CH. How full of bitterness is his resolve,
Wrathfully spoken with unbending will!

OD. I might speak long in answer, did the time
Give scope, but now one thing is mine to say.
I am known to vary with the varying need;
And when ’tis tried, who can be just and good,
My peer will not be found for piety.
But though on all occasions covetous
[page 247][1053-1092] Of victory, this once I yield to thee,
And willingly. Unhand him there. Let go!
Leave him to stay. What further use of thee,
When we have ta’en these arms? Have we not Teucer,
Skilled in this mystery? Yea, I may boast
Myself thine equal both in strength and aim
To wield them. Fare thee well, then! Thou art free
To roam thy barren isle. We need thee not.
Let us be going! And perchance thy gift
May bring thy destined glory to my brow.

PHI. What shall I do? Alas, shalt thou be seen
Graced with mine arms amongst Achaean men?

OD. No more! I am going.

PHI. O Achilles’ child!
Wilt thou, too, vanish? Must I lose thy voice?

OD. Come on, and look not, noble though thou be,
Lest thou undo our fortune.

PHI. Mariners,
Must ye, too, leave me thus disconsolate?
Will ye not pity me?

CH. Our captain’s here.
Whate’er he saith to thee, that we too speak.

NEO. My chief will call me weakling, soft of heart;
But go not yet, since our friend bids you stay.
Till we have prayed, and all be ready on board.
Meanwhile, perchance, he may conceive some thought
That favours our design. We two will start;
And ye, be swift to speed forth at our call.[Exit

MONODY.

PHI. O cavern of the hollow rock,I 1
Frosty and stifling in the seasons’ change!
How I seem fated never more to range
From thy sad covert, that hath felt the shock
Of pain on pain, steeped with my wretchedness.
Now thou wilt be my comforter in death!
Grief haunted harbour, choked with my distress!
Tell me, what hope is mine of daily food,
Who will be careful for my good?
[page 248][1093-1132] I fail. Ye cowering creatures of the sky,
Oh, as ye fly,
Snatch me, borne upward on the blast’s sharp breath!

CH. 1. Thou child of misery!
No mightier power hath this decreed,
But thine own will and deed
Hath bound thee thus in grief,
Since, when kind Heaven had sent relief
And shown the path of wisdom firm and sure,
Thou still hast chosen this evil to endure.

PHI. O hapless life, sore bruised with pain!I 2
No more with living mortal may I dwell,
But ever pining in this desert cell
With lonely grief, all famished must remain
And perish; for what food is mine to share,
When this strong arm no longer wields my bow,
Whose fleet shafts flew to smite the birds of air
I was o’erthrown by words, words dark and blind,
Low-creeping from a traitorous mind!
O might I see him, whose unrighteous thought
This ruin wrought,
Plagued for no less a period with like woe!

CH. 2. Not by our craft thou art caught,
But Destiny divine hath wrought
The net that holds thee bound.
Aim not at us the sound
Of thy dread curse with dire disaster fraught.
On others let that light! ’Tis our true care
Thou should’st not scorn our love in thy despair.

PHI. Now, seated by the shoreII 1
Of heaving ocean hoar,
He mocks me, waving high
The sole support of my precarious being,
The bow which none e’er held but I.
O treasure of my heart, torn from this hand,
That loved thy touch,—if thou canst understand,
How sad must be thy look in seeing
Thy master destined now no more,
Like Heracles of yore,
[page 249][1133-1168] To wield thee with an archer’s might!
But in the grasp of an all-scheming wight,
O bitter change! thou art plied;
And swaying ever by his side,
Shalt view his life of dark malignity,
Teeming with guileful shames, like those he wrought on me.

CH. 3. Nobly to speak for the right
Is manly and strong;
But not with an envious blight
To envenom the tongue;
He to serve all his friends of the fleet,
One obeying a many-voiced word,
Through the minist’ring craft of our lord
Hath but done what was meet.

PHI. Come, legions of the wild,II 2
Of aspect fierce or mild,
Fowl from the fields of air,
And beasts that roam with bright untroubled gaze,
No longer bounding from my lair
Fly mine approach! Now freely without fear
Ye may surround my covert and come near,
Treading the savage rock-strewn ways.
The might I had is no more mine,
Stolen with those arms divine.
This fort hath no man to defend.
Come satisfy your vengeful jaws, and rend
These quivering tainted limbs!
Already hovering death bedims
My fainting sense. Who thus can live on air,
Tasting no gift of earth that breathing mortals share?

CH. 4. Ah! do not shrink from thy friend,
If love thou reverest,
But know ’tis for thee to forfend
The fate which thou fearest.
The lot thou hast here to deplore,
Is sad evermore to maintain,
[page 250][1169-1202] And hardship in sickness is sore,
But sorest in pain.

PHI. Kindest of all that e’er beforeIII
Have trod this shore,
Again thou mind’st me of mine ancient woe!
Why wilt thou ruin me? What wouldst thou do?

CH. 5. How mean’st thou?

PHI. If to Troy, of me abhorred
Thou e’er hast hoped to lead me with thy lord.

