods will take the rightful view,\nANTIGONE Where is he who was born of the same mother as I was by\na cruel destiny? Oh! tell me, old friend, where Polyneices is.\nOLD SERVANT He is yonder, ranged next to Adrastus near the tomb of\nNiobe's seven unwed daughters. Dost see him?\nANTIGONE I see him, yes! but not distinctly; 'tis but the outline\nof his form the semblance of his stalwart limbs I see. Would I could\nspeed through the sky, swift as a cloud before the wind, towards my\nown dear brother, and throw my arms about my darling's neck, so long,\npoor boy! an exile. How bright his golden weapons flash like the sun-god's\nmorning rays!\nOLD SERVANT He will soon be here, to fill thy heart with joy, according\nto the truce.\nANTIGONE Who is that, old man, on yonder car driving snow-white steeds?\nOLD SERVANT That, lady, is the prophet Amphiaraus; with him are the\nvictims, whose streaming blood the thirsty earth will drink.\nANTIGONE Daughter of Latona with the dazzling zone, O moon, thou\norb of golden light! how quietly, with what restraint he drives, goading\nfirst one horse, then the other! But where is Capaneus who utters\nthose dreadful threats against this city?\nOLD SERVANT Yonder he is, calculating how he may scale the towers,\ntaking the measure of our walls from base to summit.\nANTIGONE O Nemesis, with booming thunder-peals of Zeus and blazing\nlevin-light, thine it is to silence such presumptuous boasting. Is\nthis the man, who says he will give the maids of Thebes as captives\nof his spear to Mycenae's dames, to Lerna's Trident, and the waters\nof Amymone, dear to Poseidon, when he has thrown the toils of slavery\nround them? Never, never, Artemis, my queen revered, child of Zeus\nwith locks of gold, may I endure the yoke of slavery!\nOLD SERVANT My daughter, go within, and abide beneath the shelter\nof thy maiden chamber, now that thou hast had thy wish and seen all\nthat thy heart desired; for I see a crowd of women moving toward the\nroyal palace, confusion reigning in the city. Now the race of women\nby nature loves to find fault; and if they get some slight handle\nfor their talk they exaggerate it, for they seem to take a pleasure\nin saying everything bad of one another. (ANTIGONE and the OLD SERVANT\ndescend into the palace, as the CHORUS of PHOENICIAN MAIDENS enters.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe 1)\nFrom the Tyrian main I come, an offering choice for Loxias from Phoenician\nisle, to minister to Phoebus in his halls, where his fane lies nestling\n'neath the snow-swept peaks of Parnassus; over the Ionian sea I rowed\nmy course, for above the plains unharvested, that fringe the coast\nof Sicily, the boisterous west-wind coursed, piping sweetest music\nin the sky.\n(antistrophe 1)\nChosen from my city as beauty's gift for Loxias, to the land of Cadmus\nI came, sent thither to the towers of Laius, the home of my kin, the\nfamous sons of Agenor; and there I became the handmaid of Phoebus,\ndedicated like his offerings of wrought gold. But as yet the water\nof Castaly is waiting for me to bedew the maiden glory of my tresses\nfor the service of Phoebus.\n(epode)\nHail! thou rock that kindlest bright fire above the twin-peaked heights\nof Dionysus. Hail! thou vine, that, day by day, makest the lush bunches\nof thy grapes to drip. Hail! awful cavern of the serpent, and the\ngod's outlook on the hills, and sacred mount by snow-storms lashed!\nwould I were now circling in the dance of the deathless god, free\nfrom wild alarms, having left Dirce ere this for the vales of Phoebus\nat the centre of the world!\n(strophe 2)\nBut now I find the impetuous god of war is come to battle before\nthese walls, and hath kindled murder's torch in this city. God grant\nhe fail! for a friend's sorrows are also mine; and if this land with\nits seven towers suffer any mischance, Phoenicia's realm must share\nit. Ah me! our stock is one; all children we of Io, that horned maid,\nwhose sorrows I partake.\n(antistrophe 2)\nAround the city a dense array of serried shields is rousing the spectre\nof bloody strife, whose issue Ares shall soon learn to his cost, if\nhe brings upon the sons of Oedipus the horrors of the curse. O Argos,\ncity of Pelasgia! I dread thy prowess and the vengeance Heaven sends;\nfor he who cometh against our home in full panoply is entering the\nlists with justice on his side. (POLYNEICES enters alone.)\nPOLYNEICES Those who kept watch and ward at the gate admitted me\nso readily within the walls that my only fear is, that now they have\ncaught me in their toils, they will not let me out unscathed; so I\nmust turn my eye in every direction, hither and thither, to guard\nagainst all treachery. Armed with this sword, I shall inspire myself\nwith the trust that is born of boldness. (Starting) What ho! who\ngoes there? or is it an idle sound I fear? Everything seems a danger\nto venturous spirits, when their feet begin to tread an enemy's country.\nStill I trust my mother, and at the same time mistrust her for persuading\nme to come hither under truce. Well, there is help at hand, for the\naltar's hearth is close and there are people in the palace. Come,\nlet me sheath my sword in its dark scabbard and ask these maidens\nstanding near the house, who they are.\nLadies of another land, tell me from what country ye come to the halls\nof Hellas.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Phoenicia is my native land where I was born\nand bred; and Agenor's children's children sent me hither as a first-fruits\nof the spoils of war foy Phoebus; but when the noble son of Oedipus\nwas about to escort me to the hallowed oracle and the altars of Loxias,\ncame Argives meantime against his city. Now tell me in return who\nthou art that comes to this fortress of the Theban realm with its\nseven gates.\nPOLYNEICES My father was Oedipus, the son of Laius; my mother Jocasta,\ndaughter of Menoeceus; and I am called Polyneices by the folk of Thebes.\nCHORUS (chanting) O kinsman of Agenor's race, my royal masters who\nsent me hither at thy feet, prince, I throw myself, according to the\ncustom of my home. At last art thou come to thy native land; at last!\nHail to thee! all hail! Come forth, my honoured mistress, open wide\nthe doors. Dost hear, O mother of this chief? Why art thou delaying\nto leave the sheltering roof to fold thy son in thy embrace? (JOCASTA\nenters from the palace.)\nJOCASTA (chanting) Maidens, I hear you call in your Phoenician tongue,\nand my old feet drag their tottering steps to meet my son. O my son,\nmy son, at last after many a long day I see thee face to face; throw\nthy arms about thy mother's bosom; reach hither thy cheek to me and\nthy dark locks of clustering hair, o'ershadowing my neck therewith.\nHail to thee! all hail! scarce now restored to thy mother's arms,\nwhen hope and expectation both were dead. What can I say to thee?\nhow recall in every way, by word, by deed, the bliss of days long\npast, expressing my joy in the mazy measures of the dance? Ah! my\nson, thou didst leave thy father's halls desolate, when thy brother's\ndespite drove thee thence in exile. Truly thou wert missed alike by\nthy friends and Thebes. This was why I cut off my silvered locks and\nlet them fall for grief with many a tear, not clad in robes of white,\nmy son, but instead thereof taking for my wear these sorry sable tatters;\nwhile within the palace that aged one with sightless orbs, ever nursing\nthe sorrow of a double regret for the pair of brethren estranged from\ntheir home, rushed to lay hands upon himself with the sword or by\nthe noose suspended o'er his chamber-roof, moaning his curses on his\nsons; and now he buries himself in darkness, weeping ever and lamenting.\nAnd thou, my child,-I hear thou hast taken an alien to wife and art\nbegetting children to thy joy in thy home; they tell me thou art courting\na foreign alliance, a ceaseless woe to me thy mother and to Laius\nthy ancestor, to have this woeful marriage foisted on us. 'Twas no\nhand of mine that lit for thee the marriage-torch, as custom ordains\nand as a happy mother ought; no part had Ismenus at thy wedding in\nsupplying the luxurious bath; and there was silence through the streets\nof Thebes, what time thy young bride entered her home. Curses on them!\nwhether it be the sword or strife or thy sire that is to blame, or\nheaven's visitation that hath burst so riotously upon the house of\nOedipus; for on me is come all the anguish of these troubles.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Wondrous dear to woman is the child of her travail,\nand all her race hath some affection for its babes.\nPOLYNEICES Mother, I have come amongst enemies wisely or foolishly;\nbut all men needs must love their native land; whoso saith otherwise\nis pleased to say so but his thoughts are turned elsewhere. So fearful\nwas I and in such terror, lest my brother might slay me by treachery\nthat I made my way through the city sword in hand, casting my eyes\nall round me. My only hope is the truce and thy plighted word which\ninduced me to enter my paternal walls; and many a tear I shed by the\nway, seeing after a weary while my home and the altars of the gods,\nthe training ground, scene of my childhood, and Dirce's founts from\nwhich I was unjustly driven to sojourn in a strange city, with tears\never gushing from mine eyes. Yea, and to add to my grief I see thee\nwith hair cut short and clad in sable robe; woe is me for my sorrows!\nHow terrible, dear mother, is hatred 'twixt those once near and dear;\nhow hard it makes all reconciliation! What doth my aged sire within\nthe house, his light all darkness now? what of my sisters twain? Ah!\nthey, I know, bewail my bitter exile.\nJOCASTA Some god with fell intent is plaguing the race of Oedipus.\nThus it all began; I broke God's law and bore a son, and in an evil\nhour married thy father and thou wert born. But why repeat these horrors?\nwhat Heaven sends we have to bear. I am afraid to ask thee what I\nfain would, for fear of wounding thy feelings; yet I long to.\nPOLYNEICES Nay, question me, leave naught unsaid; for thy will, mother,\nis my pleasure too.