Creon: Ah me! what shall I do? Am I to mourn with bitter tears myself
or my city, round which is settling a swarm thick enough to send us
to Acheron? My own son hath died for his country, bringing glory to
his name but grievous woe to me. His body I rescued but now from the
dragon's rocky lair and sadly carried the self-slain victim hither
in my arms; and my house is fallen with weeping: but now I come to
fetch my sister Jocasta, the living must reverence the nether god
by paying honour to the dead.
Leader of the Chorus: Thy sister, Creon, hath gone forth and her daughter
Antigone went with her.
Creon: Whither went she? and wherefore? tell me.
Leader: She heard that her sons were about to engage in single combat
for the royal house.
Creon: What is this? I was paying the last honours to my dead son,
and so am late in learning this fresh sorrow.
Leader: 'Tis some time, Creon, since thy sister's departure, and I
expect the struggle for life and death is already decided by the sons
of Oedipus.
Studies
