_Creon_: Then hear in peace the words which I must speak.
_Oedipus_: Was ever punishment for speech compelled?
_Creon_: Afar from Thebes there is a frowning grove 530 Near the well-watered vale of Dirce's fount.
And there a cypress lifts its giant head And holds within its evergreen embrace The trees around. Here stands an ancient oak And spreads its branches dark with clustering mould.
One side is torn by time's destructive hand; 535 The rest, with roots decayed and falling, hangs Supported on a neighbor's trunk. Here stand The bitter laurel, rustling linden trees, The myrtle, and the alder destined soon To sweep its oarage on the boundless sea.
Midway, a mighty pine its smooth trunk lifts 540 Against the rays of Phoebus and the winds, And with its heavy shade it overwhelms The lesser trees; for, with its spreading boughs, It stands, the giant guardian of the wood.
Beneath this pine there springs a gloomy pool 545 That never saw the sun nor light of day.
An oozy swamp surrounds the sluggish pool.
Here did the agéd priest direct his steps; Nor was there need to wait; the gloomy spot Supplied the shades of night. A trench is dug, Where brands are kindled, pluck'd from funeral pyres. 550 The priest is shrouded in a mourning pall, And waves the bough; his dark robe sweeps the earth.
And now, in squalid garb and wrapped in gloom, The priest advances, with his hoary locks 555 Encircled by the yew-tree's deadly leaves.
Black sheep and sable oxen, backward driven,[3] Are sacrificed. The fire devours the food, And the living entrails quiver in the flames.
The shades he calls, and him who rules the shades, And him who guards the dark Lethaean stream. 560 A magic rune he mutters o'er and o'er And fiercely chants the charm which either lures The shifting ghosts, or forces them to come.
He burns the victims whole, and fills the trench With sacrificial blood, and snowy milk, 565 And, with his left hand pouring, mingles wine; Again he chants, and, bending to the earth, With stronger words and frantic, summons up The manes. Loudly bayed the hounds of hell; And thrice the hollows gave a mournful sound; 570 The whole earth trembled and the solid ground Was rent asunder. Then the priest exclaimed: "I have prevailed, for strong the words I spoke; The deep and gloomy realm of chaos yawns, And for the dwellers in the home of Dis A way is opened to the world of light."
The whole wood shrank away; its leaves erect In horror stood, the mighty trunks were split, 575 And all the grove was smitten with amaze.
The frightened earth crouched back with hollow groans, As if unwillingly she saw the deeps Of Acheron assailed; or else herself, That back to life the dead might find a way, With crashing sound her close-wrought barriers burst; 580 Or threefold Cerberus in angry rage Clanked loud his heavy chains. Then suddenly The earth yawned wide, and at our very feet A deep abyss appeared. I saw, myself, The sluggish pools amidst the dusky shades; I saw the shadowy gods, and that black gloom No earthly night can give. At that dread sight My blood ran cold and froze within my veins. 585 And then there hurried forth a dreadful band, And stood in armed array, that viper brood, The troop of brothers sprung from dragon's teeth; And that fell pestilence, the curse of Thebes.
Then grim Erinys raised her piercing cry, Blind Fury, Dread, and all the ghastly forms 590 Which spawn and lurk within the endless shades: Grief, in her madness, tearing out her hair; Disease, scarce holding up her weary head; Age, burdened with itself, and brooding Fear.
Our spirits died within us at the sight. 595 Even the prophet's daughter stood amazed, Though well she knew her father's mystic arts.
But he, undaunted, since he saw them not, Convoked the bloodless throng of gloomy Dis.
Like clouds the shadowy forms come trooping up, And snuff the air of unrestricted heaven.
Not lofty Eryx in his mountain glades 600 As many falling leaves, nor Hybla's slopes As many flowers produce, in sunny spring, When greedy bees in teeming bunches swarm; As many waves break not upon the shore; As many birds deserting Strymon's streams, Exchange not wintry blasts and Arctic snows, 605 And seek the milder valley of the Nile; As were the shades the prophet summoned forth.
In eager haste the shivering spirits seek The hiding-places of the leafy grove.
From out the cave, his right hand by the horns 610 A raging bull restraining, Zethus came, And next Amphion, with that famous shell Whose magic strains insensate rocks allured.