CH. 6. So I judge best.

PHI. Begone at once, begone!

CH. 7. Sweet is that word, and swiftly shall be done!
Let us be gone, each to his place on board.
[The Chorus make as if they were going

PHI. Nay, by dear Zeus, to whom all suppliants moan
Leave me not yet!

CH. 8. Keep measure in thy word.

PHI. Stay, by Heaven, stay!

CH. 9. What wilt thou say?

PHI. O misery! O cruel power
That rul’st this hour!
I am destroyed. Ah me!
O poor torn limb, what shall I do with thee
Through all my days to be?
Ah, strangers, come, return, return!

CH. 10. What new command are we to learn
Crossing thy former mind?

PHI. Ah! yet be kind.
Reprove not him, whose tongue, with grief distraught,
Obeys not, in dark storms, the helm of thought!

CH. 11. Come, poor friend, the way we call.

PHI. Never, learn it once for all!
Not though he, whom Heaven obeys,
Blast me with fierce lightning’s blaze!
Perish Troy, and all your host,
That have chosen, to their cost,
To despise and cast me forth,
Since my wound obscured my worth!
Ah, but, strangers, if your sense
[page 251][1203-1233] Hath o’er-mastered this offence,
Yield but one thing to my prayer!

CH. 12. What wouldst thou have?

PHI. Some weapon bare,
Axe or sword or sharpened dart,
Bring it to content my heart.

CH. 13. What is thy new intent?

PHI. To sever point by point
This body, joint from joint.
On bloody death my mind is bent.

CH. 14. Wherefore?

PHI. To see my father’s face.

CH. 15. Where upon earth?

PHI. He hath no place
Where sun doth shine, but in the halls of night.
O native country, land of my delight,
Would I were blest one moment with thy sight!
Why did I leave thy sacred dew
And loose my vessels from thy shore,
To join the hateful Danaän crew
And lend them succour? Oh, I am no more!

LEADER OF CH.
Long since thou hadst seen me nearing yonder ship,
Had I not spied Odysseus and the son
Of great Achilles hastening to our side.

OD. Wilt thou not tell me why thou art hurrying
This backward journey with reverted speed?

NEO. To undo what I have wrongly done to-day.

OD. Thy words appal me. What is wrongly done?

NEO. When in obeying thee and all the host—

OD. Thou didst what deed that misbecame thy life?

NEO. I conquered with base stratagem and fraud—

OD. Whom? What new plan is rising in thy mind?

NEO. Not new. But to the child of Poeas here—

OD. What wilt thou do? I quake with strange alarm.

NEO. From whom I took these weapons, back again——

OD. O Heaven! thou wilt not give them! Mean’st thou this?

[page 252][1234-1262] NEO. Yea, for I have them through base sinful means.

OD. I pray thee, speak’st thou thus to anger me?

NEO. If the truth anger thee, the truth is said.

OD. Achilles’ son! What word is fallen from thee?

NEO. Must the same syllables be thrice thrown forth?

OD. Once was too much. Would they had ne’er been said!

NEO. Enough. Thou hast heard my purpose clearly told.

OD. I know what power shall thwart thee in the deed.

NEO. Whose will shall hinder me?

OD. The Achaean host
And I among them.

NEO. Thou’rt sharp-witted, sure!
But little wit or wisdom show’st thou here.

OD. Neither thy words nor thy design is wise.

NEO. But if ’tis righteous, that is better far.

OD. How righteous, to release what thou hast ta’en
By my device?

NEO. I sinned a shameful sin,
And I will do mine utmost to retrieve it.

OD. How? Fear’st thou not the Achaeans in this act?

NEO. In doing right I fear not them nor thee.

OD. I call thy power in question.

NEO. Then I’ll fight,
Not with Troy’s legions, but with thee.

OD. Come on!
Let fortune arbitrate.

NEO. Thou seest my hand
Feeling the hilt.

OD. And me thou soon shalt see
Doing the like and dallying not!—And yet
I will not touch thee, but will go and tell
The army, that shall wreak this on thy head.[Exit

NEO. Thou show’st discretion: which if thou preserve,
Thou may’st maintain a path exempt from pain.
Ho! son of Poeas, Philoctetes, come
And leave thy habitation in the rock.

[page 253][1263-1294] PHI. What noise again is troubling my poor cave?
Why do ye summon me? What crave ye, sirs?
Ha! ’tis some knavery. Are ye come to add
Some monster evil to my mountainous woe?

NEO. Fear not, but hearken to what now I speak.

PHI. I needs must fear thee, whose fair words erewhile
Brought me to bitter fortune.

NEO. May not men
Repent and change?

PHI. Such wast thou in thy talk,
When thou didst rob me of my bow,—so bright
Without, so black within.

NEO. Ah, but not now,
Assure thee! Only let me hear thy will,
Is ’t constant to remain here and endure,
Or to make voyage with us?

PHI. Stop, speak no more!
Idle and vain will all thine utterance be.

NEO. Thou art so resolved?

PHI. More firmly than I say.

