Ch. Leader. The man hath uttered dreadful prophecies,
My lord, and gone; and since these locks of mine,
Once dark, have turned all white with age, I know
Of not a single instance where the seer
Hath spoken falsely to the town of Thebes.
Creon. I know it too, and in my soul am troubled:
’T is hard to yield, but to resist and strike
My spirit with a curse is still more dire.
Ch. Leader. Son of Menœces, wisely shoutdst thou choose.
Creon. What must I do then? Speak and I obey.
Ch. Leader. Go, free the maiden from the prison-vault,
And lay th’ unburied body in the grave.
Creon. You really counsel thus, advise to yield?
Ch. Leader. As quickly as you can; for swift of foot
Runs Heaven’s vengeance after foolish men.
Creon. Oh, hard it is! But I obey and yield—
I cannot wage a war with Destiny.
Ch. Leader. Go then and do—entrust it not to others.
Creon. I ’ll go at once. Come, servants, one and all,
Get axes quickly, hasten to yon hill.
I mewed her up, and now that my resolve
Has changed, I ’ll come myself to give her freedom.
I see that justice which the gods uphold,
Should ever be the highest aim of life.
CHORUS.
FIRST STROPHE.
Offspring of Zeus on high
That thunders so loud in the sky,
Glory, delight, beside,
Of the famed Cadmeian bride,
God of many a name and fair!
Thou that carest for all
Who on Bacchus in Italy call
And in Deo’s sheltered plain
Of Eleusis lord dost reign,
