And in the stilly night we heard
The baying of Amphion's hounds.
Oh, cruel, strange new form of death, 180
And worse than death! The sluggish limbs
Are with a weary languor seized;
The sickly cheek with fever burns,
And all the head with loathsome sores
Is blotched. Now heated vapors rise
And scorch with fever's flames the brain
Within the body's citadel,
And the throbbing temples swell with blood. 185
The eyeballs start; the accursed fire
Devours the limbs; the cars resound,
And from the nostrils dark blood drips
And strains apart the swelling veins. 190
Now quick convulsions rend and tear
The inmost vitals.
Now to their burning hearts they strain
Cold stones to soothe their agony;
And they, whom laxer care permits,
Since they who should control are dead,
The fountains seek, and feed their thirst 195
With copious draughts. The smitten throng
All prostrate at the altars lie
And pray for death; and this alone
The gods, compliant, grant to them.
Men seek the sacred fanes, and pray,
Not that the gods may be appeased,
But glutted with their feast of death. 200
[Creon is seen approaching.]
But who with hasty step the palace seeks?
Is this our Creon, high in birth and deed,
Or does my sickened soul see false for true?
'Tis Creon 's self, in answer to our prayer. 205
ACT II
[Enter Creon.]
Oedipus: I quake with horror, and I fear to know
The tendency of fate. My trembling soul
Strives 'neath a double load; for joy and grief
