Page:Sophocles - Seven Plays, 1900.djvu/54

20

. ’Tis death must come between him and his joy.

. All doubts then resolved: the maid must die.

. I am resolved; and so, ’twould seem, are you.

In with her, slaves! No more delay! Henceforth

These maids must have but woman’s liberty

And be mewed up; for even the bold will fly

When they see Death nearing the house of life.

[ and are led into the palace.

Blest is the life that never tasted woe.

When once the blow

Hath fallen upon a house with Heaven-sent doom,

Trouble descends in ever-widening gloom

Through all the number of the tribe to flow;

As when the briny surge

That Thrace-born tempests urge

(The big wave ever gathering more and more)

Runs o’er the darkness of the deep,

And with far-searching sweep

Uprolls the storm-heap’d tangle on the shore,

While cliff to beaten cliff resounds with sullen roar.

The stock of Cadmus from old time, I know,

Hath woe on woe,

Age following age, the living on the dead,

Fresh sorrow falling on each new-ris’n head,

None freed by God from ruthless overthrow.

E’en now a smiling light

Was spreading to our sight

O’er one last fibre of a blasted tree,—

When, lo! the dust of cruel death,

Tribute of Gods beneath,

And wildering thoughts, and fate-born ecstasy,

Quench the brief gleam in dark Nonentity.

What froward will of man, O Zeus! can check thy might?

Not all-enfeebling sleep, nor tireless months divine,

Can touch thee, who through ageless time

Rulest mightily Olympus’ dazzling height.