And learn to keep his tongue more orderly,
With better thoughts than this his present mood.1090
[Exit.
Chor. The man has gone, Ο king, predicting woe,
And well we know, since first our raven hair
Was mixed with grey, that never yet his words
Were uttered to our State and failed of truth.
Creon. I know it too, 'tis that that troubles me.
To yield is hard, but, holding out, to smite
One's soul with sorrow, this is harder still.
Chor. We need wise counsel, Ο Menœkeus' son.
Creon. What shall I do? Speak thou, and I 'll obey.
Chor. Go then, and free the maiden from her tomb,1100
And give a grave to him who lies exposed.
Creon. Is this thy counsel? Dost thou bid me yield?
Chor. Without delay, Ο king, for lo! they come,
The Gods' swift-footed ministers of ill,
And in an instant lay the self-willed low.
Creon. Ah me! 'tis hard; and yet I bend my will
To do thy bidding. With necessity
We must not fight at such o'erwhelming odds.
Chor. Go then and act! Commit it not to others.
Creon. E'en as I am I 'll go. Come, come, my men,
Present or absent, come, and in your hands
Bring axes: come to yonder eminence.1110
And I, since now my judgment leans that way,
Who myself bound her, now myself will loose,
Too much I fear lest it should wisest prove
Maintaining ancient laws to end my life. [Exit.
Stroph. I.
Chor. Ο Thou of many names,[1]
- ↑ The exulting hopes of the Chorus, rising out of Creon's repentance, seem purposely brought into contrast with the tragedy which is passing while they are in the very act of chanting their hymns.