\nJOCASTA Well then, first I ask thee what I long to have answered.\nWhat means exile from one's country? is it a great evil?\nPOLYNEICES The greatest; harder to bear than tell.\nJOCASTA What is it like? what is it galls the exile?\nPOLYNEICES One thing most of all; he cannot speak his mind.\nJOCASTA This is a slave's lot thou describest, to refrain from uttering\nwhat one thinks.\nPOLYNEICES The follies of his rulers must be bear.\nJOCASTA That too is bitter, to join in the folly of fools.\nPOLYNEICES Yet to gain our ends we must submit against our nature.\nJOCASTA Hope, they say, is the exile's food.\nPOLYNEICES Aye, hope that looks so fair; but she is ever in the future.\nJOCASTA But doth not time expose her futility?\nPOLYNEICES She hath a certain winsome charm in misfortune.\nJOCASTA Whence hadst thou means to live, ere thy marriage found it\nfor thee?\nPOLYNEICES One while I had enough for the day, and then maybe I had\nit not.\nJOCASTA Did not thy father's friends and whilom guests assist thee?\nPOLYNEICES Seek to be prosperous; once let fortune lour, and the\naid supplied by friends is naught.\nJOCASTA Did not thy noble breeding exalt thy horn for thee?\nPOLYNEICES Poverty is a curse; breeding would not find me food.\nJOCASTA Man's dearest treasure then, it seems, is his country.\nPOLYNEICES No words of thine could tell how dear.\nJOCASTA How was it thou didst go to Argos? what was thy scheme?\nPOLYNEICES I know not; the deity summoned me thither in accordance\nwith my destiny.\nJOCASTA He doubtless had some wise design; but how didst thou win\nthy wife?\nPOLYNEICES Loxias had given Adrastus an oracle.\nJOCASTA What was it? what meanest thou? I cannot guess.\nPOLYNEICES That he should wed his daughters to a boar and a lion.\nJOCASTA What hadst thou, my son, to do with the name of beasts?\nPOLYNEICES It was night when I reached the porch of Adrastus.\nJOCASTA In search of a resting-place, or wandering thither in thy\nexile?\nPOLYNEICES Yes, I wandered thither; and so did another like me.\nJOCASTA Who was he? he too it seems was in evil plight.\nPOLYNEICES Tydeus, son of Oeneus, was his name.\nJOCASTA But why did Adrastus liken you to wild beasts?\nPOLYNEICES Because we came to blows about our bed.\nJOCASTA Was it then that the son of Talaus understood the oracle?\nPOLYNEICES Yes, and he gave to us his daughters twain.\nJOCASTA Art thou blest or curst in thy marriage?\nPOLYNEICES As yet I have no fault to find with it.\nJOCASTA How didst thou persuade an army to follow thee hither?\nPOLYNEICES To me and to Tydeus who is my kinsman by marriage, Adrastus\nsware an oath, even to the husbands of his daughters twain, that he\nwould restore us both to our country, but me the first. So many a\nchief from Argos and Mycenae has joined me, doing me a bitter though\nneedful service, for 'tis against my own city I am marching. Now I\ncall heaven to witness, that it is not willingly I have raised my\narm against parents whom I love full well. But to thee, mother, it\nbelongs to dissolve this unhappy feud, and, by reconciling brothers\nin love, to end my troubles and thine and this whole city's. 'Tis\nan old-world maxim, but I will cite it for all that: \"Men set most\nstore by wealth, and of all things in this world it hath the greatest\npower.\" This am I come to secure at the head of my countless host;\nfor good birth is naught if poverty go with it.\nLEADER Lo! Eteocles comes hither to discuss the truce. Thine the\ntask, mother Jocasta, to speak such words as may reconcile thy sons.\n(ETEOCLES and his retinue enter.)\nETEOCLES Mother, I am here; but it was only to pleasure thee I came.\nWhat am to do? Let some one begin the conference; for I stopped marshalling\nthe citizens in double lines around the walls, that I might hear thy\narbitration. between us; for it is under this truce that thou hast\npersuaded me to admit this fellow within the walls.\nJOCASTA Stay a moment; haste never carries justice with it; but slow\ndeliberation oft attains a wise result. Restrain the fierceness of\nthy look, that panting rage; for this is not the Gorgon's severed\nhead but thy own brother whom thou seest here. Thou too, Polyneices,\nturn and face thy brother; for if thou and he stand face to face,\nthou wilt adopt a kindlier tone and lend a readier ear to him. I fain\nwould give you both one piece of wholesome counsel; when a man that\nis angered with his friend confronts him face to face, he ought only\nto keep in view the object of his coming, forgetting all previous\nquarrels. Polyneices my son, speak first, for thou art come at the\nhead of a Danaid host, alleging wrongful treatment; and may some god\njudge betwixt us and reconcile the trouble.\nPOLYNEICES The words of truth are simple, and justice needs no subtle\ninterpretations, for it hath a fitness in itself; but the words of\ninjustice, being rotten in themselves, require clever treatment. I\nprovided for his interests and mine in our father's palace, being\nanxious to avoid the curse which Oedipus once uttered against us;\nof my own free-will I left the land, allowing him to rule our country\nfor one full year, on condition that I should then take the sceptre\nin turn, instead of plunging into deadly enmity and thereby doing\nothers hurt or suffering it myself, as is now the case. But he, after\nconsenting to this and calling the gods to witness his oath, has performed\nnone of his promises, but is still keeping the sovereignty in his\nown hands together with my share of our heritage. Even now am I ready\nto take my own and dismiss my army from this land, receiving my house\nin turn to dwell therein, and once more restore it to him for a like\nperiod instead of ravaging our country and planting scaling-ladders\nagainst the towers, as I shall attempt to do if I do not get my rights.\nWherefore I call the gods to witness that spite of my just dealing\nin everything I am being unjustly robbed of my country by most godless\nfraud. Here, mother, have I stated the several points on their own\nmerits, without collecting words to fence them in, but urging a fair\ncase, I think, alike in the judgment of skilled or simple folk.\nLEADER To me at least, albeit I was not born and bred in Hellas,\nthy words seem full of sense.\nETEOCLES If all were at one in their ideas of honour and wisdom,\nthere would have been no strife to make men disagree; but, as it is,\nfairness and equality have no existence in this world beyond the name;\nthere is really no such thing. For instance, mother, I will tell thee\nthis without any concealment; I would ascend to the rising of the\nstars and the sun or dive beneath the earth, were I able so to do,\nto win a monarch's power, the chief of things divine. Therefore, mother,\nI will never yield this blessing to another, but keep it for myself;\nfor it were a coward's act to lose the greater and to win the less.\nBesides, I blush to think that he should gain his object by coming\nwith arms in his hand and ravaging the land; for this were foul disgrace\nto glorious Thebes, if I should yield my sceptre up to him for fear\nof Argive might. He ought not, mother, to have attempted reconcilement\nby armed force, for words compass everything that even the sword of\nan enemy might effect. Still, if on any other terms he cares to dwell\nhere, he may; but the sceptre will I never willingly let go. Shall\nI become his slave, when I can be his master? Never! Wherefore come\nfire, come sword! harness your steeds, fill the plains with chariots,\nfor I will not forego my throne for him. For if we must do wrong,\nto do so for a kingdom were the fairest cause, but in all else virtue\nshould be our aim.\nLEADER Fair words are only called for when the deeds they crown are\nfair; otherwise they lose their charm and offend justice.\nJOCASTA Eteocles, my child, it is not all evil that attends old age;\nsometimes its experience can offer sager counsel than can youth. Oh\nwhy, my son, art thou so set upon Ambition, that worst of deities?\nForbear; that goddess knows not justice; many are the homes and cities\nonce prosperous that she hath entered and left after the ruin of her\nvotaries; she it is thou madly followest. Better far, my son, prize\nEquality that ever linketh friend to friend, city to city, and allies\nto each other; for Equality is man's natural law; but the less is\nalways in opposition to the greater, ushering in the dayspring of\ndislike. For it is Equality that hath set up for man measures and\ndivisions of weights and hath distinguished numbers; night's sightless\norb, and radiant sun proceed upon their yearly course on equal terms,\nand neither of them is envious when it has to yield. Though sun and\ngloom then both are servants in man's interests, wilt not thou be\ncontent with thy fair share of thy heritage and give the same to him?\nif not, why where is justice? Why prize beyond its worth the monarch's\npower, injustice in prosperity? why think so much of the admiring\nglances turned on rank? Nay, 'tis vanity. Or wouldst thou by heaping\nriches in thy halls, heap up toil therewith? what advantage is it?\n'tis but a name; for the wise find that enough which suffices for\ntheir wants. Man indeed hath no possessions of his own; we do but\nhold a stewardship of the gods' property; and when they will, they\ntake it back again. Riches make no settled home, but are as transient\nas the day. Come, suppose I put before thee two alternatives, whether\nthou wilt rule or save thy city? Wilt thou say \"Rule\"?\nAgain, if Polyneices win the day and his Argive warriors rout the\nranks of Thebes, thou wilt see this city conquered and many a captive\nmaid brutally dishonoured by the foe; so will that wealth thou art\nso bent on getting become a grievous bane to Thebes; but still ambition\nfills thee. This I say to thee; and this to thee, Polyneices; Adrastus\nhath conferred a foolish favour on thee; and thou too hast shown little\nsense in coming to lay thy city waste. Suppose thou conquer this land\n(which Heaven forefend!) tell me, I conjure thee, how wilt thou rear\na trophy to Zeus? how wilt thou begin the sacrifice after thy country's\nconquest or inscribe the spoils at the streams of Inachus with \"Polyneices\ngave Thebes to the flames and dedicated these shields to the gods\"?