 | Antigone |  |
439
APPENDIX OF RHYMED CHORAL ODES AND LYRICAL DIALOGUES.
440
100–161.
Stroph. I.
Ray of the golden sun,
Fairest of all
That e'er in Thebes have lit
Her seven gates tall,
Then did'st thou shine on us,
In golden gleams;
As day's bright eye did'st come,
O'er Dirkè's streams,
Driving the warrior strong,
With snow-white shield
Who had from Argos come,
Armed for the field:
Him Thou did'st put to flight,
With headlong speed,
Yea, hurl in shameful rout,
Spurring his steed.
Fairest of all
That e'er in Thebes have lit
Her seven gates tall,
Then did'st thou shine on us,
In golden gleams;
As day's bright eye did'st come,
O'er Dirkè's streams,
Driving the warrior strong,
With snow-white shield
Who had from Argos come,
Armed for the field:
Him Thou did'st put to flight,
With headlong speed,
Yea, hurl in shameful rout,
Spurring his steed.
Him Polyneikes, urged by quarrel dread,
Brought to our land a foe;
He with shrill scream, as eagle over-head,
Hovered with wing of snow,
With many armèd warriors, shield on breast.
And helmet's waving crest.
Brought to our land a foe;
He with shrill scream, as eagle over-head,
Hovered with wing of snow,
With many armèd warriors, shield on breast.
And helmet's waving crest.
441
And so he came and stood,
In fierce, hot hate,
With spears that slaughter craved,
Round each tall gate:
He went, his jaws unfilled
With blood of ours,
Ere pine-fed blaze had seized
Our crown of towers.
So great the battle-din
Around his rear,—
The crash, that Ares loves,
Of shield and spear:
Hard conflict that and stiff
For well-matched foe,
The dragon fierce who fought
And laid him low.
In fierce, hot hate,
With spears that slaughter craved,
Round each tall gate:
He went, his jaws unfilled
With blood of ours,
Ere pine-fed blaze had seized
Our crown of towers.
So great the battle-din
Around his rear,—
The crash, that Ares loves,
Of shield and spear:
Hard conflict that and stiff
For well-matched foe,
The dragon fierce who fought
And laid him low.
For Zeus the lofty speech of boastful pride
Hateth exceedingly;
And sees them as they flow in torrent wide,
Proud of gold panoply,—
With fire swift-flung he hurls from rampart high
One who shouts “Victory!”
Stroph. II.
Hateth exceedingly;
And sees them as they flow in torrent wide,
Proud of gold panoply,—
With fire swift-flung he hurls from rampart high
One who shouts “Victory!”
So smitten down he fell
Straight to the echoing earth,
He who, with torch of fire,
And mad with frenzied mirth,
Swooped on our hearth and home
With blasts of bitter hate.
So fared they; Ares wroth
To each brought different fate,
And so appeared, in hour of greatest need,
Our chariot's worthiest steed.
Straight to the echoing earth,
He who, with torch of fire,
And mad with frenzied mirth,
Swooped on our hearth and home
With blasts of bitter hate.
442
To each brought different fate,
And so appeared, in hour of greatest need,
Our chariot's worthiest steed.
For seven great captains at our seven gates stood,
Equals with equals matched, and left their arms
Tribute to Zeus on high,—
All but the brothers, hateful in their mood,
Who, from one father and one mother born,
Each claiming victory,
Wielded their spears in murderous, deadliest hate,
And shared one common fate.
Antistroph. II.
Equals with equals matched, and left their arms
Tribute to Zeus on high,—
All but the brothers, hateful in their mood,
Who, from one father and one mother born,
Each claiming victory,
Wielded their spears in murderous, deadliest hate,
And shared one common fate.
But now since Victory comes,
Mighty and glorious named,
Giving great cause of joy
To Thebes for chariots famed;
Of these our conflicts past
Learn ye forgetfulness,
And with our night-long dance
Around each temple press;
And Bacchos, making Thebes to ring again,
Let Him begin the strain.
Mighty and glorious named,
Giving great cause of joy
To Thebes for chariots famed;
Of these our conflicts past
Learn ye forgetfulness,
And with our night-long dance
Around each temple press;
And Bacchos, making Thebes to ring again,
Let Him begin the strain.
But now the prince and sovereign of our land,
Creon, Menœkeus' son, with counsels new,
Following new turns of fate,
Comes, having matters of great weight in hand;
For he has called us all to conference,
The elders of his state,
And by one common summons for us sent,
For this high parliament.