Here haughty Niobe, in safety now, Amongst her children lifts her head in scorn And proudly counts her shades. And worse than she, 615 That mother, mad Agave, next appears, With all the impious band who rent the king.
Then Pentheus' self, all torn and bleeding, comes, In rage pursuing those wild Bacchanals.
At length, when often summoned, Laius comes In shame, and, skulking, flees the shadowy throng, 620 And hides himself away; but still the seer, With unrelenting purpose pressing on, Repeats his strong compelling exorcisms, Until he brings the ghost to open view.
I shudder as I tell it. There he stood, A fearful sight, his body drenched with blood, His matted locks o'erspread with horrid filth. 625 And now, with raging tongue, the specter spoke: "O wild and savage house of Cadmus, thou Who ever dost rejoice in brother's blood!
The thyrsus wave, in madness rend thy sons.
The greatest crime of Thebes is mother's love.
O fatherland, 'tis not the wrath of heaven, 630 But sin of man by which thou art undone.
No plague-fraught south wind with its deadly blast, Nor yet the parchéd earth with its dry breath, Is harming thee; but 'tis thy bloody king, Who, as the prize of savage murder done, Hath seized his father's scepter and his bed. 635 An impious son (but far more impious, The mother who in most unhallowed womb Bore children once again), he forced his way Back to his source of life, and there begot Upon his mother offspring horrible, Got brothers to himself, a custom base, Whence e'en the very beasts of prey are free. 640 Oh, base entanglement, more monstrous far Than that fell Sphinx which he himself hath slain.
Thee, thee, who dost the bloody scepter hold, Thee will thy sire, still unavenged, pursue, With all thy town; and with me will I bring Th' attendant fury of my wedding night-- I'll bring her with her loud-resounding[4] lash! 645 Thy house, polluted, will I overthrow, And thy Penates will I trample down In fratricidal strife! Then quickly drive Thy king, O Thebes, from out thy boundaries!
For when his baleful step shall leave the land, In vernal green shall it renew itself, 650 The air shall give again pure springs of life, And to the woods their beauty shall return.
Destruction, Pestilence and Death, Distress, Disease, Despair--his fitting company-- Shall all depart with him. And he, indeed, Will seek with eager haste to flee his realm, But him will I hedge round with barriers, 655 And hold him back. Uncertain of his way, And with his staff to guide his faltering steps, He'll creep along his sad and darkened path.
Do ye the land deny him; I, his sire, Will take away from him the light of heaven."
_Oedipus:_ A chilling tremor penetrates my bones; The very thing which I have feared to do, 660 They say that I have done it. But the charge That in unholy wedlock I am joined, My mother Merope refutes, for she To Polybus, my sire, is wedded still; And my hands from stain of father's blood are clean, Since Polybus in safety lives and reigns.
Since both my parents free me from the guilt Of murder and that base, incestuous crime, What room is there for accusation more?
And as for Laius, Thebes his death deplored 665 Long 'ere I set my feet upon her soil.
What shall we say then? Was the seer deceived, Or does the hand of God afflict the state?
No! now we see these two confederates Deep in a crafty plot: that priest of thine With lying tongue pretends the will of heaven, And promises my sovereignty to thee. 670 _Creon:_ Would I expel my sister from the throne?
But if that sacred fealty which I owe Unto my kindred house restrained me not, Yet fortune would herself affright me sore, For with care and danger is she ever fraught.
But be thyself content to lay aside, While still thou safely mayst, the cares of state, 675 Lest,[5] borne too long, they may o'erwhelm thee quite.
In a humbler state more safely shalt thou dwell.
_Oedipus:_ And dost thou bid me, then, of mine own will To lay aside the heavy cares of state?
_Creon:_ Thus would I counsel those to whom the way Is open yet to choose the path he will. 680 But the lot that fortune sends thee thou must bear.
_Oedipus:_ When one desires to reign, 'tis ever thus, That humble life he praises, and the joys Of ease and sleep are ever in his mouth.
A peaceful face oft hides a restless heart.
_Creon:_ Does my long loyalty defend me not? 685 _Oedipus:_ To traitors, loyalty's a cloak to crime.
