Antigone: I see him, yes! but not distinctly; 'tis but the outline
of his form the semblance of his stalwart limbs I see. Would I could
speed through the sky, swift as a cloud before the wind, towards my
own dear brother, and throw my arms about my darling's neck, so long,
poor boy! an exile. How bright his golden weapons flash like the sun-god's
morning rays!
Old Servant: He will soon be here, to fill thy heart with joy, according
to the truce.
Antigone: Who is that, old man, on yonder car driving snow-white steeds?
Old Servant: That, lady, is the prophet Amphiaraus; with him are the
victims, whose streaming blood the thirsty earth will drink.
Antigone: Daughter of Latona with the dazzling zone, O moon, thou
orb of golden light! how quietly, with what restraint he drives, goading
first one horse, then the other! But where is Capaneus who utters
those dreadful threats against this city?
Old Servant: Yonder he is, calculating how he may scale the towers,
taking the measure of our walls from base to summit.
Studies