Creon, Menœkeus' son, with counsels new,
Following new turns of fate,
Comes, having matters of great weight in hand;
For he has called us all to conference,
The elders of his state,
And by one common summons for us sent,
For this high parliament.
443
332–375.
Stroph. I.
Many the things that strange and wondrous are,
None stranger and more wonderful than man;
He dares to wander far,
With stormy blast across the hoary sea,
Where nought his eye can scan
But waves still surging round unceasingly;
And Earth, of all the Gods,
Mightiest, unwearied, indestructible,
He weareth year by year, and breaks her clods,
While the keen plough-share marks its furrows well,
Still turning to and fro;
And still he bids his steeds
Through daily taskwork go.
Antistroph. I.
None stranger and more wonderful than man;
He dares to wander far,
With stormy blast across the hoary sea,
Where nought his eye can scan
But waves still surging round unceasingly;
And Earth, of all the Gods,
Mightiest, unwearied, indestructible,
He weareth year by year, and breaks her clods,
While the keen plough-share marks its furrows well,
Still turning to and fro;
And still he bids his steeds
Through daily taskwork go.
And lo! with snare and net he captives makes
Of all the swift-winged tribes that flit through air;
Wild, untamed beasts he takes;
And many a sea-born dweller of the deep
He with devices rare
Snares in his mesh,—man, wonderful in skill;
And all brute things that dwell
In forest dark, or roam upon the hill,
He by his craft makes subject to his need,
And brings upon the neck of rough-maned steed
The yoke that makes him bend,
And binds the mountain bull
Resisting to the end.
Stroph. II.
Of all the swift-winged tribes that flit through air;
Wild, untamed beasts he takes;
And many a sea-born dweller of the deep
He with devices rare
Snares in his mesh,—man, wonderful in skill;
And all brute things that dwell
In forest dark, or roam upon the hill,
He by his craft makes subject to his need,
And brings upon the neck of rough-maned steed
The yoke that makes him bend,
And binds the mountain bull
Resisting to the end.
And speech, and subtle thought,
Swift as the wind,
And temper duly wrought
To statesman's mind,—
These he hath learnt, and how to flee the power
Of cold that none may bear,
And all the tempest darts of arrowy shower
That hurtle through the air:
Armed at all points, unarmed he nought shall meet
That coming time reveals;
Only from Hades finds he no retreat,
Though many a sore disease that hopeless seemed he heals.
Antistroph. II.
Swift as the wind,
444
To statesman's mind,—
These he hath learnt, and how to flee the power
Of cold that none may bear,
And all the tempest darts of arrowy shower
That hurtle through the air:
Armed at all points, unarmed he nought shall meet
That coming time reveals;
Only from Hades finds he no retreat,
Though many a sore disease that hopeless seemed he heals.
And lo! with all this skill,
Beyond hope's dream,
He now to good inclines,
And now to ill;
Now holding fast his country's ancient laws,
And in the state's esteem
Most honoured; but dishonoured, should he cause
The thing as evil known
To rule his heart in wantonness of pride;
Ne'er may he dwell with me,
Nor share my counsels, prompting at my side,
Who evil deeds like this still works perpetually!
Beyond hope's dream,
He now to good inclines,
And now to ill;
Now holding fast his country's ancient laws,
And in the state's esteem
Most honoured; but dishonoured, should he cause
The thing as evil known
To rule his heart in wantonness of pride;
Ne'er may he dwell with me,
Nor share my counsels, prompting at my side,
Who evil deeds like this still works perpetually!
582–630.
Stroph. I.
Ah! happy are the souls that know not ill;
For they whose house is struck by wrath divine,
Find that no sorrow faileth, creeping still
Through long descent of old ancestral line;
So is it as a wave
Of ocean's billowing surge,
(Where Thrakian storm-winds rave,
And floods of darkness from the depths emerge,)
Rolls the black sand from out the lowest deep,
And shores re-echoing wail, as rough blasts o'er them sweep.
Antistroph. I.
For they whose house is struck by wrath divine,
Find that no sorrow faileth, creeping still
Through long descent of old ancestral line;
So is it as a wave
Of ocean's billowing surge,
445
And floods of darkness from the depths emerge,)
Rolls the black sand from out the lowest deep,
And shores re-echoing wail, as rough blasts o'er them sweep.
