Part 5

OEDIPUS. Out on the twain! The thoughts and actions all Are framed and modeled on Egyptian ways. For there the men sit at the loom indoors While the wives slave abroad for daily bread. So you, my children—those whom I behooved To bear the burden, stay at home like girls, While in their stead my daughters moil and drudge, Lightening their father’s misery. The one Since first she grew from girlish feebleness To womanhood has been the old man’s guide And shared my weary wandering, roaming oft Hungry and footsore through wild forest ways, In drenching rains and under scorching suns, Careless herself of home and ease, if so Her sire might have her tender ministry. And thou, my child, whilom thou wentest forth, Eluding the Cadmeians’ vigilance, To bring thy father all the oracles Concerning Oedipus, and didst make thyself My faithful lieger, when they banished me. And now what mission summons thee from home, What news, Ismene, hast thou for thy father? This much I know, thou com’st not empty-handed, Without a warning of some new alarm.

ISMENE. The toil and trouble, father, that I bore To find thy lodging-place and how thou faredst, I spare thee; surely ’twere a double pain To suffer, first in act and then in telling; ’Tis the misfortune of thine ill-starred sons I come to tell thee. At the first they willed To leave the throne to Creon, minded well Thus to remove the inveterate curse of old, A canker that infected all thy race. But now some god and an infatuate soul Have stirred betwixt them a mad rivalry To grasp at sovereignty and kingly power. Today the hot-branded youth, the younger born, Is keeping Polyneices from the throne, His elder, and has thrust him from the land. The banished brother (so all Thebes reports) Fled to the vale of Argos, and by help Of new alliance there and friends in arms, Swears he will stablish Argos straight as lord Of the Cadmeian land, or, if he fail, Exalt the victor to the stars of heaven. This is no empty tale, but deadly truth, My father; and how long thy agony, Ere the gods pity thee, I cannot tell.

OEDIPUS. Hast thou indeed then entertained a hope The gods at last will turn and rescue me?

ISMENE. Yea, so I read these latest oracles.

OEDIPUS. What oracles? What hath been uttered, child?

ISMENE. Thy country (so it runs) shall yearn in time To have thee for their weal alive or dead.

OEDIPUS. And who could gain by such a one as I?

ISMENE. On thee, ’tis said, their sovereignty depends.

OEDIPUS. So, when I cease to be, my worth begins.

ISMENE. The gods, who once abased, uplift thee now.

OEDIPUS. Poor help to raise an old man fallen in youth.

ISMENE. Howe’er that be, ’tis for this cause alone That Creon comes to thee—and comes anon.

OEDIPUS. With what intent, my daughter? Tell me plainly.

ISMENE. To plant thee near the Theban land, and so Keep thee within their grasp, yet now allow Thy foot to pass beyond their boundaries.

OEDIPUS. What gain they, if I lay outside?

OEDIPUS. Thy tomb, If disappointed, brings on them a curse.

OEDIPUS. It needs no god to tell what’s plain to sense.

ISMENE. Therefore they fain would have thee close at hand, Not where thou wouldst be master of thyself.

OEDIPUS. Mean they to shroud my bones in Theban dust?

ISMENE. Nay, father, guilt of kinsman’s blood forbids.

OEDIPUS. Then never shall they be my masters, never!

ISMENE. Thebes, thou shalt rue this bitterly some day!

OEDIPUS. When what conjunction comes to pass, my child?

ISMENE. Thy angry wraith, when at thy tomb they stand. 6

OEDIPUS. And who hath told thee what thou tell’st me, child?

ISMENE. Envoys who visited the Delphic hearth.

OEDIPUS. Hath Phoebus spoken thus concerning me?

ISMENE. So say the envoys who returned to Thebes.

OEDIPUS. And can a son of mine have heard of this?

ISMENE. Yea, both alike, and know its import well.

OEDIPUS. They knew it, yet the ignoble greed of rule Outweighed all longing for their sire’s return.

ISMENE. Grievous thy words, yet I must own them true.

