e they destroyed by brotherly hands.

CH. Even thus was the demon at once impartial to both.

MES. And he himself, to be sure of this, is cutting off the ill-fated
race.

CH. Over such events one may both rejoice and weep--[rejoice] at the
success of our city--but [mourn because][166] our princes, the two
generals, have portioned out the whole possession of their substance
with the hammer-wrought Scythian steel, and they will possess of land
just as much as they receive at their burial, carried off according to
the unhappy imprecations of their sire.

MES. The city is rescued, but earth hath drank the blood of the brother
princes through their slaughter of each other.

[_Exit_ MESSENGER.[167]

CH. Oh mighty Jove! and tutelary divinities of our city! ye that do in
very deed protect these towers of Cadmus, am I to rejoice and raise a
joyous hymn to the savior of our city, the averter of mischief, or shall
I bewail the miserable and ill-fated childless[168] commanders, who, in
very truth, correctly, according to their name,[169] full of rancor,
have perished in impious purpose? Oh dark and fatal curse of the race
and of OEdipus, what horrible chill is this that is falling upon my
heart?[170] I, like a Thyiad, have framed a dirge for the tomb, hearing
of the dead, dabbled in blood, that perished haplessly--verily this
meeting of spears was ill-omened. The imprecation of the father hath
taken full effect, and hath not failed: and the unbelieving schemes of
Laius have lasted even until now; and care is through our city, and the
divine declarations lose not their edge--Alas! worthy of many a sigh, ye
have accomplished this horror surpassing credence; and lamentable
sufferings have come indeed. This is self-evident, the tale of the
messenger is before my eyes--Double are our sorrows, double are the
horrors of them that have fallen by mutual slaughter; doubly shared are
these consummated sufferings. What shall I say? What, but that of a
certainty troubles on troubles are constant inmates of this house? But,
my friends, ply the speeding stroke of your hands about your heads,
before the gale of sighs, which ever wafts on its passage the bark, on
which no sighs are heard, with sable sails, the freighted with the dead,
untrodden for Apollo, the sunless, across Acheron, and to the invisible
all-receiving shore.[171]

But [enough]! for here are coming to this bitter office both Antigone
and Ismene. I am assured beyond all do