Four Plays of Aeschylus Part 23

No light lament of pity mixed with gladness, But with true tears, poured from the soul of sadness, Over the princes dead and their bereaved home Say we, above these brethren dead, On citizen, on foreign foe, Brave was their rush, and stern their blow- Now, lowly are they laid!

Beyond all women upon earth Woe, woe for her who gave them birth!

Unknowingly, her son she wed- The children of that marriage-bed, Each in the self-same womb, were bred- Each by a brother's hand lies dead!

Yea, from one seed they sprang, and by one fate Their heritage is desolate, The heart's division sundered claim from claim, And, from their feud, death came!

Now is their hate allayed, Now is their life-stream shed, Ensanguining the earth with crimson dye- Lo, from one blood they sprang, and in one blood they lie!

A grievous arbiter was given the twain- The stranger from the northern main, The sharp, dividing sword, Fresh from the forge and fire The War-G.o.d treacherous gave ill award And brought their father's curse to a fulfilment dire!

They have their portion-each his lot and doom, Given from the G.o.ds on high!

Yea, the piled wealth of fatherland, for tomb, Shall underneath them lie!

Alas, alas! with flowers of fame and pride Your home ye glorified; But, in the end, the Furies gathered round With chants of boding sound, Shrieking, In wild defeat and disarray, Behold, ye pa.s.s away!

The sign of Ruin standeth at the gate, There, where they strove with Fate- And the ill power beheld the brothers' fall, And triumphed over all!

ANTIGONE, ISMENE, and CHORUS (Processional Chant) Thou wert smitten, in smiting, Thou didst slay, and wert slain- By the spear of each other Ye lie on the plain, And ruthless the deed that ye wrought was, and ruthless the death of the twain!

Take voice, O my sorrow!

Flow tear upon tear- Lay the slain by the slayer, Made one on the bier!

Our soul in distraction is lost, and we mourn o'er the prey of the spear!

Ah, woe for your ending, Unbrotherly wrought!

And woe for the issue, The fray that ye fought, The doom of a mutual slaughter whereby to the grave ye are brought!

Ah, twofold the sorrow- The heard and the seen!

And double the tide Of our tears and our teen, As we stand by our brothers in death and wail for the love that has been!

O grievous the fate That attends upon wrong!

Stern ghost of our sire, Thy vengeance is long!

Dark Fury of h.e.l.l and of death, the hands of thy kingdom are strong!

O dark were the sorrows That exile hath known!

He slew, but returned not Alive to his own!

He struck down a brother, but fell, in the moment of triumph hewn down!

O lineage accurst, O doom and despair!

Alas, for their quarrel, The brothers that were!

And woe! for their pitiful end, who once were our love and our care!

O grievous the fate That attends upon wrong!

Stern ghost of our sire, Thy vengeance is long!

Dark Fury of h.e.l.l and of death, the hands of thy kingdom are strong!

By proof have ye learnt it!

At once and as one, O brothers beloved, To death ye were done!

Ye came to the strife of the sword, and behold! ye are both overthrown!

O grievous the tale is, And grievous their fall, To the house, to the land, And to me above all!

Ah G.o.d! for the curse that hath come, the sin and the ruin withal!

O children distraught, Who in madness have died!

Shall ye rest with old kings In the place of their pride?

Alas for the wrath of your sire if he findeth you laid by his side!

[Enter a HERALD.

HERALD

I bear command to tell to one and all What hath approved itself and now is law, Ruled by the counsellors of Cadmus' town.

For this Eteocles, it is resolved To lay him on his earth-bed, in this soil, Not without care and kindly sepulture.

For why? he hated those who hated us, And, with all duties blamelessly performed Unto the sacred ritual of his sires, He met such end as gains our city's grace,- With auspices that do enn.o.ble death.

Such words I have in charge to speak of him: But of his brother Polynices, this- Be he cast out unburied, for the dogs To rend and tear: for he presumed to waste The land of the Cadmeans, had not Heaven- Some G.o.d of those who aid our fatherland- Opposed his onset, by his brother's spear, To whom, tho' dead, shall consecration come!

Against him stood this wretch, and brought a horde Of foreign foemen, to beset our town.

He therefore shall receive his recompense, Buried ign.o.bly in the maw of kites- No women-wailers to escort his corpse Nor pile his tomb nor shrill his dirge anew- Unhouselled, unattended, cast away!

So, for these brothers, doth our State ordain.

ANTIGONE

And I-to those who make such claims of rule In Cadmus' town-I, though no other help, (Pointing to the body of POLYNICES) I, I will bury this my brother's corse And risk your wrath and what may come of it!

It shames me not to face the State, and set Will against power, rebellion resolute: Deep in my heart is set my sisterhood, My common birthright with my brothers, born All of one womb, her children who, for woe, Brought forth sad offspring to a sire ill-starred.

Therefore, my soul! take thou thy willing share, In aid of him who now can will no more, Against this outrage: be a sister true, While yet thou livest, to a brother dead!

Him never shall the wolves with ravening maw Rend and devour: I do forbid the thought!

I for him, I-albeit a woman weak- In place of burial-pit, will give him rest By this protecting handful of light dust Which, in the lap of this poor linen robe, I bear to hallow and bestrew his corpse With the due covering. Let none gainsay!

Courage and craft shall arm me, this to do.

HERALD

I charge thee, not to flout the city's law!

ANTIGONE

I charge thee, use no useless heralding!

HERALD

Stern is a people newly 'scaped from death.

ANTIGONE

Whet thou their sternness! Burial he shall have.

HERALD

How? Grace of burial, to the city's foe?

ANTIGONE

G.o.d hath not judged him separate in guilt.

HERALD

True-till he put this land in jeopardy.

ANTIGONE

His rights usurped, he answered wrong with wrong.

HERALD

Nay-but for one man's sin he smote the State.

ANTIGONE

Contention doth out-talk all other G.o.ds!

Prate thou no more-I will to bury him.

HERALD

Will, an thou wilt! but I forbid the deed. [Exit the HERALD.