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Sophocles
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Chapter I: Oedipus the king
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Oedipus. The Priest of Zeus. Creon. Chorus of Theban Elders. Teiresias. Jocasta. Messenger. Herd of Laius. Second Messenger.
Scene: Thebes. Before the Palace of Oedipus.
Why sit ye here as suppliants, in your hands
Branches of olive filleted with wool?
What means this reek of incense everywhere,
And everywhere laments and litanies?
Children, it were not meet that I should learn
From others, and am hither come, myself,
I Oedipus, your world-renowned king.
Ho! aged sire, whose venerable locks
Proclaim thee spokesman of this company,
Explain your mood and purport. Is it dread
Of ill that moves you or a boon ye crave?
My zeal in your behalf ye cannot doubt;
Ruthless indeed were I and obdurate
If such petitioners as you I spurned.
Thou seest how both extremes of age besiege
Thy palace altars—fledglings hardly winged,
and greybeards bowed with years; priests, as am I
of Zeus, and these the flower of our youth.
Meanwhile, the common folk, with wreathed boughs
Crowd our two market-places, or before
Both shrines of Pallas congregate, or where
Ismenus gives his oracles by fire.
For, as thou seest thyself, our ship of State,
Sore buffeted, can no more lift her head,
Foundered beneath a weltering surge of blood.
A blight is on our harvest in the ear,
A blight on the grazing flocks and herds,
A blight on wives in travail; and withal
Armed with his blazing torch the God of Plague
Hath swooped on our city emptying
The house of Cadmus, and the murky realm
Of Pluto is full fed with groans and tears.
Therefore, O King, here at thy hearth we sit,
I and these children; not as deeming thee
A new divinity, but the first of men;
First in the common accidents of life,
And first in visitations of the Gods.
Art thou not he who coming to the town
of Cadmus freed us from the tax we paid
To the fell songstress? Nor hadst thou received
Prompting from us or been by others schooled;
No, by a god inspired (so all men deem,
And testify) didst thou renew our life.
And now, O Oedipus, our peerless king,
All we thy votaries beseech thee, find
Some succor, whether by a voice from heaven
Whispered, or haply known by human wit.
Tried counselors, methinks, are aptest found
To furnish for the future pregnant rede.
Upraise, O chief of men, upraise our State!
Look to thy laurels! for thy zeal of yore
Our country's savior thou art justly hailed:
O never may we thus record thy reign:—
"He raised us up only to cast us down."
Uplift us, build our city on a rock.
Thy happy star ascendant brought us luck,
O let it not decline! If thou wouldst rule
This land, as now thou reignest, better sure
To rule a peopled than a desert realm.
Nor battlements nor galleys aught avail,
If men to man and guards to guard them tail.
The quest that brings you hither and your need.
Ye sicken all, well wot I, yet my pain,
How great soever yours, outtops it all.
Your sorrow touches each man severally,
Him and none other, but I grieve at once
Both for the general and myself and you.
Therefore ye rouse no sluggard from day-dreams.
Many, my children, are the tears I've wept,
And threaded many a maze of weary thought.
Thus pondering one clue of hope I caught,
And tracked it up; I have sent Menoeceus' son,
Creon, my consort's brother, to inquire
Of Pythian Phoebus at his Delphic shrine,
How I might save the State by act or word.
And now I reckon up the tale of days
Since he set forth, and marvel how he fares.
'Tis strange, this endless tarrying, passing strange.
But when he comes, then I were base indeed,
If I perform not all the god declares.
That shouting tells me Creon is at hand.
Be presage of the joyous news he brings!
Had scarce been crowned with berry-laden bays.
[Enter CREON]
What message hast thou brought us from the god?
Finding right issue, tend to naught but good.
Give me no ground for confidence or fear.
Is more for these my subjects than myself.
King Phoebus bids us straitly extirpate
A fell pollution that infests the land,
And no more harbor an inveterate sore.
The sovereign of this land was Laius.
Punish his takers-off, whoe'er they be.
The far, faint traces of a bygone crime?
Or traveling, when Laius met his fate?
For Delphi, but he never thence returned.
To give some clue that might be followed up?
Could tell of all he saw but one thing sure.
With but a spark of hope to guide our quest.
A troop of knaves, attacked and murdered him.
Unless indeed he were suborned from Thebes?
His murder mid the trouble that ensued.
When royalty had fallen thus miserably?
The dim past and attend to instant needs.
Make dark things clear. Right worthy the concern
Of Phoebus, worthy thine too, for the dead;
I also, as is meet, will lend my aid
To avenge this wrong to Thebes and to the god.
Not for some far-off kinsman, but myself,
Shall I expel this poison in the blood;
For whoso slew that king might have a mind
To strike me too with his assassin hand.
Therefore in righting him I serve myself.
Up, children, haste ye, quit these altar stairs,
Take hence your suppliant wands, go summon hither
The Theban commons. With the god's good help
Success is sure; 'tis ruin if we fail.
[Exeunt OEDIPUS and CREON]
Forestall the very purpose of our suit.
And may the god who sent this oracle
Save us withal and rid us of this pest.
