Page:Masterpieces of Greek Literature (1902).djvu/217

187 ANTIGONE 187

Seeing Creon approaching with the corpse of Haemon in his arms.

Chorus. Aud lo ! the king himself is drawing nigh, And in his hands he bears a record clear, 1350

No woe (if I may speak) by others caused, Himself the great offender.

Enter Creon, bearing Haemon's body.

Creon. Woe ! for the sins of souls of evil mood,

Stern, mighty to destroy ! Ο ye who look on those of kindred race, 1355

The slayers and the slain. Woe for mine own rash plans that prosper not ! Woe for thee, son ; but new in life's career. And by a new fate dying !

Woe ! woe ! iseo

Thou diest, thou art gone, Not by thine evil counsel, but by mine.

Chorus. Ah me ! Too late thou seem'st to see the

right. Creon. Ah me !

I learn the grievous lesson. On my head, God, pressing sore, hath smitten me and vexed, ises In ways most rough and terrible (ah me !), Shattering my joy, as trampled under foot. Woe ! woe ! Man's labors are but labor lost.

Enter Second Messenger.

Second Messenger. My master ! thou, as one who hast full store. One source of sorrow bearest in thine arms, 1370

And others in thy house, too soon, it seems. Thou need'st must come and see.

Creon. And what remains

Worse evil than the evils that we bear ?