OEDIPUS. Then may the gods ne’er quench their fatal feud, And mine be the arbitrament of the fight, For which they now are arming, spear to spear; That neither he who holds the scepter now May keep this throne, nor he who fled the realm Return again. _They_ never raised a hand, When I their sire was thrust from hearth and home, When I was banned and banished, what recked they? Say you ’twas done at my desire, a grace Which the state, yielding to my wish, allowed? Not so; for, mark you, on that very day When in the tempest of my soul I craved Death, even death by stoning, none appeared To further that wild longing, but anon, When time had numbed my anguish and I felt My wrath had all outrun those errors past, Then, then it was the city went about By force to oust me, respited for years; And then my sons, who should as sons have helped, Did nothing: and, one little word from them Was all I needed, and they spoke no word, But let me wander on for evermore, A banished man, a beggar. These two maids Their sisters, girls, gave all their sex could give, Food and safe harborage and filial care; While their two brethren sacrificed their sire For lust of power and sceptred sovereignty. No! me they ne’er shall win for an ally, Nor will this Theban kingship bring them gain; That know I from this maiden’s oracles, And those old prophecies concerning me, Which Phoebus now at length has brought to pass. Come Creon then, come all the mightiest In Thebes to seek me; for if ye my friends, Championed by those dread Powers indigenous, Espouse my cause; then for the State ye gain A great deliverer, for my foemen bane.

CHORUS. Our pity, Oedipus, thou needs must move, Thou and these maidens; and the stronger plea Thou urgest, as the savior of our land, Disposes me to counsel for thy weal.

OEDIPUS. Aid me, kind sirs; I will do all you bid.

CHORUS. First make atonement to the deities, Whose grove by trespass thou didst first profane.

OEDIPUS. After what manner, stranger? Teach me, pray.

CHORUS. Make a libation first of water fetched With undefiled hands from living spring.

OEDIPUS. And after I have gotten this pure draught?

CHORUS. Bowls thou wilt find, the carver’s handiwork; Crown thou the rims and both the handles crown—

OEDIPUS. With olive shoots or blocks of wool, or how?

CHORUS. With wool from fleece of yearling freshly shorn.

OEDIPUS. What next? how must I end the ritual?

CHORUS. Pour thy libation, turning to the dawn.

OEDIPUS. Pouring it from the urns whereof ye spake?

CHORUS. Yea, in three streams; and be the last bowl drained To the last drop.

OEDIPUS. And wherewith shall I fill it, Ere in its place I set it? This too tell.

CHORUS. With water and with honey; add no wine.

OEDIPUS. And when the embowered earth hath drunk thereof?

CHORUS. Then lay upon it thrice nine olive sprays With both thy hands, and offer up this prayer.

OEDIPUS. I fain would hear it; that imports the most.

CHORUS. That, as we call them Gracious, they would deign To grant the suppliant their saving grace. So pray thyself or whoso pray for thee, In whispered accents, not with lifted voice; Then go and look back. Do as I bid, And I shall then be bold to stand thy friend; Else, stranger, I should have my fears for thee.

OEDIPUS. Hear ye, my daughters, what these strangers say?

ANTIGONE. We listened, and attend thy bidding, father.

OEDIPUS. I cannot go, disabled as I am Doubly, by lack of strength and lack of sight; But one of you may do it in my stead; For one, I trow, may pay the sacrifice Of thousands, if his heart be leal and true. So to your work with speed, but leave me not Untended; for this frame is all too week To move without the help of guiding hand.

ISMENE. Then I will go perform these rites, but where To find the spot, this have I yet to learn.

CHORUS. Beyond this grove; if thou hast need of aught, The guardian of the close will lend his aid.

ISMENE. I go, and thou, Antigone, meanwhile Must guard our father. In a parent’s cause Toil, if there be toil, is of no account. [Exit ISMENE]

CHORUS. (Str. 1) Ill it is, stranger, to awake Pain that long since has ceased to ache, And yet I fain would hear—

OEDIPUS. What thing?

CHORUS. Thy tale of cruel suffering For which no cure was found, The fate that held thee bound.

OEDIPUS. O bid me not (as guest I claim This grace) expose my shame.

CHORUS. The tale is bruited far and near, And echoes still from ear to ear. The truth, I fain would hear.

OEDIPUS. Ah me!

CHORUS. I prithee yield.

OEDIPUS. Ah me!

CHORUS. Grant my request, I granted all to thee.

OEDIPUS. (Ant. 1) Know then I suffered ills most vile, but none (So help me Heaven!) from acts in malice done.

CHORUS. Say how.

OEDIPUS. The State around An all unwitting bridegroom bound An impious marriage chain; That was my bane.

CHORUS. Didst thou in sooth then share A bed incestuous with her that bare—

OEDIPUS. It stabs me like a sword, That two-edged word, O stranger, but these maids—my own—

CHORUS. Say on.