Woes upon woes fast falling on the race
Of Labdacos that faileth still I see,
Nor can one age for that which comes win grace,
But still some God hurls all to misery:
All power to heal is fled;
For her, the one faint light,
That o'er the last root spread,
And in the house of Œdipus was bright,
Now doth the blood-stained scythe of Gods below
Cut down, man's frenzied word and dread Erinny's woe.
Stroph. II.
Of Labdacos that faileth still I see,
Nor can one age for that which comes win grace,
But still some God hurls all to misery:
All power to heal is fled;
For her, the one faint light,
That o'er the last root spread,
And in the house of Œdipus was bright,
Now doth the blood-stained scythe of Gods below
Cut down, man's frenzied word and dread Erinny's woe.
What pride of man, O Zeus, in check can hold
Thy power divine,
Which nor sleep seizeth that makes all things old,
Nor the long months of God in endless line?
Thou grow'st not old with time,
But ruling in thy might,
For ever dwellest in thy home sublime,
Olympos, glittering in its sheen of light:
And through the years' long tale,
The far time or the near,
As through the past, this law shall still prevail:—
Nought comes to life of man without or woe or fear.
Antistroph. II.
Thy power divine,
Which nor sleep seizeth that makes all things old,
Nor the long months of God in endless line?
Thou grow'st not old with time,
But ruling in thy might,
For ever dwellest in thy home sublime,
Olympos, glittering in its sheen of light:
And through the years' long tale,
The far time or the near,
As through the past, this law shall still prevail:—
Nought comes to life of man without or woe or fear.
For unto many men come hopes that rove,
Bringing vain joy,
And unto many cheats of blinded love;
Subtly it creeps upon the unconscious boy,
Until his feet wax bold
To tempt the blazing fire.
For wisely was it said by one of old,
True speech, far-famed, for all men to admire,
That evil seems as good
To him whom God would slay,
Through doom of evil passion in the blood;
And he without that doom scarce passeth e'en a day.
Bringing vain joy,
446
Subtly it creeps upon the unconscious boy,
Until his feet wax bold
To tempt the blazing fire.
For wisely was it said by one of old,
True speech, far-famed, for all men to admire,
That evil seems as good
To him whom God would slay,
Through doom of evil passion in the blood;
And he without that doom scarce passeth e'en a day.
781–881.
Stroph. I.
O Erôs, irresistible in fight,
Thou rushest on thy prey,
Or on fair maiden's blushing cheeks
All night dost lurking stay;
Over the sea thou roamest evermore,
Or through the huts of shepherds rough and poor:
None of the deathless Ones can flee,
Nor mortal men escape from thee;
And mad is he who comes beneath thy sway.
Antistroph. I.
Thou rushest on thy prey,
Or on fair maiden's blushing cheeks
All night dost lurking stay;
Over the sea thou roamest evermore,
Or through the huts of shepherds rough and poor:
None of the deathless Ones can flee,
Nor mortal men escape from thee;
And mad is he who comes beneath thy sway.
Minds of the righteous, true and faithful found,
Thou turn'st aside to ill,
And now this strife of nearest kin
Thou stirrest at thy will.
Mighty is Love in glance of beauteous bride,
Enthroned it sits with great laws at its side;
And One, in wondrous might,
Makes merry at the sight,
The Goddess Aphrodite, conquering still.
So even I am borne along
Beyond the bounds that law uprears,
And, seeing this, am no more strong
To stay the fountain of my tears;
For lo! Antigone doth tread
The path to that wide couch where slumber all the dead.
Antigone.
Thou turn'st aside to ill,
And now this strife of nearest kin
Thou stirrest at thy will.
Mighty is Love in glance of beauteous bride,
Enthroned it sits with great laws at its side;
And One, in wondrous might,
Makes merry at the sight,
The Goddess Aphrodite, conquering still.
447
Beyond the bounds that law uprears,
And, seeing this, am no more strong
To stay the fountain of my tears;
For lo! Antigone doth tread
The path to that wide couch where slumber all the dead.
Stroph. II.
Yes, O my friends and countrymen, ye see
How I my last path tread,
And look on the last ray of brilliancy
By yonder bright sun shed,—
This once, but never more; for Hades vast,
Drear home of all the dead,
Leads me, in life, where Acheron flows fast,
Sharing no marriage bed:
No marriage hymn was mine in all the past,
But Acheron I wed.
Chorus.
