188 SOPHOCLES
Second Messenger. Thy wife is dead, that corpse's mother true, 111 starred one, smitten with a blow just dealt. 1375
Creon. Ο agony ! Haven of Death, that none may pacify, Why dost thou thus destroy me ? Turning to Messenger.
Ο thou who comest, bringing in thy train
lA'^oes horrible to tell, iseo
Thou tramplest on a man already slain. What say'st thou ? What new tidings bring' st to me ?
Ah me ! ah me ! Is it that now there waits in store for me My own wife's death to crown my misery ? isss
Chorus. Full clearly thou mayst see. No longer now Does yon recess conceal her.
The gates open and show the dead body of Eurydice.
Creon. Woe is me !
This second ill I gaze on, miserable, AVhat fate, yea, what still lies in wait for me ? Here in my arms I bear what was my son ; 1390
And there, Ο misery ! look upon the dead. Ah, wretched mother ! ah, my son ! my son !
Second Messenger. In frenzy wild she round the .|
altar clung, Ί
And closed her darkening eyelids, and bewailed The noble fate of Megareus,^ who died 1395
Long since, and then again that corpse thou hast ; And last of all she cried a bitter cry Against thy deeds, the murderer of thy sons.
Creon. Woe ! woe ! alas ! , .
I shudder in my fear. AVill no one strike i4oo ■
1 In the legend which Sophocles here follows, Megarus, a son of Creon and Eurydice, had offered himself as a sacrifice to save the state from its dangers.
