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Antigone   


fair bride; it is a power enthroned in sway beside the eternal laws;
for there the goddess Aphrodite is working her unconquerable will.

(ANTIGONE is led out of the palace by two Of CREON'S attendants who
are about to conduct her to her doom.)


But now I also am carried beyond the bounds of loyalty, and can no
more keep back the streaming tears, when I see Antigone thus passing
to the bridal chamber where all are laid to rest.

(The following lines between ANTIGONE and the CHORUS are chanted
responsively.)


ANTIGONE
strophe 1

See me, citizens of my fatherland, setting forth on my last way,
looking my last on the sunlight that is for me no more; no, Hades
who gives sleep to all leads me living to Acheron's shore; who have
had no portion in the chant that brings the bride, nor hath any song
been mine for the crowning of bridals; whom the lord of the Dark
Lake shall wed.
CHORUS

systema 1

Glorious, therefore, and with praise, thou departest to that
deep place of the dead: wasting sickness hath not smitten thee; thou
hast not found the wages of the sword; no, mistress of thine own fate,
and still alive, thou shalt pass to Hades, as no other of mortal
kind hath passed.
ANTIGONE

antistrophe 1

I have heard in other days how dread a doom befell our Phrygian
guest, the daughter of Tantalus, on the Sipylian heights; I how,
like clinging ivy, the growth of stone subdued her; and the rains fail
not, as men tell, from her wasting form, nor fails the snow, while
beneath her weeping lids the tears bedew her bosom; and most like to
hers is the fate that brings me to my rest.
CHORUS

systema 2

Yet she was a goddess, thou knowest, and born of gods; we are
mortals, and of mortal race. But 'tis great renown for a woman who
hath perished that she should have shared the doom of the godlike,
in her life, and afterward in death.
ANTIGONE

strophe 2

Ah, I am mocked! In the name of our fathers' gods, can ye not wait
till I am gone,-must ye taunt me to my face, O my city, and ye, her
wealthy sons? Ah, fount of Dirce, and thou holy ground of Thebe
whose chariots are many; ye, at least, will bear me witness, in what
sort, unwept of friends, and by what laws I pass to the rock-closed
prison of my strange tomb, ah me unhappy! who have no home on the
earth or in the shades, no home with the living or with the dead.
CHORUS

strophe 3

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