[Exeunt PRIEST and SUPPLIANTS]
(Ant. 1) First on Athene I call; O Zeus-born goddess, defend! Goddess and sister, befriend, Artemis, Lady of Thebes, high-throned in the midst of our mart! Lord of the death-winged dart! Your threefold aid I crave From death and ruin our city to save. If in the days of old when we nigh had perished, ye drave From our land the fiery plague, be near us now and defend us!
(Str. 2)
All our host is in decline;
Weaponless my spirit lies.
Earth her gracious fruits denies;
Women wail in barren throes;
Life on life downstriken goes,
Swifter than the wind bird's flight,
Swifter than the Fire-God's might,
To the westering shores of Night.
(Ant. 2)
All our city perisheth.
Corpses spread infection round;
None to tend or mourn is found.
Wailing on the altar stair
Wives and grandams rend the air—
Long-drawn moans and piercing cries
Blent with prayers and litanies.
Golden child of Zeus, O hear
Let thine angel face appear!
(Str. 3)
Though without targe or steel
He stalks, whose voice is as the battle shout,
May turn in sudden rout,
To the unharbored Thracian waters sped,
Or Amphitrite's bed.
For what night leaves undone,
Smit by the morrow's sun
Perisheth. Father Zeus, whose hand
Doth wield the lightning brand,
Slay him beneath thy levin bold, we pray,
Slay him, O slay!
(Ant. 3)
From that taut bow's gold string,
Might fly abroad, the champions of our rights;
Yea, and the flashing lights
Of Artemis, wherewith the huntress sweeps
Across the Lycian steeps.
Thee too I call with golden-snooded hair,
Whose name our land doth bear,
Bacchus to whom thy Maenads Evoe shout;
Come with thy bright torch, rout,
Blithe god whom we adore,
The god whom gods abhor.
[Enter OEDIPUS.]
And heed them and apply the remedy,
Ye might perchance find comfort and relief.
Mind you, I speak as one who comes a stranger
To this report, no less than to the crime;
For how unaided could I track it far
Without a clue? Which lacking (for too late
Was I enrolled a citizen of Thebes)
This proclamation I address to all:—
Thebans, if any knows the man by whom
Laius, son of Labdacus, was slain,
I summon him to make clean shrift to me.
And if he shrinks, let him reflect that thus
Confessing he shall 'scape the capital charge;
For the worst penalty that shall befall him
Is banishment—unscathed he shall depart.
But if an alien from a foreign land
Be known to any as the murderer,
Let him who knows speak out, and he shall have
Due recompense from me and thanks to boot.
But if ye still keep silence, if through fear
For self or friends ye disregard my hest,
Hear what I then resolve; I lay my ban
On the assassin whosoe'er he be.
Let no man in this land, whereof I hold
The sovereign rule, harbor or speak to him;
Give him no part in prayer or sacrifice
Or lustral rites, but hound him from your homes.
For this is our defilement, so the god
Hath lately shown to me by oracles.
Thus as their champion I maintain the cause
Both of the god and of the murdered King.
And on the murderer this curse I lay
(On him and all the partners in his guilt):—
Wretch, may he pine in utter wretchedness!
And for myself, if with my privity
He gain admittance to my hearth, I pray
The curse I laid on others fall on me.
See that ye give effect to all my hest,
For my sake and the god's and for our land,
A desert blasted by the wrath of heaven.
For, let alone the god's express command,
It were a scandal ye should leave unpurged
The murder of a great man and your king,
Nor track it home. And now that I am lord,
Successor to his throne, his bed, his wife,
(And had he not been frustrate in the hope
Of issue, common children of one womb
Had forced a closer bond twixt him and me,
But Fate swooped down on him), therefore I
His blood-avenger will maintain his cause
As though he were my sire, and leave no stone
Unturned to track the assassin or avenge
The son of Labdacus, of Polydore,
Of Cadmus, and Agenor first of the race.
And for the disobedient thus I pray:
May the gods send them neither timely fruits
Of earth, nor teeming increase of the womb,
But may they waste and pine, as now they waste,
Aye and worse stricken; but to all of you,
My loyal subjects who approve my acts,
May Justice, our ally, and all the gods
Be gracious and attend you evermore.
I slew him not myself, nor can I name
The slayer. For the quest, 'twere well, methinks
That Phoebus, who proposed the riddle, himself
Should give the answer—who the murderer was.
To force the gods to speak against their will.
With our lord Phoebus, 'tis our prophet, lord
Teiresias; he of all men best might guide
A searcher of this matter to the light.
At Creon's instance have I sent to fetch him,
And long I marvel why he is not here.
Mere gossip.
But none has seen the man who saw him fall.
And flee before the terror of thy curse.
They bring the god-inspired seer in whom
Above all other men is truth inborn.
[Enter TEIRESIAS, led by a boy.]
Lore of the wise and hidden mysteries,
High things of heaven and low things of the earth,
Thou knowest, though thy blinded eyes see naught,
What plague infects our city; and we turn
To thee, O seer, our one defense and shield.
The purport of the answer that the God
Returned to us who sought his oracle,
The messengers have doubtless told thee—how
One course alone could rid us of the pest,
To find the murderers of Laius,
And slay them or expel them from the land.
Therefore begrudging neither augury
Nor other divination that is thine,
O save thyself, thy country, and thy king,
Save all from this defilement of blood shed.
On thee we rest. This is man's highest end,
To others' service all his powers to lend.