_Creon:_ Free from the burdens of a kingly state, I still enjoy the fruits of royalty; My house is honored by our citizens; And day by day thy royal gifts o'erflow, And fill my kindred home with luxury. 690 Rich food and clothing, gifts of every sort, And safety flow to many through my aid.
Why should I think aught lacking to my lot?
_Oedipus:_ Because there is a lack. Prosperity Ne'er halts at any bounds.
_Creon:_ And shall I fall, 695 Prejudged, and have no right to plead my cause?
_Oedipus:_ Hadst thou consideration for _my_ life?
Did old Tiresias listen to my cause?
And yet I am condemned. My pattern, thou; I do but follow in the way thou lead'st.
_Creon:_ But what if I am guiltless?
_Oedipus:_ Kings are wont To fear alike the doubtful and the true.
_Creon:_ Who quakes at empty fears, hath true in store. 700 _Oedipus_ Who in a fault is taken, and forgiven, Is filled with hate. Let all such dubious faith Be far from me.
_Creon:_ But thus is hatred bred.
_Oedipus:_ Nay, he who feareth hatred overmuch, Knows not the art of ruling like a king; For 'tis by fear that kings are guarded most.
_Creon:_ Who holds the scepter with tyrannic sway, 705 Doth live in fear of those who fear his power; For terror ever doth return to him Who doth inspire it.
_Oedipus_ [_to attendants_]: Hence, away with him; Deep in some rocky dungeon let him stay, While I unto the palace take my way.
[Creon _is led away by the attendants, while_ Oedipus _retires into the palace._] _Chorus:_ Not thou the cause of these our ills; And not on thy account hath fate Attacked the house of Labdacus; 710 But 'tis the ancient wrath of heaven That still pursues our race.
Castalia's grove once lent its shade Unto the Tyrian wanderer, And Dirce gave her cooling waves, What time the great Agenor's son, 715 O'er all the earth the stolen prey Of Jove pursuing, worn and spent, Within these forests knelt him down And adored the heavenly ravisher.
Then by Apollo's bidding led, A wandering heifer following, 720 Upon whose neck the dragging plow, Nor the plodding wagon's curving yoke Had never rested, he his quest At last gave over, and his race From that ill-omened heifer named.
From that time forth, the land of Thebes Strange monsters hath engendered: first, 725 That serpent, sprung from the valley's depths, Hissing, o'ertopped the agéd oaks And lofty pines; and higher still, Above Chaonia's woods, he reared His gleaming head, though on the ground 730 His body lay in many coils.
And next the teeming earth produced An impious brood of arméd men.
The battle call resounded loud From the curving horn, and the piercing notes Of the brazen trumpet shrill were heard.
Their new-created, nimble tongues, 735 And voices strange, they first employ In hostile clamor; and the fields, The plains, their kindred soil, they fill.
This monster brood, consorting well With that dire seed from which they sprung, Their life within a day's brief span 740 Enjoyed; for after Phoebus rose They had their birth, but ere he set They perished. At the dreadful sight Great terror seized the wanderer; And much he feared to face in war His new-born foes. Until, at length The savage youth in mutual strife 745 Fell down, and mother earth Beheld her sons, but now produced, Returned again to her embrace.
And Oh, that with their fall might end All impious strife within the state!
May Thebes, the land of Hercules, Such fratricidal strife behold No more! 750 Why sing Actaeon's fate, Whose brow the new-sprung antlers crowned Of the long-lived stag, and whom his hounds, Though their hapless master still, pursued?
In headlong haste through the mountains and woods, He flees in fear, and with nimble feet 755 He scours the glades and rocky passes, In fear of the wind-tossed feathers hung Among the trees; but most he shuns The snares which he himself has set; Until at last in the still, smooth pool 760 He sees his horns and his features wild, The pool where the goddess, too sternly chaste, Had bathed her virgin limbs.
FOOTNOTES: [5] Reading, _ne_.
ACT IV _Oedipus:_ My soul is filled with dark, foreboding fear; For the gods in heaven and hades join the charge 765 That by my guilty hand King Laius fell.
And yet my soul, in conscious innocence, And knowing better than the gods themselves Its secret deeds, denies the charge.
But now, Along the shadowy vistas of the past, My memory beholds an agéd man who fell Beneath the heavy stroke of my stout staff.