And dost thou not depart,
Glorious, with highest praise,
To where the dead are gathered in the gloom,
Not smitten by the wasting plague's fell dart,
Nor slain, as sharp sword slays?
But free and living still,
Thou, of thine own free will,
Descendest to the darkness of the tomb.
Antigone.
Antistroph. II.
I heard of one, the child of Tantalos,
The Phrygian, crushed with woes,
448
As creeping ivy grows,
So crept the shoots of rock o'er life and breath;
And, as the rumour goes,
The showers ne'er leave her, wasting in her death,
Nor yet the drifting snows;
From weeping brows they drip on rocks beneath;
Thus God my life o'erthrows.
Chorus.
And yet a Goddess she, of birth divine,
And we frail mortals, and of mortal race;
And for weak woman it is highest grace
That fate the Gods have suffered should be thine.
Antigone.
Stroph. III.
Alas! ye mock at me;
Why thus laugh on?
As yet I still live here,
Not wholly gone.
O fellow citizens
Of city treasure-stored!
O streams of Dirke's brook!
O grove of Thebes adored,
Where stand the chariots fair!—
I bid you witness give,
How, by my friends unwept,
I pass while yet I live,
To yonder heaped-up mound of new-made tomb;
Ah, miserable me!
Nor dwelling among men, nor with the dead,
449
Disowned by those who live, and those whose life hath fled.
Chorus.
Thou hast gone far in boldness, yea, too far,
And now against the throne of Right on high,
My child, thou stumblest in thy waywardness;
Thou fillest up thy father's misery.
Antigone.
Antistroph. III.
Ah! there thou touchest on
My bitterest care,
The thrice-told tale of woe
My sire did bear,
The fate of all who take
From Labdacos their name;
Woes of my mother's bed!
Embrace of foulest shame,
Mother's and son's, whence I
(O misery!) was born;
Whom now I go to meet,
Unwed, accursed, forlorn.
Ah, brother! thou, in evil wedlock wed,
Hast, in that death of thine,
Made me, who still survived, as numbered with the dead.
Chorus.
Holy it may be, holy awe to shew,
But power with him with whom due power doth rest
Admits not of defiance without sin;
And thou from self-willed pride yet sufferest.
450
Friendless, unwept, unwed,
I wend in sorrow my appointed way;
No more may I behold this sacred ray
By yon bright glory shed,
And yet no single friend
Utters a wail for my unwept-for end.
937–987.
Antigone.City of Thebes, my fathers' ancient home,
Ye Gods of days of old,
I linger not. They drag me to my doom:
Princes of Thebes, behold;
See ye what I, the last of kingly race,
And at whose hands I suffer sore disgrace,
Because all holy ties I still as holy hold.
Chorus.
Stroph. I.
So once of old the form of Danae bore
The loss of heavenly light,
In palace strong with brazen fastenings bright,
And, in her tomb-like chamber evermore,
Did long a prisoner dwell;
Yet she, my child, my child, was high in birth,
And golden shower, that flowed from Zeus to earth,
She cherishèd right well:
Ah, strange and dread the power of Destiny,
Which neither proud and full prosperity,
Nor Ares in his power,
Nor dark, sea-beaten ships, nor tower,
Are able to defy.
The loss of heavenly light,
In palace strong with brazen fastenings bright,
And, in her tomb-like chamber evermore,
Did long a prisoner dwell;
Yet she, my child, my child, was high in birth,
And golden shower, that flowed from Zeus to earth,
She cherishèd right well:
Ah, strange and dread the power of Destiny,
Which neither proud and full prosperity,
Nor Ares in his power,
Nor dark, sea-beaten ships, nor tower,
Are able to defy.
451
So too the son of Dryas once was bound,
King of Edonian race;
Rough-tempered, he, for words of foul disgrace,
At Dionysos' hands stern sentence found,
In rocky cave confined;
And so there faileth, drop by drop, the life
Of one whose soul was racked by maddening strife;
And then he called to mind
That he had touched the God with ribald tongue;
For he essayed to check the Mænads' throng,
And quench the sacred fire,
And stirred to jealousy the choir
Of Muses loving song.
Stroph. II.
King of Edonian race;
Rough-tempered, he, for words of foul disgrace,
At Dionysos' hands stern sentence found,
In rocky cave confined;
And so there faileth, drop by drop, the life
Of one whose soul was racked by maddening strife;
And then he called to mind
That he had touched the God with ribald tongue;
For he essayed to check the Mænads' throng,
And quench the sacred fire,
And stirred to jealousy the choir
Of Muses loving song.