When wisdom profits nothing! This old lore
I had forgotten; else I were not here.
That thou shouldst bear thy burden and I mine.
Would thus withhold the word of prophecy.
For fear lest I too trip like thee...
Withhold not, I adjure thee, if thou know'st,
Thy knowledge. We are all thy suppliants.
Will ne'er reveal my miseries—or thine.
Thus idly what from me thou shalt not learn?
Will nothing loose thy tongue? Can nothing melt thee,
Or shake thy dogged taciturnity?
Wherewith thou art mated; no, thou taxest me.
How insolently thou dost flout the State?
And give the rein to all thy pent-up rage.
But speak my whole mind. Thou methinks thou art he,
Who planned the crime, aye, and performed it too,
All save the assassination; and if thou
Hadst not been blind, I had been sworn to boot
That thou alone didst do the bloody deed.
By thine own proclamation; from this day
Speak not to these or me. Thou art the man,
Thou the accursed polluter of this land.
Whose murderer thou pursuest.
Twice to repeat so gross a calumny.
In infamy, unwitting in thy shame.
In ear, wit, eye, in everything art blind.
Here present will cast back on thee ere long.
O'er me or any man who sees the sun.
I leave to Apollo what concerns the god.
Outwitted in the battlefield of life,
What spite and envy follow in your train!
See, for this crown the State conferred on me.
A gift, a thing I sought not, for this crown
The trusty Creon, my familiar friend,
Hath lain in wait to oust me and suborned
This mountebank, this juggling charlatan,
This tricksy beggar-priest, for gain alone
Keen-eyed, but in his proper art stone-blind.
Say, sirrah, hast thou ever proved thyself
A prophet? When the riddling Sphinx was here
Why hadst thou no deliverance for this folk?
And yet the riddle was not to be solved
By guess-work but required the prophet's art;
Wherein thou wast found lacking; neither birds
Nor sign from heaven helped thee, but _I_ came,
The simple Oedipus; _I_ stopped her mouth
By mother wit, untaught of auguries.
This is the man whom thou wouldst undermine,
In hope to reign with Creon in my stead.
Methinks that thou and thine abettor soon
Will rue your plot to drive the scapegoat out.
Thank thy grey hairs that thou hast still to learn
What chastisement such arrogance deserves.
O Oedipus, have spoken angry words.
This is no time to wrangle but consult
How best we may fulfill the oracle.
To make reply; in this I am thy peer.
I own no lord but Loxias; him I serve
And ne'er can stand enrolled as Creon's man.
Thus then I answer: since thou hast not spared
To twit me with my blindness—thou hast eyes,
Yet see'st not in what misery thou art fallen,
Nor where thou dwellest nor with whom for mate.
Dost know thy lineage? Nay, thou know'st it not,
And all unwitting art a double foe
To thine own kin, the living and the dead;
Aye and the dogging curse of mother and sire
One day shall drive thee, like a two-edged sword,
Beyond our borders, and the eyes that now
See clear shall henceforward endless night.
Ah whither shall thy bitter cry not reach,
What crag in all Cithaeron but shall then
Reverberate thy wail, when thou hast found
With what a hymeneal thou wast borne
Home, but to no fair haven, on the gale!
Aye, and a flood of ills thou guessest not
Shall set thyself and children in one line.
Flout then both Creon and my words, for none
Of mortals shall be striken worse than thou.
A murrain on thee! Get thee hence! Begone
Avaunt! and never cross my threshold more.
Long hadst thou waited to be summoned here.
But to the parents who begat thee, wise.
Thy frown I dread not, for thou canst not harm me.
Hear then: this man whom thou hast sought to arrest
With threats and warrants this long while, the wretch
Who murdered Laius—that man is here.
He passes for an alien in the land
But soon shall prove a Theban, native born.
And yet his fortune brings him little joy;
For blind of seeing, clad in beggar's weeds,
For purple robes, and leaning on his staff,
To a strange land he soon shall grope his way.
And of the children, inmates of his home,
He shall be proved the brother and the sire,
Of her who bare him son and husband both,
Co-partner, and assassin of his sire.
Go in and ponder this, and if thou find
That I have missed the mark, henceforth declare
I have no wit nor skill in prophecy.
[Exeunt TEIRESIAS and OEDIPUS]
(Str. 1)
Doer of foul deeds of bloodshed, horrors that no tongue can tell?
A foot for flight he needs
Fleeter than storm-swift steeds,
For on his heels doth follow,
Armed with the lightnings of his Sire, Apollo.
Like sleuth-hounds too
The Fates pursue.
(Ant. 1) Yea, but now flashed forth the summons from Parnassus' snowy peak, "Near and far the undiscovered doer of this murder seek!" Now like a sullen bull he roves Through forest brakes and upland groves, And vainly seeks to fly The doom that ever nigh Flits o'er his head, Still by the avenging Phoebus sped, The voice divine, From Earth's mid shrine.
(Str. 2) Sore perplexed am I by the words of the master seer. Are they true, are they false? I know not and bridle my tongue for fear, Fluttered with vague surmise; nor present nor future is clear. Quarrel of ancient date or in days still near know I none Twixt the Labdacidan house and our ruler, Polybus' son. Proof is there none: how then can I challenge our King's good name, How in a blood-feud join for an untracked deed of shame?
