Creon
Therefore no more delay. Go, take them hence ;
Confine them both. Henceforth they shall not stir ;
When death is near at hand the bravest fly.
Thrice bappy they, whose days in pleasure flow,
Wlio never taste the bitter cup of woe ;
For when the wrath of heaven descends
On some devoted house, there foul disgrace,
With grief and all her train attends,
And shame and sorrow o'erwhelm the wretched race.
E'en as the Thracian sea, when vexed with storms.
Whilst darkness hangs incumbent o'er the deep.
When the black north the troubled scene deforms,
And the black sands in rapid whirlwinds sweep.
The groaning waves beat on the trembling shore,
And echoing hills rebellow to the roar.
O Labdacus ! thy house must perish all —
E'en now I see the stately ruin fall ;
Shame heaped on shame, and ill on ill,
Disgrace and never-ending woes ;
Some angry god pursues thee still.
Nor grants or safety or repose.
One fair and lovely branch unwithered stood
And braved th' inclement skies ;
But Pluto comes, inexorable god —
She sinks, she raves, she dies.
Shall man below control the gods above,
Whose eyes by all- subduing sleep
Are never closed as feeble mortals' are,
But still their watchful vigils keep
Through the large circle of th' eternal year !
Great lord of all, whom neither time nor age
With envious stroke can weaken or decay ;
He who alone the future can presage.
Who knows alike to-morrow as to-day ;
Whilst wretched man is doomed, by Heaven's decree.
To toil and pain, to sin and misery.
Of times the flatterer Hope, that joy inspires,
Fills the proud heart of man with fond desires ;
He, careless traveller, wanders still
Through life, unmindful of deceit,
Nor dreads the danger, till he feel
The burning sands beneath his feet.
When heaven impels to guilt the maddening mind.
Then good like ill appears.
And vice, for universal hate designed,
The face of virtue wears. [Exeunt.
