_Semi-Chor. B._ *The sorrow of the house is borne to them By my heart-rending wail. Mine own the cries I pour; Mine own the woes I weep, Bitter and joyless, shedding truest tears 910 From heart that faileth, even as they fall, For these two kingly chiefs. ANTISTROPHE III _Semi-Chor. A._ Yes; one may say of them, That wretched pair, That they much ill have wrought To their own host; Yea, and to alien ranks Of many nations fallen in the fray. _Semi-Chor._ B. Ah! miserable she who bare those twain, 'Bove all of women born Who boast a mother's name! 920 Taking her son, her own, As spouse, she bare these children, and they both, By mutual slaughter and by brothers' hands, Have found their end in death. STROPHE IV _Semi-Chor. A._ Yes; of the same womb born, and doomèd both, *Not as friends part, they fell, In strife to madness pushed In this their quarrel's end. _Semi-Chor. B._ The quarrel now is hushed, And in the ensanguined earth their lives are blent; 930 Full near in blood are they. Stern umpire of their strifes Has been the stranger from beyond the sea,[129] Fresh from the furnace, keen and sharpened steel. Stern, too, is Ares found, Distributing their goods, Making their father's curses all too true. ANTISTROPHE IV _Semi-Chor. A._ At last they have their share, ah, wretched ones! Of burdens sent from God. 940 And now beneath them lies A boundless wealth of——earth. _Semi-Chor. B._ O ye who your own race Have made to burgeon out with many woes! Over the end at last The brood of Curses raise Their shrill, sharp cry of lamentation loud, The race being put to flight of utmost rout, And Atè's trophy stands, Where in the gates they fell; And Fate, now both are conquered, rests at last. 950 _Enter_ ANTIGONE _and_ ISMENE, _followed by mourning maidens_[130] _Ant._ Thou wast smitten, and thou smotest. _Ism._ Thou did'st slaughter, and wast slaughtered. _Ant._ Thou with spear to death did'st smite him. _Ism._ Thou with spear to death wast smitten. _Ant._ Oh, the woe of all your labours! _Ism._ Oh, the woe of all ye suffered! _Ant._ Pour the cry of lamentation. _Ism._ Pour the tears of bitter weeping. _Ant._ There in death thou liest prostrate. _Ism._ Having wrought a great destruction. STROPHE _Ant._ Ah! my mind is crazed with wailing. 960 _Ism._ Yea, my heart within me groaneth. _Ant._ Thou for whom the city weepeth! _Ism._ Thou too, doomed to all ill-fortune!