_Semi-Chor. A._ At last they have their share, ah, wretched ones!
Of burdens sent from God. 940
And now beneath them lies
A boundless wealth of——earth.
_Semi-Chor. B._ O ye who your own race
Have made to burgeon out with many woes!
Over the end at last
The brood of Curses raise
Their shrill, sharp cry of lamentation loud,
The race being put to flight of utmost rout,
And Atè's trophy stands,
Where in the gates they fell;
And Fate, now both are conquered, rests at last. 950
_Enter_ ANTIGONE _and_ ISMENE, _followed by mourning
maidens_[130]
_Ant._ Thou wast smitten, and thou smotest.
_Ism._ Thou did'st slaughter, and wast slaughtered.
_Ant._ Thou with spear to death did'st smite him.
_Ism._ Thou with spear to death wast smitten.
_Ant._ Oh, the woe of all your labours!
_Ism._ Oh, the woe of all ye suffered!
_Ant._ Pour the cry of lamentation.
_Ism._ Pour the tears of bitter weeping.
_Ant._ There in death thou liest prostrate.
_Ism._ Having wrought a great destruction.