You have sentenced them both?
CREON. No, you are right. I will not kill the one whose hands are clean.
CHORAGOS. But Antigonê?
CREON [somberly]. I will carry her far away Out there in the wilderness, and lock her Living in a vault of stone. She shall have food, As the custom is, to absolve the State of her death. And there let her pray to the gods of hell: They are her only gods: Perhaps they will show her an escape from death, Or she may learn, though late, That piety shown the dead is pity in vain.
Love, unconquerable Waster of rich men, keeper Of warm lights and all-night vigil In the soft face of a girl: Sea-wanderer, forest-visitor! Even the pure Immortals cannot escape you, And mortal man, in his one day's dusk, Trembles before your glory.
Surely you swerve upon ruin The just man's consenting heart, As here you have made bright anger Strike between father and son-- And none has conquered but Love! A girl's glánce wórking the will of heaven: Pleasure to her alone who mocks us, Merciless Aphroditê.
CHORAGOS [as ANTIGONEenters guarded]. But I can no longer stand in awe of this, Nor, seeing what I see, keep back my tears. Here is Antigonê, passing to that chamber Where all find sleep at last.