OEDIPUS. Two daughters, curses twain.

CHORUS. Oh God!

OEDIPUS. Sprang from the wife and mother’s travail-pain.

CHORUS. (Str. 2) What, then thy offspring are at once—

OEDIPUS. Too true. Their father’s very sister’s too.

CHORUS. Oh horror!

OEDIPUS. Horrors from the boundless deep Back on my soul in refluent surges sweep.

CHORUS. Thou hast endured—

OEDIPUS. Intolerable woe.

CHORUS. And sinned—

OEDIPUS. I sinned not.

CHORUS. How so?

OEDIPUS. I served the State; would I had never won That graceless grace by which I was undone.

CHORUS. (Ant. 2) And next, unhappy man, thou hast shed blood?

OEDIPUS. Must ye hear more?

CHORUS. A father’s?

OEDIPUS. Flood on flood Whelms me; that word’s a second mortal blow.

CHORUS. Murderer!

OEDIPUS. Yes, a murderer, but know—

CHORUS. What canst thou plead?

OEDIPUS. A plea of justice.

CHORUS. How?

OEDIPUS. I slew who else would me have slain; I slew without intent, A wretch, but innocent In the law’s eye, I stand, without a stain.

CHORUS. Behold our sovereign, Theseus, Aegeus’ son, Comes at thy summons to perform his part. [Enter THESEUS]

THESEUS. Oft had I heard of thee in times gone by— The bloody mutilation of thine eyes— And therefore know thee, son of Laius. All that I lately gathered on the way Made my conjecture doubly sure; and now Thy garb and that marred visage prove to me That thou art he. So pitying thine estate, Most ill-starred Oedipus, I fain would know What is the suit ye urge on me and Athens, Thou and the helpless maiden at thy side. Declare it; dire indeed must be the tale Whereat _I_ should recoil. I too was reared, Like thee, in exile, and in foreign lands Wrestled with many perils, no man more. Wherefore no alien in adversity Shall seek in vain my succor, nor shalt thou; I know myself a mortal, and my share In what the morrow brings no more than thine.

OEDIPUS. Theseus, thy words so apt, so generous So comfortable, need no long reply Both who I am and of what lineage sprung, And from what land I came, thou hast declared. So without prologue I may utter now My brief petition, and the tale is told.

THESEUS. Say on, and tell me what I fain would learn.

OEDIPUS. I come to offer thee this woe-worn frame, A gift not fair to look on; yet its worth More precious far than any outward show.

THESEUS. What profit dost thou proffer to have brought?

OEDIPUS. Hereafter thou shalt learn, not yet, methinks.

THESEUS. When may we hope to reap the benefit?

OEDIPUS. When I am dead and thou hast buried me.

THESEUS. Thou cravest life’s last service; all before— Is it forgotten or of no account?

OEDIPUS. Yea, the last boon is warrant for the rest.

THESEUS. The grace thou cravest then is small indeed.

OEDIPUS. Nay, weigh it well; the issue is not slight.

THESEUS. Thou meanest that betwixt thy sons and me?

OEDIPUS. Prince, they would fain convey me back to Thebes.

THESEUS. If there be no compulsion, then methinks To rest in banishment befits not thee.

OEDIPUS. Nay, when _I_ wished it _they_ would not consent.

THESEUS. For shame! such temper misbecomes the faller.

OEDIPUS. Chide if thou wilt, but first attend my plea.

THESEUS. Say on, I wait full knowledge ere I judge.

OEDIPUS. O Theseus, I have suffered wrongs on wrongs.

THESEUS. Wouldst tell the old misfortune of thy race?

OEDIPUS. No, that has grown a byword throughout Greece.

THESEUS. What then can be this more than mortal grief?

OEDIPUS. My case stands thus; by my own flesh and blood I was expelled my country, and can ne’er Thither return again, a parricide.

THESEUS. Why fetch thee home if thou must needs obey.

THESEUS. What are they threatened by the oracle?

OEDIPUS. Destruction that awaits them in this land.

THESEUS. What can beget ill blood ’twixt them and me?