\nOh! never, my son, be it thine to win such fame from Hellas! If, on\nthe other hand, thou art worsted and thy brother's cause prevail,\nhow shalt thou return to Argos, leaving countless dead behind? Some\none will be sure to say, \"Out on thee! Adrastus, for the evil bridegroom\nthou hast brought unto thy house; thanks to one maid's marriage, ruin\nis come on us.\"\nTowards two evils, my son, art thou hasting,-loss of influence there\nand ruin in the midst of thy efforts here. Oh! my children, lay aside\nyour violence; two men's follies, once they meet, result in very deadly\nevil.\nLEADER O heaven, avert these troubles and reconcile the sons of Oedipus\nin some way!\nETEOCLES Mother, the season for parley is past; the time we still\ndelay is idle waste; thy good wishes are of no avail, for we shall\nnever be reconciled except upon the terms already named, namely, that\nI should keep the sceptre and be king of this land: wherefore cease\nthese tedious warnings and let me be. (Turning to POLYNEICES) And\nas for thee, outside the walls, or die!\nPOLYNEICES Who will slay me? who is so invulnerable as to plunge\nhis sword in my body without reaping the self-same fate?\nETEOCLES Thou art near him, aye, very near; dost see my arm?\nPOLYNEICES I see it; but wealth is cowardly, a craven too fond of\nlife.\nETEOCLES Was it then to meet a dastard thou camest with all that\nhost to war?\nPOLYNEICES In a general caution is better than foolhardiness.\nETEOCLES Relying on the truce, which saves thy life, thou turnest\nboaster.\nPOLYNEICES Once more I ask thee to restore my sceptre and share in\nthe kingdom.\nETEOCLES I have naught to restore; 'tis my own house, and I will\ndwell therein.\nPOLYNEICES What! and keep more than thy share?\nETEOCLES Yes, I will. Begone!\nPOLYNEICES O altars of my fathers' gods!-\nETEOCLES Which thou art here to raze.\nPOLYNEICES Hear me.\nETEOCLES Who would hear thee after thou hast marched against thy\nfatherland?\nPOLYNEICES O temples of those gods that ride on snow-white steeds!\nETEOCLES They hate thee.\nPOLYNEICES I am being driven from my country.\nETEOCLES Because thou camest to drive others thence.\nPOLYNEICES Unjustly, O ye gods!\nETEOCLES Call on the gods at Mycenae, not here.\nPOLYNEICES Thou hast outraged right-\nETEOCLES But I have not like thee become my country's foe.\nPOLYNEICES By driving me forth without my portion.\nETEOCLES And further I will slay thee.\nPOLYNEICES O father, dost thou hear what I am suffering?\nETEOCLES Yea, and he hears what thou art doing.\nPOLYNEICES Thou too, mother mine?\nETEOCLES Thou hast no right to mention thy mother.\nPOLYNEICES O my city!\nETEOCLES Get thee to Argos, and invoke the waters of Lerna.\nPOLYNEICES I will; trouble not thyself; all thanks to thee though,\nmother mine-\nETEOCLES Forth from the land!\nPOLYNEICES I go, yet grant me to behold my father.\nETEOCLES Thou shalt not have thy wish.\nPOLYNEICES At least then my tender sisters.\nETEOCLES No! them too thou shalt never see.\nPOLYNEICES Ah, sisters mine!\nETEOCLES Why dost thou, their bitterest foe, call on them?\nPOLYNEICES Mother dear, to thee at least farewell!\nJOCASTA A joyous faring mine in sooth, my son!\nPOLYNEICES Thy son no more!\nJOCASTA Born to sorrow, endless sorrow, I!\nPOLYNEICES 'Tis because my brother treats me despitefully.\nETEOCLES I am treated just the same.\nPOLYNEICES Where wilt thou be stationed before the towers?\nETEOCLES Why ask me this?\nPOLYNEICES I will array myself against thee for thy death.\nETEOCLES I too have the same desire.\nJOCASTA Woe is me! what will ye do, my sons?\nPOLYNEICES The event will show.\nJOCASTA Oh, fly your father's curse! (JOCASTA enters the palace.)\nETEOCLES Destruction seize our whole house!\nPOLYNEICES Soon shall my sword be busy, plunged in gore. But I call\nmy native land and heaven too to witness, with what contumely and\nbitter treatment I am being driven forth, as though I were a slave,\nnot a son of Oedipus as much as he. If aught happen to thee, my city,\nblame him, not me; for I came not willingly, and all unwillingly am\nI driven hence. Farewell, king Phoebus, lord of highways; farewell\npalace and comrades; farewell ye statues of the gods, at which men\noffer sheep; for I know not if shall ever again address you, though\nhope is still awake, which makes me confident that with heaven's help\nI shall slay this fellow and rule my native Thebes. (POLYNEICES departs.)\nETEOCLES Forth from the land! 'twas a true name our father gave thee,\nwhen, prompted by some god, he called thee Polyneices, a name denoting\nstrife.\nCHORUS (singing, strophe)\nTo this land came Cadmus of Tyre, at whose feet an unyoked heifer\nthrew itself down, giving effect to an oracle on the spot where the\ngod's response bade him take up his abode in Aonia's rich cornlands,\nwhere gushing Dirce's fair rivers of water pour o'er verdant fruitful\nfields; here was born the Bromian god by her whom Zeus made a mother,\nround whom the ivy twined its wreaths while he was yet a babe, swathing\nhim amid the covert of its green foliage as child of happy destiny,\nto be a theme for Bacchic revelry among the maids and wives inspired\nin Thebes.\n(antistrophe)\nThere lay Ares' murderous dragon, a savage warder, watching with\nroving eye the watered glens and quickening streams; him did Cadmus\nslay with a jagged stone, when he came thither to draw him lustral\nwater, smiting that fell head with a blow of his death-dealing arm;\nbut by the counsel of Pallas, motherless goddess, he cast the teeth\nupon the earth into deep furrows, whence sprang to sight mail-clad\nhost above the surface of the soil; but grim slaughter once again\nunited them to the earth they loved, bedewing with blood the ground\nthat had disclosed them to the sunlit breath of heaven.\n(epode)\nThee too, Epaphus, child of Zeus, sprung from Io our ancestress,\ncall on in my foreign tongue; all hail to thee! hear my prayer uttered\nin accents strange, and visit this land; 'twas in thy honour thy descendants\nsettled here, and those goddesses of twofold name, Persephone and\nkindly Demeter or Earth the queen of all, that feedeth every mouth,\nwon it for themselves; send to the help of this land those torch-bearing\nqueens; for to gods all things are easy.\nETEOCLES (to an attendant) Go, fetch Creon son of Menoeceus, the\nbrother of jocasta my mother; tell him I fain would confer with him\non matters affecting our public and private weal, before we set out\nto battle and the arraying of our host. But lo! he comes and saves\nthee the trouble of going; I see him on his way to my palace. (CREON\nenters.)\nCREON To and fro have I been, king Eteocles, in my desire to see\nthee, and have gone all round the gates and sentinels of Thebes in\nquest of thee.\nETEOCLES Why, and I was anxious to see thee, Creon; for I found the\nterms of peace far from satisfactory, when I came to confer with Polyneices.\nCREON I hear that he has wider aims than Thebes, relying on his alliance\nwith the daughter of Adrastus and his army. Well, we must leave this\ndependent on the gods; meantime I am come to tell thee our chief obstacle.\nETEOCLES What is that? I do not understand what thou sayest.\nCREON There is come one that was captured by the Argives.\nETEOCLES What news does he bring from their camp?\nCREON He says the Argive army intend at once to draw a ring of troops\nround the city of Thebes, about its towers.\nETEOCLES In that case the city of Cadmus must lead out its troops.\nCREON Whither? art thou so young that thine eyes see not what they\nshould?\nETEOCLES Across yon trenches for immediate action.\nCREON Our Theban forces are small, while theirs are numberless.\nETEOCLES I well know they are reputed brave.\nCREON No mean repute have those Argives among Hellenes.\nETEOCLES Never fear! I will soon fill the plain with their dead.\nCREON I could wish it so; but I see great difficulties in this.\nETEOCLES Trust me, I will not keep my host within the walls.\nCREON Still victory is entirely a matter of good counsel.\nETEOCLES Art anxious then that I should have recourse to any other\nscheme?\nCREON Aye to every scheme, before running the risk once for all.\nETEOCLES Suppose we fall on them by night from ambuscade?\nCREON Good! provided in the event of defeat thou canst secure thy\nreturn hither.\nETEOCLES Night equalizes risks, though it rather favours daring.\nCREON The darkness of night is a terrible time to suffer disaster.\nETEOCLES Well, shall I fall upon them as they sit at meat?\nCREON That might cause them fright, but victory is what we want.\nETEOCLES Dirce's ford is deep enough to prevent their retreat.\nCREON No plan so good as to keep well guarded.\nETEOCLES What if our cavalry make a sortie against the host of Argos?\nCREON Their troops too are fenced all round with chariots.\nETEOCLES What then can I do? am I to surrender the city to the foe?\nCREON Nay, nay! but of thy wisdom form some plan.\nETEOCLES Pray, what scheme is wiser than mine?\nCREON They have seven chiefs, I hear.\nETEOCLES What is their appointed task? their might can be but feeble.\nCREON To lead the several companies and storm our seven gates.\nETEOCLES What are we to do? I will not wait till every chance is\ngone.\nCREON Choose seven chiefs thyself to set against them at the gates.\nETEOCLES To lead our companies, or to fight single-handed?\nCREON Choose our very bravest men to lead the troops.\nETEOCLES I understand; to repel attempts at scaling our walls.\nCREON With others to share the command, for one man sees not everything.\nETEOCLES Selecting them for courage or thoughtful prudence?\nCREON For both; for one is naught without the other.