Chaunts of sorrow, dismal prelude
Of their grief, to us belong:
Let us hymn the dread Erinnys!
To the gloomy might of Hades,
Let us lift the sombre song.
[Enter Antigone and Ismene in sorrowful silence.
Hapless sisters! maids more hapless
Ne’er were girded with a zone:
I weep, and wail, and mine, believe me,
Is a heart’s sigh, no hireling moan.[f22]