ANTIGONE.
100–161.
Stroph. I.
Ray of the golden sun,
Fairest of all
That e'er in Thebes have lit
Her seven gates tall,
Then did'st thou shine on us,
In golden gleams;
As day's bright eye did'st come,
O'er Dirkè's streams,
Driving the warrior strong,
With snow-white shield
Who had from Argos come,
Armed for the field:
Him Thou did'st put to flight,
With headlong speed,
Yea, hurl in shameful rout,
Spurring his steed.
Him Polyneikes, urged by quarrel dread,
Brought to our land a foe;
He with shrill scream, as eagle over-head,
Hovered with wing of snow,
With many armed warriors, shield on breast,
And helmet's waving crest.
