Contents
-BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD
Sophocles (c.496 B.C.–406 B.C.). Antigone.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
Lines 500–999
But live for ever, nor can man assignWhen first they sprang to being. Not through fearOf any man’s resolve was I preparedBefore the Gods to bear the penaltyOf sinning against these. That I should dieI knew (how should I not?), though thy decreeHad never spoken. And, before my timeIf I should die, I reckon this a gain;For whoso lives, as I, in many woes,How can it be but death shall bring him gain?And so for me to bear this doom of thineHas nothing painful. But, if I had leftMy mother’s son unburied on his death,I should have given them pain. But as things are,Pain I feel none. And should I seem to theeTo have done a foolish deed, ’tis simply this,—I bear the charge of folly from a fool.Chor.The maiden’s stubborn will, of stubborn sireThe offspring shows itself. She knows not yetTo yield to evils.CREON.Know, then, minds too stiffMost often stumble, and the rigid steelBaked in the furnace, made exceeding hard,Thou seest most often split and broken lie;And I have known the steeds of fiery moodWith a small curb subdued. It is not meetThat one who lives in bondage to his neighboursShould boast too loudly. Wanton outrage thenShe learnt when first these laws of mine she crossed,But, having done it, this is yet againA second outrage over it to boast,And laugh at having done it. Surely, then,She is the man, not I, if all unscathedSuch deeds of might are hers. But be she childOf mine own sister, nearest kin of allThat Zeus o’erlooks within our palace court,She and her sister shall not ’scape their doomMost foul and shameful; for I charge her, too,With having planned this deed of sepulture.Go ye and call her. ’Twas but now withinI saw her raving, losing self-command.And still the mind of those who in the darkPlan deeds of evil is the first to fail,And so convicts itself of secret guilt.But most I hate when one found out in guiltWill seek to glaze and brave it to the end.ANTIG.And dost thou seek aught else beyond my death?CREON.Naught else for me. That gaining, I gain all.ANTIG.Wilt thou delay? Of all thy words not onePleases me now, nor aye is like to please,And so all mine must grate upon thine ears.And yet how could I higher glory gainThan giving my true brother all the ritesOf solemn burial? These who hear would sayIt pleases them, did not their fear of theeClose up their lips. This power has sovereignty,That it can do and say whate’er it will.CREON.Of all the race of Cadmus thou aloneLook’st thus upon the deed.ANTIG.They see it tooAs I do, but in fear of thee they keepTheir tongue between their teeth.CREON.And dost thou feelNo shame to plan thy schemes apart from these?ANTIG.There is no baseness in the act which showsOur reverence for our kindred.CREON.Was he notThy brother also, who against him fought?ANTIG.He was my brother, of one mother born,And of the selfsame father.CREON.Why, then, payThine impious honours to the carcase there?ANTIG.The dead below will not accept thy words.CREON.Yes, if thou equal honours pay to him,And that most impious monster.ANTIG.’Twas no slaveThat perished, but my brother.CREON.Yes, in actTo waste this land, while he in its defenceStood fighting bravely.ANTIG.Not the less does deathCrave equal rites for all.CREON.But not that goodAnd evil share alike?ANTIG.And yet who knowsIf in that world these things are counted good?CREON.Our foe, I tell thee, ne’er becomes our friend,Not even when he dies.ANTIG.My bent is fixed,I tell thee, not for hatred, but for love.CREON.Go, then, below. And if thou must have love,Love those thou find’st there. While I live, at least,A woman shall not rule.Enter ISMENE
Chor.And, lo! Ismene at the gateComes shedding tears of sisterly regard,And o’er her brow a gathering cloudMars the deep roseate blush,Bedewing her fair cheek.CREON.[to ISMENE]. And thou who, creeping as a viper creeps,Didst drain my life in secret, and I knew notThat I was rearing two accursèd ones,Subverters of my throne: come, tell me, then,Dost thou confess thou took’st thy part in it?Or wilt thou swear thou didst not know of it?ISM.I did the deed. Since she will have it so,I share the guilt; I bear an equal blame.ANTIG.This, Justice will not suffer, since, in truth,Thou wouldst have none of it. And I, for one,Shared it not with thee.ISM.I am not ashamedTo count myself companion in thy woes.ANTIG.Whose was the deed, Death knows, and those below.I do not love a friend who loves in words.ISM.Do not, my sister, put me to such shameAs not to let me share thy death with thee,And with thee pay due reverence to the dead.ANTIG.Share not my death, nor make thine own this deedThou hadst no hand in. Let my death suffice.ISM.And what to me is life, bereaved of thee?ANTIG.Ask Creon there. To him thy tender careIs given so largely.ISM.Why wilt thou torture me,In nothing bettered by it?ANTIG.Yes—at thee,E’en while I laugh, I laugh with pain of heart.ISM.But now, at least, how may I profit thee?ANTIG.Save thou thyself. I grudge not thy escape.ISM.Ah, woe is me! and must I miss thy fate?ANTIG.Thou mad’st thy choice to live, and I to die.ISM.’Tis not through want of any words of mine.ANTIG.To these thou seemest, doubtless, to be wise;I to those others.ISM.Yet our fault is one.ANTIG.Take courage. Thou wilt live. My soul long sinceHas given itself to Death, that to the deadI might bring help.CREON.Of these two maidens here,The one, I say, hath lost her mind but now,The other ever since her life began.ISM.Yea, O my king. No mind that ever livedStands firm in evil days, but still it goes,Beside itself, astray.CREON.So then did thineWhen thou didst choose thy evil deeds to do,With those already evil.ISM.How could I.Alone, apart from her, endure to live?CREON.Speak not of her. She stands no longer here.ISM.And wilt thou slay thy son’s betrothed bride?CREON.Full many a field there is which he may plough.ISM.But none like that prepared for him and her.CREON.Wives that are vile, I love not for my son.ANTIG.Ah, dearest Hæmon, how thy father shames thee!CREON.Thou art too vexing, thou, and these thy words,On marriage ever harping.ISM.Wilt thou robThine own dear son of her whom he has loved?CREON.’Tis Death who breaks the marriage contract off.ISM.Her doom is fixed, it seems, then. She must die.CREON.So thou dost think, and I. No more delay,Ye slaves. Our women henceforth must be keptAs women—suffered not to roam abroad;For even boldest natures shrink in fearWhen they behold the end of life draw nigh.[Exeunt Guards with ANTIGONE and ISMENE.STROPHE. I
Chor.Blessed are those whose life has known no woe!For unto those whose houseThe Gods have shaken, nothing fails of curseOr woe, that creepeth on,To generations, far,As when a wave, where Thracian blasts blow strongOn that tempestuous shore,Up surges from the depths beneath the sea,And from the deep abyssRolls the black wind-vexed sand,And every jutting peak that drives it backRe-echoes with the roar.ANTISTROPHE. I
I see the ancient doomThat fell upon the seed of Labdacus,Who perished long ago,Still falling, woes on woes;That generation cannot rescue this;Some God still urges on,And will not be appeased.So now there rose a gleam