\nETEOCLES It shall be done; I will away to our seven towers and post\ncaptains at the gates, as thou advisest, pitting them man for man\nagainst the foe. To tell thee each one's name were grievous waste\nof time, when the foe is camped beneath our very walls. But I will\ngo, that my hands may no longer hang idle. May I meet my brother face\nto face, and encounter him hand to hand, e'en to the death, for coming\nto waste my country! But if I suffer any mischance, thou must see\nto the marriage 'twixt Antigone my sister and Haemon, thy son; and\nnow, as I go forth to battle, I ratify their previous espousal. Thou\nart my mother's brother, so why need I say more? take care of her,\nas she deserves, both for thy own sake and mine. As for my sire he\nhath been guilty of folly against himself in putting out his eyes;\nsmall praise have I for him; by his curses maybe he will slay us too.\nOne thing only have we still to do, to ask Teiresias, the seer, if\nhe has aught to tell of heaven's will. Thy son Menoeceus, who bears\nthy father's name, will I send to fetch Teiresias hither, Creon; for\nwith the he will readily converse, though I have ere now so scorned\nhis art prophetic to his face, that he has reasons to reproach me.\nThis commandment, Creon, I lay upon the city and thee; should my cause\nprevail, never give Polyneices' corpse a grave in Theban soil, and\nif so be some friend should bury him, let death reward the man. Thus\nfar to thee; and to my servants thus, bring forth my arms and coat\nof mail, that I may start at once for the appointed combat, with right\nto lead to victory. To save our city we will pray to Caution, the\nbest goddess to serve our end. (ETEOCLES and his retinue go out.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe)\nO Ares, god of toil and trouble! why, why art thou possessed by love\nof blood and death, out of harmony with the festivals of Bromius?\n'Tis for no crowns of dancers fair that thou dost toss thy youthful\ncurls to the breeze, singing the while to the lute's soft breath a\nstrain to charm the dancers' feet; but with warriors clad in mail\nthou dost lead thy sombre revelry, breathing into Argive breasts lust\nfor Theban blood; with no wild waving of the thyrsus, clad in fawnskin\nthou dancest, but with chariots and bitted steeds wheelest thy charger\nstrong of hoof. O'er the waters of Ismenus in wild career thou art\nurging thy horses, inspiring Argive breasts with hate of the earth-born\nrace, arraying in brazen harness against these stone-built walls a\nhost of warriors armed with shields. Truly Strife is a goddess to\nfear, who devised these troubles for the princes of this land, for\nthe much-enduring sons of Labdacus.\n(antistrophe)\nO Cithaeron, apple of the eye of Artemis, holy vale of leaves, amid\nwhose snows full many a beast lies couched, would thou hadst never\nreared the child exposed to die, Oedipus the fruit of Jocasta's womb,\nwhen as a babe he was cast forth from his home, marked with golden\nbrooch; and would the Sphinx, that winged maid, fell monster from\nthe hills, had never come to curse our land with inharmonious strains;\nshe that erst drew nigh our walls and snatched the sons of Cadmus\naway in her taloned feet to the pathless fields of light, a fiend\nsent by Hades from hell to plague the men of Thebes; once more unhappy\nstrife is bursting out between the sons of Oedipus in city and home.\nFor never can wrong be right, nor children of unnatural parentage\ncome as a glory to the mother that bears them, but as a stain on the\nmarriage of him who is father and brother at once.\n(epode)\nO earth, thou once didst bear,-so long ago I heard the story told\nby foreigners in my own home,-a race which sprang of the teeth of\na snake with blood-red crest, that fed on beasts, to be the glory\nand reproach of Thebes. In days gone by the sons of heaven came to\nthe wedding of Harmonia, and the walls of Thebes arose to the sound\nof the lyre and her towers stood up as Amphion played, in the midst\nbetween the double streams of Dirce, that watereth the green meadows\nfronting the Ismenus; and Io, our horned ancestress was mother of\nthe kings of Thebes; thus our city through an endless succession of\ndivers blessings has set herself upon the highest pinnacle of martial\nglory. (TEIRESIAS enters, led by his daughter. They are accompanied\nby MENOECEUS.)\nTEIRESIAS Lead on, my daughter; for thou art as an eye to my blind\nfeet, as certain as a star to mariners; lead my steps on to level\nground; then go before, that we stumble not, for thy father has no\nstrength; keep safe for me in thy maiden hand the auguries I took\nin the days I observed the flight and cries of birds seated in my\nholy prophet's chair. Tell me, young Menoeceus, son of Creon, how\nmuch further toward the city is it ere reach thy father? for my knees\ngrow weary, and I can scarce keep up this hurried pace.\nCREON Take heart, Teiresias, for thou hast reached thy moorings and\nart near thy friends; take him by the hand, my child; for just as\nevery carriage has to wait for outside help to steady it, so too hath\nthe step of age.\nTEIRESIAS Enough; I have arrived; why, Creon, dost thou summon me\nso urgently?\nCREON I have not forgotten that; but first collect thyself and regain\nbreath, shaking off the fatigue of thy journey.\nTEIRESIAS I am indeed worn out, having arrived here only yesterday\nfrom the court of the Erechtheidae; for they too were at war, fighting\nwith Eumolpus, in which contest I insured the victory of Cecrops'\nsons; and I received the golden crown, which thou seest me wearing,\nas first-fruits of the enemy's spoil.\nCREON I take thy crown of victory as an omen. We, as thou knowest,\nare exposed to the billows of an Argive war, and great is the struggle\nfor Thebes. Eteocles, our king, is already gone in full harness to\nmeet Mycenae's champions, and hath bidden me inquire of thee our best\ncourse to save the city.\nTEIRESIAS For Eteocles I would have closed my lips and refrained\nfrom all response, but to thee I will speak, since 'tis thy wish to\nlearn. This country, Creon, has been long afflicted, ever since Laius\nbecame a father in heaven's despite, begetting hapless Oedipus to\nbe his own mother's husband. That bloody outrage on his eyes was planned\nby heaven as an ensample to Hellas; and the sons of Oedipus made a\ngross mistake in wishing to throw over it the veil of time, as if\nforsooth they could outrun the gods' decree; for by robbing their\nfather of his due honour and allowing him no freedom, they enraged\ntheir luckless sire; so he, stung by suffering and disgrace as well,\nvented awful curses against them; and I, because I left nothing undone\nor unsaid to prevent this, incurred the hatred of the sons of Oedipus.\nBut death inflicted by each other's hands awaits them, Creon; and\nthe many heaps of slain, some from Argive, some from Theban missiles,\nshall cause bitter lamentation in the land of Thebes. Alas! for thee,\npoor city, thou art being involved in their ruin, unless I can persuade\none man. The best course was to prevent any child of Oedipus becoming\neither citizen or king in this land, since they were under a ban and\nwould overthrow the city. But as evil has the mastery of good, there\nis still one other way of safety; but this it were unsafe for me to\ntell, and painful too for those whose high fortune it is to supply\ntheir city witb the saving cure. Farewell! I will away; amongst the\nrest must I endure my doom, if need be; for what will become of me?\nCREON Stay here, old man.\nTEIRESIAS Hold me not.\nCREON Abide, why dost thou seek to fly?\nTEIRESIAS 'Tis thy fortune that flies thee, not I.\nCREON Tell me what can save Thebes and her citizens.\nTEIRESIAS Though this be now thy wish, it will soon cease to be.\nCREON Not wish to save my country? how can that be?\nTEIRESIAS Art thou still eager to be told?\nCREON Yea; for wherein should I show greater zeal?\nTEIRESIAS Then straightway shalt thou hear my words prophetic. But\nfirst would fain know for certain where Menoeceus is, who led me hither.\nCREON Here, not far away, but at thy side.\nTEIRESIAS Let him retire far from my prophetic voice.\nCREON He is my own son and will preserve due silence.\nTEIRESIAS Wilt thou then that I tell thee in his presence?\nCREON Yea, for he will rejoice to hear the means of safety.\nTEIRESIAS Then hear the purport of my oracle, the which if ye observe\nye shall save the city of Cadmus. Thou must sacrifice Menoeceus thy\nson here for thy country, since thine own lips demand the voice of\nfate.\nCREON What mean'st thou? what is this thou hast said, old man?\nTEIRESIAS To that which is to be thou also must conform.\nCREON O the eternity of woe thy minute's tale proclaims!\nTEIRESIAS Yes to thee, but to thy country great salvation.\nCREON I shut my ears; I never listened; to city now farewell!\nTEIRESIAS Ha! the man is changed; he is drawing back.\nCREON Go in peace; it is not thy prophecy I need.\nTEIRESIAS Is truth dead, because thou art curst with woe?\nCREON By thy knees and honoured locks I implore thee!\nTEIRESIAS Why implore me? thou art craving a calamity hard to guard\nagainst.\nCREON Keep silence; tell not the city thy news.\nTEIRESIAS Thou biddest me act unjustly; I will not hold my peace.\nCREON What wilt thou then do to me? slay my child?\nTEIRESIAS That is for others to decide; I have but to speak.\nCREON Whence came this curse on me and my son?\nTEIRESIAS Thou dost right to ask me and to test what I have said.\nIn yonder lair, where the earth-born dragon kept watch and ward o'er\nDirce's springs, must this youth be offered and shed his life-blood\non the ground by reason of Ares' ancient grudge against Cadmus, who\nthus avenges the slaughter of his earth-born snake. If ye do this,\nye shall win Ares as an ally; and if the earth receive crop for crop\nand human blood for blood, ye shall find her kind again, that erst\nto your sorrow reared from that dragon's seed a crop of warriors with\ngolden casques; for needs must one sprung from the dragon's teeth\nbe slain. Now thou art our only survivor of the seed of that sown\nrace, whose lineage is pure alike on mother's and on father's side,\nthou and these thy sons. Haemon's marriage debars him from being the\nvictim, for he is no longer single; for even if he have not consummated\nhis marriage, yet is he betrothed; but this tender youth, consecrated\nto the city's service, might by dying rescue his country; and bitter\nwill he make the return of Adrastus and his Argives, flinging o'er\ntheir eyes death's dark pall, and will glorify Thebes. Choose thee\none of these alternatives; either save the city or thy son.