(Ant. 2) All wise are Zeus and Apollo, and nothing is hid from their ken; They are gods; and in wits a man may surpass his fellow men; But that a mortal seer knows more than I know—where Hath this been proven? Or how without sign assured, can I blame Him who saved our State when the winged songstress came, Tested and tried in the light of us all, like gold assayed? How can I now assent when a crime is on Oedipus laid?
Hath laid against me a most grievous charge,
And come to you protesting. If he deems
That I have harmed or injured him in aught
By word or deed in this our present trouble,
I care not to prolong the span of life,
Thus ill-reputed; for the calumny
Hits not a single blot, but blasts my name,
If by the general voice I am denounced
False to the State and false by you my friends.
In petulance, not spoken advisedly.
Prompted the seer to utter a forged charge?
When on me he fixed this monstrous charge?
But lo, he comes to answer for himself.
[Enter OEDIPUS.]
To approach my doors, thou brazen-faced rogue,
My murderer and the filcher of my crown?
Come, answer this, didst thou detect in me
Some touch of cowardice or witlessness,
That made thee undertake this enterprise?
I seemed forsooth too simple to perceive
The serpent stealing on me in the dark,
Or else too weak to scotch it when I saw.
This _thou_ art witless seeking to possess
Without a following or friends the crown,
A prize that followers and wealth must win.
To make reply. Then having heard me, judge.
Of thee; I know too well thy venomous hate.
Unschooled by reason, thou art much astray.
And no pains follow, thou art much to seek.
That thou allegest—tell me what it is.
Should call the priest?
Ascribed to me the death of Laius.
Would put the question to you in my turn.
As I with myself. First, I bid you think,
Would any mortal choose a troubled reign
Of terrors rather than secure repose,
If the same power were given him? As for me,
I have no natural craving for the name
Of king, preferring to do kingly deeds,
And so thinks every sober-minded man.
Now all my needs are satisfied through you,
And I have nothing to fear; but were I king,
My acts would often run counter to my will.
How could a title then have charms for me
Above the sweets of boundless influence?
I am not so infatuated as to grasp
The shadow when I hold the substance fast.
Now all men cry me Godspeed! wish me well,
And every suitor seeks to gain my ear,
If he would hope to win a grace from you.
Why should I leave the better, choose the worse?
That were sheer madness, and I am not mad.
No such ambition ever tempted me,
Nor would I have a share in such intrigue.
And if you doubt me, first to Delphi go,
There ascertain if my report was true
Of the god's answer; next investigate
If with the seer I plotted or conspired,
And if it prove so, sentence me to death,
Not by your voice alone, but mine and yours.
But O condemn me not, without appeal,
On bare suspicion. It is not right to adjudge
Bad men at random good, or good men bad.
I would as soon a man should cast away
The thing he counts most precious, his own life,
As spurn a true friend. You will learn in time
The truth, for time alone reveals the just;
A villain is detected in a day.
Commend themselves; swift counsels are not sure.
I must be quick too with my counterplot.
To wait his onset passively, for him
Is sure success, for me assured defeat.
That men may mark the wages envy reaps.
Jocasta from the palace. Who so fit
As peacemaker to reconcile your feud?
[Enter JOCASTA.]
This wordy wrangle? Are you not ashamed,
While the whole land lies stricken, thus to voice
Your private injuries? Go in, my lord;
Go home, my brother, and forbear to make
A public scandal of a petty grief.
Has bid me choose (O dread alternative!)
An outlaw's exile or a felon's death.
Against my royal person his vile arts.
In any way am guilty of this charge.
First for his solemn oath's sake, then for mine,
And for your elders' sake who wait on you.
Are known to all and now confirmed by oath.
Let not suspicion against his oath prevail.
In very truth my death or banishment?
Witness, you Sun, such thought was never mine,
Unblest, unfriended may I perish,
If ever I such wish did cherish!
But O my heart is desolate
Musing on our stricken State,
Doubly fallen should discord grow
Between you two, to crown our woe.
Or certain death or shameful banishment,
For your sake I relent, not his; and him,
Wherever he be, my heart shall still abhor.
As in your anger you were truculent.
Such tempers justly plague themselves the most.
By you misjudged, but justified by these.
[Exeunt CREON]
It were better sleeping ills to leave at rest.
Witless were I proved, insane,
If I lightly put away
You my country's prop and stay,
Pilot who, in danger sought,
To a quiet haven brought
Our distracted State; and now
Who can guide us right but you?
What cause has stirred this unrelenting wrath.
Lady, the cause is Creon and his plots.
And makes a mouthpiece of a knavish seer.
Listen and I'll convince you that no man
Has any part in the prophetic art.
Here is the proof in brief. An oracle
Once came to Laius (I will not say
It was from the Delphic god himself, but from
His ministers) declaring he was doomed
To perish by the hand of his own son,
A child that should be born to him by me.
Now Laius—so at least report affirmed—
Was murdered on a day by highwaymen,
No natives, at a spot where three roads meet.
As for the child, it was but three days old,
When Laius, its ankles pierced and pinned
Together, gave it to be cast away
By others on the trackless mountain side.
So then Apollo brought it not to pass
The child should be his father's murderer,
Or the dread terror find accomplishment,
And Laius be slain by his own son.
