No More Learning

ANTIGONE

And I--to those who make such claims of rule
In Cadmus' town--I, though no other help,
(_Pointing to the body of_ POLYNICES)
I, I will bury this my brother's corse
And risk your wrath and what may come of it!
It shames me not to face the State, and set
Will against power, rebellion resolute:
Deep in my heart is set my sisterhood,
My common birthright with my brothers, born
All of one womb, her children who, for woe,
Brought forth sad offspring to a sire ill-starred.
Therefore, my soul! take thou thy willing share,
In aid of him who now can will no more,
Against this outrage: be a sister true,
While yet thou livest, to a brother dead!
Him never shall the wolves with ravening maw
Rend and devour: I do forbid the thought!
I for him, I--albeit a woman weak--
In place of burial-pit, will give him rest
By this protecting handful of light dust
Which, in the lap of this poor linen robe,
I bear to hallow and bestrew his corpse
With the due covering. Let none gainsay!
Courage and craft shall arm me, this to do.

HERALD

I charge thee, not to flout the city's law!

ANTIGONE

I charge thee, use no useless heralding!

HERALD

Stern is a people newly 'scaped from death.

ANTIGONE

Whet thou their sternness! Burial he shall have.

HERALD

How? Grace of burial, to the city's foe?
ANTIGONE

God hath not judged him separate in guilt.

HERALD

True--till he put this land in jeopardy.

ANTIGONE

His rights usurped, he answered wrong with wrong.

HERALD

Nay--but for one man's sin he smote the State.

ANTIGONE

Contention doth out-talk all other gods!
Prate thou no more--I will to bury him.

HERALD

Will, an thou wilt! but I forbid the deed.
[_Exit_ the HERALD.

CHORUS

Exulting Fates, who waste the line
And whelm the house of Oedipus!
Fiends, who have slain, in wrath condign,
The father and the children thus!
What now befits it that I do,
What meditate, what undergo?
Can I the funeral rite refrain,
Nor weep for Polynices slain?
But yet, with fear I shrink and thrill,
Presageful of the city's will!
Thou, O Eteocles, shalt have
Full rites, and mourners at thy grave,
But he, thy brother slain, shall he,
With none to weep or cry _Alas_,
To unbefriended burial pass?
Only one sister o'er his bier,
To raise the cry and pour the tear--
Who can obey such stern decree?