NEO. I would I might have brought thee to my mind,
But since my words are out of tune, I have done.

PHI. Thou wert best. No word of thine can touch my soul
Or win me to thy love, who by deceit
Hast reft my life away. And then thou com’st
To school me,—of noblest father, basest son!
Perish, the Atridae first of all, and then
Laërtes’ child, and thou!

NEO. Curse me no more,
But take this hallowed weapon from my hand.

PHI. What words are these? Am I again deceived?

NEO. No, by the holiest name of Zeus on high!

PHI. O voice of gladness, if thy speech be true!

NEO. The deed shall prove it. Only reach thy hand,
And be again sole master of thy bow.[ODYSSEUS appears

OD. But I make protest, in the sight of Heaven,
For Atreus’ sons, and all the Achaean host.

[page 254][1295-1330] PHI. Dear son, whose voice disturbs us? Do I hear
Odysseus?

OD. Ay, and thou behold’st him nigh,
And he shall force thee to the Trojan plain,
Howe’er Achilles’ offspring make or mar.

PHI. This shaft shall bear thee sorrow for that boast.

NEO. Let it not fly, by Heaven!

PHI. Dear child, let go
Mine arm!

NEO. I will not.[Exit ODYSSEUS

PHI. Ah! Why hast thou robbed
My bow of bringing down mine enemy?

NEO. This were ignoble both for thee and me.

PHI. One thing is manifest, the first o’ the host
Lying forerunners of the Achaean band,
Are brave with words, but cowards with the steel.

NEO. Well, now the bow is thine. Thou hast no cause
For blame or anger any more ’gainst me.

PHI. None. Thou hast proved thy birthright, dearest boy.
Not from the loins of Sisyphus thou earnest,
But from Achilles, who in life was held
Noblest of men alive, and now o’ the dead.

NEO. It gladdens me that thou shouldst speak in praise
Both of my sire and me. But hear me tell
The boon for which I sue thee.—Mortal men
Must bear such evils as high Heaven ordains;
But those afflicted by self-chosen ills,
Like thine to-day, receive not from just men
Or kind indulgence or compassionate thought.
And thou art restive grown, and wilt not hearken,
But though one counsel thee with kind’st intent,
Wilt take him for a dark malignant foe.
Yet, calling Zeus to witness for my soul,
Once more I will speak. Know this, and mark it well:
Thou bear’st this sickness by a heavenly doom,
Through coming near to Chrysa’s sentinel,
The lurking snake, that guards the sky-roofed fold.
And from this plague thou ne’er shall find reprieve
[page 255][1330-1368] While the same Sun god rears him from the east
And droops to west again, till thou be come
Of thine own willing mind to Troia’s plain,
Where our physicians, sons of Phoebus’ child,
Shall soothe thee from thy sore, and thou with me
And with this bow shalt take Troy’s citadel.
How do I know this? I will tell thee straight
We have a Trojan captive, Helenus,
Both prince and prophet, who hath clearly told
This must be so, yea, and ere harvest time
This year, great Troy must fall, else if his words
Be falsified, who will may slay the seer.
Now, since thou know’st of this, yield thy consent;
For glorious is the gain, being singled forth
From all the Greeks as noblest, first to come
To healing hands, and then to win renown
Unrivalled, vanquishing all tearful Troy.

PHI. Oh how I hate my life! Why must it keep
This breathing form from sinking to the shades?
How can I prove a rebel to his mind
Who thus exhorts me with affectionate heart?
And yet, oh misery! must I give way?
Then how could I endure the light of heaven?
With whom could I exchange a word? Ay me!
Eyes that have seen each act of my sad life,
How could ye bear it, to behold the sons
Of Atreus, my destroyers, comrades now
And friends! Laërtes’ wicked son, my friend!
And less I feel the grief of former wrong
Than shudder with expectance of fresh harm
They yet may work on me. For when the mind
Hath once been mother of an evil brood,
It nurses nought but evils. Yea, at thee
I marvel. Thou should’st ne’er return to Troy,
Nor suffer me to go, when thou remember’st
What insult they have done thee, ravishing
Thy father’s rights from thee. And wilt thou then
Sail to befriend them, pressing me in aid?
Nay, do not, son; but, even as thou hast sworn,
Convey me home, and thou, in Scyros dwelling,
[page 256][1369-1402] Leave to their evil doom those evil men.
So thou shalt win a twofold gratitude
From me and from my father, and not seem,
Helping vile men, to be as vile as they.

NEO. ’Tis fairly spoken. Yet I would that thou
Relying on my word and on Heaven’s aid,
Would’st voyage forth from Lemnos with thy friend.

PHI. Mean’st thou to Troy, and to the hateful sons
Of Atreus, me, with this distressful limb?

NEO. Nay, but to those that will relieve the pain
Of thy torn foot and heal thee of thy plague.

PHI. Thy words are horrible. What mean’st thou, boy?

NEO. The act I deem the noblest for us both.

PHI. Wilt thou speak so? Where is thy fear of Heaven?

NEO. Why should I fear, when I see certain gain?

PHI. Gain for the sons of Atreus, or for me?

