 | Antigone |  |
SCENE THE SECOND.
Antigone, Argia, among Guards.Ar.
I am then driven from Thebes? ... 'Tis true, I bear,
Beginning and the end of all my hopes,
This urn with me; ... but not one last farewell
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Ant.
Ah! what voice,
What sobbing voice is that I hear?
Ar.
Oh heavens!
Who do I see?
Ant.
Argia?
Ar.
Dearest sister ...
How fortunate this meeting! But, alas!
Thy hands with chains are laden? ...
Ant.
Tell me quickly! ...
Where art thou thus by force compelled to go?
Ar.
To Argos, to my sire.
Ant.
I breathe again!
Ar.
Creon esteems me of so little worth,
That he repeals my sentence: but, alas! ...
Ant.
Guards, if ye ever knew a shade of pity,
To our last interview do not refuse
A few brief moments. Come to me, my sister;
Why cannot I to this sad bosom clasp thee?
But bound with impious and galling chains
I have no power ... yet clasp me to thy bosom.
But what do I behold? What precious burthen
Dost thou, with such a fond anxiety,
Fold to thy breast? An urn? It is ... oh heaven!
The ashes of my brother, fatal pledge,
Fatal, and yet inestimably dear; ...
Ah, press this sacred relic to my lips.
And is it granted to me, ere I die,
With my warm tears to bathe thee? ... oh, my brother,
'Tis more than e'er I hoped; ... these tears, the last
That I shall ever shed, are well bestow'd.
This, oh Argia, is a precious gift:
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Thou should'st be satisfied. Return to Argos;
Quickly return: to thy despairing father
Carry this urn ... Live; for thy son's sake, live;
And o'er this urn to weep; and ... mid ... thy ... tears
Remember still Antigone ...
Ar.
My heart
Thou rendest ... scarcely can I speak from weeping:
But shall I live while thou art doom'd to death?
Ant.
Yes; to a death most horrible I go.
The plain, on which we piously perform'd
Last night our sacred rites, is destined now
To be my place of burial; Creon wills
That, on that plain, I should be buried living.
Ar.
Oh impious!
Ant.
Because he fears the people,
He has deferr'd till night to execute
Th'atrocious sentence. Ah, restrain thy tears:
Leave me; depart; thus will, at last, in me
The race of Œdipus be quite extinguish'd.
This I regret not; may my lingering death
Suffice to expiate the dreadful crimes,
So oft repeated, of my family.
Ar.
Ah! I will share with thee thy punishment;
Thy courage strengthens mine; thy pangs, in part,
May perhaps be thus diminished.
Ant.
What sayest thou?
Rather will they be thus a thousand times
More exquisite!
Ar.
Together, if we die,
We may, at least, invoke the sacred name
Of Polinices; may exhort each other,
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Ant.
Be silent thou ...
Do not, I pray thee, make me weep again ...
To the last test my constancy is brought.
My tears I cannot check unless thou'rt silent ...
Ar.
Alas! then cannot I, or rescue thee,
Or die with thee?
Ant.
Rather resolve to live.
Thou'rt not the child of Œdipus; thy heart
Is not like mine, with guilty love consumed;
Of the betrayer, and the murderer,
Of all thy race, thou lovest not the son.
Here is my crime; I ought alone t'atone for it.
Hæmon, ah still my heart, in all its force,
The passion feels which thou hast planted there,
Feels all the grief to which I leave thee victim.
But let me to my doom. Sister, farewell!
| Antigone | |