indeed than that sorrow born of sorrows surround this house’s
hearth?
[854] But sail upon
the wind of lamentation, my friends, and about your head row with your hands’
rapid stroke in conveyance of the dead, that stroke which always causes the
sacred slack-sailed, black-clothed ship to pass over Acheron to the unseen land
where Apollo does not walk, the sunless land that receives all men.
[861] But here come
Antigone and Ismene to do their bitter duty, the dirge over their brothers
both. With all sincerity, I think, will they pour forth their fitting grief
from their lovely, deep-bosomed breasts. But it is right for us, before their
singing, to cry out the awful hymn of the Erinys and thereafter sing the hated
victory song of Hades.
[871] Ah, sisters most
unfortunate in your kin of all women who clasp their girdle about their robes,
I weep, I groan, and there is no feigning in the shrill cries that come
straight from my heart.
[875] Ah, pity
you senseless men, whom friends could not persuade and evils could not wear
down! To your misery you have captured your father’s house with the spear.
[879] To their misery,
indeed, they found a miserable death in the outrage done their house.
[881] Ah, you brothers
who were poised to cast over the walls of your home and looked — to your sorrow
— for sole rule, now you have been reconciled by the iron sword.
[886] The great Erinys
of your father Oedipus has fulfilled it all truly. Pierced through your left
sides, pierced indeed — through those sides that were born from one womb!
[888] Ah, strange
ones! Ah, the curses that demand death for death! Right through, as you say,
were they struck, with blows to house and body by an unspeakable wrath and by
the doom, called down by their father’s curse, which they shared without
discord.
[900] Groaning
spreads throughout the city, too: the walls groan; the land that loves its sons
groans. But for those who come after them there remains their property, on
which account the strife of those terrible-fated men came to fulfillment in
death. In their haste to anger they apportioned their property so that each has
an equal share. To those who loved them their reconciler is not blameless, nor
is Ares agreeable. Under strokes of iron they are come to this, and under
strokes of iron there await them — what, one might perhaps ask — shares in
their father’s tomb.
[915] Our shrill,
heart-rending wail goes with them — product of lamentation and pain felt of its
own accord — a wail from a distressed mind, joyless, pouring forth tears from a
heart that wastes away as I weep for these two princes.
[922] Over these poor
men it can be said that they did much to harm our citizens and also the ranks
of all the foreigners who died in abundance in the fighting.
[926] Ill-fated beyond
all women who are called by the name of mother is she who bore them. After she
made her own child her own husband, she gave birth to these sons, who have thus
ended their lives with kindred hands giving death for death.
[933] Of the same
seed, in truth, they were utterly destroyed in unloving divisions, in maddened
discord, in the ending of their strife.
[937] Their hatred has
ceased. Their life has been mingled in the blood-soaked earth. Now truly their
blood is one. Ruthless is that which resolved their strife, the stranger from
across the sea, sharpened iron rushed from the fire.
[945] Ruthless, too,
was Ares, the cruel divider of their property, who made their father’s curses
come true. They hold in misery their allotted portion of god-given sorrows.
Beneath their corpses there will be boundless wealth of earth.
[949] Ah, you have
wreathed your race with many troubles! In the final outcome the Curses have
raised their piercing cry, now that the family is turned to flight in all
directions. A trophy to Ruin now stands at the gate where they struck each
other and where, having conquered them both, the divine power stayed its hand.
[ The
hearth?
[854] But sail upon
the wind of lamentation, my friends, and about your head row with your hands’
rapid stroke in conveyance of the dead, that stroke which always causes the
sacred slack-sailed, black-clothed ship to pass over Acheron to the unseen land
where Apollo does not walk, the sunless land that receives all men.
[861] But here come
Antigone and Ismene to do their bitter duty, the dirge over their brothers
both. With all sincerity, I think, will they pour forth their fitting grief
from their lovely, deep-bosomed breasts. But it is right for us, before their
singing, to cry out the awful hymn of the Erinys and thereafter sing the hated
victory song of Hades.
[871] Ah, sisters most
unfortunate in your kin of all women who clasp their girdle about their robes,
I weep, I groan, and there is no feigning in the shrill cries that come
straight from my heart.
[875] Ah, pity
you senseless men, whom friends could not persuade and evils could not wear
down! To your misery you have captured your father’s house with the spear.
[879] To their misery,
indeed, they found a miserable death in the outrage done their house.
[881] Ah, you brothers
who were poised to cast over the walls of your home and looked — to your sorrow
— for sole rule, now you have been reconciled by the iron sword.
[886] The great Erinys
of your father Oedipus has fulfilled it all truly. Pierced through your left
sides, pierced indeed — through those sides that were born from one womb!
[888] Ah, strange
ones! Ah, the curses that demand death for death! Right through, as you say,
were they struck, with blows to house and body by an unspeakable wrath and by
the doom, called down by their father’s curse, which they shared without
discord.
[900] Groaning
spreads throughout the city, too: the walls groan; the land that loves its sons
groans. But for those who come after them there remains their property, on
which account the strife of those terrible-fated men came to fulfillment in
death. In their haste to anger they apportioned their property so that each has
an equal share. To those who loved them their reconciler is not blameless, nor
is Ares agreeable. Under strokes of iron they are come to this, and under
strokes of iron there await them — what, one might perhaps ask — shares in
their father’s tomb.
[915] Our shrill,
heart-rending wail goes with them — product of lamentation and pain felt of its
own accord — a wail from a distressed mind, joyless, pouring forth tears from a
heart that wastes away as I weep for these two princes.
[922] Over these poor
men it can be said that they did much to harm our citizens and also the ranks
of all the foreigners who died in abundance in the fighting.
[926] Ill-fated beyond
all women who are called by the name of mother is she who bore them. After she
made her own child her own husband, she gave birth to these sons, who have thus
ended their lives with kindred hands giving death for death.
[933] Of the same
seed, in truth, they were utterly destroyed in unloving divisions, in maddened
discord, in the ending of their strife.
[937] Their hatred has
ceased. Their life has been mingled in the blood-soaked earth. Now truly their
blood is one. Ruthless is that which resolved their strife, the stranger from
across the sea, sharpened iron rushed from the fire.
[945] Ruthless, too,
was Ares, the cruel divider of their property, who made their father’s curses
come true. They hold in misery their allotted portion of god-given sorrows.
Beneath their corpses there will be boundless wealth of earth.
[949] Ah, you have
wreathed your race with many troubles! In the final outcome the Curses have
raised their piercing cry, now that the family is turned to flight in all
directions. A trophy to Ruin now stands at the gate where they struck each
other and where, having conquered them both, the divine power stayed its hand.
[ The