\nNow hast thou all I have to say. Daughter, lead me home. A fool, the\nman who practises the diviner's art; for if he should announce an\nadverse answer, he makes himself disliked by those who seek to him;\nwhile, if from pity he deceives those who are consulting him, he sins\nagainst Heaven. Phoebus should have been man's only prophet, for he\nfears no man. (His daughter leads TEIRESIAS out.)\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Why so silent, Creon, why are thy lips hushed\nand dumb? I too am no less stricken with dismay.\nCREON Why, what could one say? 'Tis clear what my words must be.\nFor will never plunge myself so deeply into misfortune as to devote\nmy son to death for the city; for love of children binds all men to\nlife, and none would resign his own son to die. Let no man praise\nme into slaying my children. I am ready to die myself-for I am ripe\nin years-to set my country free. But thou, my son, ere the whole city\nlearn this, up and fly with all haste away from this land, regardless\nof these prophets' unbridled utterances; for he will go to the seven\ngates and the captains there and tell all this to our governors and\nleaders; now if we can forestall him, thou mayst be saved, but if\nthou art too late, we are undone and thou wilt die.\nMENOECEUS Whither can I fly? to what city? to which of our guest-friends?\nCREON Fly where thou wilt be furthest removed from this land.\nMENOECEUS 'Tis for thee to name a place, for me to carry out thy\nbidding.\nCREON After passing Delphi-\nMENOECEUS Whither must I go, father?\nCREON To Aetolia.\nMENOECEUS Whither thence?\nCREON To the land of Thesprotia.\nMENOECEUS To Dodona's hallowed threshold?\nCREON Thou followest me.\nMENOECEUS What protection shall I find me there?\nCREON The god will send thee on thy way.\nMENOECEUS How shall I find the means?\nCREON I will supply thee with money.\nMENOECEUS A good plan of thine, father. So go; for I will to thy\nsister, Jocasta, at whose breast I was suckled as a babe when reft\nof my mother and left a lonely orphan, to give her kindly greeting\nand then will I seek my safety. Come, come! be going, that there be\nno hindrance on thy part. (CREON departs.) How cleverly, ladies,\nI banished my father's fears by crafty words to gain my end; for he\nis trying to convey me hence, depriving the city of its chance and\nsurrendering me to cowardice. Though an old man may be pardoned, yet\nin my case there is no excuse for betraying the country that gave\nme birth. So I will go and save the city, be assured thereof, and\ngive my life up for this land. For this were shame, that they whom\nno oracles bind and who have not come under Fate's iron law, should\nstand there, shoulder to shoulder, with never a fear of death, and\nfight for their country before her towers, while I escape the kingdom\nlike a coward, a traitor to my father and brother and city; and wheresoe'er\nI live, I shall appear a dastard. Nay, by Zeus and all his stars,\nby Ares, god of blood, who 'stablished the warrior-crop that sprung\none day from earth as princes of this land, that shall not be! but\ngo I will, and standing on the topmost battlements, will deal my own\ndeath-blow over the dragon's deep dark den, the spot the seer described,\nand will set my country free. I have spoken. Now I go to make the\ncity a present of my life, no mean offering, to rid this kingdom of\nits affliction. For if each were to take and expend all the good within\nhis power, contributing it to his country's weal, our states would\nexperience fewer troubles and would for the future prosper. (MENOECEUS\ngoes out.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe)\nThou cam'st, O winged fiend, spawn of earth and hellish viper-brood,\nto prey upon the sons of Cadmus, rife with death and fraught with\nsorrow, half a monster, half a maid, a murderous prodigy, with roving\nwings and ravening claws, that in days gone by didst catch up youthful\nvictims from the haunts of Dirce, with discordant note, bringing a\ndeadly curse, a woe of bloodshed to our native land. A murderous god\nhe was who brought all this to pass. In every house was heard a cry\nof mothers wailing and of wailing maids, lamentation and the voice\nof weeping, as each took up the chant of death from street to street\nin turn. Loud rang the mourners' wail, and one great cry went up,\nwhene'er that winged maiden bore some victim out of sight from the\ncity.\n(antistrophe)\nAt last came Oedipus, the man of sorrow, on his mission from Delphi\nto this land of Thebes, a joy to them then but afterwards cause of\ngrief; for, when he had read the riddle triumphantly, he formed with\nhis mother an unhallowed union, woe to him! polluting the city; and\nby his curses, luckless wight, he plunged his sons into a guilty strife,\ncausing them to wade through seas of blood. All reverence do we feel\nfor him, who is gone to his death in his country's cause, bequeathing\nto Creon a legacy of tears, but destined to crown with victory our\nseven fenced towers. May our motherhood be blessed with such noble\nsons, O Pallas, kindly queen, who with well-aimed stone didst spill\nthe serpent's blood, rousing Cadmus as thou didst to brood upon the\ntask, whereof the issue was a demon's curse that swooped upon this\nland and harried it. (The FIRST MESSENGER enters.)\nMESSENGER Ho there! who is at the palace-gates? Open the door, summon\nJocasta forth. Ho there! once again I call; spite of this long delay\ncome forth; hearken, noble wife of Oedipus; cease thy lamentation\nand thy tears of woe. (JOCASTA enters from the palace in answer to\nhis call.)\nJOCASTA Surely thou art not come, my friend, with the sad news of\nEteocles' death, beside whose shield thou hast ever marched, warding\nfrom him the foeman's darts? What tidings art thou here to bring me?\nIs my son alive or dead? Declare that to me.\nMESSENGER To rid thee of thy fear at once, he lives; that terror\nbanish.\nJOCASTA Next, how is it with the seven towers that wall us in?\nMESSENGER They stand unshattered still; the city is not yet a prey.\nJOCASTA Have they been in jeopardy of the Argive spear?\nMESSENGER Aye, on the very brink; but our Theban warriors proved\ntoo strong for Mycenae's might.\nJOCASTA One thing tell me, I implore; knowest thou aught of Polyneices,\nis he yet alive? for this too I long to learn.\nMESSENGER As yet thy sons are living, the pair of them.\nJOCASTA God bless thee! How did you succeed in beating off from our\ngates the Argive hosts, when thus beleaguered? Tell me, that I may\ngo within and cheer the old blind man, since our city is still safe.\nMESSENGER After Creon's son, who gave up life for country, had taken\nhis stand on the turret's top and plunged a sword dark-hilted through\nhis throat to save this land, thy son told off seven companies with\ntheir captains to the seven gates to keep watch on the Argive warriors,\nand stationed cavalry to cover cavalry, and infantry to support infantry,\nthat assistance might be close at hand for any weak point in the walls.\nThen from our lofty towers we saw the Argive host with their white\nshields leaving Teumessus, and, when near the trench, they charged\nup to our Theban city at the double. In one loud burst from their\nranks and from our battlements rang out the battle-cry and trumpet-call.\nFirst to the Neistian gate, Parthenopaeus, son of the huntress maid,\nled a company bristling with serried shields, himself with his own\npeculiar badge in the centre of his targe, Atalanta slaying the Aetolian\nboar with an arrow shot from far. To the gates of Proetus came the\nprophet Amphiaraus, bringing the victims on a chariot; no vaunting\nblazon he carried, but weapons chastely plain. Next, prince Hippomedon\ncame marching to the Ogygian port with this device upon his boss,\nArgus the all-seeing with his spangled eyes upon the watch whereof\nsome open with the rising stars, while others he closes when they\nset, as one could see after he was slain. At the Homoloian gates Tydeus\nwas posting himself, a lion's skin with shaggy mane upon his buckler,\nwhile in his right hand he bore a torch, like Titan Prometheus, to\nfire the town. Thy own son Polyneices led the battle 'gainst the Fountain\ngate; upon his shield for blazon were the steeds of Potniae galloping\nat frantic speed, revolving by some clever contrivance on pivots inside\nthe buckler close to the handle, so as to appear distraught. At Electra's\ngate famed Capaneus brought up his company, bold as Ares for the fray;\nthis device his buckler bore upon its iron back, an earth-born giant\ncarrying on his shoulders a whole city which he had wrenched from\nits base, hint to us of the fate in store for Thebes. Adrastus was\nstationed at the seventh gate; a hundred vipers filled his shield\nwith graven work, as he bore on his left arm that proud Argive badge,\nthe hydra, and serpents were carrying off in their jaws the sons of\nThebes from within their very walls. Now I was enabled to see each\nof them, as I carried the watch-word along the line to the leaders\nof our companies. To begin with, we fought with bows and thonged javelins,\nwith slings that shoot from far and showers of crashing stones; and\nas we were conquering, Tydeus and thy son on sudden cried aloud, \"Ye\nsons of Argos, before being riddled by their fire, why delay to fall\nupon the gates with might and main, the whole of you, light-armed\nand horse and charioteers?\" No loitering then, soon as they heard\nthat call; and many a warrior fell with bloody crown, and not a few\nof us thou couldst have seen thrown to the earth like tumblers before\nthe walls, after they had given up the ghost, bedewing the thirsty\nground with streams of gore. Then Atalanta's son, who was not an Argive\nbut an Arcadian, hurling himself like a hurricane at the gates, called\nfor fire and picks to raze the town; but Periclymenus, son of the\nocean-god, stayed his wild career, heaving on his head a waggon-load\nof stone, even the coping torn from the battlements; and it shattered\nhis head with the hair and crashed through the sutures of the skull,\ndabbling with blood his cheek just showing manhood's flush; and never\nshall he go back alive to his fair archer-mother, the maid of Maenalus.