Such was the prophet's horoscope. O king,
Regard it not. Whatever the god deems fit
To search, himself unaided will reveal.
Came over me, lady, as I heard you speak!
Was murdered at the meeting of three roads.
Branch roads from Delphi and from Daulis meet.
Of Laius. Was he still in manhood's prime?
With silver; and not unlike you in form.
I laid but now a dread curse on myself.
That in the end the seer will prove not blind.
One further question to resolve my doubt.
Of armed retainers with him, like a prince?
A herald; Laius in a mule-car rode.
Lady, who carried this report to Thebes?
You reigning in the stead of Laius slain,
He clasped my hand and supplicated me
To send him to the alps and pastures, where
He might be farthest from the sight of Thebes.
And so I sent him. He was an honest slave
And well deserved some better recompense.
Discretion; therefore I would question him.
To share the burden of your heart, my king?
Now my imaginings have gone so far.
Who has a higher claim than you to hear
My tale of dire adventures? Listen then.
My sire was Polybus of Corinth, and
My mother Merope, a Dorian;
And I was held the foremost citizen,
Till a strange thing befell me, strange indeed,
Yet scarce deserving all the heat it stirred.
A roisterer at some banquet, flown with wine,
Shouted "You are not true son of your sire."
It irked me, but I stomached for the nonce
The insult; on the morrow I sought out
My mother and my sire and questioned them.
They were indignant at the random slur
Cast on my parentage and did their best
To comfort me, but still the venomed barb
Rankled, for still the scandal spread and grew.
So privily without their leave I went
To Delphi, and Apollo sent me back
Baulked of the knowledge that I came to seek.
But other grievous things he prophesied,
Woes, lamentations, mourning, portents dire;
To wit I should defile my mother's bed
And raise up seed too loathsome to behold,
And slay the father from whose loins I sprang.
Then, lady—you shall hear the very truth—
As I drew near the triple-branching roads,
A herald met me and a man who sat
In a car drawn by colts—as in your tale—
The man in front and the old man himself
Threatened to thrust me rudely from the path,
Then jostled by the charioteer in wrath
I struck him, and the old man, seeing this,
Watched till I passed and from his car brought down
Full on my head the double-pointed goad.
Yet was I quits with him and more; one stroke
Of my good staff sufficed to fling him clean
Out of the chariot seat and laid him prone.
And so I slew them every one. But if
Between this stranger there was aught in common
With Laius, who more miserable than I,
What mortal could you find more god-abhorred?
Wretch whom no sojourner, no citizen
May harbor or address, whom all are bound
To harry from their homes. And this same curse
Was laid on me, and laid by none but me.
Yes, with these hands all gory I pollute
The bed of him I slew. Say, am I vile?
Am I not utterly unclean, a wretch
Doomed to be banished, and in banishment
Forgo the sight of all my dearest ones,
And never tread again my native earth;
Or else to wed my mother and slay my sire,
Polybus, who begat me and upreared?
If one should say, this is the handiwork
Of some inhuman power, who could blame
His judgment? But, you pure and awful gods,
Forbid, forbid that I should see that day!
May I be blotted out from living men
Ere such a plague spot set on me its brand!
Have questioned the survivor, still hope on.
To bid me bide the coming of this herd.
With yours, I shall have escaped calamity.
Laius was slain by robbers; now if he
Still speaks of robbers, not a robber, I
Slew him not; "one" with "many" cannot square.
But if he says one lonely wayfarer,
The last link wanting to my guilt is forged.
Nor can he now retract what then he said;
Not I alone but all our townsfolk heard it.
Even should he vary somewhat in his story,
He cannot make the death of Laius
In any wise jump with the oracle.
For Loxias said expressly he was doomed
To die by my child's hand, but he, poor babe,
He shed no blood, but perished first himself.
So much for divination. Henceforth I
Will look for signs neither to right nor left.
I would do nothing that my lord mislikes.
[Exeunt OEDIPUS and JOCASTA]
The life of innocence and fly
Irreverence in word or deed,
To follow still those laws ordained on high
Whose birthplace is the bright ethereal sky
No mortal birth they own,
Olympus their progenitor alone:
Never shall they slumber in oblivion cold,
The god in them is strong and grows not old.
Of insolence is bred
The tyrant; insolence full blown,
With empty riches surfeited,
Scales the precipitous height and grasps the throne.
Then topples over and lies in ruin prone;
No foothold on that dizzy steep.
But O may Heaven the true patriot keep
Who burns with emulous zeal to serve the State.
God is my help and hope, on him I wait.
But the proud sinner, or in word or deed,
That will not Justice heed,
Nor reverence the shrine
Of images divine,
Perdition seize his vain imaginings,
If, urged by greed profane,
He grasps at ill-got gain,
And lays an impious hand on holiest things.
Who when such deeds are done
Can hope heaven's bolts to shun?
If sin like this to honor can aspire,
Why dance I still and lead the sacred choir?
No more I'll seek earth's central oracle,
Or Abae's hallowed cell,
Nor to Olympia bring
My votive offering.
If before all God's truth be not made plain.
O Zeus, reveal your might,
King, if you're named aright
Omnipotent, all-seeing, as of old;
For Laius is forgot;
His weird, men heed it not;
Apollo is forsook and faith grows cold.
