_Ant._ Ah me! ah me! woes dread to look on....
_Ism._ Ye showed to me, returned from exile.
_Ant._ Not, when he had slain, returned he.
_Ism._ Nay, he, saved from exile, perished. 980
_Ant._ Yea, I trow too well, he perished.
_Ism._ And his brother, too, he murdered.
_Ant._ Woeful, piteous, are those brothers!
_Ism._ Woeful, piteous, all they suffered!
_Ant._ Woes of kindred wrath enkindling!
_Ism._ Saturate with threefold horrors!
_Ant._ Terrible are they to tell of.
_Ism._ Terrible are they to look on.
_Chor._ Ah me, thou Destiny,
Giver of evil gifts, and stern of soul,
And thou dread spectral form of Œdipus, 990
And swarth Erinnys too,
A mighty one art thou.