On thee attends thy raptur'd train,
Raises the high immortal strain,
And hails thee guardian of the Theban tow'rs.
The Theban tow'rs their rampires rear,
Thy guardian care their boast, their pride;
1140
They to thy mother too were dear,
1140
Who in the flaming thunder died.
Now, while her banners Discord waves,
While through our streets Confusion raves,
Prompt to avert our threaten'd woe
Haste from the steep Parnassian brow,
1145
Or from Euboea's groaning shore,
1145
Antigone. Sophocles. Robert Potter (Translator). London. 1820.