Wishing to see thee, all the gates around,

And guards, if haply I might find the king. ETEO. Thee, Creon, have I wish'd to see; for vain Th' imperfect treaty, when on terms of peace With Polynices I held conference.

CRE.

Proud of his new alliance with Adrastus,
And on his force presuming, he aspires

Higher than Thebes can brook: but on the gods
Behoves us to repose that care: what most

May check his proud attempt, I come to warn thee.
ETEO. What may that be? I comprehend thee not.
CRE. Fled from yon hostile camp an Argive comes.
ETEO. What now their purpose? Brings he aught of new?
CRE. Soon at each tow'r of Thebes yon Argive host

Will circle the beleaguer'd town in arms.

ETEO. Without the walls then must our arms advance.
CRE. What, does the fire of youth disturb thy sense?
ETEO. And soon before these ramparts join the fight.

CRE.

CRE.

Few are the troops of Thebes, their numbers great. ETEO. I know them, champions bold in puissant words. Argos bears some renown in Greece for arms. ETEO. Soon with their carnage will I fill yon plain. CRE. A work of no small toil, though much I wish it. ETEO. I will not coop my forces in the walls.

CRE.

Conquest on prudent counsels always waits.
ETEO. What different measures wilt thou I attempt?
CRE. All, e'er that extreme hazard put to proof.
ETEO. Should our close arms attack them in the night?
CRE. Failing in that, canst thou retreat secure?

ETEO. The night, alike to all, befriends the bold.

CRE. Danger in night's dark shades strikes deeper terror.
ETEO. Should I rush on them whilst they take repast?
CRE. That might alarm; but victory is our aim.
ETEO. Near rolls the stream of Dirce, deep to pass.
Behoves us best a firm and armed guard.
ETEO. Or should I lead my horse, and charge their troops?
CRE. With rolling cars their files are fenc'd around.
ETEO. What shall I do then? Tamely yield the town?
No: but deliberate well, if thou art wise.

CRE.

CRE.

ETEO. Say, what more prudent plan can be devised?
CRE. Sev'n from among them, so it is reported,
ETEO. And what their mighty charge? The force is small.
CRE. To lead their troops assaulting our sev'n gates.
ETEO. What should we do? I brook not this suspense.
CRE. Choose thou sev'n chiefs t' oppose them at the gates.
ETEO. Heading their bands? Or each with single spear?

CRE.

Heading their bands: and see thou choose the bravest. ETEO. To guard the tow'rs, I ween, from all access. CRE. Add other leaders: one man sees not all things. ETEO. For boldness chosen, or deliberate thought? CRE. For both small merit singly each can boast. ETEO. It shall be so: to the sev'n tow'rs with speed go, and at each gate, as thou hast said,

I

Appoint the chiefs, opposing man to man.

To name them would delay me, whilst the foes
E'en to the walls advance. Haste calls me hence,
To rouse our arms to action. In the fight

Let me but meet my brother, front to front
Opposed, my spear shall reach him, strike him dead,
That hither came to desolate my country.
The marriage of Antigone, my sister,
And thy son Hæmon, should the adverse fates.
Frustrate my expectation, be thy care:
Affied before, their spousals e'er I go

I now confirm. Thou art my mother's brother,
What need of words? let her have worthy treatment,
Such as becomes my honour, and thy own.
My father hath the meed his rashness earn'd,
From light self-exiled: much I praise him not:
E'en now with words of fiercest execration
He calls down ruin on us. Yet one thing
Remains: if aught of oracle the seer
Tiresias hath to speak, enquire it of him:
Thy son Menaceus, from his grandsire named,
Shall lead the prophet hither; to thy ear
He willingly will speak, with me offended,
For that I censur'd his divining art.

STRO.

One thing I charge thee, Creon, charge the state,
Should victory grace my arms, let not the corse
Of Polynices in this Theban earth

Find sepulture: if any, though of those "
We hold most dear, entombs it, let him die.
This, Creon, to thy charge. You, my attendants,
Bring forth my arms, the mailed dress of war,
That to th' appointed contest of the spear
I may rush forth, aspiring to revenge

And conquest. Thou, calm courage, be our guide,
High-valued goddess, save, O save my country!

