Sweet it were from clouds on high
Battle's changeful tide to spy.
Jove! whose everlasting sway
Heaven's unchanging gods obey,
Grant to Athens' champions brave
Might to vanquish, strength to save.
Pallas! Jove's majestic child;
Phœbus! hunter of the wild;
Dian! still the woodland wooing,
Still the dappled stag pursuing,—
Archer lord, and mountain maid,
Haste ye, haste ye to our aid!"
These triumphal strains are not premature, for Theseus is now seen returning, having, like a true knight-errant, rescued the maidens by his feats of arms. Great is the father's joy at the restoration of his daughters, and fervent are his expressions of gratitude to their deliverer. But Theseus modestly cuts short his thanks, being, as he says, "given more to deeds than words;" and then he tells Œdipus that there is a suppliant sitting at the altar of Poseidon craving an audience with him. Œdipus knows too well that this nameless suppliant must be Polynices, the elder of his sons, and is unwilling even to listen to his voice. But Antigone joins her gentle pleading to the request of Theseus, and Œdipus can gainsay nothing to his daughter's arguments—
"He is thy child;
And therefore, O my father, 'tis not right,
Although his deeds to thee be basest, vilest,
To render ill for ill. But let him come."—(P.)
While Polynices is being summoned, the Chorus
