Page:Sophocles (Storr 1912) v1.djvu/229



Would’st tell the old misfortune of thy race?

No^ that has grown a byword throughout Greece.

What then can be this more than mortal grief?

My case stands thus; by my own flesh and blood

I was expelled my country, and can ne’er

Thither return again, a parricide.

Why fetch thee home if thou must dwell apart?

The god has spoken; they must needs obey.

What are they threatened by the oracle?

Destiniction that awaits them in this land.

What can beget ill blood ’twixt them and me?

Dear son of Aegeus, to the gods alone

Is given immunity from eld and death;

But nothing else escapes all-ruinous time.

Earth’s might decays, the might of men decays,

Honour grows cold, dishonour flourishes,

There is no constancy ’twixt friend and friend,

Or city and city; be it soon or late,

Sweet turns to bitter, hate once more to love.

If now ’tis sunshine betwixt Thebes and thee 207