me; for never had I been snatched from death, but in reserve for some strange doom.
Nay, let my fate go whither it will: but as touching my children,—I pray thee, Creon, take no care on thee for my sons;1460 they are men, so that, be they where they may, they can never lack the means to live. But my two girls, poor hapless ones,—who never knew my table spread apart, or lacked their father's presence, but ever in all things shared my daily bread,—I pray thee, care for them; and—if thou canst—suffer me to touch them with my hands, and to indulge my grief. Grant it, prince, grant it, thou noble heart! Ah, could I but once touch them with my hands, I should think that they were with me, even as when I had sight…1470
Antigone and Ismene.
Ha? O ye gods, can it be my loved ones that I hear sobbing,—can Creon have taken pity on me and sent me my children—my darlings? Am I right?
Cr. Yea: 'tis of my contriving, for I knew thy joy in them of old,—the joy that now is thine.
Oe. Then blessed be thou, and, for guerdon of this errand, may heaven prove to thee a kinder guardian than it hath to me!1480 My children, where are ye? Come hither,—hither to the hands of him whose mother was your own, the hands whose offices have wrought that your sire's once bright eyes should be such orbs as these,—his, who seeing nought, knowing nought, became your father by her from whom he sprang! For you also do I weep—behold you I cannot—when I think of the bitter life in days to come which men will make