OEDIPUS. Dear son of Aegeus, to the gods alone Is given immunity from eld and death; But nothing else escapes all-ruinous time. Earth’s might decays, the might of men decays, Honor grows cold, dishonor flourishes, There is no constancy ’twixt friend and friend, Or city and city; be it soon or late, Sweet turns to bitter, hate once more to love. If now ’tis sunshine betwixt Thebes and thee And not a cloud, Time in his endless course Gives birth to endless days and nights, wherein The merest nothing shall suffice to cut With serried spears your bonds of amity. Then shall my slumbering and buried corpse In its cold grave drink their warm life-blood up, If Zeus be Zeus and Phoebus still speak true. No more: ’tis ill to tear aside the veil Of mysteries; let me cease as I began: Enough if thou wilt keep thy plighted troth, Then shall thou ne’er complain that Oedipus Proved an unprofitable and thankless guest, Except the gods themselves shall play me false.

CHORUS. The man, my lord, has from the very first Declared his power to offer to our land These and like benefits.

THESEUS. Who could reject The proffered amity of such a friend? First, he can claim the hospitality To which by mutual contract we stand pledged: Next, coming here, a suppliant to the gods, He pays full tribute to the State and me; His favors therefore never will I spurn, But grant him the full rights of citizen; And, if it suits the stranger here to bide, I place him in your charge, or if he please Rather to come with me—choose, Oedipus, Which of the two thou wilt. Thy choice is mine.

OEDIPUS. Zeus, may the blessing fall on men like these!

THESEUS. What dost thou then decide—to come with me?

OEDIPUS. Yea, were it lawful—but ’tis rather here—

THESEUS. What wouldst thou here? I shall not thwart thy wish.

OEDIPUS. Here shall I vanquish those who cast me forth.

THESEUS. Then were thy presence here a boon indeed.

OEDIPUS. Such shall it prove, if thou fulfill’st thy pledge.

THESEUS. Fear not for me; I shall not play thee false.

OEDIPUS. No need to back thy promise with an oath.

THESEUS. An oath would be no surer than my word.

OEDIPUS. How wilt thou act then?

THESEUS. What is it thou fear’st?

OEDIPUS. My foes will come—

THESEUS. Our friends will look to that.

OEDIPUS. But if thou leave me?

THESEUS. Teach me not my duty.

OEDIPUS. ’Tis fear constrains me.

THESEUS. _My_ soul knows no fear!

OEDIPUS. Thou knowest not what threats—

THESEUS. I know that none Shall hale thee hence in my despite. Such threats Vented in anger oft, are blusterers, An idle breath, forgot when sense returns. And for thy foemen, though their words were brave, Boasting to bring thee back, they are like to find The seas between us wide and hard to sail. Such my firm purpose, but in any case Take heart, since Phoebus sent thee here. My name, Though I be distant, warrants thee from harm.

CHORUS. (Str. 1) Thou hast come to a steed-famed land for rest, O stranger worn with toil, To a land of all lands the goodliest Colonus’ glistening soil. ’Tis the haunt of the clear-voiced nightingale, Who hid in her bower, among The wine-dark ivy that wreathes the vale, Trilleth her ceaseless song; And she loves, where the clustering berries nod O’er a sunless, windless glade, The spot by no mortal footstep trod, The pleasance kept for the Bacchic god, Where he holds each night his revels wild With the nymphs who fostered the lusty child.

(Ant. 1) And fed each morn by the pearly dew The starred narcissi shine, And a wreath with the crocus’ golden hue For the Mother and Daughter twine. And never the sleepless fountains cease That feed Cephisus’ stream, But they swell earth’s bosom with quick increase, And their wave hath a crystal gleam. And the Muses’ quire will never disdain To visit this heaven-favored plain, Nor the Cyprian queen of the golden rein.

(Str. 2) And here there grows, unpruned, untamed, Terror to foemen’s spear, A tree in Asian soil unnamed, By Pelops’ Dorian isle unclaimed, Self-nurtured year by year; ’Tis the grey-leaved olive that feeds our boys; Nor youth nor withering age destroys The plant that the Olive Planter tends And the Grey-eyed Goddess herself defends.

(Ant. 2) Yet another gift, of all gifts the most Prized by our fatherland, we boast— The might of the horse, the might of the sea; Our fame, Poseidon, we owe to thee, Son of Kronos, our king divine, Who in these highways first didst fit For the mouth of horses the iron bit; Thou too hast taught us to fashion meet For the arm of the rower the oar-blade fleet, Swift as the Nereids’ hundred feet As they dance along the brine.

ANTIGONE. Oh land extolled above all lands, ’tis now For thee to make these glorious titles good.

OEDIPUS. Why this appeal, my daughter?

ANTIGONE. Father, lo! Creon approaches with his company.

