we saw him adore together the earth and Olympus of the gods in the same prayer. 
 But by what fate Oedipus perished, no man can tell, except Theseus alone. It was no fiery thunderbolt of the god that removed him, nor any rising of whirlwind from the sea; it was either an escort from the gods, or else the dark world of the dead kindly split open to receive him. The man passed away without lamentation or sickness or suffering, and beyond all mortal men he was wondrous. And if in anyone’s eyes I seem to speak senselessly, I would not try to win his belief when he counts me senseless. Chorus Where are his daughters and the escort of their friends? Messenger Not far away; the sounds of mourning show plainly that they are approaching. Antigone Ah, me, ah, me! Now, indeed, is it for us to bewail in full the curse on our blood—ill-fated sisters as we are—deriving from our father! In former time we bore the long toil without pause, and now at the last we bring to tell a sight and experience that baffle reason. Chorus What is it? Antigone It is possible to conjecture, friends. Chorus He is gone? Antigone Precisely in the way you could most wish for: indeed, in a way in which neither Ares took him, nor the sea, but instead he was snatched away to the fields which no one may see, by some swift, strange doom. Wretched me! For us a night like death has descended on our eyes; how shall we find our hard livelihood, roaming to some far land, or on the waves of the sea? Ismene I do not know. If only murderous Hades would join me in death to my aged father! Wretched me! I cannot live the life that must be mine. Chorus Best of daughters, you both must bear the will of the gods. Do not be inflamed with too much grief; what you have encountered is not to be blamed. Antigone There is longing even for woes. What was in no way dear was dear, so long as I held him in my embrace. Father, Dear, clothed in the darkness of the underworld forever! Never in your absence will you not be dear to me and to my sister here. Chorus He fared— Antigone He fared as he desired. Chorus In what way? Antigone He died on the foreign ground that he desired; he has his well-shaded bed beneath the ground for ever; and he did not leave behind unwept sorrow. With these weeping eyes, father, I lament you; nor do I know how in my wretchedness I must still my grief for you that is so immense. Alas! You wanted to die in a foreign land, but you died without me near. Ismene Wretched me! What fate awaits you and me, dear, orphaned as we are of our father? Chorus Cease from your grief, dear girls, since his end is blessed. No one is beyond the reach of evil. Antigone Dear, let us hasten back. Ismene. To do what deed? Antigone A longing fills my soul—