OEDIPUS AT COLONUS
Dear father, wrapt for aye in nether gloom,
E’en in the tomb
Never shalt thou for lack of love repine,
Her love and mine.
Chorus
His fate—
Antigone
Is even as he planned.
Chorus
How so?
Antigone
He died, so willed he, in a foreign land.
Lapped in kind earth he sleeps his long last sleep,
And o’er his grave friends weep.
How great our loss these streaming eyes can tell,
This sorrow nought can quell.
Thou hadst thy wish ’mid strangers thus to die,
But I, ah me, not by.
Ismene
Alas, my sister, what new fate
* * * * * *
* * * * * *
Befalls us orphans desolate?
Chorus
His end was blessèd; therefore, children, stay
Your sorrow. Man is born to fate a prey.
Antigone
Sister, let us back again.
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