\nThy son then, seeing these gates secure, went on to the next, and\nI with him. There I saw Tydeus and his serried ranks of targeteers\nhurling their Aetolian spears into the opening at the top of the turrets,\nwith such good aim that our men fled and left the beetling battlements:\nbut thy son rallied them once more, as a huntsman cheers his hounds,\nand made them man the towers again. And then away we hastened to other\ngates, after stopping the panic there. As for the madness of Capaneus,\nhow am I to describe it? There was he, carrying with him a long scaling-ladder\nand loudly boasting that even the awful lightning of Zeus would not\nstay him from giving the city to utter destruction; and even as he\nspoke, he crept up beneath the hail of stones, gathered under the\nshelter of his shield, mounting from rung to rung on the smooth ladder;\nbut, just as he was scaling the parapet of the wall, Zeus smote him\nwith a thunderbolt; loud the earth re-echoed, and fear seized every\nheart; for his limbs were hurled from the ladder far apart as from\na sling, his head toward the sky, his blood toward earth, while his\nlegs and arms went spinning round like Ixion's wheel, till his charred\ncorpse fell to the ground. But when Adrastus saw that Zeus was leagued\nagainst his army, he drew the Argive troops outside the trench and\nhalted them. Meantime our horse, marking the lucky omen of Zeus, began\ndriving forth their chariots, and our men-at-arms charged into the\nthick of the Argives, and everything combined to their discomfiture;\nmen were falling and hurled headlong from chariots, wheels flew off,\naxles crashed together, while ever higher grew the heaps of slain;\nso for to-day at least have we prevented the destruction of our country's\nbulwarks; but whether fortune will hereafter smile upon this land,\nthat rests with Heaven; for, even as it is, it owes its safety to\nsome deity.\nVictory is fair; and if the gods are growing kinder, it would be well\nwith me.\nJOCASTA Heaven and fortune smile; for my sons are yet alive and my\ncountry hath escaped ruin. But Creon seems to have reaped the bitter\nfruit of my marriage with Oedipus, by losing his son to his sorrow,\na piece of luck-for Thebes, but bitter grief to him. Prithee to thy\ntale again and say what my two sons next intend.\nMESSENGER Forbear to question further; all is well with thee so far.\nJOCASTA Thy words but rouse my suspicions; I cannot leave it thus.\nMESSENGER Hast thou any further wish than thy sons' safety?\nJOCASTA Yea, I would learn whether in the sequel I am also blest.\nMESSENGER Let me go; thy son is left without his squire.\nJOCASTA There is some evil thou art hiding, veiling it in darkness.\nMESSENGER Maybe; I would not add ill news to the good thou hast heard.\nJOCASTA Thou must, unless thou take wings and fly away.\nMESSENGER Ah! why didst thou not let me go after announcing my good\nnews, instead of forcing me to disclose evil? Those two sons of thine\nare resolved on deeds of shameful recklessness, a single combat apart\nfrom the host, addressing to Argives and Thebans alike words I would\nthey had never uttered. Eteocles, taking his stand on a lofty tower,\nafter ordering silence to be proclaimed to the army, began on this\nwise, \"Ye captains of Hellas, chieftains of Argos here assembled,\nand ye folk of Cadmus, barter not your lives for Polyneices or for\nme! For I myself excuse you from this risk, and will engage my brother\nin single combat; and if I slay him, will possess my palace without\nrival, but if I am worsted I will bequeath the city to him. Ye men\nof Argos, give up the struggle and return to your land, nor lose your\nlives here; of the earth-sown folk as well there are dead enough in\nthose already slain.\"\nSo he; then thy son Polyneices rushed from the array and assented\nto his proposal; and all the Argives and the people of Cadmus shouted\ntheir approval, as though they deemed it just. On these terms the\narmies made a truce, and in the space betwixt them took an oath of\neach other for their leaders to abide by. Forthwith in brazen mail\nthose two sons of aged Oedipus were casing themselves; and lords of\nThebes with friendly care equipped the captain of this land, while\nArgive chieftains armed the other. There they stood in dazzling sheen,\nneither blenching, all eagerness to hurl their lances each at the\nother. Then came their friends to their side, first one, then another,\nwith words of encouragement, to wit:\n\"Polyneices, it rests with thee to set up an image of Zeus as a trophy,\nand crown Argos with fair renown.\"\nOthers hailed Eteocles: \"Now art thou fighting for thy city; now,\nif victorious, thou hast the sceptre in thy power.\"\nSo spake they, cheering them to the fray.\nMeantime the seers were sacrificing sheep and noting the tongues and\nforks of fire, the damp reek which is a bad omen, and the tapering\nflame, which gives decisions on two points, being both a sign of victory\nand defeat. But, if thou hast any power or subtle speech or charmed\nspell, go, stay thy children from this fell affray, for great is the\nrisk they run. The issue thereof will be grievous sorrow for thee,\nif to-day thou art reft of both thy sons. (The MESSENGER departs\nin haste as ANTIGONE comes out of the palace.)\nJOCASTA Antigone, my daughter, come forth before the palace; this\nheaven-sent crisis is no time for thee to be dancing or amusing thyself\nwith girlish pursuits. But thou and thy mother must prevent two gallant\nyouths, thy own brothers, from plunging into death and falling by\neach other's hand.\nANTIGONE Mother mine, what new terror art thou proclaiming to thy\ndear ones before the palace?\nJOCASTA Daughter, thy brothers are in danger of their life.\nANTIGONE What mean'st thou?\nJOCASTA They have resolved on single combat.\nANTIGONE O horror! what hast thou to tell, mother?\nJOCASTA No welcome news; follow me.\nANTIGONE Whither away from my maiden-bower?\nJOCASTA To the army.\nANTIGONE I cannot face the crowd.\nJOCASTA Modesty is not for thee now.\nANTIGONE But what can I do?\nJOCASTA Thou shalt end thy brothers' strife.\nANTIGONE By what means, mother mine?\nJOCASTA By falling at their knees with me.\nANTIGONE Lead on till we are 'twixt the armies; no time for lingering\nnow.\nJOCASTA Haste, my daughter, haste! For, if I can forestall the onset\nof my sons, may yet live; but if they be dead, I will lay me down\nand die with them. (JOCASTA and ANTIGONE hurriedly depart.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe)\nAh me! my bosom thrills with terror; and through my flesh there passes\na throb of pity for the hapless mother. Which of her two sons will\nsend the other to a bloody grave? ah, woe is me! O Zeus, O earth,\nalas! brother severing brother's throat and robbing him of life, cleaving\nthrough his shield to spill his blood? Ah me! ah me! which of them\nwill claim my dirge of death?\n(antistrophe)\nWoe unto thee, thou land of Thebes! two savage beasts, two murderous\nsouls, with brandished spears will soon be draining each his fallen\nfoeman's gore. Woe is them, that they ever thought of single combat!\nin foreign accent will I chant a dirge of tears and wailing in mourning\nfor the dead. Close to murder stands their fortune; the coming day\nwill decide it. Fatal, ah! fatal will this slaughter be, because of\nthe avenging fiends.\nBut I see Creon on his way hither to the palace with brow o'ercast;\nI will check my present lamentations. (CREON enters. He is followed\nby attendants carrying the body of MENOECEUS.)\nCREON Ah me! what shall I do? Am I to mourn with bitter tears myself\nor my city, round which is settling a swarm thick enough to send us\nto Acheron? My own son hath died for his country, bringing glory to\nhis name but grievous woe to me. His body I rescued but now from the\ndragon's rocky lair and sadly carried the self-slain victim hither\nin my arms; and my house is fallen with weeping: but now I come to\nfetch my sister Jocasta, the living must reverence the nether god\nby paying honour to the dead.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Thy sister, Creon, hath gone forth and her daughter\nAntigone went with her.\nCREON Whither went she? and wherefore? tell me.\nLEADER She heard that her sons were about to engage in single combat\nfor the royal house.\nCREON What is this? I was paying the last honours to my dead son,\nand so am late in learning this fresh sorrow.\nLEADER 'Tis some time, Creon, since thy sister's departure, and I\nexpect the struggle for life and death is already decided by the sons\nof Oedipus.\nCREON Alas! I see an omen there, the gloomy look and clouded brow\nof yonder messenger coming to tell us the whole matter. (The SECOND\nMESSENGER enters.)\nMESSENGER Ah, woe is me! what language can I find to tell my tale?\nCREON Our fate is sealed; thy opening words do naught to reassure\nus.\nMESSENGER Ah, woe is me! I do repeat; for beside the scenes of woe\nalready enacted I bring tidings of new horror.\nCREON What is thy tale?\nMESSENGER Thy sister's sons are now no more, Creon.\nCREON Alas! thou hast a heavy tale of woe for me and Thebes\nLEADER O house of Oedipus, hast thou heard these tidings?\nCREON Of sons slain by the self-same fate.\nLEADER A tale to make it weep, were it endowed with sense.\nCREON Oh! most grievous stroke of fate! woe is me for my sorrows!\nwoe!\nMESSENGER Woe indeed! didst thou but know the sorrows still to tell.\nCREON How can they be more hard to bear than these?\nMESSENGER With her two sons thy sister has sought her death.\nCHORUS (chanting) Loudly, loudly raise the wail, and with white\nhands smite upon your heads!\nCREON Ah! woe is thee, Jocasta! what an end to life and marriage\nhast thou found the riddling of the Sphinx! But tell me how her two\nsons wrought the bloody deed, the struggle caused by the curse of\nOedipus.