Oedipus Trilogy Part 27

ANTIGONE I urge no more; nay, wert thou willing still, I would not welcome such a fellows.h.i.+p.

Go thine own way; myself will bury him.

How sweet to die in such employ, to rest,-- Sister and brother linked in love's embrace-- A sinless sinner, banned awhile on earth, But by the dead commended; and with them I shall abide for ever. As for thee, Scorn, if thou wilt, the eternal laws of Heaven.

ISMENE I scorn them not, but to defy the State Or break her ordinance I have no skill.

ANTIGONE A specious pretext. I will go alone To lap my dearest brother in the grave.

ISMENE My poor, fond sister, how I fear for thee!

ANTIGONE O waste no fears on me; look to thyself.

ISMENE At least let no man know of thine intent, But keep it close and secret, as will I.

ANTIGONE O tell it, sister; I shall hate thee more If thou proclaim it not to all the town.

ISMENE Thou hast a fiery soul for numbing work.

ANTIGONE I pleasure those whom I would liefest please.

ISMENE If thou succeed; but thou art doomed to fail.

ANTIGONE When strength shall fail me, yes, but not before.

ISMENE But, if the venture's hopeless, why essay?

ANTIGONE Sister, forbear, or I shall hate thee soon, And the dead man will hate thee too, with cause.

Say I am mad and give my madness rein To wreck itself; the worst that can befall Is but to die an honorable death.

ISMENE Have thine own way then; 'tis a mad endeavor, Yet to thy lovers thou art dear as ever.

[Exeunt]

CHORUS (Str. 1) Sunbeam, of all that ever dawn upon Our seven-gated Thebes the brightest ray, O eye of golden day, How fair thy light o'er Dirce's fountain shone, Speeding upon their headlong homeward course, Far quicker than they came, the Argive force; Putting to flight The argent s.h.i.+elds, the host with scutcheons white.

Against our land the proud invader came To vindicate fell Polyneices' claim.

Like to an eagle swooping low, On pinions white as new fall'n snow.

With clanging scream, a horsetail plume his crest, The aspiring lord of Argos onward pressed.

(Ant. 1) Hovering around our city walls he waits, His spearmen raven at our seven gates.

But ere a torch our crown of towers could burn, Ere they had tasted of our blood, they turn Forced by the Dragon; in their rear The din of Ares panic-struck they hear.

For Zeus who hates the braggart's boast Beheld that gold-bespangled host; As at the goal the paean they upraise, He struck them with his forked lightning blaze.

(Str. 2) To earthy from earth rebounding, down he crashed; The fire-brand from his impious hand was dashed, As like a Bacchic reveler on he came, Outbreathing hate and flame, And tottered. Elsewhere in the field, Here, there, great Area like a war-horse wheeled; Beneath his car down thrust Our foemen bit the dust.

Seven captains at our seven gates Thundered; for each a champion waits, Each left behind his armor bright, Trophy for Zeus who turns the fight; Save two alone, that ill-starred pair One mother to one father bare, Who lance in rest, one 'gainst the other Drave, and both perished, brother slain by brother.

(Ant. 2) Now Victory to Thebes returns again And smiles upon her chariot-circled plain.

Now let feast and festal should Memories of war blot out.

Let us to the temples throng, Dance and sing the live night long.

G.o.d of Thebes, lead thou the round.

Bacchus, shaker of the ground!

Let us end our revels here; Lo! Creon our new lord draws near, Crowned by this strange chance, our king.

What, I marvel, pondering?

Why this summons? Wherefore call Us, his elders, one and all, Bidding us with him debate, On some grave concern of State?

[Enter CREON]

CREON Elders, the G.o.ds have righted one again Our storm-tossed s.h.i.+p of state, now safe in port.

But you by special summons I convened As my most trusted councilors; first, because I knew you loyal to Laius of old; Again, when Oedipus restored our State, Both while he ruled and when his rule was o'er, Ye still were constant to the royal line.

Now that his two sons perished in one day, Brother by brother murderously slain, By right of kins.h.i.+p to the Princes dead, I claim and hold the throne and sovereignty.

Yet 'tis no easy matter to discern The temper of a man, his mind and will, Till he be proved by exercise of power; And in my case, if one who reigns supreme Swerve from the highest policy, tongue-tied By fear of consequence, that man I hold, And ever held, the basest of the base.

And I contemn the man who sets his friend Before his country. For myself, I call To witness Zeus, whose eyes are everywhere, If I perceive some mischievous design To sap the State, I will not hold my tongue; Nor would I reckon as my private friend A public foe, well knowing that the State Is the good s.h.i.+p that holds our fortunes all: Farewell to friends.h.i.+p, if she suffers wreck.

Such is the policy by which I seek To serve the Commons and conformably I have proclaimed an edict as concerns The sons of Oedipus; Eteocles Who in his country's battle fought and fell, The foremost champion--duly bury him With all observances and ceremonies That are the guerdon of the heroic dead.

But for the miscreant exile who returned Minded in flames and ashes to blot out His father's city and his father's G.o.ds, And glut his vengeance with his kinsmen's blood, Or drag them captive at his chariot wheels-- For Polyneices 'tis ordained that none Shall give him burial or make mourn for him, But leave his corpse unburied, to be meat For dogs and carrion crows, a ghastly sight.

So am I purposed; never by my will Shall miscreants take precedence of true men, But all good patriots, alive or dead, Shall be by me preferred and honored.

CHORUS Son of Menoeceus, thus thou will'st to deal With him who loathed and him who loved our State.

Thy word is law; thou canst dispose of us The living, as thou will'st, as of the dead.

CREON See then ye execute what I ordain.

CHORUS On younger shoulders lay this grievous charge.

CREON Fear not, I've posted guards to watch the corpse.

CHORUS What further duty would'st thou lay on us?

CREON Not to connive at disobedience.

CHORUS No man is mad enough to court his death.

CREON The penalty _is_ death: yet hope of gain Hath lured men to their ruin oftentimes.

[Enter GUARD]

GUARD My lord, I will not make pretense to pant And puff as some light-footed messenger.

In sooth my soul beneath its pack of thought Made many a halt and turned and turned again; For conscience plied her spur and curb by turns.

"Why hurry headlong to thy fate, poor fool?"

She whispered. Then again, "If Creon learn This from another, thou wilt rue it worse."

Thus leisurely I hastened on my road; Much thought extends a furlong to a league.

But in the end the forward voice prevailed, To face thee. I will speak though I say nothing.

For plucking courage from despair methought, 'Let the worst hap, thou canst but meet thy fate.'

CREON What is thy news? Why this despondency?

GUARD Let me premise a word about myself?

I neither did the deed nor saw it done, Nor were it just that I should come to harm.

CREON Thou art good at parry, and canst fence about Some matter of grave import, as is plain.

GUARD The bearer of dread tidings needs must quake.

CREON Then, sirrah, shoot thy bolt and get thee gone.