Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/249

Rh Nor the long months of Gods that never fail,

Can for a moment seize.

But still as Lord supreme,

Waxing not old with time,

Thou dwellest in Thy sheen of radiancy

On far Olympos' height.

Through future near or far as through the past,

One law holds ever good,

Nought comes to life of man unscathed throughout by woe.

For hope to many comes in wanderings wild,

A solace and support;

To many as a cheat of fond desires,

And creepeth still on him who knows it not,

Until he burn his foot

Within the scorching flame.

Full well spake one of old,

That evil ever seems to be as good

To those whose thoughts of heart

God leadeth unto woe,

And without woe, he spends but shortest space of time.

And here comes Hæmon, last of all thy sons:

Comes he bewailing sore

The fate of her who should have been his bride,

The maid Antigone,

Grieving o'er vanished joys?

Creon. Soon we shall know much more than seers can tell.

Surely thou dost not come, my son, to rage