\nMESSENGER Of our successes before the towers thou knowest, for the\nwalls are not so far away as to prevent thy learning each event as\nit occurred. Now when they, the sons of aged Oedipus, had donned their\nbrazen mail, they went and took their stand betwixt the hosts, chieftains\nboth and generals too, to decide the day by single combat. Then Polyneices,\nturning his eyes towards Argos, lifted up a prayer; \"O Hera, awful\nqueens-for thy servant I am, since I have wedded the daughter of Adrastus\nand dwell in his land,-grant that I may slay my brother, and stain\nmy lifted hand with the blood of my conquered foe. A shameful prize\nit is I ask, my own brother's blood.\" And to many an eye the tear\nwould rise at their sad fate, and men looked at one another, casting\ntheir glances round.\nBut Eteocles, looking towards the temple of Pallas with the golden\nshield, prayed thus, \"Daughter of Zeus, grant that this right arm\nmay launch the spear of victory against my brother's breast and slay\nhim who hath come to sack my country.\" Soon as the Tuscan trumpet\nblew, the signal for the bloody fray, like the torch that falls,'\nthey darted wildly at one another and, like boars whetting their savage\ntusks, began the fray, their beards wet with foam; and they kept shooting\nout their spears, but each crouched beneath his shield to let the\nsteel glance idly off; but if either saw the other's face above the\nrim, he would aim his lance thereat, eager to outwit him.\nBut both kept such careful outlook through the spy-holes in their\nshields, that their weapons found naught to do; while from the on-lookers\nfar more than the combatants trickled the sweat caused by terror for\ntheir friends. Suddenly Eteocles, in kicking aside a stone that rolled\nbeneath his tread, exposed a limb outside his shield, and Polyneices\nseeing a chance of dealing him a blow, aimed a dart at it, and the\nArgive shaft went through his leg; whereat the Danai, one and all,\ncried out for joy. But the wounded man, seeing a shoulder unguarded\nin this effort, plunged his spear with all his might into the breast\nof Polyneices, restoring gladness to the citizens of Thebes, though\nhe brake off the spear-head; and so, at a loss for a weapon, he retreated\nfoot by foot, till catching up splintered rock he let it fly and shivered\nthe other's spear; and now was the combat equal, for each had lost\nhis lance. Then clutching their sword-hilts they closed, and round\nand round, with shields close-locked, they waged their wild warfare.\nAnon Eteocles introduced that crafty Thessalian trick, having some\nknowledge thereof from his intercourse with that country; disengaging\nhimself from the immediate contest, he drew back his left foot but\nkept his eye closely on the pit of the other's stomach from a distance;\nthen advancing his right foot he plunged his weapon through his navel\nand fixed it in his spine. Down falls Polyneices, blood-bespattered,\nribs and belly contracting in his agony. But that other, thinking\nhis victory now complete, threw down his sword and set to spoiling\nhim, wholly intent thereon, without a thought for himself. And this\nindeed was his ruin; for Polyneices, who had fallen first, was still\nfaintly breathing, and having in his grievous fall retained his sword,\nhe made last effort and drove it through the heart of Eteocles. There\nthey lie, fallen side by side, biting the dust with their teeth, without\nhaving decided the mastery.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah, woe is thee! Oedipus, for thy sorrows! how\nI pity thee! Heaven, it seems, has fulfilled those curses of thine.\nMESSENGER Now hear what further woes succeeded. Just as her two sons\nhad fallen and lay dying, comes their wretched mother on the scene,\nher daughter with her, in hot haste; and when she saw their mortal\nwounds, \"Too late,\" she moaned, \"my sons, the help I bring\"; and throwing\nherself on each in turn she wept and wailed, sorrowing o'er all her\ntoil in suckling them; and so too their sister, who was with her,\n\"Supporters of your mother's age I dear brothers, leaving me forlorn,\nunwed!\" Then prince Eteocles with one deep dying gasp, hearing his\nmother's cry, laid on her his moist hand, and though he could not\nsay a word, his tear-filled eyes were eloquent to prove his love.\nBut Polyneices was still alive, and seeing his sister and his aged\nmother he said, \"Mother mine, our end is come; I pity thee and my\nsister Antigone and my dead brother. For I loved him though he turned\nmy foe, I loved him, yes! in spite of all. Bury me, mother mine, and\nthou, my sister dear, in my native soil; pacify the city's wrath that\nmay get at least that much of my own fatherland, although I lost my\nhome. With thy hand, mother, close mine eyes (therewith he himself\nplaces her fingers on the lids) ; and fare ye well; for already the\ndarkness wraps me round.\"\nSo both at once breathed out their life of sorrow. But when their\nmother saw this sad mischance, in her o'ermastering grief she snatched\nfrom a corpse its sword and wrought an awful deed, driving the steel\nright through her throat; and there she lies, dead with the dead she\nloved so well, her arms thrown round them both.\nThereon the host sprang to their feet and fell to wrangling, we maintaining\nthat victory rested with my master, they with theirs; and amid our\nleaders the contention raged, some holding that Polyneices gave the\nfirst wound with his spear, others that, as both were dead, victory\nrested with neither. Meantime Antigone crept away from the host; and\nthose others rushed to their weapons, but by some lucky forethought\nthe folk of Cadmus had sat down under arms; and by a sudden attack\nwe surprised the Argive host before it was fully equipped. Not one\nwithstood our onset, and they filled the plain with fugitives, while\nblood was streaming from the countless dead our spears had slain.\nSoon as victory crowned our warfare, some began to rear an image to\nZeus for the foe's defeat, others were stripping the Argive dead of\ntheir shields and sending their spoils inside the battlements; and\nothers with Antigone are bringing her dead brothers hither for their\nfriends to mourn. So the result of this struggle to our city hovers\nbetween the two extremes of good and evil fortune. (The MESSENGER\ngoes out.)\nCHORUS (chanting) No longer do the misfortunes of this house extend\nto hearsay only; three corpses of the slain lie here at the palace\nfor all to see, who by one common death have passed to their life\nof gloom. (During the lament, ANTIGONE enters, followed by servants\nwho hear the bodies Of JOCASTA, ETEOCLES, and POLYNEICES.)\nANTIGONE (chanting) No veil I draw o'er my tender cheek shaded with\nits clustering curls; no shame I feel from maiden modesty at the hot\nblood mantling 'neath my eyes, the blush upon my face, as I hurry\nwildly on in death's train, casting from my hair its tire and letting\nmy delicate robe of saffron hue fly loose, a tearful escort to the\ndead. Ah me!\nWoe to thee, Polyneices! rightly named, I trow; woe to thee, Thebes!\nno mere strife to end in strife was thine; but murder completed by\nmurder hath brought the house of Oedipus to ruin with bloodshed dire\nand grim. O my home, my home! what minstrel can I summon from the\ndead to chant a fitting dirge o'er my tearful fate, as I bear these\nthree corpses of my kin, my mother and her sons, welcome sight to\nthe avenging fiend that destroyed the house of Oedipus, root and branch,\nin the hour that his shrewdness solved the Sphinx's riddling rhyme\nand slew that savage songstress. Woe is me! my father! what other\nHellene or barbarian, what noble soul among the bygone tribes of man's\npoor mortal race ever endured the anguish of such visible afflictions?\nAh! poor maid, how piteous is thy plaint! What bird from its covert\n'mid the leafy oak or soaring pine-tree's branch will come to mourn\nwith me, the maid left motherless, with cries of woe, lamenting, ere\nit comes, the piteous lonely life, that henceforth must be always\nmine with tears that ever stream? On which of these corpses shall\nI throw my offerings first, plucking the hair from my head? on the\nbreast of the mother that suckled me, or beside the ghastly death-wounds\nof my brothers' corpses? Woe to thee, Oedipus, my aged sire with sightless\norbs, leave thy roof, disclose the misery of thy life, thou that draggest\nout a weary existence within the house, having cast a mist of darkness\no'er thine eyes. Dost hear, thou whose aged step now gropes its way\nacross the court, now seeks repose on wretched pallet couch? (OEDIPUS\nenters from the palace. He chants the following lines responsively\nwith ANTIGONE.)\nOEDIPUS Why, daughter, hast thou dragged me to the light, supporting\nmy blind footsteps from the gloom of my chamber, where I lie upon\nmy bed and make piteous moan, a hoary sufferer, invisible as a phantom\nof the air, or as a spirit from the pit, or as a dream that flies?\nANTIGONE Father, there are tidings of sorrow for thee to bear; no\nmore thy sons behold the light, or thy wife who ever would toil to\ntend thy blind footsteps as with a staff. Alas for thee, my sire!\nOEDIPUS Ah me, the sorrows I endure! I may well say that. Tell me,\nchild, what fate o'ertook those three, and how they left the light.\nANTIGONE Not to reproach or mock thee say I this, but in all sadness;\n'tis thy own avenging curse, with all its load of slaughter, fire,\nand ruthless war, that is fallen on thy sons. Alas for thee, my sire!\nOEDIPUS Ah me!\nANTIGONE Why dost thou groan?\nOEDIPUS 'Tis for my sons.\nANTIGONE Couldst thou have looked towards yon sun-god's four-horsed\ncar and turned the light of thine eyes on these corpses, it would\nhave been agony to thee.\nOEDIPUS 'Tis clear enough how their evil fate o'ertook my sons; but\nshe, my poor wife tell me, daughter, how she came to die.\nANTIGONE All saw her weep and heard her moan, as she rushed forth\nto carry to her sons her last appeal, a mother's breast. But the mother\nfound her sons at the Electran gate, in a meadow where the lotus blooms,\nfighting out their duel like lions in their lair, eager to wound each\nother with spears, their blood already congealed, a murderous libation\nto the Death-god poured out by Ares. Then, snatching from corpse a\nsword of hammered bronze, she plunged it in her flesh, and in sorrow\nfor her sons fell with her arms around them. So to-day, father, the\ngod, whose'er this issue is, has gathered to a head the sum of suffering\nfor our house.