Thou Sun, whose orient ray
100
On rampired Thebes ne'er rose so bright,
100
At length hast thou display'd thy light,
Eye of the golden day,
Hasting o'er Dirce's sacred streams
To roll sublime thy glorious beams!
105
The Argive first, who dared to wield
With hostile rage his silver shield,
(His thick-embattled martial train
Antigone. Sophocles. Robert Potter (Translator). London. 1820.