Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/269

Rh And prophet of men's future there is none.

For Creon, so I deemed, deserved to be

At once admired and envied, having saved

This land of Cadmos from the hands of foes;

And, having ruled with fullest sovereignty,

He lived and prospered, joyous in a race

Of goodly offspring. Now, all this is gone;

For when men lose the joys that sweeten life,

I cannot deem they live, but rather count

As if a breathing corpse. His heaped-up stores

Of wealth are large, so be it, and he lives

With all a sovereign's state; and yet, if joy

Be absent, all the rest I count as nought,

And would not weigh them against pleasure's charm,

More than a vapour's shadow.

Chor. What is this?

What new disaster tell'st thou of our chiefs?

Mess. Dead are they, and the living cause their death.

Chor. Who slays, and who is slaughtered? Tell thy tale.

Mess. Hæmon is dead, slain, weltering in his blood.

Chor. By his own act, or by his father's hand?

Mess. His own, in wrath against his father's crime.

Chor. Ο prophet! true, most true, those words of thine.

Mess. Since things stand thus, we well may counsel take.

Chor. Lo! Creon's wife comes, sad Eurydike.

She from the house approaches, hearing speech

About her son, or else by accident.

Euryd. I on my way, my friends, as suppliant bound,

To pay my vows at Pallas' shrine, have heard