Ch. Leader. The man hath uttered dreadful prophecies,
My lord, and gone; and since these locks of mine,
Once dark, have turned all white with age, I know
Of not a single instance where the seer
Hath spoken falsely to the town of Thebes.
Creon. I know it too, and in my soul am troubled:
’T is hard to yield, but to resist and strike
My spirit with a curse is still more dire.
Ch. Leader. Son of Menœces, wisely shoutdst thou choose.
Creon. What must I do then? Speak and I obey.
Ch. Leader. Go, free the maiden from the prison-vault,
And lay th’ unburied body in the grave.
Creon. You really counsel thus, advise to yield?
Ch. Leader. As quickly as you can; for swift of foot
Runs Heaven’s vengeance after foolish men.
Creon. Oh, hard it is! But I obey and yield—
I cannot wage a war with Destiny.
Ch. Leader. Go then and do—entrust it not to others.
Creon. I ’ll go at once. Come, servants, one and all,
Get axes quickly, hasten to yon hill.
I mewed her up, and now that my resolve
Has changed, I ’ll come myself to give her freedom.
I see that justice which the gods uphold,
Should ever be the highest aim of life.
[Exit R.
CHORUS.
FIRST STROPHE.
Offspring of Zeus on high
That thunders so loud in the sky,
Glory, delight, beside,
Of the famed Cadmeian bride,
God of many a name and fair!
Thou that carest for all
Who on Bacchus in Italy call
And in Deo’s sheltered plain
Of Eleusis lord dost reign,