He will come to this house, under truce, to fill your heart with joy. Antigone Who is that, old man, on his chariot, driving white horses? Old servant That, lady, is the prophet Amphiaraus; with him are the victims, earth’s bloodthirsty streams. Antigone Daughter of the sun with dazzling zone, O moon, you circle of golden light, how quietly, with what restraint he drives, goading first one horse, then the other! But where is the one who utters those dreadful insults against this city? Old servant Capaneus? There he is, calculating how he may scale the towers, taking the measure of our walls up and down. Antigone O Nemesis, and roaring thunder-peals of Zeus and blazing lightning-bolts, oh! put to sleep his presumptuous boasting! This is the man who says he will give the Theban girls as captives of his spear to the women of Mycenae , to Lerna ’s trident, and the waters of Amymone, dear to Poseidon, when he has them enslaved. Never, never, Lady Artemis, golden-haired child of Zeus, may I endure that slavery. Old servant My child, go inside, and stay beneath the shelter of your maiden chamber, now that you have had your wish and seen all that you wanted; for a crowd of women is coming toward the royal palace, as confusion enters the city. Now women by nature love scandal; and if they get some slight handle for their gossip they exaggerate it, for women seem to have pleasure in saying nothing wholesome about each other. 
 Exeunt Antigone and the old servant. Chorus From the Tyrian swell of the sea I came, a choice offering for Loxias from the island of Phoenicia , to be a slave to Phoebus in his halls, where he dwells under the snow-swept peaks of Parnassus ; through the Ionian sea I sailed in the waves, over the unharvested plains, in the gusts of Zephyrus that ride from Sicily , sweetest music in the sky. Chorus Chosen from my city as beauty’s gift for Loxias, to the land of Cadmus I came, sent here to the towers of Laius, the home of my kin, the famous sons of Agenor. And I became the handmaid of Phoebus, dedicated like his statues of wrought gold. But the water of Castalia is still waiting for me to drench the maiden glory of my hair for the service of Phoebus. Chorus Hail, rock that lights up a double-crested flash of fire above the frenzied heights of Dionysus; and the vine, that every day lets fall the lush cluster of grapes; and the holy cavern of the serpent and the gods’ watchtower on the hills, and the sacred snow-swept mountain! Would I were free of fear and circling in the dance of the deathless god, having left Dirce for the valleys of Phoebus at the center of the world. Chorus But now I find the impetuous god of war has come to battle before the walls, and is kindling a murderous blaze—may he not succeed!—for this city. For a friend’s pain is shared, and if this land with its seven towers suffers any mischance, Phoenicia ’s realm will share it. Ah me! our blood is one; we are all children of Io, the horned maid; these sorrows I claim as mine. Chorus Around the city a thick cloud of shields is kindling a shape of bloody battle, which Ares will soon learn, if he brings upon the sons of Oedipus the curse of the Furies. O Argos , city of Pelasgia! I dread your might, and also what comes from the gods; for the one who approaches his home in armor is setting out to a contest that is not without justice. Polyneices The doorkeeper’s bolts admitted me readily within the walls, and so I fear that now they have caught me in their nets, they will not let me out unscathed; so I must turn my eye in every direction, here and there, to guard against treachery. Armed with this sword, I shall inspire myself with the confidence that is born of boldness. Starting. Oh! Who is that? Or is it a sound I fear? Everything seems a danger to the daring, when their feet begin to tread an enemy’s country. Still I trust my mother, and at the same time mistrust her, the one who persuaded me to come here under truce. Well, there is help at hand, for the altar’s hearth