OEDIPUS. Fear not, it shall be so; if we are old, This country’s vigor has no touch of age. [Enter CREON with attendants]

CREON. Burghers, my noble friends, ye take alarm At my approach (I read it in your eyes), Fear nothing and refrain from angry words. I come with no ill purpose; I am old, And know the city whither I am come, Without a peer amongst the powers of Greece. It was by reason of my years that I Was chosen to persuade your guest and bring Him back to Thebes; not the delegate Of one man, but commissioned by the State, Since of all Thebans I have most bewailed, Being his kinsman, his most grievous woes. O listen to me, luckless Oedipus, Come home! The whole Cadmeian people claim With right to have thee back, I most of all, For most of all (else were I vile indeed) I mourn for thy misfortunes, seeing thee An aged outcast, wandering on and on, A beggar with one handmaid for thy stay. Ah! who had e’er imagined she could fall To such a depth of misery as this, To tend in penury thy stricken frame, A virgin ripe for wedlock, but unwed, A prey for any wanton ravisher? Seems it not cruel this reproach I cast On thee and on myself and all the race? Aye, but an open shame cannot be hid. Hide it, O hide it, Oedipus, thou canst. O, by our fathers’ gods, consent I pray; Come back to Thebes, come to thy father’s home, Bid Athens, as is meet, a fond farewell; Thebes thy old foster-mother claims thee first.

OEDIPUS. O front of brass, thy subtle tongue would twist To thy advantage every plea of right Why try thy arts on me, why spread again Toils where ’twould gall me sorest to be snared? In old days when by self-wrought woes distraught, I yearned for exile as a glad release, Thy will refused the favor then I craved. But when my frenzied grief had spent its force, And I was fain to taste the sweets of home, Then thou wouldst thrust me from my country, then These ties of kindred were by thee ignored; And now again when thou behold’st this State And all its kindly people welcome me, Thou seek’st to part us, wrapping in soft words Hard thoughts. And yet what pleasure canst thou find In forcing friendship on unwilling foes? Suppose a man refused to grant some boon When you importuned him, and afterwards When you had got your heart’s desire, consented, Granting a grace from which all grace had fled, Would not such favor seem an empty boon? Yet such the boon thou profferest now to me, Fair in appearance, but when tested false. Yea, I will proved thee false, that these may hear; Thou art come to take me, not to take me home, But plant me on thy borders, that thy State May so escape annoyance from this land. _That_ thou shalt never gain, but _this_ instead— My ghost to haunt thy country without end; And for my sons, this heritage—no more— Just room to die in. Have not I more skill Than thou to draw the horoscope of Thebes? Are not my teachers surer guides than thine— Great Phoebus and the sire of Phoebus, Zeus? Thou art a messenger suborned, thy tongue Is sharper than a sword’s edge, yet thy speech Will bring thee more defeats than victories. Howbeit, I know I waste my words—begone, And leave me here; whate’er may be my lot, He lives not ill who lives withal content.

CREON. Which loses in this parley, I o’erthrown By thee, or thou who overthrow’st thyself?

OEDIPUS. I shall be well contented if thy suit Fails with these strangers, as it has with me.

CREON. Unhappy man, will years ne’er make thee wise? Must thou live on to cast a slur on age?

OEDIPUS. Thou hast a glib tongue, but no honest man, Methinks, can argue well on any side.

CREON. ’Tis one thing to speak much, another well.

OEDIPUS. Thy words, forsooth, are few and all well aimed!

CREON. Not for a man indeed with wits like thine.

OEDIPUS. Depart! I bid thee in these burghers’ name, And prowl no longer round me to blockade My destined harbor.

CREON. I protest to these, Not thee, and for thine answer to thy kin, If e’er I take thee—

OEDIPUS. Who against their will Could take me?

CREON. Though untaken thou shalt smart.

OEDIPUS. What power hast thou to execute this threat?

CREON. One of thy daughters is already seized, The other I will carry off anon.

OEDIPUS. Woe, woe!

CREON. This is but prelude to thy woes.

OEDIPUS. Hast thou my child?

CREON. And soon shall have the other.

OEDIPUS. Ho, friends! ye will not surely play me false? Chase this ungodly villain from your land.

CHORUS. Hence, stranger, hence avaunt! Thou doest wrong In this, and wrong in all that thou hast done.

CREON (to his guards). ’Tis time by force to carry off the girl, If she refuse of her free will to go.