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS To-day is the beginning of many troubles to\nthe house of Oedipus; may he live to be more fortunate!\nCREON Cease now your lamentations; 'tis time we bethought us of their\nburial. Hear what I have to say, Oedipus. Eteocles, thy son, left\nme to rule this land, by assigning it as a marriage portion to Haemon\nwith the hand of thy daughter Antigone. Wherefore I will no longer\npermit thee to dwell therein, for Teiresias plainly declared that\nthe city would never prosper so long as thou wert in the land. So\nbegone! And this I say not to flout thee, nor because I bear thee\nany grudge, but from fear that some calamity will come upon the realm\nby reason of those fiends that dog thy steps.\nOEDIPUS O destiny! to what a life of pain and sorrow didst thou bear\nme beyond all men that ever were, e'en from the very first; yea for\nwhen I was yet unborn, or ever I had left my mother's womb and seen\nthe light, Apollo foretold to Laius that I should become my father's\nmurderer; woe is me! So, as soon as I was born, my father tried to\nend again the hapless life he had given, deeming me his foe, for it\nwas fated he should die at my hand; so he sent me still unweaned to\nmake a pitiful meal for beasts, but I escaped from that. Ah! would\nthat Cithaeron had sunk into hell's yawning abyss, in that it slew\nme not! Instead thereof Fate made me a slave in the service of Polybus;\nand I, poor wretch, after slaying my own father came to wed my mother\nto her sorrow, and begat sons that were my brothers, whom also I have\ndestroyed, by bequeathing unto them the legacy of curses I received\nfrom Laius. For nature did not make me so void of understanding, that\nI should have devised these horrors against my own eyes and my children's\nlife without the intervention of some god. Let that pass. What am\nI, poor wretch, to do? Who now will be my guide and tend the blind\nman's step? Shall she, that is dead? Were she alive, I know right\nwell she would. My pair of gallant sons, then? But they are gone from\nme. Am I still so young myself that I can find a livelihood? Whence\ncould I? O Creon, why seek thus to slay me utterly? For so thou wilt,\nif thou banish me from the land. Yet will I never twine my arms about\nthy knees and betray cowardice, for I will not belie my former gallant\nsoul, no! not for all my evil case.\nCREON Thy words are brave in refusing to touch my knees, and I am\nequally resolved not to let thee abide in the land. For these dead,\nbear one forth-with to the palace; but the other, who came with stranger\nfolk to sack his native town, the dead Polyneices, cast forth unburied\nbeyond our frontiers. To all the race of Cadmus shall this be proclaimed,\nthat whosoe'er is caught decking his corpse with wreaths or giving\nit burial, shall be requited with death; unwept, unburied let him\nlie, a prey to birds. As for thee, Antigone, leave thy mourning for\nthese lifeless three and betake thyself indoors to abide there in\nmaiden state until to-morrow, when Haemon waits to wed thee.\nANTIGONE O father, in what cruel misery are we plunged! For thee\nI mourn more than for the dead; for in thy woes there is no opposite\nto trouble, but universal sorrow is thy lot. As for thee, thou new-made\nking, why, I ask, dost thou mock my father thus with banishment? Why\nstart making laws over a helpless corpse?\nCREON This was what Eteocles, not I, resolved.\nANTIGONE A foolish thought, and foolish art thou for entertaining\nit!\nCREON What! ought I not to carry out his behests?\nANTIGONE No; not if they are wrong and ill-advised.\nCREON Why, is it not just for that other to be given to the dogs?\nANTIGONE Nay, the vengeance ye are exacting is no lawful one.\nCREON It is; for he was his country's foe, though not a foeman born.\nANTIGONE Well, to fate he rendered up his destinies.\nCREON Let him now pay forfeit in his burial too.\nANTIGONE What crime did he commit in coming to claim his heritage?\nCREON Be very sure of this, yon man shall have no burial.\nANTIGONE I will bury him, although the state forbids.\nCREON Do so, and thou wilt be making thy own grave by his.\nANTIGONE A noble end, for two so near and dear to be laid side by\nside!\nCREON (to his servants) Ho! seize and bear her within the palace.\nANTIGONE Never! for I will not loose my hold upon this corpse.\nCREON Heaven's decrees, girl, fit not thy fancies.\nANTIGONE Decrees! here is another, \"No insult to the dead.\"\nCREON Be sure that none shall sprinkle over the corpse the moistened\ndust.\nANTIGONE O Creon, by my mother's corpse, by Jocasta, I implore thee!\nCREON 'Tis but lost labour; thou wilt not gain thy prayer.\nANTIGONE Let me but bathe the dead body-\nCREON Nay, that would be part of what the city is forbidden.\nANTIGONE At least let me bandage the gaping wounds.\nCREON No; thou shalt never pay honour to this corpse.\nANTIGONE O my darling! one kiss at least will I print upon thy lips.\nCREON Do not let this mourning bring disaster on thy marriage.\nANTIGONE Marriage! dost think I will live to wed thy son?\nCREON Most certainly thou must; how wilt thou escape his bed?\nANTIGONE Then if I must, our wedding-night will find another Danaid\nbride in me.\nCREON (turning to OEDIPUS) Dost witness how boldly she reproached\nme?\nANTIGONE Witness this steel, the sword by which I swear!\nCREON Why art so bent on being released from this marriage?\nANTIGONE I mean to share my hapless father's exile.\nCREON A noble spirit thine but somewhat touched with folly.\nANTIGONE Likewise will I share his death, I tell thee further.\nCREON Go, leave the land; thou shalt not murder son of mine. (CREON\ngoes out, followed by his attendants who carry with them the body\nOf MENOECEUS.)\nOEDIPUS Daughter, for this loyal spirit I thank thee.\nANTIGONE Were I to wed, then thou, my father, wouldst be alone in\nthy exile.\nOEDIPUS Abide here and be happy; I will bear my own load of sorrow.\nANTIGONE And who shall tend thee in thy blindness, father?\nOEDIPUS Where fate appoints, there will I lay me down upon the ground.\nANTIGONE Where is now the famous Oedipus, where that famous riddle?\nOEDIPUS Lost for ever! one day made, and one day marred my fortune.\nANTIGONE May not I too share thy sorrows?\nOEDIPUS To wander with her blinded sire were shame unto his child.\nANTIGONE Not so, father, but glory rather, if she be a maid discreet.\nOEDIPUS Lead me nigh that I may touch thy mother's corpse.\nANTIGONE So! embrace the aged form so dear to thee.\nOEDIPUS Woe is thee, thy motherhood, thy marriage most unblest!\nANTIGONE A piteous corpse, a prey to every ill at once!\nOEDIPUS Where lies the corpse of Eteocles, and of Polyneices, where?\nANTIGONE Both lie stretched before thee, side by side.\nOEDIPUS Lay the blind man's hand upon his poor sons' brows.\nANTIGONE There then! touch the dead, thy children.\nOEDIPUS Woe for you! dear fallen sons, sad offspring of a sire as\nsad!\nANTIGONE O my brother Polyneices, name most dear to me!\nOEDIPUS Now is the oracle of Loxias being fulfilled, my child.\nANTIGONE What oracle was that? canst thou have further woes to tell?\nOEDIPUS That I should die in glorious Athens after a life of wandering.\nANTIGONE Where? what fenced town in Attica will take thee in?\nOEDIPUS Hallowed Colonus, home of the god of steeds. Come then, attend\non thy blind father, since thou art minded to share his exile. (OEDIPUS\nand ANTIGONE chant their remaining lines as they slowly depart.)\nANTIGONE To wretched exile go thy way; stretch forth thy hand, my\naged sire, taking me to guide thee, like a breeze that speedeth barques.\nOEDIPUS See, daughter, I am advancing; be thou my guide, poor child.\nANTIGONE Ah, poor indeed! the saddest maid of all in Thebes.\nOEDIPUS Where am I planting my aged step? Bring my staff, child.\nANTIGONE This way, this way, father mine! plant thy footsteps here,\nlike dream for all the strength thou hast.\nOEDIPUS Woe unto thee that art driving my aged limbs in grievous\nexile from their land! Ah me! the sorrows I endure!\nANTIGONE \"Endure\"! why speak of enduring? Justice regardeth not the\nsinner and requiteth not men's follies.\nOEDIPUS I am he whose name passed into high songs of victory because\nI guessed the maiden's baffling riddle.\nANTIGONE Thou art bringing up again the reproach of the Sphinx. Talk\nno more of past success. This misery was in store for thee all the\nwhile, to become an exile from thy country and die thou knowest not\nwhere; while I, bequeathing to my girlish friends tears of sad regret,\nmust go forth from my native land, roaming as no maiden ought.\nAh! this dutiful resolve will crown me with glory in respect of my\nfather's sufferings. Woe is me for the insults heaped on thee and\non my brother whose dead body is cast forth from the palace unburied;\npoor boy! I will yet bury him secretly, though I have to die for it,\nfather.\nOEDIPUS To thy companions show thyself.\nANTIGONE My own laments suffice.\nOEDIPUS Go pray then at the altars.\nANTIGONE They are weary of my piteous tale.\nOEDIPUS At least go seek the Bromian god in his hallowed haunt amongst\nthe Maenads' hills.\nANTIGONE Offering homage that is no homage in Heaven's eyes to him\nin whose honour I once fringed my dress with the Theban fawn-skin\nand led the dance upon the hills for the holy choir of Semele?\nOEDIPUS My noble fellow-countrymen, behold me; I am Oedipus, who\nsolved the famous riddle, and once was first of men, I who alone cut\nshort the murderous Sphinx's tyranny am now myself expelled the land\nin shame and misery. Go to; why make this moan and bootless lamentation?\nWeak mortal as I am, I must endure the fate that God decrees.\nCHORUS (chanting) Hail majestic Victory! keep thou my life nor ever\ncease to crown my song!\nTHE END","title":"The Phoenissae, By Euripides","type":"page"}