[Enter JOCASTA.]
With wreaths and gifts of incense in her hands.
I had a mind to visit the high shrines,
For Oedipus is overwrought, alarmed
With terrors manifold. He will not use
His past experience, like a man of sense,
To judge the present need, but lends an ear
To any croaker if he augurs ill.
Since then my counsels nothing avail, I turn
To you, our present help in time of trouble,
Apollo, Lord Lycean, and to you
My prayers and supplications here I bring.
Lighten us, lord, and cleanse us from this curse!
For now we all are cowed like mariners
Who see their helmsman dumbstruck in the storm.
[Enter Corinthian MESSENGER.]
Of Oedipus; or better, where is the king.
This is his queen the mother of his children.
Blessed is her husband and her marriage-bed.
Deserve a like response. But tell me why
You come—what your need or what your news.
Your husband king—so it was reported there.
You god-sent oracles, where stand you now!
This is the man whom Oedipus long shunned,
In dread to prove his murderer; and now
He dies in nature's course, not by his hand.
[Enter OEDIPUS.]
Summoned me from my palace?
And as you hear judge what has become
Of all those awe-inspiring oracles.
Your father Polybus has passed away.
My message, know that Polybus is dead.
The Pythian hearth or birds that scream in the air?
Did they not point at me as doomed to slay
My father? But he is dead and in his grave
And here am I who never unsheathed a sword;
Unless the longing for his absent son
Killed him and so I slew him in a sense.
But, as they stand, the oracles are dead—
Dust, ashes, nothing, dead as Polybus.
With no assured foreknowledge, be afraid?
Best live a careless life from hand to mouth.
This wedlock with your mother fear you not.
How often it chances that in dreams a man
Has wed his mother! He who least regards
Such brainsick fantasies lives most at ease.
Were not my mother living; since she lives
Though half convinced I still must live in dread.
That I should mate with my own mother, and shed
With my own hands the blood of my own sire.
Hence Corinth was for many a year to me
A home distant; and I roved abroad,
But missed the sweetest sight, my parents' face.
Have I not rid you of this second fear?
Was hope to profit by your coming home.
Say, was it father, mother?
The man from whom I had you may know more.
The herd he speaks of, or by seeing him
Afield or in the city? Answer straight!
The hour has come to clear this business up.
Whom you anon were fain to see; but that
Our queen Jocasta best of all could tell.
Is he the same of whom the stranger speaks?
To bring to light the secret of my birth.
This quest. Enough the anguish I endure.
Of a bondwoman, yes, through three descents
Triply a slave, your honor is unsmirched.
To glory in her pride of ancestry.
I leave you, henceforth silent evermore.
[Exit JOCASTA]
Has the queen thus departed? Much I fear
From this dead calm will burst a storm of woes.
To learn my lineage, be it never so low.
It may be she with all a woman's pride
Thinks scorn of my base parentage. But I
Who rank myself as Fortune's favorite child,
The giver of good gifts, shall not be shamed.
She is my mother and the changing moons
My brethren, and with them I wax and wane.
Thus sprung why should I fear to trace my birth?
Nothing can make me other than I am.
You, Cithaeron, I shall hail,
As the nurse and foster-mother of our Oedipus shall greet
Ere tomorrow's full moon rises, and exalt you as is meet.
Dance and song shall hymn your praises, lover of our royal race.
Phoebus, may my words find grace!
Child, who bore you, nymph or goddess? Sure your sire was more than man,
Haply the hill-roamer Pan.
Or did Loxias beget you, for he haunts the upland wold;
Or Cyllene's lord, or Bacchus, dweller on the hilltops cold?
Did some Heliconian Oread give him you, a new-born joy?
Nymphs with whom he loves to toy?
Have met the man, may make a guess, methinks
I see the herdsman who we long have sought;
His time-worn aspect matches with the years
Of yonder aged messenger; besides
I seem to recognize the men who bring him
As servants of my own. But you, perchance,
Having in past days known or seen the herd,
May better by sure knowledge my surmise.
A simple hind, but true as any man.
[Enter HERDSMAN.]
Is this the man you mean?
I ask you. Were you once of Laius' house?
You must have known yon man, at least by fame?
His blunted memories. Sure he can recall
What time together both we drove our flocks,
He two, I one, on the Cithaeron range,
For three long summers; I his mate from spring
Till rose Arcturus; then in winter time
I led mine home, he his to Laius' folds.
Did these things happen as I say, or no?
A child to rear as my own foster-son?
Are more deserving chastisement than his.
I stand on the perilous edge of speech.
But she within, your consort best could tell.
**HERDSMAN.**
Through pity, master, for the babe. I thought
He'd take it to the country whence he came;
But he preserved it for the worst of woes.
For if you are in truth what this man says,
God pity you! You were to misery born.
**OEDIPUS.**
Ah me! Ah me! All brought to pass, all true!
O light, may I behold you nevermore!
I stand a wretch, in birth, in wedlock cursed,
A parricide, incestuously, triply cursed!
[*Exit OEDIPUS*]
*(Str. 1)*
Races of mortal man
Whose life is but a span,
I count you but the shadow of a shade!
For he who most does know
Of bliss, has but the show;
A moment, and the visions pale and fade.