NEO. Methinks a friend should give thee friendly counsel.

PHI. Friendly, to hand me over to my foes?

NEO. Ah, be not hardened in thy misery!

PHI. I know thou wilt ruin me by what thou speakest.

NEO. Not I. The case is dark to thee, I see.

PHI. I know the Atreidae cast me on this rock.

NEO. But how, if they should save thee afterward?

PHI. They ne’er shall make me see Troy with my will.

NEO. Hard is my fortune, then, if by no sleight
Of reasoning I can draw thee to my mind.
For me, ’twere easiest to end speech, that thou
Might’st live on as thou livest in hopeless pain.

PHI. Then leave me to my fate!—But thou hast touched
My right hand with thine own, and given consent
To bear me to my home. Do this, dear son!
And do not linger to take thought of Troy.
Enough that name hath echoed in my groans.

NEO. If thou wilt, let us be going.

PHI. Nobly hast thou said the word.

[page 257][1402-1436] NEO. Lean thy steps on mine.

PHI. As firmly as my foot will strength afford.

NEO. Ah! but how shall I escape Achaean anger?

PHI. Do not care!

NEO. Ah! but should they spoil my country!

PHI. I to shield thee will be there.

NEO. How to shield me, how to aid me?

PHI. With the shafts of Heracles
I will scare them.

NEO. Give thy blessing to this isle, and come in peace.

HERACLES appears from above.

HERACLES. First, son of Poeas, wait till thou hast heard
The voice of Heracles, and weighed his word.
Him thou beholdest from the Heavenly seat
Come down, for thee leaving the blest retreat,
To tell thee all high Zeus intends, and stay
Thy purpose in the journey of to-day.
Then hear me, first how after my long toils
By strange adventure I have found and won
Immortal glory, which thine eyes perceive;
And the like lot, I tell thee, shall be thine,
After these pains to rise to glorious fame.
Sailing with this thy comrade to Troy-town,
First thou shalt heal thee from thy grievous sore,
And then, being singled forth from all the host
As noblest, thou shalt conquer with that bow
Paris, prime author of these years of harm,
And capture Troy, and bear back to thy hall
The choicest guerdon, for thy valour’s meed,
To Oeta’s vale and thine own father’s home.
But every prize thou tak’st be sure thou bear
Unto my pyre, in memory of my bow.
This word, Achilles’ offspring, is for thee
No less. For, as thou could’st not without him,
So, without thee, he cannot conquer Troy.
Then, like twin lions hunting the same hill,
[page 258][1437-1471] Guard thou him, and he thee! and I will send
Asclepius Troyward to relieve thy pain.
For Ilion now a second time must fall
Before the Herculean bow. But, take good heed,
Midst all your spoil to hold the gods in awe.
For our great Father counteth piety
Far above all. This follows men in death,
And fails them not when they resign their breath.

PHI. Thou whom I have longed to see,
Thy dear voice is law to me.

NEO. I obey with gladdened heart.

HER. Lose no time: at once depart!
Bright occasion and fair wind
Urge your vessel from behind.

PHI. Come, let me bless the region ere I go.
Poor house, sad comrade of my watch, farewell!
Ye nymphs of meadows where soft waters flow
Thou ocean headland, pealing thy deep knell,
Where oft within my cavern as I lay
My hair was moist with dashing south-wind’s spray,
And ofttimes came from Hermes’ foreland high
Sad replication of my storm-vext cry;
Ye fountains and thou Lycian water sweet,—
I never thought to leave you, yet my feet
Are turning from your paths,—we part for aye.
Farewell! and waft me kindly on my way,
O Lemnian earth enclosed by circling seas,
To sail, where mighty Fate my course decrees,
And friendly voices point me, and the will
Of that heroic power, who doth this act fulfil.

CH. Come now all in one strong band;
Then, ere loosing from the land,
Pray we to the nymphs of sea
Kind protectresses to be,
Till we touch the Trojan strand.

OEDIPUS AT COLONOS

THE PERSONS

• OEDIPUS, old and blind.
• ANTIGONE, his daughter, a young girl.
• ISMENE, his daughter, a young girl.
• CHORUS of Village Guardians.
• An Athenian.
• THESEUS, King of Athens.
• CREON, Envoy from Thebes.
• POLYNICES, the elder son of Oedipus.
• Messenger.

SCENE. Colonos.

[page 260] Oedipus had remained at Thebes for some time after his fall. But he was afterwards banished by the command of Creon, with the consent of his own sons. Their intention at first was to lay no claim to the throne. But by-and-by ambition prevailed with Eteocles, the younger-born, and he persuaded Creon and the citizens to banish his elder brother. Polynices took refuge at Argos, where he married the daughter of Adrastus, and levied an army of auxiliaries to support his pretensions to the throne of Thebes. Before going into exile Oedipus had cursed his sons.

Antigone after a while fled forth to join her father and support him in his wanderings. Ismenè also once brought him secret intelligence.

Years have now elapsed, and the Delphian oracle proclaims that if Oedipus dies in a foreign land the enemies of Thebes shall overcome her.