Hard by the gloomy rocks where two seas meet
The shores of Bosporos rise,
And Salmydessos, the wild Thrakians' seat,
Where Ares saw upon the bleeding eyes
A wound accursèd, made in hellish mood
Of step-dame stern and fierce,—
Eyes that were torn by hands deep dyed in blood,
And points of spindles, quick and sharp to pierce.
Antistroph. II.
The shores of Bosporos rise,
And Salmydessos, the wild Thrakians' seat,
Where Ares saw upon the bleeding eyes
A wound accursèd, made in hellish mood
Of step-dame stern and fierce,—
Eyes that were torn by hands deep dyed in blood,
And points of spindles, quick and sharp to pierce.
And they, poor wretches, wail their wretched fate,
Birth stained with foul disgrace;
They wail their mother's lot, of lineage great,
Descended from the old Erectheid race;
And she in yon far distant caverns vast,
Daughter of Boreas, grew,
On lofty crag, amid the stormy blast;
And yet on her the Fates their dread spell threw.
Birth stained with foul disgrace;
They wail their mother's lot, of lineage great,
Descended from the old Erectheid race;
And she in yon far distant caverns vast,
Daughter of Boreas, grew,
On lofty crag, amid the stormy blast;
And yet on her the Fates their dread spell threw.
452
1115–1152.
Stroph. I.
O Thou of many a name,
Joy of Cadmeian bride,
Child of great Zeus loud-thundering from the sky!
Thou rulest o'er Italia great in fame,
And dwellest where the havens open wide
Of Deo, whom Eleusis throneth high.
O Bacchos, who in Thebes delightest most,
Fair mother-city of the Bacchic throng,
Or where Ismenos' stream flows full and strong,
Or by the brood that sprang from dragon's armèd host.
Antistroph. I.
Joy of Cadmeian bride,
Child of great Zeus loud-thundering from the sky!
Thou rulest o'er Italia great in fame,
And dwellest where the havens open wide
Of Deo, whom Eleusis throneth high.
O Bacchos, who in Thebes delightest most,
Fair mother-city of the Bacchic throng,
Or where Ismenos' stream flows full and strong,
Or by the brood that sprang from dragon's armèd host.
Thee the bright flame saw there,
O'er rock of double crest,
Where nymphs of Corycos in revel roam,
And bright Castalia's fountain floweth fair;
And Thee, the banks of Nysa ivy-drest,
And the green shore, of many a vine the home,
Lead forth with joy, a welcome visitant,
In all the open spaces of the town,
While words scarce mortal come our joy to crown,
And make our Thebes resound with rapture jubilant.
Stroph. II.
O'er rock of double crest,
Where nymphs of Corycos in revel roam,
And bright Castalia's fountain floweth fair;
And Thee, the banks of Nysa ivy-drest,
And the green shore, of many a vine the home,
Lead forth with joy, a welcome visitant,
In all the open spaces of the town,
While words scarce mortal come our joy to crown,
And make our Thebes resound with rapture jubilant.
Yes, this of all that are,
Cities of ancient note,
Thou honourest most by far,
Thou, and thy mother whom the thunder smote;
And now since all the land
By sharp, sore pestilence is smitten low,
Come Thou with feet still cleansing as they go,
Or o'er Parnassian height,
Or where the waters bright
Make their perpetual moan to shores on either hand.
Antistroph. II.
Cities of ancient note,
Thou honourest most by far,
Thou, and thy mother whom the thunder smote;
And now since all the land
By sharp, sore pestilence is smitten low,
Come Thou with feet still cleansing as they go,
453
Or where the waters bright
Make their perpetual moan to shores on either hand.
O Thou that lead'st the choir
Of stars in yonder skies
That breathe with living fire,
The Lord and ruler of the night's loud cries;
Child of great Zeus adored!
Appear, O King! with all thy Thyiad train,
Who, all night long, in dance that fires the brain,
Raise shouts of ecstasy,
With fierce and frenzied cry,
Still honouring thee, Iacchos, King and Lord.
Of stars in yonder skies
That breathe with living fire,
The Lord and ruler of the night's loud cries;
Child of great Zeus adored!
Appear, O King! with all thy Thyiad train,
Who, all night long, in dance that fires the brain,
Raise shouts of ecstasy,
With fierce and frenzied cry,
Still honouring thee, Iacchos, King and Lord.
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