Page:The Antigone of Sophocles (1911).djvu/56

52

Antigone.

Thou hast touched on the thought that pains most of all

With thy thrice-told tale of my father’s fall,

And the doom

Long ago in the loom

That was woven for all the Labdacidæ.

Alas for the curse of the bed where the mother lay

With her son, my sire, the bed where I first saw the day.

To the dead

I go curst and unwed—

For thy bridal, dear brother, thy death, I must die.

Thy pious deed doth merit full praise;

But a king must give heed that his subject obeys,

Whenever his will has been once proclaimed—

For thy death thy temper alone can be blamed.

Antigone.

Unmourned, unbefriended, unwed

I am led

On the journey forlorn to the grave, alone,

Ne’er again may behold the bright light of the sun,

No tear for me falls, my race is run.

For me, hapless girl, no friend maketh moan.

Do you not know that if it aught availed

To sing their dirges thus and make their moans

Before death, criminals would never cease

Their lamentations? Quick! Away with her!

And when the vaulted tomb has closed her in,

Forsaken and alone, as I have said,

Let her remain within the cell,—to die

Or live, as she prefers, in such a tomb.

She had my warning and my hands are clean,

Without the taint of blood,—but she shall be

At least deprived of living in the light.

[Exit C.