CHORUS.

Woe-working Mars, relentless pow'r,

In blood and death why this severe delight,
Untuned to Bacchus and the festive hour?
Why 'midst the measures, on some bridal night,
The rosy-crowned Nymphs among
Dost thou not spread thy lightly-waving hair,
And, temper'd to the flute's mellifluous air,
Enchant the Graces with a jocund song?,
Thy joy to wild and fierce alarms,
Amidst the horrid clash of arms,

Lured with the scent of blood yon host to lead,
In rude and unharmonious dance;

Not like the sweet enthusiast's brisk advance,
Who clad in fawn skins lightly tread,
Shaking their ivy spears, the giddy round:
But rolling cars among, and trampling steeds,
That proudly bear their curb-embowed heads,
And o'er the margent of Ismenus bound;

Thy joy to shake the thund'ring field,
'Gainst yon proud host with martial fire
The dragon sons of Thebes t' inspire,
Each grasping fierce his glitt'ring shield;
And, nigh the rampires as they stand
In arms, to form each martial band.
O Discord, dreadful is thy pow'r

ANTIS.

EPOD.

Rolling these storms of war, that low'r
Black o'er the monarchs of this earth,
Who draw from Labdacus their birth!
O thou, with waving woods embrown'd
Spreading their broad shades o'er the savage race,
With crusted snows thy craggy summit crown'd,
Dear to the virgin goddess of the chase,
This dipus in infant days,

Though many a golden clasp adorn'd the child,
To death devoted on thy borders wild,
In an ill hour, Citharon, didst thou raise.
In ill hour did thy virgin wing,

Dire Sphinx, thou mountain monster, bring
Woes to this land with thy untuneful lay;
When o'er the walls thy circling flight
Smote its desponding sons with pale affright;
When thy fierce talons seiz'd their prey,

And bore it to the rock's aerial brow:

Thee hell's relentless king, with dread command,
Unhallow'd fiend to waste this groaning land,
Sent from the gloom of Erebus below.

In an ill hour, her flames to spread
The sons of Edipus between,

With hurried step and madd'ning mien,
Hath Discord rear'd her horrid head;
Fierce through the royal house to bear,
And ruin'd realm, the rage of war.
But honour, to the birth unknown,
Stamps not the future growth its own:
So from th' unlawful bed these came,
The mother's grief, the father's shame.

Thou sacred earth, (the ancient fame
Barbaric though we are had reach'd our ear,)
Gavest the proud honours of the Theban name,
The warrior host, their helmed heads to rear:
To life each tooth thou badest arise,
That arm'd the fiery-crested dragon's head.
To grace the fair Harmonia's bridal bed

Came in bright state the natives of the skies.
Thou, when Amphion smote his lyre
To sounds that list'ning rocks inspire,
Thou saw'st obedient to his pow'rful strains
Rise the firm wall, the rampired tow'rs,
"Twixt where his deep'ning flood Ismenus pours,
And Dirce laves the verdant plains.

From Iö radiant in her form divine,

When now she lifts no more her horned brows,
No more, her shape restored, an heifer lows,
The Theban monarchs boast their high-drawn line.
These, and a thousand glories more,
Recorded in the rolls of fame,

To grace this city's honour'd name,
Here their successive radiance pour;
High lifts her head the stately town,

And proudly bears her martial crown.

TIRESIAS led by his daughter MANTO, MENŒCEUS, CREON, CHORUS.

TIR. A little onward lead me, be an eye

CRE.

TIR.

To these dark steps, my daughter, as the star
That guides the mariner; o'er level ground
Direct my slow feet, lest we tread unsafe:
Feeble thy father. In thy virgin hand
Hold my oracular tablets, which I mark'd,
Skill'd in each auspice of the flying wing,
When in my consecrated seat my voice
Prophetic of the fates foretells the future.
My child Menaceus, son of Creon, tell me
What of our way remains, that through the city
Will bring me to thy father; for my knee
Fails me; with pain I tread this length of way.
Be comforted: Tiresias, thou hast steer'd

Nigh to thy friends thy foot. And thou, my son,
Support him like a car its seat unfill'd,

The foot of age wants ev'ry friendly guide.

Well, we are come: what means thy hasty message?