Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1898) v3.djvu/94

66 The pointed flame, which hath decisions twain,

Betokening victory or overthrow.

If any power thou hast, or cunning words,

Or spell of charms, go, pluck thou back thy sons

From that dread strife; for grim the peril is,

And dread the guerdon: tears shall be thy portion,

If thou of two sons be this day bereaved.

Daughter Antigonê, come forth the house!

No dances, neither toils of maiden hands,

Beseem thee in this hour of heaven's doom.

But heroes twain, yea, brethren unto thee,

Now deathward reeling, with thy mother thou

Must hold from dying, each by other slain.

Enter Antigonê.

Mother that bare me, what strange terror-cry

Before these halls to thy friends utterest thou?

Daughter, thy brethren's life is come to nought.

How say'st thou?

Met they are for single fight.

Woe! what wilt say?