Chorus
Oh, to be where the enemy, turned to fight, will soon join in Ares’ clash of bronze, by the shores of Apollo, perhaps, or by that torch-lit beach where the Great Goddesses maintain awful rites for mortals on whose lips the ministering Eumolpidae have laid the golden seal of silence. There, I think, the war-rousing Theseus and the two maiden sisters will soon meet within our borders, amid the war-cry of resisting men!
Chorus
Or perhaps they will soon draw near to the pastures on the west of Oea’s snowy rock, fleeing on young horses or in chariots racing full speed. He will be caught! Terrible is the neighboring Ares, terrible the might of the followers of Theseus. Yes, the steel of every bridle flashes, and against their opponents charges forward our whole cavalry, who honor horse-riding Athena, and the earth-girdling Sea-god, the dear son of Rhea.
Chorus
Is the battle now or yet to be? For somehow my mind presages to me that soon I will meet the maidens who have suffered fearfully, who have found fearful suffering at the hands of a kinsman. Today Zeus will bring something to completion. I predict noble struggles. Oh, to be a dove with the strength and swiftness of a whirlwind, that I might reach an airy cloud, and hang my gaze above the fight!
Chorus Hear, all-ruling lord of the gods, all-seeing Zeus! Grant to the guardians of this land to achieve with triumphant might the capture that gives the prize into their hands! And may your daughter grant it too, dread Pallas Athena! And Apollo, the hunter, and his sister, who follows the spotted, swift-footed deer—I wish that they would come, a double help to this land and to its people. Wandering stranger, you will not say your watcher was a false prophet, for I see your daughters once again drawing near.
Antigone Father, father,
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