Old Servant.
See'st thou not him who crosseth Dirkê's flood?
Antigone.
Of other, of stranger fashion his armour shows!
Who is he?
Old Servant.
Tydeus he, of Oineus' blood.
Aetolia's battle-fire in the breast of him glows.
Antigone.
Is this he, ancient, by spousal-ties
Unto mine own Polyneikes allied,
Whose wife's fair sister he won for his bride?
How half-barbaric his harness, of no Greek guise!
Old Servant.
Nay, child, shield-bearers all Aetolians are,
And most unerring hurlers of the lance.140
Antigone.
And thou, how know'st thou, ancient, all so well?
Old Servant.
Even then I noted their shield-blazonry,
When to thy brother with truce-pact I fared:
I marked them, and I know their bearers now.
Antigone.
Who is this by Zethus' sepulchre going,
With the keen, stern eyes and the curls long-flowing?
A warrior young,
Yet a chief—for in armour brazen-glowing
See his followers throng!
