It greatly flourishes in this land—the gray-leafed olive, nurturer of children. Youth cannot harm it by the ravages of his hand, nor can any who lives with old age. For the sleepless eyeof Zeus Morios watches over it, and gray-eyed Athena.

ChorusAnd I have more praise for this city our mother,the gift of a great divinity, a glory most great: the might of horses, the might of colts, and the might of the sea. For you, son of Cronus, lord Poseidon, have set her on the throne of this pride,by establishing first in our roads the bit that cures the rage of horses. And the shapely oar, well-fitted for the sea, in flying past the land leaps to follow the hundred-footed Nereids.

AntigoneLand that is praised above all lands, now it is your task to make those bright praises seen in deeds!OedipusWhat strange new thing has happened, my daughter?AntigoneCreon there draws near us, and not without followers, father.OedipusAh, dearest old men, now give methe final proof of my salvation!ChorusCourage! It will be yours. For even if I am aged, this country’s strength has not grown old.