But first the elder strove with haughty words 770 To drive the younger traveler from the path.
But that was far from Thebes, in Phocis' realm, Where the forkéd road in three directions leads.
But thou, my faithful wife, dispel my care: What span of life had Laius at his death?
Fell he in manhood's bloom, or spent with age? 775 _Jocasta:_ Midway 'twixt youth and age, but nearer age.
_Oedipus:_ Did courtiers, thronging round, protect his course?
_Jocasta:_ The many lost him on the winding way; A few by faithful toil kept near his side.
_Oedipus:_ Did any fall as comrade of his fate? 780 _Jocasta:_ One comrade in his death did valor give.
_Oedipus:_ Alas, I stand convicted, for the place And number tally. Tell me now the time.
_Jocasta:_ Since Laius fell, ten harvests have been reaped.
[_Enter an old Corinthian man, a messenger from_ Merope.]
_Old Man_ [_to_ Oedipus]: The state of Corinth calls thee to the throne, For Polybus has gained his lasting rest. 785 _Oedipus:_ See how a heartless fate doth compass me!
But tell me how my father met his end.
_Old Man:_ In gentle sleep he breathed his life away.
_Oedipus:_ My sire is dead, and not by violence!
I call the gods to witness that to heaven I now in piety may lift my hands, 790 And fear no stain of impious slaughter more.
And yet a still more fearful fate remains.
_Old Man:_ Thy father's kingdom will dispel thy fears.
_Oedipus:_ My father's kingdom would I seek, but still I fear my mother.
_Old Man:_ Fear'st thou her who waits. 795 With anxious heart, imploring thy return?
_Oedipus:_ 'Tis piety itself that bids me flee.
_Old Man:_ And wouldst thou leave her in her widowhood?
_Oedipus:_ Thou speak'st the very essence of my fears.
_Old Man:_ Speak out the fear that doth oppress thy soul; For 'tis my wont in trusty confidence To counsel kings.
_Oedipus:_ By Phoebus' word forewarned, 800 From wedlock with my mother do I flee.
_Old Man:_ Then cease thy empty fears, and lay aside Thy base forebodings; for I tell thee here That thou art not the son of Merope.
_Oedipus:_ Why did she wish to rear a spurious son?
_Old Man:_ Because the proud security of kings Is by a son established.
_Oedipus:_ Tell me now. 805 How thou dost know the secrets of the court.
_Old Man:_ With my own hands I gave thee to the king.
_Oedipus:_ Thou gavest me? But who gave me to thee?
_Old Man:_ A shepherd on Cithaeron's snowy slopes.
_Oedipus:_ How camest thou within that sacred wood?
_Old Man:_ My sheep upon that mountain did I seek. 810 _Oedipus:_ Now on my body name some well-known mark.
_Old Man:_ Behold, thy feet in infancy were pierced, And from thy swollen ankles art thou named.
_Oedipus:_ Who was the man who gave me as a gift Into thy hands?
_Old Man:_ He fed the royal flocks, 815 And under him the hireling shepherds served.
_Oedipus:_ But tell his name.
_Old Man:_ An old man's memory Grows faint and weakly falters with disuse.
_Oedipus:_ But wouldst thou know the features of the man?
_Old Man:_ I might recall him, for a slender clue 820 Ofttimes awakens memory of things Long buried and forgot.
_Oedipus:_ Then hasten, slaves, Let all the master-shepherds drive their flocks Before the altar here, yea, summon all On whom depends the guidance of the flocks.
_Old Man:_ Or chance or providence has kept thy fate 825 In darkness hid. What long hath lain concealed, I bid thee suffer to remain in doubt.
For often truth, when brought into the light, Becomes the bane of him who seeks for her.
_Oedipus:_ Can any ills be worse than those I fear?
_Old Man:_ Oh, be thou sure the truth is big with fate, Whose meaning must be sought with toil and pain.
The public weal calls there, and here thine own, 830 And both with equal voice. Direct thy steps Along a middle course! provoke not fate; Permit thy fortune to unfold itself.
It profits naught to change a happy state.
_Oedipus:_ A change is well when all is at the worst.
_Old Man:_ What better canst thou ask than royal birth? 835 No further seek, lest thou thy sire repent.
