Page:The Antigone of Sophocles (1911).djvu/48

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So I see on the house of the Labdacidæ woe upon woe,

On the living fresh billows of sorrow from troubles of eld ever we flow;

And release there is none to the home of the child from the home of the father,

But some god overthrows the whole line, no soul

Obtaineth deliv’rance from dole;

For the last light of hope which was spread o’er the root, now another

Fell scythe from the gods infernal

Mows down by speech unrestrained;

For the house destruction eternal

The infatuate heart hath gained.

Thy power, O Zeus, can the trespass of man control?

Even sleep that bends all to its will is unable,

And the unwearied months of the gods,—nay, stable

Is thy throne in Olympus, while countless ages roll,

And high

In the dazzling sheen of the sky

Thou dwellest forever.

This law holds good for the past,

It holds for to-day and to-morrow:

For a man in store there is sorrow,

If he gaineth too much,—nothing vast

Can come

Without a curse in the sum

Of man’s life and endeavor.

For hope that wanders so wide encourageth those,

And to these it bringeth but gladness and cheer,

While to others disaster and many a tear,

Frustrated their foolish desires, which the fates oppose,

And they

Walk on unaware of the day

Till they step in the fire.

Some sage hath uttered this word: