Ancient Greek Tragedies. Classic collection. Illustrated E-Book

Euripides

• Herausgeber: Strelbytskyy Multimedia Publishing
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 296

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

This collection presents the works of the three fathers of ancient Greek tragedies: Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. The reader of this collection will be able to comprehend how the plots and conflicts populating classical tragedy developed. The principle theme of Aeschylus' tragedies is the idea of fate being omnipotent and the futility in struggling against it. The tragedies of Sophocles reflect the era of the Greeks' victorious war against the Persians, which opened up commercial prosperity through trade. Euripides propels his dramas by incorporating conflicts from within the human psyche. Contents: Euripides: Medea Sophocles: Antigone Aeschylus: The Oresteia Agamemnon Eumenides The Choephori

Leseprobe

ANCIENT GREEK TRAGEDIES. CLASSIC COLLECTION

Euripides. Medea

Sophocles. Antigone

Aeschylus. The Oresteia

Illustrated

This collection presents the works of the three fathers of ancient Greek tragedies: Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides.

The reader of this collection will be able to comprehend how the plots and conflicts populating classical tragedy developed.

The principle theme of Aeschylus’ tragedies is the idea of fate being omnipotent and the futility in struggling against it.

The tragedies of Sophocles reflect the era of the Greeks’ victorious war against the Persians, which opened up commercial prosperity through trade.

Euripides propels his dramas by incorporating conflicts from within the human psyche.

Euripides: Medea

Sophocles: Antigone

Aeschylus: Agamemnon

Aeschylus: Eumenides

Aeschylus: The Choephori

Table of Contents

Euripides Medea

Sophocles Antigone

Aeschylus Oresteia

Agamemnon

Eumenides

The Choephori

Euripides

Medea

Characters of the play

MEDEA, daughter of Aietes, King of Colchis.

JASON, chief of the Argonauts; nephew of Pelias, King of Iolcos in Thessaly.

CREON, ruler of Corinth.

AEGEUS, King of Athens.

NURSE of Medea.

TWO CHILDREN of Jason and Medea.

ATTENDANT on the children.

A MESSENGER.

CHORUS of Corinthian Women, with their LEADER.

Soldiers and Attendants.

The scene is laid in Corinth. The play was first acted when Pythodorus was Archon, Olympiad 87, year 1 (B.C. 431). Euphorion was first, Sophocles second, Euripides third, with Medea, Philoctetes, Dictys, and the Harvesters, a Satyr-play.

* * *

The Scene represents the front of MEDEA'S House in Corinth. A road to the right leads towards the royal castle, one on the left to the harbour. The NURSE is discovered alone.

NURSE

Would God no Argo e'er had winged the seas

To Colchis through the blue Symplegades:

No shaft of riven pine in Pelion's glen

Shaped that first oar-blade in the hands of men

Valiant, who won, to save King Pelias' vow,

The fleece All-golden! Never then, I trow,

Mine own princess, her spirit wounded sore

With love of Jason, to the encastled shore

Had sailed of old Iolcos: never wrought

The daughters of King Pelias, knowing not,

To spill their father's life: nor fled in fear,

Hunted for that fierce sin, to Corinth here

With Jason and her babes. This folk at need

Stood friend to her, and she in word and deed

Served alway Jason. Surely this doth bind,

Through all ill days, the hurts of humankind,

When man and woman in one music move.

But now, the world is angry, and true love

Sick as with poison. Jason doth forsake

My mistress and his own two sons, to make

His couch in a king's chamber. He must wed:

Wed with this Creon's child, who now is head

And chief of Corinth. Wherefore sore betrayed

Medea calleth up the oath they made,

They two, and wakes the clasped hands again,

The troth surpassing speech, and cries amain

On God in heaven to mark the end, and how

Jason hath paid his debt.

All fasting now

And cold, her body yielded up to pain,

Her days a waste of weeping, she hath lain,

Since first she knew that he was false. Her eyes

Are lifted not; and all her visage lies

In the dust. If friends will speak, she hears no more

Than some dead rock or wave that beats the shore:

Only the white throat in a sudden shame

May writhe, and all alone she moans the name

Of father, and land, and home, forsook that day

For this man's sake, who casteth her away.

Not to be quite shut out from home… alas,

She knoweth now how rare a thing that was!

Methinks she hath a dread, not joy, to see

Her children near. 'Tis this that maketh me

Most tremble, lest she do I know not what.

Her heart is no light thing, and useth not

To brook much wrong. I know that woman, aye,

And dread her! Will she creep alone to die

Bleeding in that old room, where still is laid

Lord Jason's bed? She hath for that a blade

Made keen. Or slay the bridegroom and the king,

And win herself God knows what direr thing?

'Tis a fell spirit. Few, I ween, shall stir

Her hate unscathed, or lightly humble her.

Ha! 'Tis the children from their games again,

Rested and gay; and all their mother's pain

Forgotten! Young lives ever turn from gloom!

The CHILDREN and their ATTENDANT come in.

ATTENDANT

Thou ancient treasure of my lady's room,

What mak'st thou here before the gates alone,

And alway turning on thy lips some moan

Of old mischances? Will our mistress be

Content, this long time to be left by thee?

NURSE

Grey guard of Jason's children, a good thrall

Hath his own grief, if any hurt befall

His masters. Aye, it holds one's heart!…

Meseems

I have strayed out so deep in evil dreams,

I longed to rest me here alone, and cry

Medea's wrongs to this still Earth and Sky.

ATTENDANT

How? Are the tears yet running in her eyes?

NURSE

'Twere good to be like thee!… Her sorrow lies

Scarce wakened yet, not half its perils wrought.

ATTENDANT

Mad spirit!.. if a man may speak his thought

Of masters mad. – And nothing in her ears

Hath sounded yet of her last cause for tears!

He moves towards the house, but the NURSE checks him.

NURSE

What cause, old man?… Nay, grudge me not one word.

ATTENDANT

'Tis nothing. Best forget what thou hast heard.

NURSE

Nay, housemate, by thy beard! Hold it not hid

From me… I will keep silence if thou bid.

ATTENDANT

I heard an old man talking, where he sate

At draughts in the sun, beside the fountain gate,

And never thought of me, there standing still

Beside him. And he said, 'Twas Creon's will,

Being lord of all this land, that she be sent,

And with her her two sons, to banishment.

Maybe 'tis all false. For myself, I know

No further, and I would it were not so.

NURSE

Jason will never bear it-his own sons

Banished, – however hot his anger runs

Against their mother!

ATTENDANT

Old love burneth low

When new love wakes, men say. He is not now

Husband nor father here, nor any kin.

NURSE

But this is ruin! New waves breaking in

To wreck us, ere we are righted from the old!

ATTENDANT

Well, hold thy peace. Our mistress will be told

All in good time. Speak thou no word hereof.

NURSE

My babes! What think ye of your father's love?

God curse him not, he is my master still:

But, oh, to them that loved him, 'tis an ill

Friend…

ATTENDANT

And what man on earth is different? How?

Hast thou lived all these years, and learned but now

That every man more loveth his own head

Than other men's? He dreameth of the bed

Of this new bride, and thinks not of his sons.

NURSE

Go: run into the house, my little ones:

All will end happily!.. Keep them apart:

Let not their mother meet them while her heart

Is darkened. Yester night I saw a flame

Stand in her eye, as though she hated them,

And would I know not what. For sure her wrath

Will never turn nor slumber, till she hath…

Go: and if some must suffer, may it be

Not we who love her, but some enemy!

VOICE(within).

Oh shame and pain: O woe is me!

Would I could die in my misery!

The CHILDREN and the ATTENDANT go in.

NURSE

Ah, children, hark! She moves again

Her frozen heart, her sleeping wrath.

In, quick! And never cross her path,

Nor rouse that dark eye in its pain;

That fell sea-spirit, and the dire

Spring of a will untaught, unbowed.

Quick, now! – Methinks this weeping cloud

Hath in its heart some thunder-fire,

Slow gathering, that must flash ere long.

I know not how, for ill or well,

It turns, this uncontrollable

Tempestuous spirit, blind with wrong.

VOICE(within)

Have I not suffered? Doth it call

No tears?.. Ha, ye beside the wall

Unfathered children, God hate you

As I am hated, and him, too,

That gat you, and this house and all!

NURSE

For pity! What have they to do,

Babes, with their father's sin? Why call

Thy curse on these?… Ah, children, all

These days my bosom bleeds for you.

Rude are the wills of princes: yea,

Prevailing alway, seldom crossed,

On fitful winds their moods are tossed:

'Tis best men tread the equal way.

Aye, not with glory but with peace

May the long summers find me crowned:

For gentleness-her very sound

Is magic, and her usages.

All wholesome: but the fiercely great

Hath little music on his road,

And falleth, when the hand of God

Shall move, most deep and desolate.

During the last words the LEADER of the Chorus has entered. Other women follow her.

LEADER

I heard a voice and a moan,

A voice of the eastern seas:

Hath she found not yet her ease?

Speak, O aged one.

For I stood afar at the gate,

And there came from within a cry,

And wailing desolate.

Ah, no more joy have I,

For the griefs this house doth see,

And the love it hath wrought in me.

NURSE

There is no house! 'Tis gone. The lord

Seeketh a prouder bed: and she

Wastes in her chamber, not one word

Will hear of care or charity.

VOICE(within)

O Zeus, O Earth, O Light,

Will the fire not stab my brain?

What profiteth living? Oh,

Shall I not lift the slow

Yoke, and let Life go,

As a beast out in the night,

To lie, and be rid of pain?

CHORUS

Some Women

A.

"O Zeus, O Earth, O Light:"

The cry of a bride forlorn

Heard ye, and wailing born

Of lost delight?

B.

Why weariest thou this day,

Wild heart, for the bed abhorred,

The cold bed in the clay?

Death cometh though no man pray,

Ungarlanded, un-adored.

Call him not thou.

C.

If another's arms be now

Where thine have been,

On his head be the sin:

Rend not thy brow!

D.

All that thou sufferest,

God seeth: Oh, not so sore

Waste nor weep for the breast

That was thine of yore.

VOICE(within).

Virgin of Righteousness,

Virgin of hallowed Troth,

Ye marked me when with an oath

I bound him; mark no less

That oath's end. Give me to see

Him and his bride, who sought

My grief when I wronged her not,

Broken in misery,

And all her house… O God,

My mother's home, and the dim

Shore that I left for him,

And the voice of my brother's blood.

NURSE

Oh, wild words! Did ye hear her cry

To them that guard man's faith forsworn,

Themis and Zeus?… This wrath new-born

Shall make mad workings ere it die.

CHORUS

Other Women.

A.

Would she but come to seek

Our faces, that love her well,

And take to her heart the spell

Of words that speak?

B.

Alas for the heavy hate

And anger that burneth ever!

Would it but now abate,

Ah God, I love her yet.

And surely my love's endeavour

Shall fail not here.

C.

Go: from that chamber drear

Forth to the day

Lead her, and say, Oh, say

That we love her dear.

D.

Go, lest her hand be hard

On the innocent: Ah, let be!

For her grief moves hitherward,

Like an angry sea.

NURSE

That will I: though what words of mine

Or love shall move her? Let them lie

With the old lost labours!… Yet her eye-

Know ye the eyes of the wild kine,

The lion flash that guards their brood?

So looks she now if any thrall

Speak comfort, or draw near at all

My mistress in her evil mood.

The NURSE goes into the house.

CHORUS

A Woman.

Alas, the bold blithe bards of old

That all for joy their music made,

For feasts and dancing manifold,

That Life might listen and be glad.

But all the darkness and the wrong,

Quick deaths and dim heart-aching things,

Would no man ease them with a song

Or music of a thousand strings?

Then song had served us in our need.

What profit, o'er the banquet's swell

That lingering cry that none may heed?

The feast hath filled them: all is well!

Others.

I heard a song, but it comes no more.

Where the tears ran over:

A keen cry but tired, tired:

A woman's cry for her heart's desired,

For a traitor's kiss and a lost lover.

But a prayer, methinks, yet riseth sore

To God, to Faith, God's ancient daughter-

The Faith that over sundering seas

Drew her to Hellas, and the breeze

Of midnight shivered, and the door

Closed of the salt unsounded water.

During the last words MEDEA has come out from the house.

MEDEA

Women of Corinth, I am come to show

My face, lest ye despise me. For I know

Some heads stand high and fail not, even at night

Alone-far less like this, in all men's sight:

And we, who study not our wayfarings

But feel and cry-Oh we are drifting things,

And evil! For what truth is in men's eyes,

Which search no heart, but in a flash despise

A strange face, shuddering back from one that ne'er

Hath wronged them?… Sure, far-comers anywhere,

I know, must bow them and be gentle. Nay,

A Greek himself men praise not, who alway

Should seek his own will recking not… But I-

This thing undreamed of, sudden from on high,

Hath sapped my soul: I dazzle where I stand,

The cup of all life shattered in my hand,

Longing to die-O friends! He, even he,

Whom to know well was all the world to me,

The man I loved, hath proved most evil. – Oh,

Of all things upon earth that bleed and grow,

A herb most bruised is woman. We must pay

Our store of gold, hoarded for that one day,

To buy us some man's love; and lo, they bring

A master of our flesh! There comes the sting

Of the whole shame. And then the jeopardy,

For good or ill, what shall that master be;

Reject she cannot: and if he but stays

His suit, 'tis shame on all that woman's days.

So thrown amid new laws, new places, why,

'Tis magic she must have, or prophecy-

Home never taught her that-how best to guide

Toward peace this thing that sleepeth at her side.

And she who, labouring long, shall find some way

Whereby her lord may bear with her, nor fray

His yoke too fiercely, blessed is the breath

That woman draws! Else, let her pray for death.

Her lord, if he be wearied of the face

Withindoors, gets him forth; some merrier place

Will ease his heart: but she waits on, her whole

Vision enchained on a single soul.

And then, forsooth, 'tis they that face the call

Of war, while we sit sheltered, hid from all

Peril! – False mocking! Sooner would I stand

Three times to face their battles, shield in hand,

Than bear one child.

But peace! There cannot be

Ever the same tale told of thee and me.

Thou hast this city, and thy father's home,

And joy of friends, and hope in days to come:

But I, being citiless, am cast aside

By him that wedded me, a savage bride

Won in far seas and left-no mother near,

No brother, not one kinsman anywhere

For harbour in this storm. Therefore of thee

I ask one thing. If chance yet ope to me

Some path, if even now my hand can win

Strength to requite this Jason for his sin,

Betray me not! Oh, in all things but this,

I know how full of fears a woman is,

And faint at need, and shrinking from the light

Of battle: but once spoil her of her right

In man's love, and there moves, I warn thee well,

No bloodier spirit between heaven and hell.

LEADER

I will betray thee not. It is but just,

Thou smite him. – And that weeping in the dust

And stormy tears, how should I blame them?..

Stay:

'Tis Creon, lord of Corinth, makes his way

Hither, and bears, methinks, some word of weight.

Enter from the right CREON, the King, with armed Attendants.

CREON

Thou woman sullen-eyed and hot with hate

Against thy lord, Medea, I here command

That thou and thy two children from this land

Go forth to banishment. Make no delay:

Seeing ourselves, the King, are come this day

Sophocles

Antigone

Translation by F. Storr, BA

Formerly Scholar of Trinity College, Cambridge

From the Loeb Library Edition

Originally published by Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA and William Heinemann Ltd, London

First published in 1912

ARGUMENT

Antigone, daughter of Oedipus, the late king of Thebes, in defiance of Creon who rules in his stead, resolves to bury her brother Polyneices, slain in his attack on Thebes. She is caught in the act by Creon's watchmen and brought before the king. She justifies her action, asserting that she was bound to obey the eternal laws of right and wrong in spite of any human ordinance. Creon, unrelenting, condemns her to be immured in a rock-hewn chamber. His son Haemon, to whom Antigone is betrothed, pleads in vain for her life and threatens to die with her. Warned by the seer Teiresias Creon repents him and hurries to release Antigone from her rocky prison. But he is too late: he finds lying side by side Antigone who had hanged herself and Haemon who also has perished by his own hand. Returning to the palace he sees within the dead body of his queen who on learning of her son's death has stabbed herself to the heart.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

ANTIGONE and ISMENE-daughters of Oedipus and sisters of Polyneices and Eteocles. 

CREON, King of Thebes. 

HAEMON, Son of Creon, betrothed to Antigone.

EURYDICE, wife of Creon.

TEIRESIAS, the prophet.

CHORUS, of Theban elders.

A WATCHMAN

A MESSENGER

A SECOND MESSENGER

ANTIGONE and ISMENE before the Palace gates.

ANTIGONE

Ismene, sister of my blood and heart,

See'st thou how Zeus would in our lives fulfill

The weird of Oedipus, a world of woes!

For what of pain, affliction, outrage, shame,

Is lacking in our fortunes, thine and mine?

And now this proclamation of today

Made by our Captain-General to the State,

What can its purport be? Didst hear and heed,

Or art thou deaf when friends are banned as foes?

ISMENE

To me, Antigone, no word of friends

Has come, or glad or grievous, since we twain

Were reft of our two brethren in one day

By double fratricide; and since i' the night

Our Argive leaguers fled, no later news

Has reached me, to inspirit or deject.

ANTIGONE

I know 'twas so, and therefore summoned thee

Beyond the gates to breathe it in thine ear.

ISMENE

What is it? Some dark secret stirs thy breast.

ANTIGONE

What but the thought of our two brothers dead,

The one by Creon graced with funeral rites,

The other disappointed? Eteocles

He hath consigned to earth (as fame reports)

With obsequies that use and wont ordain,

So gracing him among the dead below.

But Polyneices, a dishonored corse,

(So by report the royal edict runs)

No man may bury him or make lament-

Must leave him tombless and unwept, a feast

For kites to scent afar and swoop upon.

Such is the edict (if report speak true)

Of Creon, our most noble Creon, aimed

At thee and me, aye me too; and anon

He will be here to promulgate, for such

As have not heard, his mandate; 'tis in sooth

No passing humor, for the edict says

Whoe'er transgresses shall be stoned to death.

So stands it with us; now 'tis thine to show

If thou art worthy of thy blood or base.

ISMENE

But how, my rash, fond sister, in such case

Can I do anything to make or mar?

ANTIGONE

Say, wilt thou aid me and abet? Decide.

ISMENE

In what bold venture? What is in thy thought?

ANTIGONE

Lend me a hand to bear the corpse away.

ISMENE

What, bury him despite the interdict?

ANTIGONE

My brother, and, though thou deny him, thine

No man shall say that I betrayed a brother.

ISMENE

Wilt thou persist, though Creon has forbid?

ANTIGONE

What right has he to keep me from my own?

ISMENE

Bethink thee, sister, of our father's fate,

Abhorred, dishonored, self-convinced of sin,

Blinded, himself his executioner.

Think of his mother-wife (ill sorted names)

Done by a noose herself had twined to death

And last, our hapless brethren in one day,

Both in a mutual destiny involved,

Self-slaughtered, both the slayer and the slain.

Bethink thee, sister, we are left alone;

Shall we not perish wretchedest of all,

If in defiance of the law we cross

A monarch's will?-weak women, think of that,

Not framed by nature to contend with men.

Remember this too that the stronger rules;

We must obey his orders, these or worse.

Therefore I plead compulsion and entreat

The dead to pardon. I perforce obey

The powers that be. 'Tis foolishness, I ween,

To overstep in aught the golden mean.

ANTIGONE

I urge no more; nay, wert thou willing still,

I would not welcome such a fellowship.

Go thine own way; myself will bury him.

How sweet to die in such employ, to rest,-

Sister and brother linked in love's embrace-

A sinless sinner, banned awhile on earth,

But by the dead commended; and with them

I shall abide for ever. As for thee,

Scorn, if thou wilt, the eternal laws of Heaven.

ISMENE

I scorn them not, but to defy the State

Or break her ordinance I have no skill.

ANTIGONE

A specious pretext. I will go alone

To lap my dearest brother in the grave.

ISMENE

My poor, fond sister, how I fear for thee!

ANTIGONE

O waste no fears on me; look to thyself.

ISMENE

At least let no man know of thine intent,

But keep it close and secret, as will I.

ANTIGONE

O tell it, sister; I shall hate thee more

If thou proclaim it not to all the town.

ISMENE

Thou hast a fiery soul for numbing work.

ANTIGONE

I pleasure those whom I would liefest please.

ISMENE

If thou succeed; but thou art doomed to fail.

ANTIGONE

When strength shall fail me, yes, but not before.

ISMENE

But, if the venture's hopeless, why essay?

ANTIGONE

Sister, forbear, or I shall hate thee soon,

And the dead man will hate thee too, with cause.

Say I am mad and give my madness rein

To wreck itself; the worst that can befall

Is but to die an honorable death.

ISMENE

Have thine own way then; 'tis a mad endeavor,

Yet to thy lovers thou art dear as ever.

[Exeunt]

CHORUS

(Str. 1)

Sunbeam, of all that ever dawn upon

Our seven-gated Thebes the brightest ray,

O eye of golden day,

How fair thy light o'er Dirce's fountain shone,

Speeding upon their headlong homeward course,

Far quicker than they came, the Argive force;

Putting to flight

The argent shields, the host with scutcheons white.

Against our land the proud invader came

To vindicate fell Polyneices' claim.

Like to an eagle swooping low,

On pinions white as new fall'n snow.

With clanging scream, a horsetail plume his crest,

The aspiring lord of Argos onward pressed.

(Ant. 1)

Hovering around our city walls he waits,

His spearmen raven at our seven gates.

But ere a torch our crown of towers could burn,

Ere they had tasted of our blood, they turn

Forced by the Dragon; in their rear

The din of Ares panic-struck they hear.

For Zeus who hates the braggart's boast

Beheld that gold-bespangled host;

As at the goal the paean they upraise,

He struck them with his forked lightning blaze.

(Str. 2)

To earthy from earth rebounding, down he crashed;

The fire-brand from his impious hand was dashed,

As like a Bacchic reveler on he came,

Outbreathing hate and flame,

And tottered. Elsewhere in the field,

Here, there, great Area like a war-horse wheeled;

Beneath his car down thrust

Our foemen bit the dust.

Seven captains at our seven gates

Thundered; for each a champion waits,

Each left behind his armor bright,

Trophy for Zeus who turns the fight;

Save two alone, that ill-starred pair

One mother to one father bare,

Who lance in rest, one 'gainst the other

Drave, and both perished, brother slain by brother.

(Ant. 2)

Now Victory to Thebes returns again

And smiles upon her chariot-circled plain.

Now let feast and festal should

Memories of war blot out.

Let us to the temples throng,

Dance and sing the live night long.

God of Thebes, lead thou the round.

Bacchus, shaker of the ground!

Let us end our revels here;

Lo! Creon our new lord draws near,

Crowned by this strange chance, our king.

What, I marvel, pondering?

Why this summons? Wherefore call

Us, his elders, one and all,

Bidding us with him debate,

On some grave concern of State?

[Enter CREON]

CREON

Elders, the gods have righted one again

Our storm-tossed ship of state, now safe in port.