Your fall, O Oedipus, your piteous fall
Warns me none born of women blest to call.
*(Ant. 1)*
For he of marksmen best,
O Zeus, outshot the rest,
And won the prize supreme of wealth and power.
By him the vulture maid
Was quelled, her witchery laid;
He rose our savior and the land's strong tower.
We hailed you king and from that day adored
Of mighty Thebes the universal lord.
*(Str. 2)*
O heavy hand of fate!
Who now more desolate,
Whose tale more sad than yours, whose lot more dire?
O Oedipus, discrowned head,
Your cradle was your marriage bed;
One harbor sufficed for son and sire.
How could the soil your father tilled so long
Endure to bear in silence such a wrong?
*(Ant. 2)*
All-seeing Time has caught
Guilt, and to justice brought
The son and sire commingled in one bed.
O child of Laius' ill-starred race,
Would I had never seen your face;
I raise for you a dirge as o'er the dead.
Yet, sooth to say, through you I drew new breath,
And now through you I feel a second death.
[*Enter SECOND MESSENGER.*]
Most grave and reverend senators of Thebes,
What deeds you soon must hear, what sights behold—
How will you mourn, if, true-born patriots,
You reverence still the race of Labdacus!
Not Ister nor all Phasis' flood, I think,
Could wash away the bloodstains from this house,
The ills it shrouds or soon will bring to light,
Ills wrought of malice, not unwittingly.
The worst to bear are self-inflicted wounds.
**CHORUS.**
Grievous enough for all our tears and groans
Our past calamities; what can you add?
**SECOND MESSENGER.**
My tale is quickly told and quickly heard.
Our sovereign lady queen Jocasta's dead.
**CHORUS.** Alas, poor queen! How came she by her death?
**SECOND MESSENGER.**
By her own hand. And all the horror of it,
Not having seen, yet cannot comprehend.
Nevertheless, as far as my poor memory serves,
I will relate the unhappy lady's woe.
When in her frenzy she had passed inside
The vestibule, she hurried straight to win
The bridal chamber, clutching at her hair
With both her hands, and, once within the room,
She shut the doors behind her with a crash.
"Laius," she cried, and called her husband dead
Long, long ago; her thought was of that child
By him begot, the son by whom the sire
Was murdered and the mother left to breed
With her own seed, a monstrous progeny.
Then she bewailed the marriage bed whereon,
Poor wretch, she had conceived a double brood,
Husband by husband, children by her child.
What happened after that I cannot tell,
Nor how the end befell, for with a shriek
Burst on us Oedipus; all eyes were fixed
On Oedipus, as up and down he strode,
Nor could we mark her agony to the end.
For stalking to and fro "A sword!" he cried,
"Where is the wife, no wife, the teeming womb
That bore a double harvest, me and mine?"
And in his frenzy some supernal power—
No mortal, surely, none of us who watched him—
Guided his footsteps; with a terrible shriek,
As though one beckoned him, he crashed against
The folding doors, and from their staples forced
The wrenched bolts and hurled himself within.
Then we beheld the woman hanging there,
A running noose entwined about her neck.
But when he saw her, with a maddened roar
He loosed the cord; and when her wretched corpse
Lay stretched on earth, what followed—O, 'twas dread!
He tore the golden brooches that upheld
Her queenly robes, upraised them high and smote
Full on his eyeballs, uttering words like these:
"No more shall you behold such sights of woe,
Deeds I have suffered and myself have wrought;
Henceforward quenched in darkness shall you see
Those you should never have seen; now blind to those
Whom, when I saw, I vainly yearned to know."
Such was the burden of his moan, whereto,
Not once but often, he struck with hand uplift
His eyes, and at each stroke the bloodied orbs
Bedewed his beard, not oozing drop by drop,
But one black gory downpour, thick as hail.
Such evils, issuing from the double source,
Have whelmed them both, confounding man and wife.
Till now the storied fortune of this house
Was fortunate indeed; but from this day
Woe, lamentation, ruin, death, disgrace,
All ills that can be named, all, all are theirs.
**CHORUS.** But has he still no respite from his pain?
**SECOND MESSENGER.**
He cries, "Unbar the doors and let all Thebes
Behold the slayer of his sire, his mother's—"
That shameful word my lips may not repeat.
He vows to fly self-banished from the land,
Nor stay to bring on his house the curse
Himself had uttered; but he has no strength
Nor one to guide him, and his torture's more
Than man can suffer, as yourselves will see.
For lo, the palace portals are unbarred,
And soon you shall behold a sight so sad
That he who must abhor it would pity it.
[*Enter OEDIPUS blinded.*]
Woeful sight! More woeful none
These sad eyes have looked on.
Whence this madness? None can tell
Who did cast on you his spell,
Prowling all your life around,
Leaping with a demon bound.
Hapless wretch! How can I brook
On your misery to look?
Though to gaze on you I yearn,
Much to question, much to learn,
Horror-struck away I turn.
**OEDIPUS.**
Ah me! Ah woe is me!
Ah whither am I borne!
How like a ghost forlorn
My voice flits from me on the air!
On, on the demon goads. The end, ah where?
**CHORUS.** An end too dread to tell, too dark to see.
**OEDIPUS.**
*(Str. 1)*
Dark, dark! The horror of darkness, like a shroud,
Wraps me and bears me on through mist and cloud.
