Part 30 (1/2)

ISMENE Thou canst not say that I did not protest.

ANTIGONE Well, some approved thy wisdom, others mine.

ISMENE But now we stand convicted, both alike.

ANTIGONE Fear not; thou livest, I died long ago Then when I gave my life to save the dead.

CREON Both maids, methinks, are crazed. One suddenly Has lost her wits, the other was born mad.

ISMENE Yea, so it falls, sire, when misfortune comes, The wisest even lose their mother wit.

CREON I' faith thy wit forsook thee when thou mad'st Thy choice with evil-doers to do ill.

ISMENE What life for me without my sister here?

CREON Say not thy sister _here_: thy sister's dead.

ISMENE What, wilt thou slay thy own son's plighted bride?

CREON Aye, let him raise him seed from other fields.

ISMENE No new espousal can be like the old.

CREON A plague on trulls who court and woo our sons.

ANTIGONE O Haemon, how thy sire dishonors thee!

CREON A plague on thee and thy accursed bride!

CHORUS What, wilt thou rob thine own son of his bride?

CREON 'Tis death that bars this marriage, not his sire.

CHORUS So her death-warrant, it would seem, is sealed.

CREON By you, as first by me; off with them, guards, And keep them close. Henceforward let them learn To live as women use, not roam at large.

For e'en the bravest spirits run away When they perceive death pressing on life's heels.

CHORUS (Str. 1) Thrice blest are they who never tasted pain!

If once the curse of Heaven attaint a race, The infection lingers on and speeds apace, Age after age, and each the cup must drain.

So when Etesian blasts from Thrace downpour Sweep o'er the blackening main and whirl to land From Ocean's cavernous depths his ooze and sand, Billow on billow thunders on the sh.o.r.e.

(Ant. 1) On the Labdacidae I see descending Woe upon woe; from days of old some G.o.d Laid on the race a malison, and his rod Scourges each age with sorrows never ending.

The light that dawned upon its last born son Is vanished, and the b.l.o.o.d.y axe of Fate Has felled the goodly tree that blossomed late.

O Oedipus, by reckless pride undone!

(Str. 2) Thy might, O Zeus, what mortal power can quell?

Not sleep that lays all else beneath its spell, Nor moons that never tire: untouched by Time, Throned in the dazzling light That crowns Olympus' height, Thou reignest King, omnipotent, sublime.

Past, present, and to be, All bow to thy decree, All that exceeds the mean by Fate Is punished, Love or Hate.

(Ant. 2) Hope flits about never-wearying wings; Profit to some, to some light loves she brings, But no man knoweth how her gifts may turn, Till 'neath his feet the treacherous ashes burn.

Sure 'twas a sage inspired that spake this word; _If evil good appear_ _To any, Fate is near_; And brief the respite from her flaming sword.

Hither comes in angry mood Haemon, latest of thy brood; Is it for his bride he's grieved, Or her marriage-bed deceived, Doth he make his mourn for thee, Maid forlorn, Antigone?

[Enter HAEMON]

CREON Soon shall we know, better than seer can tell.