_Oedipus:_ Though I should prove to be of shameful blood, My purpose still is fixed to know the truth.
But see, the agéd man, old Phorbas, comes, 'Neath whose control the royal flocks are kept.
Dost thou remember still his face or name? 840 _Old Man:_ His form eludes my mind; not fully known, And yet again not all unknown his face.
[_To_ Phorbas.]
Old man, while Laius still was king, didst thou, His shepherd, ever drive the royal flocks To pasture here upon Cithaeron's slopes?
_Phorbas:_ On fair Cithaeron's sunny slopes my flocks 845 Have ever found the greenest pasturage.
_Old Man:_ Dost thou know me?
_Phorbas:_ But dim and indistinct My memory.
_Oedipus:_ Didst thou at any time An infant boy deliver to this man?
[Phorbas _falters and turns pale_.]
Come then, speak out! why dost thou hesitate?
And why does pallor overspread thy cheeks?
Why seek for words? The truth no respite needs. 850 _Phorbas:_ Thou speak'st of things long buried and forgot.
_Oedipus:_ But speak, or pain shall drive thee to confess.
_Phorbas:_ I gave a boy to him, a useless gift; He never could have lived or known the light.
_Old Man:_ The gods forbid! The child is living still; 855 And may his life be long on earth, I pray.
_Oedipus:_ Why dost thou think the child did not survive?
_Phorbas:_ A slender rod of iron his ankles pierced, And bound his limbs. This wound produced a sore, Which by contagion spread o'er all his frame.
_Old Man:_ Why question more? The fatal truth draws near. 860 Who was that infant boy?
_Phorbas:_ My lips are sealed.
_Oedipus:_ Bring hither fire! Its flames shall loose thy speech.
_Phorbas:_ Must truth be sought along such cruel paths?
I pray thy grace.
_Oedipus:_ If I seem harsh to thee, Or headstrong, thy revenge is in thy hand-- 865 The truth revealed. Then speak: who was the child?
Of what sire gotten? Of what mother born?
_Phorbas: He was the son of her who is thy--wife_.
_Oedipus:_ Then yawn, O earth! and thou, O king of shades, Into the lowest depths of hades hurl This vile confounder of the son and sire! 870 Ye citizens, on my incestuous head Heap crushing rocks! with weapons slaughter me!
Let husbands, fathers, sons, and brothers--all Whose name I have defiled, against me arm!
And let the poor, plague-smitten populace Hurl blazing brands from off their funeral pyres!
The plague spot of the age, I wander here, 875 Heaven-cursed pollutor of all sacred ties; Who, in the day when first I breathed the air, Was doomed to death.
[_To himself._] Call up thy courage now, And dare some deed befitting these thy crimes.
Haste to thy palace and congratulate 880 Thy mother's house increased by children's sons.
[_Exit._] _Chorus:_ If it were mine to choose my fate And fashion as I would, I'd trim my sails to the gentle breeze, Lest, by the raging blasts o'erwhelmed, 885 My spars should broken be.
May soft and gently blowing winds My dauntless bark lead on; And ever on the middle course, Where safely runs the path of life, 890 May I be traveling.
Fearing the Cretan king, 'tis said, And trusting in strange arts, Young Icarus essayed the stars, And strove to conquer birds in flight, 895 On false wings balancing.
He fell into the raging sea And his name alone survived.
But, wiser far, old Daedalus 900 A safer course midst the clouds pursued, Awaiting his wingéd son.
As the timid bird flees the threat'ning hawk, And collects her scattered young; 905 So the father watched till he saw his son Plying his hands in the gulfing sea, Enmeshed in his useless wings.
So does he stand in treacherous ways, Whoever goes beyond the bounds Ordained by nature's law. 910 [_Enter_ Messenger _from within the palace._] But what is this? The palace gates resound; Behold, it is the royal messenger.
With wild and woeful mien he seems to come.
Speak out, and tell us what the news thou bring'st.
ACT V _Messenger:_ When Oedipus his impious race perceived, 915 And saw the warning fates had been fulfilled; When on a hideous charge he stood condemned; Then, with a deadly purpose in his breast, Did he approach his palace, and in haste Beneath those hated battlements he went.
