But grant me burial and due funeral rites.
So shall the praise your filial care now wins
Be doubled for the service wrought for me.
ANTIGONE
One boon, O Polyneices, let me crave.
POLYNEICES
What would'st thou, sweet Antigone? Say on.
ANTIGONE
Turn back thy host to Argos with all speed,
And ruin not thyself and Thebes as well.
POLYNEICES
That cannot be. How could I lead again
An army that had seen their leader quail?
ANTIGONE
But, brother, why shouldst thou be wroth again?
What profit from thy country's ruin comes?
POLYNEICES
'Tis shame to live in exile, and shall I
The elder bear a younger brother's flouts?
ANTIGONE
Wilt thou then bring to pass his prophecies
Who threatens mutual slaughter to you both?
POLYNEICES
Aye, so he wishes:--but I must not yield.
ANTIGONE
O woe is me! but say, will any dare,
Hearing his prophecy, to follow thee?
POLYNEICES
I shall not tell it; a good general
Reports successes and conceals mishaps.
ANTIGONE
Misguided youth, thy purpose then stands fast!
POLYNEICES
'Tis so, and stay me not. The road I choose,
Dogged by my sire and his avenging spirit,
Leads me to ruin; but for you may Zeus
Make your path bright if ye fulfill my hest
When dead; in life ye cannot serve me more.
Now let me go, farewell, a long farewell!
Ye ne'er shall see my living face again.
ANTIGONE
Ah me!
POLYNEICES
Bewail me not.
ANTIGONE
Who would not mourn
Thee, brother, hurrying to an open pit!
POLYNEICES
If I must die, I must.
ANTIGONE
Nay, hear me plead.
POLYNEICES
It may not be; forbear.
ANTIGONE
Then woe is me,
If I must lose thee.
POLYNEICES
Nay, that rests with fate,
Whether I live or die; but for you both
I pray to heaven ye may escape all ill;
For ye are blameless in the eyes of all.
[Exit POLYNEICES]
CHORUS
(Str. 1)
Ills on ills! no pause or rest!
Come they from our sightless guest?
Or haply now we see fulfilled
What fate long time hath willed?
For ne'er have I proved vain
Aught that the heavenly powers ordain.
Time with never sleeping eye
Watches what is writ on high,
Overthrowing now the great,
Raising now from low estate.
Hark! How the thunder rumbles! Zeus defend us!
OEDIPUS
Children, my children! will no messenger
Go summon hither Theseus my best friend?
ANTIGONE
And w
|