And prophet of men's future there is none.1160
For Creon, so I deemed, deserved to be
At once admired and envied, having saved
This land of Cadmos from the hands of foes;
And, having ruled with fullest sovereignty,
He lived and prospered, joyous in a race
Of goodly offspring. Now, all this is gone;
For when men lose the joys that sweeten life,
I cannot deem they live, but rather count
As if a breathing corpse. His heaped-up stores
Of wealth are large, so be it, and he lives
With all a sovereign's state; and yet, if joy
Be absent, all the rest I count as nought,
And would not weigh them against pleasure's charm,1170
More than a vapour's shadow.
Chor. What is this?
What new disaster tell'st thou of our chiefs?
Mess. Dead are they, and the living cause their death.
Chor. Who slays, and who is slaughtered? Tell thy tale.
Mess. Hæmon is dead, slain, weltering in his blood.
Chor. By his own act, or by his father's hand?
Mess. His own, in wrath against his father's crime.
Chor. Ο prophet! true, most true, those words of thine.
Mess. Since things stand thus, we well may counsel take.
Chor. Lo! Creon's wife comes, sad Eurydike.1180
She from the house approaches, hearing speech
About her son, or else by accident.
Enter Eurydike.
Euryd. I on my way, my friends, as suppliant bound,
To pay my vows at Pallas' shrine, have heard