In ignorance of this fact, Oedipus, now aged as well as blind, and led by his daughter Antigone, appears before the grove of the Eumenides, at Colonos, in the neighbourhood of Athens. He has felt an inward intimation, which is strengthened by some words of the oracle received by him long since at Delphi, that his involuntary crimes have been atoned for, and that the Avenging Deities will now receive him kindly and make his cause their own.

After some natural hesitation on the part of the village-councillors of Colonos, Oedipus is received with princely magnanimity by Theseus, who takes him under the protection of Athens, and defends him against the machinations of Creon.

Thus the blessing of the Gods, which Oedipus carried with him, is secured to Athens, and denied to Thebes. The craft of Creon and the prayers of Polynices alike prove unavailing. Then the man of many sorrows, whose essential nobleness has survived them all, passes away mysteriously from the sight of men.

The scene is laid at Colonos, a suburb of Athens much frequented by the upper classes, especially the Knights (see Thuc. viii. 67); and before the sacred grove of the Eumenides, or Gentle Goddesses, a euphemistic title for the Erinyes, or Goddesses of Vengeance.

[page 261]

OEDIPUS AT COLONOS

OEDIPUS. ANTIGONE.

OEDIPUS. Antigone, child of the old blind sire,
What land is here, what people? Who to-day
Shall dole to Oedipus, the wandering exile,
Their meagre gifts? Little I ask, and less
Receive with full contentment; for my woes,
And the long years ripening the noble mind,
Have schooled me to endure.—But, O my child,
If thou espiest where we may sit, though near
Some holy precinct, stay me and set me there,
Till we may learn where we are come. ’Tis ours
To hear the will of strangers and to obey.

ANTIGONE. Woe-wearied father, yonder city’s wall
That shields her, looks far distant; but this ground
Is surely sacred, thickly planted over
With olive, bay and vine, within whose bowers
Thick-fluttering song-birds make sweet melody.
Here then repose thee on this unhewn stone.
Thou hast travelled far to-day for one so old.

OED. Seat me, my child, and be the blind man’s guard.

ANT. Long time hath well instructed me in that.

OED. Now, canst thou tell me where we have set our feet?

ANT. Athens I know, but not the nearer ground.

OED. Ay, every man that met us in the way
Named Athens.

ANT. Shall I go, then, and find out
The name of the spot?

OED. Yes, if ’tis habitable.

ANT. It is inhabited. Yet I need not go.
I see a man even now approaching here.

[page 262][30-59] OED. How? Makes he towards us? Is he drawing nigh?

ANT. He is close beside us. Whatsoe’er thou findest
Good to be spoken, say it. The man is here.

Enter an Athenian.

OED. O stranger, learning from this maid, who sees
Both for herself and me, that thou art come
With timely light to clear our troubled thought—

ATHENIAN. Ere thou ask more, come forth from where thou sittest!
Ye trench on soil forbidden human tread.

OED. What soil? And to what Power thus consecrate?

ATH. None may go near, nor dwell there. ’Tis possessed
By the dread sisters, children of Earth and Night.

OED. What holy name will please them, if I pray?

ATH. ‘All seeing Gentle Powers’ the dwellers here
Would call them. But each land hath its own rule.

OED. And gently may they look on him who now
Implores them, and will never leave this grove!

ATH. What saying is this?

OED. The watchword of my doom.

ATH. Yet dare I not remove thee, till the town
Have heard my purpose and confirm the deed.

OED. By Heaven, I pray thee, stranger, scorn me not,
Poor wanderer that I am, but answer me.

ATH. Make clear thy drift. Thou’lt get no scorn from me.

OED. Then, pray thee, tell me how ye name the place
Where now I sit.

ATH. The region all around
Is sacred. For ’tis guarded and possessed
By dread Poseidon, and the Titan mind
That brought us fire—Prometheus. But that floor
Whereon thy feet are resting, hath been called
The brazen threshold of our land, the stay
Of glorious Athens, and the neighbouring fields
Are fain to honour for their patron-god
[page 263] Thee, O Colonos, first of Knights, whose name [Pointing to a statue [60-95]
They bear in brotherhood and own for theirs.
Such, friend, believe me, is this place, not praised
In story, but of many a heart beloved.

CH. Alas! And are thine eyes2
Sightless? O full of misery,
As thou look’st full of years!
But not, if I prevail,
Shalt thou bring down this curse.
Thou art trespassing. Yet keep thy foot
From stumbling in that verdant, voiceless dell,
Where running water as it fills
The hallowed bowl,
Mingles with draughts of honey. Stranger, hapless one!
Avoid that with all care.
Away! Remove!
Distance impedes the sound. Dost hear,
Woe-burdened wanderer? If aught thou carest to bring
Before our council, leave forbidden ground,
And there, where all have liberty,
Speak,—but till then, avaunt thee!

OED. Daughter, what must I think, or do?

ANT. My sire!
We must conform us to the people’s will,
Yielding ere they compel.

OED. Give me thy hand.

ANT. Thou hast it.

OED. —Strangers, let me not
Be wronged, when I have trusted you
And come from where I stood!

