ANTIGONE 185
To temper wrath with pity, him they washed
With holy washing ; and what yet was left
We burnt in branches freshly cut, and heaped
A high-raised grave from out his native soil,
And then we entered on the stone-paved home, 1290
Death's marriage-chamber for the ill-starred maid.
And some one hears, while standing yet afar,
Shrill voice of wailing near the bridal bower,
By funeral rites unhallowed, and he comes
And tells my master, Creon. On his ears, 1295
Advancing nearer, falls a shriek confused
Of bitter sorrow, and with groaning loud,
He utters one sad cry, " ]Me miserable I
And am I then a prophet ? Do I wend
This day the dreariest way of all my life ? 1300
My son's voice greets me. Go, my servants, go,
Quickly draw near, and standing by the tomb.
Search ye and see ; and where the stone torn out
Shall make an opening, look ye in, and say
If I hear Haemon's voice, or if my soul 1305
Is cheated by the Gods." And then we searched.
As he, our master, in his frenzy bade us ;
And, in the furthest corner of the vault.
We saw her hanging by her neck, with cord
Of linen threads entwined, and him we found isio
Clasping her form in passionate embrace.
And mourning o'er the doom that robbed him of her,
His father's deed, and that his marriage bed.
So full of woe. When Creon saw him there,
Groaning aloud in bitterness of heart, 1315
He goes to him, and calls in wailing voice,
" Poor boy ! what hast thou done ? Hast thou then
lost Thy reason ? In what evil sinkest thou ?
