And we are mortals, born of mortal seed.
*And lo! for one who liveth but to die,
*To gain like doom with those of heavenly race,
Is great and strange to hear.
Antig. Ye mock me then. Alas! Why wait ye not,
By all our fathers' Gods, I ask of you,
Till I have passed away,840
But flout me while I live?
Ο city that I love,
Ο men that claim as yours
That city stored with wealth,
Ο Dirkè, fairest fount,
Ο grove of Thebes, that boasts her chariot host,
I bid you witness all,
How, with no friends to weep,
By what stern laws condemned,
I go to that strong dungeon of the tomb,
For burial strange, ah me!850
Nor dwelling with the living, nor the dead.
Chor. Forward and forward still to farthest verge
Of daring hast thou gone,
And now, Ο child, thou hast rushed violently
Where Right erects her throne;
Surely thou payest to the uttermost
Thy father's debt of guilt.
Antig. Ah! thou hast touched the quick of all my grief,
The thrice-told tale of all my father's woe,860
The fate which dogs us all,
The old Labdakid race of ancient fame.
Woe for the curses dire
Of that defilèd bed,
With foulest incest stained,
My mother's with my sire,
Whence I myself have sprung, most miserable.