CH. Assure thee, from this seat
No man shall drag thee off against thy will.

[page 266][178-211] OED. Farther?

CH. Advance thy foot.

OED. Yet more?

CH. Assist him onward
Maiden, thou hast thy sight.

ANT. Come, follow, this way follow with thy darkened steps,
Father, the way I am leading thee.

CH. Content thee, sojourning in a strange land,
O man of woe!
To eschew whate’er the city holds in hate,
And honour what she loves!

OED. Then do thou lead me, child,
Where with our feet secure from sin
We may be suffered both to speak and hear.
Let us not war against necessity.

CH. There! From that bench of rock
Go not again astray.

OED. Even here?

CH. Enough, I tell thee.

OED. May I sit?

CH. Ay, crouch thee low adown
Crooking thy limbs, upon the stone.

ANT. Father, this task is mine—
Sink gently down into thy resting-place,

OED. Woe is me!

ANT. Supporting on this loving hand
Thy reverend aged form.

OED. Woe, for my cruel fate![OEDIPUS is seated

CH. Now thou unbendest from thy stubborn ways,
O man of woe!
Declare, what mortal wight thou art,
That, marked by troublous fortune, here art led.
What native country, shall we learn, is thine?

OED. O strangers, I have none!
But do not—

CH. What dost thou forbid, old sir?

OED. Do not, oh, do not ask me who I am,
Nor probe me with more question.

[page 267][212-244] CH. What dost thou mean?

OED. My birth is dreadful.

CH. Tell it forth.

OED. What should I utter, O my child? Woe is me!

CH. Thy seed, thy father’s name, stranger, pronounce!

OED. Alas! What must I do? My child!

ANT. Since no resource avails thee, speak!

OED. I will. I cannot hide it further.

CH. Ye are long about it. Haste thee!

OED. Know ye of one
Begotten of Laius?

CH. Horror! Horror! Oh!

OED. Derived from Labdacus?

CH. O Heaven!

OED. Fate-wearied Oedipus?

CH. Art thou he?

OED. Fear not my words.

CH. Oh! Oh!

OED. Unhappy me!

CH. Oh!

OED. Daughter, what is coming?

CH. Away! Go forth. Leave ye the land. Begone!

OED. And where, then, is the promise thou hast given?

CH. No doom retributive attends the deed
That wreaks prevenient wrong.
Deceit, matched with deceit, makes recompense
Of evil, not of kindness. Get thee forth!
Desert that seat again, and from this land
Unmooring speed thee away, lest on our state
Thou bring some further bale!

MONODY.

ANT. O strangers, full of reverent care!
Since ye cannot endure my father here,
Aged and blind,
Because ye have heard a rumour of the deeds
He did unknowingly,—yet, we entreat you.
Strangers, have pity on me, the hapless girl,
Who pray for mine own sire and for none else,
—Pray, looking in your eyes with eyes not blind.
[page 268][245-282] As if a daughter had appeared to you.
Pleading for mercy to the unfortunate.
We are in your hands as in the hand of God,
Helpless. O then accord the unhoped for boon!
By what is dear to thee, thy veriest own,
I pray thee,—chattel or child, or holier name!
Search through the world, thou wilt not find the man
Who could resist the leading of a God.

CH. Daughter of Oedipus, be well assured
We view with pity both thy case and his,
But fear of Heavenly wrath confines our speech
To that we have already said to you.

OED. What profit lives in fame and fair renown
By unsubstantial rumour idly spread?
When Athens is extolled with peerless praise
For reverence, and for mercy!—She alone
The sufferer’s shield, the exile’s comforter!
What have I reaped hereof? Ye have raised me up
From yonder seat, and now would drive me forth
Fearing a name! For there is nought in me
Or deeds of mine to make you fear. My life
Hath more of wrong endured than of wrong done,
Were it but lawful to disclose to you
Wherefore ye dread me,—not my sin but theirs,
My mother’s and my sire’s. I know your thought.
Yet never can ye fasten guilt on me,
Who, though I had acted with the clear’st intent,
Were guiltless, for my deed requited wrong.
But as it was, all blindly I went forth
On that dire road, while they who planned my death
Planned it with perfect knowledge. Therefore, sirs,
By Heaven I pray you, as ye have bid me rise,
Protect your suppliant without fail; and do not
In jealous reverence for the blessed Gods
Rob them of truest reverence, but know this:—
God looks upon the righteousness of men
And their unrighteousness, nor ever yet
Hath one escaped who wrought iniquity.
Take part, then, with the Gods, nor overcloud
[page 269][283-316] The golden fame of Athens with dark deeds;
But as ye have pledged your faith to shelter me,
Defend me and rescue, not rejecting me
Through mere abhorrence of my ruined face.
For on a holy mission am I come,
Sent with rich blessings for your neighbours here.
And when the head and sovereign of your folk
Is present, ye shall learn the truth at full.
Till then, be gracious to me, and not perverse.

CH. Thy meaning needs must strike our hearts with awe,
Old wanderer! so weighty are the words
That body it forth. Therefore we are content
The Lord of Athens shall decide this case.

