[Antistrophe.
’Tis Time, Time, desireless, hath shown thee what thou art;
The long monstrous mating, it is judged and all its race.
O child of him that sleepeth,
Thy land weepeth, weepeth,
Unfathered. . . . Would God, I had never seen thy face!
From thee in great peril fell peace upon my heart,
In thee mine eye clouded and the dark is come apace.
A Messenger rushes out from the Palace.
Messenger.
O ye above this land in honour old
Exalted, what a tale shall ye be told,
What sights shall see, and tears of horror shed,
If still your hearts be true to them that led
Your sires! There runs no river, well I ween,
Not Phasis nor great Ister, shall wash clean
This house of all within that hideth—nay,
Nor all that creepeth forth to front the day,
Of purposed horror. And in misery
That woundeth most which men have willed to be.
Leader.
No lack there was in what we knew before
Of food for heaviness. What bring’st thou more?
Messenger.
One thing I bring thee first. . . . ’Tis quickly said.
Jocasta, our anointed queen, is dead.
73
