SECOND ANTISTROPHE.
Antigone.
Thou hast touched on the thought that pains most of all
With thy thrice-told tale of my father’s fall,
And the doom
Long ago in the loom
That was woven for all the Labdacidæ.
Alas for the curse of the bed where the mother lay
With her son, my sire, the bed where I first saw the day.
To the dead
I go curst and unwed—
For thy bridal, dear brother, thy death, I must die.
FOURTH SYSTEMA.
Thy pious deed doth merit full praise;
But a king must give heed that his subject obeys,
Whenever his will has been once proclaimed—
For thy death thy temper alone can be blamed.
EPODE.
Antigone.
Unmourned, unbefriended, unwed
I am led
On the journey forlorn to the grave, alone,
Ne’er again may behold the bright light of the sun,
No tear for me falls, my race is run.
For me, hapless girl, no friend maketh moan.
Creon re-enters from palace door C.
Do you not know that if it aught availed
To sing their dirges thus and make their moans
Before death, criminals would never cease
Their lamentations? Quick! Away with her!
And when the vaulted tomb has closed her in,
Forsaken and alone, as I have said,
Let her remain within the cell,—to die
Or live, as she prefers, in such a tomb.
She had my warning and my hands are clean,
Without the taint of blood,—but she shall be
At least deprived of living in the light.
