Part 3

_Tiresias_: Driven through a narrow opening spurts the blood, 345 Or, sluggish, does it water deeper wounds?

_Manto_: The blood of one, through that same welcome thrust, Doth flow in generous streams; but of the bull, Those yawning wounds are stained with scanty drops, While, turning backward, through his eyes and mouth The plenteous current flows. 350

_Tiresias_: These unblest rites Some dreadful ills portend. But come, describe The trusty markings of the viscera.

_Manto_: Oh, what is this? For not, as is their wont, With gentle motion do the entrails quake, But, rather, strongly throb beneath the touch, While from the veins the blood leaps forth anew. 355 The sickly heart is shriveled up and lies Deep hidden in the breast; the veins appear Of livid hue. The entrails suffer lack; And from the wasting liver oozes slow A stream of black corruption. Nay, behold (A sign of dark foreboding to a king Who holdeth single sway), two swelling points Of equal elevation rise to view; 360 But both are lopped and covered with a veil. Refusing lurking-place to things unseen, The hostile side uprears itself with strength And shows seven swelling veins; but these, again, An intersecting line cuts straight across, Preventing their return. The natural law 365 And order of the parts has been reversed, And nothing lies within its proper place. All on the right the blood-filled lungs appear, Incapable of air; the heart no more Is found upon the left, its 'customed place. The fatty walls, with their soft covering, No longer richly fold the entrails in. 370 The ways of nature are in all things changed; The womb itself is most unnatural. Look close, and see what impious thing is this: Oh, monstrous! 'tis the unborn progeny Of a heifer still unmated! stranger still, It lies not in the wonted place, assigned By nature's laws, but fills its mother's side. 375 It moves its members with a feeble groan; Its unformed limbs with trembling rigors twitch. Black blood has stained the darkened entrails all; The mangled bodies strive e'en yet to move, Make show to rise, and menace with their horns The priestly hands. The entrails shun the touch. 380 Nor is that lowing which has frightened thee The deep-voiced roar of bulls, nor do the calls Of frightened cattle sound upon our ears: It is the lowing of the altar fires, It is the frightened muttering of the shrine!

_Oedipus_: What meaning have these monstrous signs? Declare; And with no timid ears will I attend. 385 For he who has the dregs of fortune drained Fears nothing more.

_Tiresias_: The time will come to thee, When these thy ills, for which thou seekest aid, Will blessings seem.

_Oedipus_: But tell me then, I pray, The one thing which the gods would have me know: Whose hands are stained with murder of the king?

_Tiresias_: Neither the birds can summon up the name, 390 Who cleave the depths of heaven on fleeting wing, Nor yet the vitals plucked from living breasts. But we must seek it in another way: The murdered king himself must be recalled From realms of everlasting night, that thus, Released from Erebus, he may declare His murderer. The earth must be unsealed; 395 The pitiless divinity of Dis Must be implored, and hither brought the shades Who live beyond the Styx. Now do thou tell To whom thou giv'st the sacred embassy; For 'tis not right for thee who hold'st the reins Of government to seek the gloomy shades.

_Oedipus_: O Creon, thee this task demands, to whom, As next in power, my kingdom looks for aid. 400

_Tiresias_: And while we loose the bars of deepest hell, Do ye the praises of our Bacchus tell.

[_Exeunt_ Creon, Tiresias, _and_ Manto.]

