For he insisted that the deed must be
Reported to the King and not concealed.
And this prevailed, and me, most luckless wight,
The lot condemned to win the prize. So here
I am, unwilling and unwelcome, I am sure,
For no man loves a bearer of bad news.
Chorus. My lord, a voice within me long hath been
A-whispering, haply gods’ hands here are seen.
Creon. Stay!—ere you fill me full of wrath, and prove
A dotard by your talk, not merely old.
Prate not about the gods to me, and say
They have regard for this dead man. Did they
Prize him so high for faithful services
That they would seek to hide the corpse of him
Who came to burn their colonnaded shrines,
Their votive offerings, to devastate
Their land, and break to fragments all the laws?
Gods honor wicked men? Impossible!—
No! When my edict first was spread abroad,
I heard some mutterings from malcontents
That tossed their heads in secret, and refused
To bear the yoke in loyalty to me,
Intolerant of rule and restive. Now
I ’m thoroughly convinced the watchmen here
Were bribed by these and brought to do this deed.
For true it is, no evil ever grew
In current use among mankind, like money,
This sacks and ruins cities, this drives men
From home, makes nature fall into revolt,
And by its base corrupting influence
Trains erstwhile honest souls to set themselves
To dirty practices, plants in the hearts
Of men the seed of every wickedness
And teaches them to know all godless deeds.
But those who wrought this thing, seduced by gold,
Will all be caught, or soon or late, and find
That disobedience brings its punishment.
And now, as Zeus has still my reverence,
Mark this—upon my oath I say it—Find
