Antigone.
Ah, be the gates secure, be the brass-clamped bolts made sure
In the walls that Amphion in days bygone
Fashioned of stone?
Old Servant.
Fear not; the city wards all safe within.
Mark yonder foremost chief, if thou wouldst know him.
Antigone.
Who is he with the white helm-crest
Who marcheth in front of their war-array,120
And a brazen buckler fencing his breast
Lightly his arm doth sway?
Old Servant.
A captain, princess.
Antigone.
What his land, his birth?
Make answer, ancient. What name beareth he?
Old Servant.
Yon chief proclaims him of Mycenian race:
By streams of Lerna King Hippomedon dwells.
Antigone.
Ah me, how haughty, how fearful he is to see,
Like to a Giant, a child of Earth!
Star-blazonry gleams on his shield: not like is he
Unto one of mortal birth.130
