Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/270

172 Your words, and so I chanced to draw the bolt

Of the half-opened door, when lo! a sound

Falls on my ears, of evil striking home,

And terror-struck I fall in deadly swoon

Back in my handmaids' arms; yet tell it me,

Tell the tale once again, for I shall hear,

By long experience disciplined to grief.

Mess. Dear lady, I will tell thee: I was by,

And will not leave one word of truth untold.

Why should we smooth and gloze, where all too soon

We should be found as liars? Truth is still

The only safety. Lo! I went with him,

Thy husband, in attendance, to the edge

Of yonder plain, where still all ruthlessly

The corpse of Polyneikes lay exposed,

Mangled by dogs. And, having prayed to her,

The Goddess of all pathways, and to Pluto,

To temper wrath with pity, him they washed

With holy washing; and what yet was left

We burnt in branches freshly cut, and heaped

A high-raised grave from out his native soil,

And then we entered on the stone-paved home,

Death's marriage-chamber for the ill-starred maid.

And some one hears, while standing yet afar,

Shrill voice of wailing near the bridal bower,

By funeral rites unhallowed, and he comes

And tells my master, Creon. On his ears,

Advancing nearer, falls a shriek confused

Of bitter sorrow, and with groaning loud,

He utters one sad cry, "Me miserable!

And am I then a prophet? Do I wend