O thou of many names, glory of the Cadmeian bride, offspring of loud-thundering
Zeus! thou who watchest over famed Italia, and reignest, where all guests
are welcomed, in the sheltered plain of Eleusinian Deo! O Bacchus, dweller
in Thebe, mother-city of Bacchants, by the softly-gliding stream of Ismenus,
on the soil where the fierce dragon’s teeth were sown!
Thou hast been seen where torch-flames glare through smoke, above the crests
of the twin peaks, where move the Corycian nymphs, thy votaries, hard by
Castalia’s stream.
Thou comest from the ivy-mantled slopes of Nysa’s hills, and from
the shore green with many-clustered vines, while thy name is lifted up
on strains of more than mortal power, as thou visitest the ways of Thebe:
strophe 2
Thebe, of all cities, thou holdest first in honour, thou and thy mother
whom the lightning smote; and now, when all our people is captive to a
violent plague, come thou with healing feet over the Parnassian height,
or over the moaning strait!
antistrophe 2
O thou with whom the stars rejoice as they move, the stars whose breath
is fire; O master of the voices of the night; son begotten of Zeus; appear,
O king, with thine attendant Thyiads, who in night-long frenzy dance before
thee, the giver of good gifts, Iacchus!
Dwellers by the house of Cadmus and of Amphion, there is no
estate of mortal life that I would ever praise or blame as settled. Fortune
raises and Fortune humbles the lucky or unlucky from day to day, and no
one can prophesy to men concerning those things which are established.
For
CREON was blest once, as I count bliss; he had saved this land
of Cadmus from its foes; he was clothed with sole dominion in the land;
he reigned, the glorious sire of princely children. And now all hath been
lost. For when a man hath forfeited his pleasures, I count him not as living,-I
hold him but a breathing corpse. Heap up riches in thy house, if thou wilt;
live in kingly state; yet, if there be no gladness therewith, I would not
give the shadow of a vapour for all the rest, compared with joy.
Dear lady, I will witness of what I saw, and will leave no
word of the truth untold. Why, indeed, should I soothe thee with words
in which must presently be found false? Truth is ever best.-I attended
thy lord as his guide to the furthest part of the plain, where the body
of Polyneices, torn by dogs, still lay unpitied. We prayed the goddess
of the roads, and Pluto, in mercy to restrain their wrath; we washed the
dead with holy washing; and with freshly-plucked boughs we solemnly burned
such relics as there were. We raised a high mound of his native earth;
and then we turned away to enter the maiden’s nuptial chamber with rocky
couch, the caverned mansion of the bride of Death. And, from afar off,
one of us heard a voice of loud wailing at that bride’s unhallowed bower;
and came to tell our master Creon.
And as the king drew nearer, doubtful sounds of a bitter cry floated
around him; he groaned, and said in accents of anguish, ‘Wretched that
I am, can my foreboding be true? Am I going on the wofullest way that ever
I went? My son’s voice greets me.-Go, my servants,-haste ye nearer, and
when ye have reached the tomb, pass through the gap, where the stones have
been wrenched away, to the cell’s very mouth,-and look. and see if ’tis
Haemon’s voice that I know, or if mine ear is cheated by the
gods.’
This search, at our despairing master’s word, we went to make;
and in the furthest part of the tomb we descried her hanging by the neck,
slung by a thread-wrought halter of fine linen: while he was embracing
her with arms thrown around her waist, bewailing the loss of his bride
who is with the dead, and his father’s deeds, and his own ill-starred
love.
But his father, when he saw him, cried aloud with a dread cry and
went in, and called to him with a voice of wailing:-‘Unhappy, what deed
hast thou done! What thought hath come to thee? What manner of mischance
hath marred thy reason? Come forth, my child! I pray thee-I implore!’ But
the boy glared at him with fierce eyes, spat in his face, and, without
a word of answer, drew his cross-hilted sword:-as his father rushed forth
in flight, he missed his aim;-then, hapless one, wroth with himself, he
straightway leaned with all his weight against his sword, and drove it,
half its length, into his side; and, while sense lingered, he clasped the
maiden to his faint embrace, and, as he gasped, sent forth on her pale
cheek the swift stream of the oozing blood.
Corpse enfolding corpse he lies; he hath won his nuptial rites,
poor youth, not here, yet in the halls of Death; and he hath witnessed
to mankind that, of all curses which cleave to man, ill counsel is the
sovereign curse.