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.