The pointed flame, which hath decisions twain,
Betokening victory or overthrow.
If any power thou hast, or cunning words,
Or spell of charms, go, pluck thou back thy sons1260
From that dread strife; for grim the peril is,
And dread the guerdon:[1] tears shall be thy portion,
If thou of two sons be this day bereaved.[Exit.
Jocasta.
Daughter Antigonê, come forth the house!
No dances, neither toils of maiden hands,1265
Beseem thee in this hour of heaven's doom.
But heroes twain, yea, brethren unto thee,
Now deathward reeling, with thy mother thou
Must hold from dying, each by other slain.
Enter Antigonê.
Antigone.
Mother that bare me, what strange terror-cry
Before these halls to thy friends utterest thou?1270
Jocasta.
Daughter, thy brethren's life is come to nought.
Antigone.
How say'st thou?
Jocasta.
Met they are for single fight.
Antigone.
Woe! what wilt say?
- ↑ So Nauck; according to Paley, "And, for dread guerdon, tears," etc.
