Page:Sophocles (Storr 1912) v1.djvu/203

 In drenching rains and under scorching suns,

Careless herself of home and ease, if so

Her sire might have her tender ministry.

And thou, my child, whilom thou wentest forth,

Eluding the Cadmeians’ vigilance,

To bring thy father all the oracles

Concerning Oedipus, and didst make thyself

My faithful lieger, when they banished me.

And now what mission summons thee from home,

What news, Ismene, hast thou for thy father?

This much I know, thou com’st not empty-handed,

Without a warning of some new alarm.

The toil and trouble, father, that I bore

To find thy lodging-place and how thou faredst,

I spare thee; surely ’twere a double pain

To suffer, first in act and then in telling;

’Tis the misfortune of thine ill-starred sons

I come to tell thee. At the first they willed

To leave the throne to Creon, minded well

Thus to remove the inveterate curse of old,

A canker that infected all thy race.

But now some god and an infatuate soul

Have stirred betwixt them a mad rivalry

To grasp at sovereignty and kingly power.

To-day the hot-brained youth, the younger born,

Is keeping Polyneices from the throne,

His elder, and has thrust him from the land.

The banished brother (so all Thebes reports)

Fled to the vale of Argos, and by help

Of new alliance there and friends in arms, 181