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This vain surmise. What, think'st thou that the gods
280
O'er such a wretch their guardian care extend,
And grace his body with a tomb, as one
That well deserved, who came to set on fire
Their pillar'd temples, and rich-gifted shrines,
To waste their favour'd land, and crush its laws?
285
Seest thou the gods grant honours to the vile ?
It is not so. There are among us some
Who brook this ill, and murmuring shake their heads,
With due allegiance to my just command
290
Disdaining to submit their crested pride :
By these corrupted, and for base rewards,
Some hirelings, well I know, have done this deed.
For never sprung device that teem'd, like gold,
With ills to mortals; cities it lays waste;
295
Impels men from their country far to roam,
Corrupts the honest mind, its virtuous thought
Changing to deeds of baseness; the ill arts
Of treacherous falshood it has taught, and train'd
300
To the dark science of all impious works.
But they, who for reward perform'd these things,
Have earn'd in time just vengeance for their meed.
For, as I reverence heav'n's almighty king,
Be thou assured (I speak it with an oath)
Find you the man whose hand prepared this tomb,
Bring him before me, or not death alone
Shall for your fault suffice, but you shall hang
Alive, this heinous act till you disclose;
310
That, knowing whence your booty may be borne,
You may hereafter plunder; and be taught
That not from all things gain may be derived.
This vain surmise. What, think'st thou that the gods
280
O'er such a wretch their guardian care extend,
And grace his body with a tomb, as one
That well deserved, who came to set on fire
Their pillar'd temples, and rich-gifted shrines,
To waste their favour'd land, and crush its laws?
285
Seest thou the gods grant honours to the vile ?
It is not so. There are among us some
Who brook this ill, and murmuring shake their heads,
With due allegiance to my just command
290
Disdaining to submit their crested pride :
By these corrupted, and for base rewards,
Some hirelings, well I know, have done this deed.
For never sprung device that teem'd, like gold,
With ills to mortals; cities it lays waste;
295
Impels men from their country far to roam,
Corrupts the honest mind, its virtuous thought
Changing to deeds of baseness; the ill arts
Of treacherous falshood it has taught, and train'd
300
To the dark science of all impious works.
But they, who for reward perform'd these things,
Have earn'd in time just vengeance for their meed.
For, as I reverence heav'n's almighty king,
Be thou assured (I speak it with an oath)
Find you the man whose hand prepared this tomb,
Bring him before me, or not death alone
Shall for your fault suffice, but you shall hang
Alive, this heinous act till you disclose;
310
That, knowing whence your booty may be borne,
You may hereafter plunder; and be taught
That not from all things gain may be derived.
Antigone. Sophocles. Robert Potter (Translator). London. 1820.