And as a lion rages o'er the sands, And, threat'ning, tosses back his tawny mane; 920 So Oedipus advanced with blazing eyes, And stern, mad face, while hollow groans burst forth, And from his limbs there dripped a chilling sweat.
He foams and vents a stream of threat'ning words, And from his heart his mighty grief o'erflows.
He in his madness seeks against himself 925 Some heavy penalty and like his fate.
"Why do I wait for punishment?" he cries; "Let my guilty heart with hostile sword be pierced, Or overwhelmed with flames or crushing rocks!
Oh, for a tiger or some bird of prey, To rend my tender flesh! Do thou thyself, Who hast beheld full many deeds of blood, 930 O cursed Cithaeron, from thy forests send Thy wild beasts 'gainst me or thy greedy dogs.
Oh, that Agave were returned to earth!
But thou, my soul, why dost thou shrink from death?
For death alone can make thee innocent."
So spake he, and his impious hand he laid 935 Upon the hilt and drew his glittering sword.
"And dost thou, then, with this brief punishment Expect to pay thy mighty debt of guilt, And with one blow wilt balance all thy sins?
Thy death would satisfy thy murdered sire; But what to appease thy mother wilt thou do, And those thy children, shamefully begot?
What recompense canst make unto thy land, 940 Which for thy sin is smit with pestilence?
Such debts as these thou canst not pay by death.
Let Nature, who, in Oedipus alone, Strange births devising, hath her laws o'erturned, Subvert herself again to punish him.
Let it be mine, in never-ending round, 945 To live and die, and to be born again, That for my crimes by never-ending pain I may atone. Now use thy wit, poor soul.
Since by repeated death thou canst not die, Choose then some form of lingering death in life, Some way by which, not numbered with the dead, Nor yet the living, thou mayst linger on. 950 So die, that in thy death thou mayst remain Without the land wherein thy father dwells.
O soul, why dost thou hesitate?" And then A sudden stream of tears o'erspread his face, And wet his cheeks. "And can my tears suffice?
Too long my eyes these useless showers have poured; 955 Nay, let them follow where the tears have flowed, From out their sockets driven. O gods of wedlock, Is this enough? These eyes must be removed."
He spoke with frenzied rage; and all the while His cheeks were flaming with a dangerous light, And his starting eyeballs strained to leave their seats.
His face was full of passion, fierce resolve. 960 Groaning he thrust his hands into his eyes; And those fierce eyes stood forth to meet his hands, And eager followed of their own accord Their kindred hands, as courting that deep wound.
Deep in with hookéd fingers he explores, 965 And rends his eyeballs from their deepest roots.
Still stays his hands within those empty seats, And tears the hollow sockets with his nails, With savage joy, with vain and endless rage; 970 So great[6] his fear and hatred of the light.
He lifts his head, and with those empty eyes The heavens surveying, tests his darkened sight.
Whatever from his mangled eyes still hangs, He tears away, and now in triumph cries To all the gods: "Oh, spare my country now, 975 I pray; for I have done what must be done, And I have paid the penalty I owed.
Now have I found at last a fitting night To match my impious wedlock." As he speaks, His face is watered by a hideous shower, As the blood flows streaming from his ruptured veins.
_Chorus:_ By fate we're driven; then yield to fate. 980 No anxious, brooding care can change The thread of destiny that falls From that grim spindle of the Fates.
Whate'er we mortals suffer here, Whate'er we do, all hath its birth In that deep realm of mystery.
Stern Lachesis her distaff whirls, 985 Spinning the threads of mortal men, But with no backward-turning hand.
All things in ordered pathways go; And on our natal day was fixed Our day of death. Not God himself Can change the current of our lives, Which bears its own compelling force 990 Within itself. Each life goes on In order fixed and absolute, Unmoved by prayer. Nay fear itself Has been by many found a bane; For, while they sought to shun their fate, They came upon it in their flight.
But now the palace gates resound, and see, 995 The sightless king himself, with none to guide, Takes hitherward his blind and groping way.
[_Enter_ Oedipus.]
_Oedipus:_ Now all is well and finished; to my sire I've paid the debt I owed. How sweet these shades!
What god, at length appeased, hath wrapped my head In a pall of darkness, and my crimes forgiven? 1000 Now have I 'scaped the conscious eye of day; And nothing dost thou owe, O parricide, To thine avenging hand. Thy sight is gone, And such a countenance becomes thee well.
