Lightly thou draw’st awry 2
Righteous minds into wrong to their ruin
Thou this unkindly quarrel hast inflamed
’Tween kindred men—­Triumphantly prevails
The heart-compelling eye of winsome bride,
Compeer of mighty Law
Throned, commanding. 
Madly thou mockest men, dread Aphrodite.

LEADER OF CHORUS. 
Ah! now myself am carried past the bound
Of law, nor can I check the rising tear,
When I behold Antigone even here
Touching the quiet bourne where all must rest.

Enter ANTIGONE guarded.

ANT.  Ye see me on my way, I 1
O burghers of my father’s land! 
With one last look on Helios’ ray,
Led my last path toward the silent strand. 
Alive to the wide house of rest I go;
      No dawn for me may shine,
No marriage-blessing e’er be mine,
No hymeneal with my praises flow! 
The Lord of Acheron’s unlovely shore
Shall be mine only husband evermore.

CH.  Yea, but with glory and fame,—­
    Not by award of the sword,
    Not with blighting disease,
    But by a law of thine own,—­
    Thou, of mortals alone,
    Goest alive to the deep
    Tranquil home of the dead.

ANT.  Erewhile I heard men say, I 2
How, in far Phrygia, Thebe’s friend,
Tantalus’ child, had dreariest end
On heights of Sipylus consumed away: 
O’er whom the rock like clinging ivy grows,
      And while with moistening dew
Her cheek runs down, the eternal snows
Weigh o’er her, and the tearful stream renew
That from sad brows her stone-cold breast doth steep. 
Like unto her the God lulls me to sleep.

CH.  But she was a goddess born,
    We but of mortal line;
    And sure to rival the fate
    Of a daughter of sires Divine
    Were no light glory in death.

ANT.  O mockery of my woe!  II 1
I pray you by our fathers’ holy Fear,
    Why must I hear
Your insults, while in life on earth I stand,
    O ye that flow
In wealth, rich burghers of my bounteous land? 
O fount of Dirce, and thou spacious grove,
Where Thebe’s chariots move! 
Ye are my witness, though none else be nigh,
By what enormity of lawless doom,
    Without one friendly sigh,
I go to the strong mound of yon strange tomb,—­
All hapless, having neither part nor room
With those who live or those who die!

CH.  Thy boldness mounted high,
And thou, my child, ’gainst the great pedestal
Of Justice with unmeasured force didst fall. 
Thy father’s lot still presseth hard on thee.