Stasimon 4
[Episode]
Alas! my son, to sorrow I bare thee and carried thee within my womb,
Chorus
enduring the pangs of travail; but now Hades takes the fruit of all my hapless toil, and I that; had a son am left, ah me! with none to nurse my age.
920
Theseus
As for the noble son of Oecleus, him, while yet he lived, the gods snatched hence to the bowels of the earth, and. his chariot too, manifestly blessing him; while I myself may truthfully tell the praises of the son of Oedipus, that is, Polynices,
925
for he was my guest-friend ere he left the town of Cadmus and crossed to Argos in voluntary exile. But dost thou know what I would have thee do in this matter?
930
Adrastus
I know naught save this,—to yield obedience to thy hests.
Theseus
As for yon Capaneus, stricken by the bolt of Zeus—
Adrastus
Wilt bury him apart as a consecrated corpse?
935
Theseus
Even so; but all the rest on one funeral pyre.
Adrastus
Where wilt thou set the tomb apart for him?
Theseus
Here near this temple have I builded him a sepulchre.
Adrastus
Thy thralls forthwith must undertake this toil.
Theseus
Myself will look to those others; let the biers advance.
940
Adrastus
Approach your sons, unhappy mothers.
Theseus
This thy proposal, Adrastus, is anything but good.
Adrastus
Must not the mothers touch their sons?
Theseus
It would kill them to see how they are altered.
Adrastus
’Tis bitter, truly, to see the dead evenThe MS. reading, χἄμα τῷ τέλει νεκρῶν has been conjecturally altered by Toup into αἶμα κώτειλαὶ νεκρῶν which bold emendation has been followed by several editors. Hartung has χρῶμα κὠτειλαὶ. at the moment of death.
945
Theseus
Why then wilt thou add fresh grief to them?
Adrastus
Thou art right. YeNauck brackets from μένειν—θησεύς as spurious. needs must patiently abide, for the words of Theseus are good. But when we have committed them unto the flames, ye shall collect their bones. O wretched sons of men!
Why do ye get you weapons and bring slaughter on one another? Cease therefrom, give o’er your toiling, and in mutual peace keep safe your cities. Short is the span of life, so ’twere best to run its course as lightly as we may, from trouble free.
950
[Choral 1]
No more a happy mother I, with children blest; no more I share, among Argive women, who have sons, their happy lot; nor any more will Artemis in the hour of travail kindly greet these childless mothers.
955
Chorus
Most dreary is my life, and like some wandering cloud I drift before the howling blast.
960
The seven noblest sons in Argos once we had,
we seven hapless mothers; but now my sons are dead, I have no child, and on me steals old age in piteous wise, nor ’mongst the dead nor ’mongst the living do I countDindorf, followed by Nauck, reads κρινομένα. myself,
965
having as it were a lot apart from these.
970
[Choral]
Tears alone are left me; in my house sad memories of my son are stored; mournful tresses shorn from his head, chaplets that he wore, libations for the dead departed,
Chorus
and songs, but not such as golden-haired Apollo welcometh; and when I wake to weep, my tears will ever drench the folds of my robe upon my bosom.
975