View:
By Card
Attendant
1183cont2
where exposed and torn by dogs
The wretched corse of Polynices lay:
Him (our vows first to Proserpine addressid
And Pluto, that propitious now their wrath
1195
They would avert) in hallow'd lavers cleansed
On a green pyre of new-pluck'd boughs we laid,
And burn'd the mangled relics; then raised high
The earth contiguous, a sepulchral mound.
Thence to the virgin's cavern'd rock we go,
1200
The nuptial couch of Death; when of our train
One heard the distant sounds of loud laments, .....,
Which echoed round that bridal bed of Death ill
With obséquies unhonour'd: to his dord
He bears the tidings. As the king approach'd
1205
The hollow murmurs of al voice resound; n la Al
Deeply he sigh'd, and spoke these mournful words,
"Are then my fears prophetic? Do I tread,t/
"Unhappy me, a path that leads to woe
"The most afflicting? Moaning to my ear
1210
"Comes my son's voice. You, that attend me, go,
"Haste to the cavern, from its mouth remove...
"The rock's obstructing mass; stand near, observe
« If Hamon’s voice I hear, or by the gods
" I am deceived." Obeying these commands,
1215
Utter'd in deep despair, we went, we look'd,
And in the cave's extreme recess beheld
The virgin strangled; round her neck the zone,
1219cont2
Which bound her flowing robes, her hands had twined.
She lay, and near her lay the youth, his armsi:
1220
Clasp'd round her, mourning the unhappy fate
Of his lost bride, his father's ruthless deeds, l
And all his nuptial joys thus sunk in woe.
When Creon saw him, with a mournful groan
He enter’d, and lamenting thus exclaim/’d,
1225
"O my unhappy son, what dost thou here?ie
"What is thy purpose? What calamity"
"Hath sunk thee thus? Come from this cave, my son,
" Suppliant thy father begs thee." His wild eyes
The youth roll'd fiercely round, and gave strong proof
1230
Of stern disdain and hate; nor made reply,
But drew his pointed sword: his father's flight
The stroke prevented; then th' unhappy youth A
Turning his rage against himself, while yet-1
His arm was raised, in his own side plunged deep
1235
The furious weapon, and, retaining yet, T
His sense, around the virgin threw his arms..
Yet warm, and there expired, with his last breath
Distaining her pale cheeks with drops of blood.
Dead with the dead he lies, and in the house
1240
Of Pluto celebrates his nuptial rites;
A melancholy proof that rash designs
Bring the severest miseries on man.
where exposed and torn by dogs
The wretched corse of Polynices lay:
Him (our vows first to Proserpine addressid
And Pluto, that propitious now their wrath
1195
They would avert) in hallow'd lavers cleansed
On a green pyre of new-pluck'd boughs we laid,
And burn'd the mangled relics; then raised high
The earth contiguous, a sepulchral mound.
Thence to the virgin's cavern'd rock we go,
1200
The nuptial couch of Death; when of our train
One heard the distant sounds of loud laments, .....,
Which echoed round that bridal bed of Death ill
With obséquies unhonour'd: to his dord
He bears the tidings. As the king approach'd
1205
The hollow murmurs of al voice resound; n la Al
Deeply he sigh'd, and spoke these mournful words,
"Are then my fears prophetic? Do I tread,t/
"Unhappy me, a path that leads to woe
"The most afflicting? Moaning to my ear
1210
"Comes my son's voice. You, that attend me, go,
"Haste to the cavern, from its mouth remove...
"The rock's obstructing mass; stand near, observe
« If Hamon’s voice I hear, or by the gods
" I am deceived." Obeying these commands,
1215
Utter'd in deep despair, we went, we look'd,
And in the cave's extreme recess beheld
The virgin strangled; round her neck the zone,
Which bound her flowing robes, her hands had twined.
She lay, and near her lay the youth, his armsi:
1220
Clasp'd round her, mourning the unhappy fate
Of his lost bride, his father's ruthless deeds, l
And all his nuptial joys thus sunk in woe.
When Creon saw him, with a mournful groan
He enter’d, and lamenting thus exclaim/’d,
1225
"O my unhappy son, what dost thou here?ie
"What is thy purpose? What calamity"
"Hath sunk thee thus? Come from this cave, my son,
" Suppliant thy father begs thee." His wild eyes
The youth roll'd fiercely round, and gave strong proof
1230
Of stern disdain and hate; nor made reply,
But drew his pointed sword: his father's flight
The stroke prevented; then th' unhappy youth A
Turning his rage against himself, while yet-1
His arm was raised, in his own side plunged deep
1235
The furious weapon, and, retaining yet, T
His sense, around the virgin threw his arms..
Yet warm, and there expired, with his last breath
Distaining her pale cheeks with drops of blood.
Dead with the dead he lies, and in the house
1240
Of Pluto celebrates his nuptial rites;
A melancholy proof that rash designs
Bring the severest miseries on man.
Antigone. Sophocles. Robert Potter (Translator). London. 1820.