But you by special summons I convened

As my most trusted councilors; first, because

I knew you loyal to Laius of old;

Again, when Oedipus restored our State,

Both while he ruled and when his rule was o'er,

Ye still were constant to the royal line.

Now that his two sons perished in one day,

Brother by brother murderously slain,

By right of kinship to the Princes dead,

I claim and hold the throne and sovereignty.

Yet 'tis no easy matter to discern

The temper of a man, his mind and will,

Till he be proved by exercise of power;

And in my case, if one who reigns supreme

Swerve from the highest policy, tongue-tied

By fear of consequence, that man I hold,

And ever held, the basest of the base.

And I contemn the man who sets his friend

Before his country. For myself, I call

To witness Zeus, whose eyes are everywhere,

If I perceive some mischievous design

To sap the State, I will not hold my tongue;

Nor would I reckon as my private friend

A public foe, well knowing that the State

Is the good ship that holds our fortunes all:

Farewell to friendship, if she suffers wreck.

Such is the policy by which I seek

To serve the Commons and conformably

I have proclaimed an edict as concerns

The sons of Oedipus; Eteocles

Who in his country's battle fought and fell,

The foremost champion-duly bury him

With all observances and ceremonies

That are the guerdon of the heroic dead.

But for the miscreant exile who returned

Minded in flames and ashes to blot out

His father's city and his father's gods,

And glut his vengeance with his kinsmen's blood,

Or drag them captive at his chariot wheels-

For Polyneices 'tis ordained that none

Shall give him burial or make mourn for him,

But leave his corpse unburied, to be meat

For dogs and carrion crows, a ghastly sight.

So am I purposed; never by my will

Shall miscreants take precedence of true men,

But all good patriots, alive or dead,

Shall be by me preferred and honored.

CHORUS

Son of Menoeceus, thus thou will'st to deal

With him who loathed and him who loved our State.

Thy word is law; thou canst dispose of us

The living, as thou will'st, as of the dead.

CREON

See then ye execute what I ordain.

CHORUS

On younger shoulders lay this grievous charge.

CREON

Fear not, I've posted guards to watch the corpse.

CHORUS

What further duty would'st thou lay on us?

CREON

Not to connive at disobedience.

CHORUS

No man is mad enough to court his death.

CREON

The penalty is death: yet hope of gain

Hath lured men to their ruin oftentimes.

[Enter GUARD]

GUARD

My lord, I will not make pretense to pant

And puff as some light-footed messenger.

In sooth my soul beneath its pack of thought

Made many a halt and turned and turned again;

For conscience plied her spur and curb by turns.

"Why hurry headlong to thy fate, poor fool?"

She whispered. Then again, "If Creon learn

This from another, thou wilt rue it worse."

Thus leisurely I hastened on my road;

Much thought extends a furlong to a league.

But in the end the forward voice prevailed,

To face thee. I will speak though I say nothing.

For plucking courage from despair methought,

'Let the worst hap, thou canst but meet thy fate.'

CREON

What is thy news? Why this despondency?

GUARD

Let me premise a word about myself?

I neither did the deed nor saw it done,

Nor were it just that I should come to harm.

CREON

Thou art good at parry, and canst fence about

Some matter of grave import, as is plain.

GUARD

The bearer of dread tidings needs must quake.

CREON

Then, sirrah, shoot thy bolt and get thee gone.

GUARD

Well, it must out; the corpse is buried; someone

E'en now besprinkled it with thirsty dust,

Performed the proper ritual-and was gone.

CREON

What say'st thou? Who hath dared to do this thing?

GUARD

I cannot tell, for there was ne'er a trace

Of pick or mattock-hard unbroken ground,

Without a scratch or rut of chariot wheels,

No sign that human hands had been at work.

When the first sentry of the morning watch

Gave the alarm, we all were terror-stricken.

The corpse had vanished, not interred in earth,

But strewn with dust, as if by one who sought

To avert the curse that haunts the unburied dead:

Of hound or ravening jackal, not a sign.