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Messenger

Messenger
Now hear what further woes succeeded. Just as her two sons had fallen and lay dying, their wretched mother came on the scene, [1430] her daughter with her, in great haste. When she saw their mortal wounds, she wailed: “O my sons, the help I bring is too late.” And throwing herself on each in turn she wept and mourned, sorrowing over all her toil in nursing them, and their sister, by her side, mourned also: [1435] “Supporters of your mother' s age, dearest brothers, leaving me forlorn, unwed!” Then lord Eteocles with one deep dying gasp, hearing his mother, laid on her his moist hand, [1440] and though he could not say a word, his tear-filled eyes were eloquent to prove his love. And Polyneices was still breathing, and seeing his sister and his old mother he said: “Mother, our end has come; I pity you [1445] and my sister Antigone and my dead brother. For I loved him though he became my enemy, I loved him in spite of all. Bury me, mother, and you, my sister, in my native land; pacify the city's wrath that l may get at least that much [1450] of my own fatherland, although I lost my home. With your hand, mother, close my eyes—he himself places her fingers on the lids—and farewell; for already the darkness wraps me round.”

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  • Commentary references to this page (1):
    • Sir Richard C. Jebb, Commentary on Sophocles: Antigone, 1235
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