Who dog the steps of sin are on thy trail: 
What these have suffered thou shalt suffer too. 
And now, consider whether bought by gold
I prophesy.  For, yet a little while,
And sound of lamentation shall be heard,
Of men and women through thy desolate halls;
And all thy neighbor States are leagues to avenge
Their mangled warriors who have found a grave
I’ the maw of wolf or hound, or winged bird
That flying homewards taints their city’s air. 
These are the shafts, that like a bowman I
Provoked to anger, loosen at thy breast,
Unerring, and their smart thou shalt not shun. 
Boy, lead me home, that he may vent his spleen
On younger men, and learn to curb his tongue
With gentler manners than his present mood.
[Exit TEIRESIAS]

CHORUS
My liege, that man hath gone, foretelling woe. 
And, O believe me, since these grizzled locks
Were like the raven, never have I known
The prophet’s warning to the State to fail.

CREON
I know it too, and it perplexes me. 
To yield is grievous, but the obstinate soul
That fights with Fate, is smitten grievously.

CHORUS
Son of Menoeceus, list to good advice.

CHORUS
What should I do.  Advise me.  I will heed.

CHORUS
Go, free the maiden from her rocky cell;
And for the unburied outlaw build a tomb.

CREON
Is that your counsel?  You would have me yield?

CHORUS
Yea, king, this instant.  Vengeance of the gods
Is swift to overtake the impenitent.

CREON
Ah! what a wrench it is to sacrifice
My heart’s resolve; but Fate is ill to fight.

CHORUS
Go, trust not others.  Do it quick thyself.

CREON
I go hot-foot.  Bestir ye one and all,
My henchmen!  Get ye axes!  Speed away
To yonder eminence!  I too will go,
For all my resolution this way sways. 
’Twas I that bound, I too will set her free. 
Almost I am persuaded it is best
To keep through life the law ordained of old.
[Exit CREON]

CHORUS
(Str. 1)
Thou by many names adored,
          Child of Zeus the God of thunder,
          Of a Theban bride the wonder,
Fair Italia’s guardian lord;

In the deep-embosomed glades
          Of the Eleusinian Queen
Haunt of revelers, men and maids,
          Dionysus, thou art seen.

Where Ismenus rolls his waters,
          Where the Dragon’s teeth were sown,
Where the Bacchanals thy daughters
          Round thee roam,
          There thy home;
Thebes, O Bacchus, is thine own.

(Ant. 1)
Thee on the two-crested rock
          Lurid-flaming torches see;
Where Corisian maidens flock,
          Thee the springs of Castaly.

By Nysa’s bastion ivy-clad,
By shores with clustered vineyards glad,
There to thee the hymn rings out,
And through our streets we Thebans shout,
          All hall to thee
          Evoe, Evoe!