OED. And where is he who rules this country, sirs?

CH. He keeps his father’s citadel. But one
Is gone to fetch him, he who brought us hither.

OED. Think you he will consider the blind man,
And come in person here to visit him?

CH. Be sure he will,—when he hath heard thy name.

OED. And who will carry that?

CH. ’Tis a long road;
But rumour from the lips of wayfarers
Flies far and wide, so that he needs must hear;
And hearing, never doubt but he will come.
So noised in every land hath been thy name,
Old sovereign,—were he sunk in drowsiness,
That sound would bring him swiftly to thy side.

OED. Well, may he come to bless his city and me!
When hath not goodness blessed the giver of good?

ANT. O Heavens! What shall I say, what think, my father?

OED. Daughter Antigone, what is it?

ANT. I see
A woman coming toward us, mounted well
On a fair Sicilian palfrey, and her face
With brow-defending hood of Thessaly
Is shadowed from the sun. What must I think?
Is it she or no? Can the eye so far deceive?
[page 270][317-346] It is. ’Tis not. Unhappy that I am,
I know not.—Yes, ’tis she. For drawing near
She greets me with bright glances, and declares
Beyond a doubt, Ismene’s self is here.

OED. What say’st thou, daughter?

ANT. That I see thy child,
My sister. Soon her voice will make thee sure.

Enter ISMENE.

ISMENE. Father and sister!—names for ever dear!
Hard hath it been to find you, yea, and hard
I feel it now to look on you for grief.

OED. Child, art thou here?

ISM. Father! O sight of pain!

OED. Offspring and sister!

ISM. Woe for thy dark fate!

OED. Hast thou come, daughter?

ISM. On a troublous way.

OED. Touch me, my child!

ISM. I give a hand to both.

OED. To her and me?

ISM. Three linked in one sad knot.

OED. Child, wherefore art thou come?

ISM. In care for thee.

OED. Because you missed me?

ISM. Ay, and to bring thee tidings,
With the only slave whom I could trust.

OED. And they,
Thy brethren, what of them? Were they not there
To take this journey for their father’s good?

ISM. Ask not of them. Dire deeds are theirs to day.

OED. How in all points their life obeys the law
Of Egypt, where the men keep house and weave
Sitting within doors, while the wives abroad
Provide with ceaseless toil the means of life.
So in your case, my daughters, they who should
Have ta’en this burden on them, bide at home
Like maidens, while ye take their place, and lighten
My miseries by your toil. Antigone,
E’er since her childhood ended, and her frame
[page 271][347-387] Was firmly knit, with ceaseless ministry
Still tends upon the old man’s wandering,
Oft in the forest ranging up and down
Fasting and barefoot through the burning heat
Or pelting rain, nor thinks, unhappy maid,
Of home or comfort, so her father’s need
Be satisfied. And thou, that camest before,
Eluding the Cadmeans, and didst tell me
What words Apollo had pronounced on me.
And when they banished me, stood’st firm to shield me,
What news, Ismene, bring’st thou to thy sire
To day? What mission sped thee forth? I know
Thou com’st not idly, but with fears for me.

ISM. Father, I will not say what I endured
In searching out the place that sheltered thee.
To tell it o’er would but renew the pain.
But of the danger now encompassing
Thine ill starred sons,—of that I came to speak.
At first they strove with Creon and declared
The throne should be left vacant and the town
Freed from pollution,—paying deep regard
In their debate to the dark heritage
Of ruin that o’ershadowed all thy race.
Far different is the strife which holds them now,
Since some great Power, joined to their sinful mind,
Incites them both to seize on sovereign sway.
Eteocles, in pride of younger years,
Robbed elder Polynices of his right,
Dethroned and banished him. To Argos then
Goes exiled Polynices, and obtains
Through intermarriage a strong favouring league,
Whose word is, ‘Either Argos vanquishes
The seed of Cadmus or exalts their fame’
This, father, is no tissue of empty talk,
But dreadful truth, nor can I tell where Heaven
Is to reveal his mercy to thy woe.

OED. And hadst thou ever hoped the Gods would care
For mine affliction, and restore my life?

ISM. I hope it now since this last oracle.

[page 272][388-417] OED. What oracle hath been declared, my child?

ISM. That they shall seek thee forth, alive or dead,
To bring salvation to the Theban race.

OED. Who can win safety through such help as mine?

ISM. ’Tis said their victory depends on thee.

OED. When shrunk to nothing, am I indeed a man?

ISM. Yea, for the Gods uphold thee, who then destroyed.

OED. Poor work, to uphold in age who falls when young!

ISM. Know howsoe’er that Creon will be here
For this same end, ere many an hour be spent.

OED. For what end, daughter? Tell me in plain speech.

ISM. To set thee near their land, that thou may’st be
Beyond their borders, but within their power.

OED. What good am I, thus lying at their gate?

ISM. Thine inauspicious burial brings them woe.

OED. There needs no oracle to tell one that.

ISM. And therefore they would place thee near their land,
Where thou may’st have no power upon thyself.

