Part 4

FOOTNOTES:

[3] Reading, _retro_.

[4] Reading, _sonantem_.

[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. [_Enter_ Phorbas, _the head-shepherd._] 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.

_Oedipus:_ O fate-revealer, thee do I upbraid, 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:

[6] Reading, _tantum_.

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 before his birth, has fallen at last, and he has done the thing he feared to do. And now, self-blinded and self-exiled from his land, he has for three years wandered in rough and trackless places, attended by Antigone, his daughter, who, alone of all his friends, has condoned his fated sins and remained attached to him._

_Meanwhile his sons, though they agreed to reign alternate years, are soon to meet in deadly strife; for Eteocles, although his year of royal power is at an end, refuses to give up the throne; and now Polynices, who has in exile wed the daughter of Adrastus, king of Argos, is marching against the gates of Thebes, with seven great armies, to enforce his rights._

[_By a different version from the "Oedipus," Jocasta did not slay herself at once as in that tale, but still is living on in grief and shame, and strives to reconcile her sons._]

ACT I

_Oedipus_ [_to_ Antigone, _who has followed him into exile_]: O thou, who guid'st thy blinded father's steps, Sole comfort of my weary heart, my child, Begotten at such heavy cost to me, Leave thou the unpropitious way I tread. Why shouldst thou seek to lead my feet aright Which fain would wander? Let me stumble on. 5 Far better shall I find my way, alone, The path that from the miseries of life Shall take me, and the face of heaven and earth Free from the sight of this ill-omened head. O hand of mine, how little hast thou done! For, though I do not see the light of day Which looked upon my crime, still am I seen. Unclasp thy clinging hand from mine; permit 10 My sightless feet to wander where they will. I go, I go where my Cithaeron lifts His rugged crags on high; where to his dogs Actaeon, speeding through the rocky ways, Became a booty strange and pitiful; Where through the dim old woods and dusky glades, 15 By Bacchic frenzy fired, the mother wild Her sisters led, rejoicing in the crime, When on the waving thyrsus' point she bore The gory head of Pentheus; where the bull Of Zethus rushed along, the mangled corpse Of Dirce dragging (through the thorny briars 20 The mad beast's flight was traceable in blood); Or where the cliff of Ino lifts its head High o'er the heaving sea, into whose depths The mother leaped, fleeing an unknown crime, Yet daring other crime, by terror driven To sink her son with her beneath the waves. 25 Oh, happy they whose better fortune gave Mothers like these! There is another place Within these woods--my place, which calls to me, To which I fain would haste; my eager feet Will not delay, and thither will I go, Unguided, all alone. Why hesitate 30 To seek the place that most belongs to me? Give back that death, Cithaeron, give again That spot where once I lay upon thy breast, That, where I should in infancy have died, In age I may expire. Now let me pay The debt I long have owed. O mountain, fell And bloody, cruel, savage in thy rage, Both when thou spar'st and when thou dost destroy, 35 This body long ago was given to thee: Obey my father's and my mother's will. My soul is eager to receive at last Its punishment. Why, daughter, why dost thou With baleful love restrain me? Hold me not. My father calls, and I will follow, yea, Will follow him. Then cease to hold me back. 40 See where the royal Laius comes in rage, The blood-stained scepter of his ravished realm Within his grasp. See, with his angry hands He seeks to tear again my empty eyes. O daughter, dost thou see my father, too? I surely see him. [_To himself:_] Now, O coward soul, Brave but to mar a helpless part of thee, 45 At length spew out that hateful life of thine. Delay no more upon thy punishment, And give thyself entirely unto death. Why do I, sluggish, linger on in life? There is no further crime that I can do. Oh, my foreboding, wretched soul, there is! [_To_ Antigone.] Flee from thy father, flee, while still a maid; My mother's fate makes me of all afraid. 50