LINES 1155-1243.
MESSENGER.
Ye, that by Cadmus and Amphion's shrine
Do dwell, no mortal's life before its end
Will be by me pronounced blessed or unblessed.
Fortune is ever casting down the high,
Fortune is ever lifting up the low;
And none can prophesy what change may come.
Creon I deemed an enviable man:
He from our enemy had saved our state,
And, vested with a monarch's power supreme,
Ruled happy in the promise of his heir.
Now all is gone, for when a man has lost
The things that make life sweet, he lives in truth
No more, but is an animated corpse.
Have in your house what store of wealth you will,
Dwell in the state of sumptuous royalty,
Where joy is absent, I account the rest
Less than a shadow of a wreath of smoke.
CHORUS.
What evil has befallen our royal house?
MESSENGER.
Dead are some, others guilty of their death.
CHORUS.
Who is the murdered, who the murderer, say.