OED. Say then, shall Theban dust o’ershadow me?

ISM. The blood of kindred cleaving to thy hand,
Father, forbids thee.

OED. Never, then, henceforth,
Shall they lay hold on me!

ISM. If that be true,
The brood of Cadmus shall have bale.

OED. What cause
Having appeared, will bring this doom to pass?

ISM. Thy wrath, when they are marshalled at thy tomb.

OED. From whom hast thou heard this?

ISM. Sworn messengers
Brought such report from Delphi’s holy shrine.

OED. Hath Phoebus so pronounced my destiny?

ISM. So they declare who brought the answer back.

OED. Did my sons hear?

ISM. They know it, both of them.

[page 273][418-450] OED. Villains, who, being informed of such a word,
Turned not their thoughts toward me, but rather chose
Ambition and a throne!

ISM. It wounds mine ear
To hear it spoken, but the news I bring
Is to that stern effect.

OED. Then I pray Heaven
The fury of their fate-appointed strife
May ne’er be quenched, but that the end may come
According to my wish upon them twain
To this contention and arbitrament
Of battle which they now assay and lift
The threatening spear! So neither he who wields
The sceptred power should keep possession still,
Nor should his brother out of banishment
Ever return:—who, when their sire—when I
Was shamefully thrust from my native land,
Checked not my fall nor saved me, but, for them,
I was driven homeless and proclaimed an exile.
Ye will tell me ’twas in reason that the State
Granted this boon to my express desire.
Nay; for in those first hours of agony,
When my heart raged, and it seemed sweetest to me
To die the death, and to be stoned with stones,
No help appeared to yield me that relief.
But after lapse of days, when all my pain
Was softened, and I felt that my hot spirit
Had run to fierce excess of bitterness
In wreaking mine offence—then, then the State
Drove me for ever from the land, and they,
Their father’s sons, who might have saved their father,
Cared not to help him, but betrayed by them,
For lack of one light word, I wandered forth
To homeless banishment and beggary.
But these weak maidens to their nature’s power
Have striven to furnish me with means to live
And dwell securely, girded round with love.
My sons have chosen before their father’s life
A lordly throne and sceptred sovereignty.
But never shall they win me to their aid,
[page 274][451-481] Nor shall the Theban throne for which they strive
Bring them desired content. That well I know,
Comparing with my daughter’s prophecies
Those ancient oracles which Phoebus once
Spake in mine ear. Then let them send to seek me
Creon, or who is strongest in their State.
For if ye, strangers, will but add your might
To the protection of these awful Powers,
The guardians of your soil, to shelter me,
Ye shall acquire for this your State a saviour
Mighty to save, and ye shall vex my foes.

CH. Thou art worthy of all compassion, Oedipus,
Thyself and these thy daughters. Now, moreover
Since thou proclaim’st thyself our country’s saviour
I would advise thee for the best.

OED. Kind sir,
Be my good guide. I will do all thou biddest.

CH. Propitiate then these holy powers, whose grove
Received thee when first treading this their ground.

OED. What are the appointed forms? Advise me, sirs.

CH. First see to it that from some perennial fount
Clean hands provide a pure drink-offering.

OED. And when I have gotten this unpolluted draught?

CH. You will find bowls, formed by a skilful hand,
Whose brims and handles you must duly wreathe.

OED. With leaves or flocks of wool, or in what way?

CH. With tender wool ta’en from a young ewe-lamb.

OED. Well, and what follows to complete the rite?

CH. Next, make libation toward the earliest dawn.

OED. Mean’st thou from those same urns whereof thou speakest?

CH. From those three vessels pour three several streams,
Filling the last to the brim.

OED. With what contents
Must this be filled? Instruct me.

CH. Not with wine,
But water and the treasure of the bee.

[page 275][482-513] OED. And when leaf-shadowed Earth has drunk of this,
What follows?

CH. Thou shalt lay upon her then
From both thy hands a row of olive-twigs—
Counting thrice nine in all—and add this prayer—

OED. That is the chief thing,—that I long to hear.

CH. As we have named them Gentle, so may they
From gentle hearts accord their suppliant aid;—
Be this thy prayer, or whoso prays for thee,
Spoken not aloud, but so that none may hear;
And in departing, turn not. This being done,
I can stand by thee without dread. But else,
I needs must fear concerning thee.

OED. My daughters,
Have ye both heard our friends who inhabit here?

ANT. Yea, father; and we wait for thy command.

OED. I cannot go. Two losses hinder me,
Two evils, want of strength and want of sight.
Let one of you go and perform this service.
One soul, methinks, in paying such a debt
May quit a million, if the heart be pure.
Haste, then, to do it. Only leave me not
Untended. For I cannot move alone
Nor without some one to support me and guide.

ISM. I will be ministrant. But let me know
Where I must find the place of offering.

CH. Beyond this grove. And, stranger maid, if aught
Seem wanting, there is one at hand to show it.

ISM. Then to my task. Meantime, Antigone,
Watch by our sire. We must not make account
Of labour that supplies a parent’s need.[Exit