TUT. This is Parthenopæus, son of Atalanta.
ANT. But, may Diana who rushes over the mountains with his mother destroy
him, having subdued him with her arrows, who has come against my city to
destroy it.
TUT. May it be so, my child, nevertheless they are come with justice to
this land; wherefore also I fear lest the Gods should judge rightly.
ANT. Where, but where is he who was born of one mother with me in hard
fate, O dearest old man; tell me, where is Polynices?
TUT. He is standing near the tomb of the seven virgin daughters of Niobe,
close by Adrastus. Seest thou him?
ANT. I see indeed, but not distinctly; but somehow I see the resemblance of
his form, and his shape shadowed out. Would that with my feet I could
perform the journey of the winged cloud through the air to my brother, then
would I fling my arms round his dearest neck, after so long a time a
wretched exile. How splendid is he, O old man, in his golden armor,
glittering like the morning rays of the sun.
TUT. He will come to this house confiding in the truce, so as to fill thee
with joy.
ANT. But who, O aged man, is this, who guides his milk-white steeds seated
in his chariot?
TUT. The prophet Amphiaraus this, O my mistress, and with him the victims,
the libations of the earth delighting in blood.
AST. O thou daughter of the brightly girded sun, thou moon, golden-circled
light, applying what quiet and temperate blows to his steeds does he direct
his chariot! But where is he who utters such dreadful insults against this
city, Capaneus?
TUT. He is scanning the approach to the towers, measuring the walls both
from their foundation to the top.
ANT. O vengeance, and ye loud-roaring thunders of Jove, and thou blasting
fire of the lightning, do thou quell this more-than-mortal arrogance. This
is he who will with his spear give to Mycenæ, and to the streams of Lernæan
Triæna,[13] and to the Amymonian[14] waters of Neptune, the Theban women,
having invested them with slavery. Sever, O awful Goddess, never, O
daughter of Jove, with golden clusters of ringlets, Diana, may I endure
servitude.
TUT. My child, enter the palace, and at home remain in thy virgin chambers,
since thou hast arrived at the indulgement of thy desire, as to what you
were anxious to behold. For, since confusion has entered the city, a crowd
of women is advancing to the royal palace. The race of women is prone to
complaint, and if they find but small occasion for words, they add more,
and it is a sort of pleasure to women, to speak nothing well-advised one of
another.[15]