Xairete! This is the inaugural Antigone post...
Welcome, Poulakianites!
Now we have an out-of-class e-kklesia (get it?!) where we can toss around ideas without the vulgar vagaries of multiple emails or snail mails.
Though I am a member of many blog communities, this blog is the first I've ever set up; therefore, for the first few weeks at least, you'll have to advise me or at least tolerate my well-intentioned bumblings.
You all know my email address, so drop me a line if you have any advice from the get-go. Otherwise, you should start posting your ideas here promptly. Make sure to title them sensibly (even using page/line numbers) and to tag your name to them.
Xairete (Greek for "good health"),
Michele
posted by magisterludi @ 11:39 AM
1 Comments:
Here are Kristin's chorus lines:
Pg. 349
But look who comes, the lucky
Son of Creon:
The man the Gods have made our King.
What new vicissitudes of state
Vex him now? Why has he sent
A herald to our summons
Pg. 359 (Unison)
My word! The daughter is as headstrong as the father.
Pg. 363
Here Haemon comes, your youngest son,
Driven perhaps by pangs of grief
For Antigone his sentenced bride:
A bitter groom, a marriage marred.
Pg. 366
Sire, the young man speaks good sense: worth listening to.
And you, son, too, should listen. You both speak to the point.
Pg. 368
Gone, Your Magesty, but gone distraught.
He is young, his rage will make him desperate
You do not mean to kill them both?
What kind of death do you plan?
Pg. 381
What fresh news do you bring of royal ruin?
xxxxx
Who struck and who is stricken? Say.
xxxxx
By his own hand? Or by his Father’s?
xxxxx
Oh, Prophet, your prophecy’s come true!
Look, I see Eurydice approach, Creon’s unhappy queen.
Is it chance or has she heard the death knell of her son?
Pg. 382
Hurry, hurry, servants, to the tomb,
And through those stones once pried away peer down into that cadaverous gap
And tell me if it’s Haemon’s voice.
Oh, tell me I am heavenly deceived!
Pg. 383
I am troubled too. And yet I hope the reason is she shrinks from public sorrow for her son
Pg. 384 (Unison)
Late, too late, your reason reasons right!
Pg. 386
Self-stabbed to the heart;
Her son’s death ringing new dirges in her head.
Pg. 387 (Unison)
Where wisdom is, there happiness will crown
A piety that nothing will corrode.
But high and mighty words and ways
Are flogged to humbleness, till age,
Beaten to its knees, at last wise.
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