Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/256

158 Hades that welcomes all,

To Acheron's dark shore,

With neither part nor lot

In marriage festival,

Nor hath the marriage hymn

Been sung for me as bride,

But I shall be the bride of Acheron.

Chor. And hast thou not all honour, worthiest praise,

Who goest to the home that hides the dead,

Not smitten by the sickness that decays,

Nor by the sharp sword's meed,

But of thine own free will, in fullest life,

Alone of mortals, thus

To Hades tak'st thy way?

Antig. I heard of old her pitiable end,

On Sipylos' high crag,

The Phrygian stranger from a far land come,

Whom Tantalos begat;

Whom growth of rugged rock,

Clinging as ivy clings,

Subdued, and made its own:

And now, so runs the tale,

There, as she melts in shower,

The snow abideth aye,

And still bedews yon cliffs that lie below

Those brows that ever weep.

With fate like hers God brings me to my rest.

Chor. A Goddess she, and of the high Gods born;