[_Enter_ Jocasta.]
_Chorus:_ See where with hurried step Jocasta comes, Beside herself and overcome with grief; 1005 As when in maddened rage that Theban dame Her son's head tore away and realized What she had done. She wavers, longs to speak To that afflicted one, and fears to speak.
Now shame at last has yielded to her grief, And with a faltering tongue she speaks to him.
_Jocasta:_ What shall I call thee? Son? Dost shun that name?
Thou art my son; thy shame confesseth it. 1010 And yet, O son, though all unwilling, speak.
Why dost thou turn away thy sightless face?
_Oedipus:_ Who now forbids me to enjoy my night?
Who gives me back mine eyes? My mother's voice!
Oh, awful sound! Now is my labor vain.
Stay where thou art! Each step is impious.
Let boundless seas our guilty souls divide, 1015 And lands remote; and if beneath this land Some other hangs, beholding other stars, May that far country one of us receive.
_Jocasta:_ What thou deplorest is the fault of fate.
A fated crime can leave no stain of sin.
_Oedipus:_ Now cease thy words, O mother, spare my ears, 1020 By these poor remnants of my mangled form, By that unhallowed offspring of my blood, And all that in the double names we bear Is right and wrong!
_Jocasta [to herself]:_ Why art thou listless now, O soul of mine? Since thou hast shared his guilt, Why hesitate to share his punishment? 1025 The beauty of all human intercourse Has fallen into ruin for thy sake, Confused and lost, O wretch incestuous.
Not if the father of the gods himself Should hurl at me his glittering thunderbolts, Could I for my foul crimes atonement make, 1030 Since I the name of mother have profaned.
Now death is welcome, but the way of death Must I consider.
[_To_ Oedipus.]
Come, thou parricide, And lift thy hand against thy mother too.
This act is wanting to complete thy work.
[_To herself._] Now let the sword be drawn. By this good blade Was Laius, my husband, slain--not so; 1035 My husband's father, by his rightful name!
Shall I this weapon plunge into my breast, Or thrust it deep within my waiting neck?
Nay, nay: thou know'st not how to choose a place.
Strike here, O hand, through this capacious womb, Which (horrible!) the son and husband bore.
[_She stabs herself and falls dead._] _Chorus:_ She lies in death, her failing hand relaxed; 1040 And spouting streams of blood drive out the sword.
Thou god and guardian of the oracles.
My father only was I doomed to slay; But now, twice parricide and past my fears, Have I been guilty, and my mother slain.
For 'tis by sin of mine that she is dead. 1045 O lying Phoebus, now have I outdone The impious fates.
With apprehensive feet Let me go out upon my darkened way, Planting my footsteps with a faltering tread, And through the darkness grope with trembling hands.
Stay not thy flight, speed thy uncertain steps-- 1050 But hold! lest on thy mother's corse thou tread.
O Thebans, weak and smitten sore with ills, Whose hearts are fainting in your breasts, behold, I flee, I go: lift up your drooping heads.
A milder sky and sweeter air shall come When I am gone. Whoever still retains 1055 His feeble life may now inhale the air In deep, life-giving draughts. Go, lend your aid To those who were to certain death resigned; For with me in my exile do I bear All pestilential humors of the land.
Then come, ye blasting Fates and mad Despair, Thou deadly Pestilence, come, come with me; 1060 With such a company 'tis sweet to flee!
[_Exit._] FOOTNOTES: PHOENISSAE, OR THEBAÏS A FRAGMENT PHOENISSAE, OR THEBAÏS A FRAGMENT DRAMATIS PERSONAE _Oedipus_ Late king of Thebes.
_Antigone_ Daughter of Oedipus, constant to him in his misfortunes.
_Jocasta_ Wife and mother of Oedipus.
_Polynices_ } _Eteocles_ } Sons of Oedipus and rivals for the throne.
_Messenger_ THE SCENE is laid, first in the wild country to which Oedipus, accompanied by Antigone, has betaken himself; then in Thebes, and lastly in the plain before Thebes.
THE TIME is three years after the great tragedy of Oedipus.
_The stroke of fate, that has been threatening Oedipus since long