Last, let me name yon seventh antagonist, Thy brother's self, at the seventh portal set-Hear with what wrath he imprecates our doom, Vowing to mount the wall, though banished hence, And peal aloud the wild exulting cry-The town is ta'en-then clash his sword with thine, Giving and taking death in close embrace, Or, if thou 'scapest, flinging upon thee, As robber of his honour and his home, The doom of exile such as he has borne.
So clamours he and so invokes the gods Who guard his race and home, to hear and heed The curse that sounds in Polyneices' name!
He bears a round shield, fresh from forge and fire, And wrought upon it is a twofold sign-For lo, a woman leads decorously The figure of a warrior wrought in gold;And thus the legend runs-I Justice am, And I will bring the hero home again, To hold once more his place within this town, Once more to pace his sire's ancestral hall.
Such are the symbols, by our foemen shown-Now make thine own decision, whom to send Against this last opponent! I have said-Nor canst thou in my tidings find a flaw-Thine is it, now, to steer the course aright.
ETEOCLES
Ah me, the madman, and the curse of Heaven And woe for us, the lamentable line Of Oedipus, and woe that in this house Our father's curse must find accomplishment!
But now, a truce to tears and loud lament, Lest they should breed a still more rueful wail!
As for this Polyneices, named too well, Soon shall we know how this device shall end-Whether the gold-wrought symbols on his shield, In their mad vaunting and bewildered pride, Shall guide him as a victor to his home!
For had but justice, maiden-child of Zeus, Stood by his act and thought, it might have been!
Yet never, from the day he reached the light Out of the darkness of his mother's womb, Never in childhood, nor in youthful prime, Nor when his chin was gathering its beard, Hath justice hailed or claimed him as her own.
Therefore I deem not that she standeth now To aid him in this outrage on his home!
Misnamed, in truth, were justice, utterly, If to impiety she lent her hand.
Sure in this faith, I will myself go forth And match me with him; who hath fairer claim?
Ruler, against one fain to snatch the rule, Brother with brother matched, and foe with foe, Will I confront the issue.To the wall!
LEADER OF THE CHORUS
O thou true heart, O child of Oedipus, Be not, in wrath, too like the man whose name Murmurs an evil omen! 'Tis enough That Cadmus' clan should strive with Arges' host, For blood there is that can atone that stain!
But-brother upon brother dealing death-
Not time itself can expiate the sin!
ETEOCLES
If man find hurt, yet clasp his honour still, 'Tis well; the dead have honour, nought beside.
Hurt, with dishonour, wins no word of praise!
CHORUS (chanting)
Ah, what is thy desire?
Let not the lust and ravin of the sword Bear thee adown the tide accursed, abhorred!
Fling off thy passion's rage, thy spirit's prompting dire!
ETEOCLES
Nay-since the god is urgent for our doom, Let Laius' house, by Phoebus loathed and scorned, Follow the gale of destiny, and win Its great inheritance, the gulf of hell!
CHORUS (chanting)
Ruthless thy craving is-
Craving for kindred and forbidden blood To be outpoured-a sacrifice imbrued With sin, a bitter fruit of murderous enmities!
ETEOCLES
Yea, my own father's fateful Curse proclaims-A ghastly presence, and her eyes are dry-Strike! honour is the prize, not life prolonged!
CHORUS (chanting)
Ah, be not urged of her! for none shall dare To call thee coward, in thy throned estate!
Will not the Fury in her sable pal Pass outward from these halls, what time the gods Welcome a votive offering from our hands?
ETEOCLES
The gods! long since they hold us in contempt, Scornful of gifts thus offered by the lost!
Why should we fawn and flinch away from doom?
CHORUS (chanting)
Now, when it stands beside thee! for its power May, with a changing gust of milder mood, Temper the blast that bloweth wild and rude And frenzied, in this hour!
ETEOCLES
Ay, kindled by the curse of Oedipus-
All too prophetic, out of dreamland came The vision, meting out our sire's estate!
LEADER OF THE CHORUS
Heed women's voices, though thou love them not!
ETEOCLES
Say aught that may avail, but stint thy words.
LEADER
Go not thou forth to guard the seventh gate!
ETEOCLES
Words shall not blunt the edge of my resolve.
LEADER
Yet the god loves to let the weak prevail.
ETEOCLES
That to a swordsman, is no welcome word!
LEADER
Shall thine own brother's blood be victory's palm?
ETEOCLES
Ill which the gods have sent thou canst no-shun!
(ETEOCLES goes out.)
CHORUS (singing)
strophe 1
I shudder in dread of the power, abhorred by the gods of high heaven, The ruinous curse of the home till roof-tree and rafter be riven!
Too true are the visions of ill, too true the fulfilment they bring To the curse that was spoken of old by the frenzy and wrath of the king!
Her will is the doom of the children, and Discord is kindled amain, antistrophe 1And strange is the Lord of Division, who cleaveth the birthright in twain,-The edged thing, born of the north, the steel that is ruthless and keen, Dividing in bitter division the lot of the children of teen!
Not the wide lowland around, the realm of their sire, shall they have, Yet enough for the dead to inherit, the pitiful space of a grave!
strophe 2
Ah, but when kin meets kin, when sire and child, Unknowing, are defiled By shedding common blood, and when the pit Of death devoureth it, Drinking the clotted stain, the gory dye-Who, who can purify?
Who cleanse pollution, where the ancient bane Rises and reeks again?
antistrophe 2
Whilome in olden days the sin was wrought, And swift requital brought-Yea on the children of the child came still New heritage of ill!
For thrice Apollo spoke this word divine, From Delphi's central shrine, To Laius-Die thou childless! thus alone Can the land's weal be won!
strophe 3
But vainly with his wife's desire he strove, And gave himself to love, Begetting Oedipus, by whom he died, The fateful parricide!