_The Chorus_ [_in dithyrambic strain sings in praise of_ Bacchus]: Bind ye now your flowing locks with the swaying ivy, Brandish aloft with your languishing arms the Nysaean thyrsus! O glorious light of heaven, attend the prayers 405 Which noble Thebes, thy Thebes, O beautiful Bacchus, With suppliant hands outstretched here offers thee. Turn hither thy smiling virgin face, Dispel the clouds with thy starry glance, 410 The gloomy threats of Erebus, And ravenous fate. Thee it becomes to crown thy locks with flowers of the springtime, Thee to bind thy head with the Tyrian fillet; Or with the clinging ivy, gleaming with berries, Softly to wreathe thy brow; 415 Now thy hair to unbind and spread in confusion, Now in close-drawn knot to collect and confine it; Just as when thou, fearing the wrath of Juno, Didst conceal thyself in the guise of maidens. Virgin, too, thou seemedst with golden ringlets, 420 Binding up thy robe with a saffron girdle. So the softer graces of living please thee, Robes ungirt and flowing in long profusion. When in thy golden car thou wast drawn by lions, Clad in flowing garments, the East beheld thee, 425 All the vast expanse of the Indian country, They who drink the Ganges and cleave the surface Of snowy Araxes. Seated on humble beast the old Silenus attends thee, Binding his throbbing brows with a waving garland of ivy; 430 While the wanton priests lead on the mysterious revels. And then a troop of Bassarids With dancing step conducted thee, Now ranging o'er Pangaeus' foot, And now on Thracian Pindus' top. 435 Soon, 'mid the noble dames of Thebes, A furious Maenad, the comrade of Bacchus, In garment of fawn-skin, conducted the god. The Theban dames, by Bacchus excited, With streaming locks and thyrsus uplifted 440 In high-waving hands, now join in the revels, And wild in their madness they rend Pentheus Limb from limb. Their fury spent, with weary frame, They look upon their impious deed, And know it not. Into the sea realms holds, the foster-mother of Bacchus; 445 Round her the daughters of Nereus dance, Leucothoë singing; Over the mighty deep, though new to its waves, Palaemon, Brother of Bacchus, rules, a mortal changed to a sea-god. When in childhood a band of robbers assailing Bore thee away in their flying vessel a captive, Nereus quickly calmed the billowy ocean; 450 When lo! to rolling meadows the dark sea changes; Here stands in vernal green the flourishing plane-tree, There the groves of laurel dear to Apollo; While resounds the chatter of birds in the branches. Now are the oars enwreathed with the living ivy, While at the masthead hang the clustering grape vines; 455 There on the prow loud roars a lion of Ida, At the stern appears a terrible tiger of Ganges. Filled with terror the pirates leap in the ocean. Straight in their plunging forms new changes appear; 460 For first their arms are seen to shrink and fall, Their bodies' length to shorten; and on their sides The hands appear as fins; with curving back They skim the waves, and, lashing their crescent tails, They dash through the water. 465 Changed to a school of dolphins now, they follow the vessel. Soon did the Lydian stream with its precious waters receive thee, Pouring down its golden waves in a billowy current. Loosed was the vanquished bow and Scythian darts of the savage Massagetan who mingles blood in his milky goblets. 470 The realm of Lycurgus, bearer of axes, submitted to Bacchus; The land of the Dacians[2] untamable felt his dominion, The wandering tribes of the north by Boreas smitten, And whom the Maeotis bathes with its frozen waters. 475 Where the Arcadian star looks down from the zenith, Even there the power of Bacchus extended; Conquered too the scattered Gelonian peoples. From the warlike maidens their arms he wrested; Down to the earth they fell in desperate conflict, 480 The hardy bands of Amazonian maidens. Now, at last, their arrows swift are abandoned, And Maenads have they become. Holy Cithaeron too has streamed with slaughter, Where was spilt the noble blood of Ophion. 485 Proetus' daughters the forests sought; and Argos, Juno at last consenting, paid homage to Bacchus. The island of Naxos, girt by the broad Aegean, Gave to Bacchus the maid whom Theseus abandoned, Compensating her loss by a better husband. 490 Out of the rock there gushed Nyctelian liquor; Babbling streams at his word clove the grassy meadows; Deep the earth drank in the nectarean juices; Streams of snowy milk burst forth from the fountains, 495 Mingled with Lesbian wine all fragrant with spices. Now is the bride to her place in the heavens conducted; Phoebus, with flowing locks, sings a stately anthem; Love, in honor of both, bears the wedding torches; 500 Jove lays down the deadly darts of his lightning, Halting his bolts of flame at the coming of Bacchus. While the gleaming stars in their boundless pasturage wander, While the sea shall gird th' imprisoned earth with its waters, 505 While the full-orb'd moon shall gather her lost refulgence, While the morning star shall herald the coming of Phoebus, While in the north the Bear shall fear the cerulean ocean, Still shall we worship the shining face of the beautiful Bacchus.

FOOTNOTES:

[2] Reading, _te Dacûm_.

ACT III

[_Enter_ Creon, _returned from the rites of necromancy_.]

_Oedipus_: Although thy face displays the marks of grief, Declare whose death an angry heaven demands. 510

_Creon_: Thou bid'st me speak where fear would silence keep.

_Oedipus_: If Thebes, to ruin falling, move thee not, Regard the scepter of thy kindred house.

_Creon_: Thou wilt repent the knowledge which thou seek'st.

_Oedipus_: A useless cure for ills is ignorance. 515 And wilt thou still obstruct the public weal?

_Creon_: Where foul the cure, 'tis grievous to be cured.

_Oedipus_: Thy tidings speak; or, by thy pains subdued, Thou soon shalt know what angered kings can do.

_Creon_: Kings hate the words whose speech they would compel. 520

_Oedipus_: In hades shalt thou pay thy life for all, Unless thou tell the secrets of the fates.

_Creon_: Nay, let me hold my peace. No smaller boon Was ever sought.

_Oedipus_: More often than by speech, Have kingdoms by the boon of silence fall'n. 525

_Creon_: When silence is denied what can be given?

_Oedipus_: He sins who silence holds when speech is best.

_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.