ANTISTROPHE II. Sad, most sad, should hands unlicensed Rudely pluck our opening blossom; Sad--yea better far to die! Changing nuptial torch and chamber For dark homes of slavery. Ah! my soul within me trembles, When it shapes the sight of shame, Swift the chase of lawless murder, And the swifter chase of flame; Black the surly smoke upwreathing, Cries, confusion, choking heat; Shrine-polluting, man-subduing Mars, wild borne from street to street! STROPHE III. Towers and catapults surrounding, And the greedy spear upswallowing Man by man, its gory food: And the sucking infants clinging To the breasts that cannot bear them, Cries to ears that cannot hear them Mingle with their mother's blood. Plunder, daughter of Confusion, Startles Plenty from his lair, And the robber with the robber Bargains for an equal share; Gods! in such a night of terrors How shall helpless maidens fare? ANTISTROPHE III. Planless is the strife of Plunder. Fruits of patient years are trampled Reckless in the moment's grave; And the maids that tend the household, {273} With a bitter eye of weeping, See the treasured store of summers Hurried by the barren wave. Woe, deep woe, waits captive maidens, To an untried thraldom led, Bound, by chains of forced affection, To some haughty husband's bed: Sooner, sooner may I wander Sister of the sunless dead! SEMI-CHORUS 1. Methinks I see the scout sent by the king: Doubtless he brings us news; his tripping feet Come swift as wheels that turn on willing axles. SEMI-CHORUS 2. The king himself, the son of Oedipus, Comes in the exact nick to hear his tidings: With rapid and unequal steps he too Urges the way. [_Enter_ MESSENGER _and_ ETEOCLES _from opposite sides._