Ah me, ah me! What spasms shoot through me,
What pangs of agonizing memory?
**CHORUS.**
No marvel if in such a plight you feel
The double weight of past and present woes.
**OEDIPUS.**
*(Ant. 1)*
Ah friend, still loyal, constant still and kind,
You care for the blind.
I know you near, and though bereft of eyes,
Your voice I recognize.
**CHORUS.**
O doer of dread deeds, how could you mar
Your vision thus? What demon goaded you?
**OEDIPUS.**
*(Str. 2)*
Apollo, friend, Apollo, he it was
That brought these ills to pass;
But the right hand that dealt the blow
Was mine, none other. How,
How could I longer see when sight
Brought no delight?
**CHORUS.** Alas! It is as you say.
**OEDIPUS.**
Say, friends, can any look or voice
Or touch of love henceforth my heart rejoice?
Haste, friends, no fond delay,
Take the twice-cursed away
Far from all ken,
The man abhorred of gods, accursed of men.
**CHORUS.**
O your despair well suits your desperate case.
Would I had never looked on your face!
**OEDIPUS.**
*(Ant. 2)*
My curse on him whoe'er untied
The waif's fell fetters and my life revived!
He meant me well, yet had he left me there,
He had saved my friends and me a world of care.
**CHORUS.** I too had wished it so.
**OEDIPUS.**
Then had I never come to shed
My father's blood nor climbed my mother's bed;
The monstrous offspring of a womb defiled,
Comate of him who gendered me, and child.
Was ever man before afflicted thus,
Like Oedipus?
**CHORUS.**
I cannot say that you have counseled well,
For you were better dead than living blind.
**OEDIPUS.**
What's done was well done. You can never shake
My firm belief. A truce to argument.
For, had I sight, I know not with what eyes
I could have met my father in the shades,
Or my poor mother, since against the two
I sinned, a sin no gallows could atone.
Aye, but, you say, the sight of children joys
A parent's eyes. What, born as mine were born?
No, such a sight could never bring me joy;
Nor this fair city with its battlements,
Its temples and the statues of its gods,
Sights from which I, now wretched of all,
Once ranked the foremost Theban in all Thebes,
By my own sentence am cut off, condemned
By my own proclamation 'gainst the wretch,
The miscreant by heaven itself declared
Unclean—and of the race of Laius.
Thus branded as a felon by myself,
How had I dared to look you in the face?
Nay, had I known a way to choke the springs
Of hearing, I had never shrunk to make
A dungeon of this miserable frame,
Cut off from sight and hearing; for it is bliss
To bide in regions sorrow cannot reach.
Why did you harbor me, Cithaeron, why
Did you not take and slay me? Then I never
Had shown to men the secret of my birth.
O Polybus, O Corinth, O my home,
Home of my ancestors (so were you called),
How fair a nursling then I seemed, how foul
The canker that lay festering in the bud!
Now is the blight revealed of root and fruit.
You triple highroads, and you hidden glen,
Coppice, and pass where meet the three-branched ways,
You drank my blood, the lifeblood these hands spilt,
My father's; do you call to mind perchance
Those deeds of mine you witnessed and the work
I wrought thereafter when I came to Thebes?
O fatal wedlock, you did give me birth,
And, having borne me, sowed again my seed,
Mingling the blood of fathers, brothers, children,
Brides, wives and mothers, an incestuous brood,
All horrors that are wrought beneath the sun,
Horrors so foul to name them were unmeet.
O, I adjure you, hide me anywhere
Far from this land, or slay me straight, or cast me
Down to the depths of ocean out of sight.
Come hither, deign to touch an abject wretch;
Draw near and fear not; I myself must bear
The load of guilt that none but I can share.
[*Enter CREON.*]
Lo, here is Creon, the one man to grant
Your prayer by action or advice, for he
Is left the State's sole guardian in your stead.
**OEDIPUS.**
Ah me! What words to accost him can I find?
What cause has he to trust me? In the past
I have been proved his rancorous enemy.
**CREON.**
Not in derision, Oedipus, I come
Nor to upbraid you with your past misdeeds.
*(To BYSTANDERS)*
But shame on you! If you feel no sense
Of human decencies, at least revere
The Sun whose light beholds and nurtures all.
Leave not thus nakedly for all to gaze at
A horror neither earth nor rain from heaven
Nor light will suffer. Lead him straight within,
For it is seemly that a kinsman's woes
Be heard by kin and seen by kin alone.
**OEDIPUS.**
O listen, since your presence comes to me
A shock of glad surprise—so noble you,
And I so vile—O grant me one small boon.
I ask it not on my behalf, but yours.
**CREON.** And what the favor you would crave of me?
**OEDIPUS.**
Forth from your borders thrust me with all speed;
Set me within some vasty desert where
No mortal voice shall greet me any more.
**CREON.**
This had I done already, but I deemed
It first behooved me to consult the god.
**OEDIPUS.**
His will was set forth fully—to destroy
The parricide, the scoundrel; and I am he.
**CREON.**
Yea, so he spoke, but in our present plight
It were better to consult the god anew.
**OEDIPUS.** Dare you inquire concerning such a wretch?
**CREON.** Yea, for yourself would credit now his word.
**OEDIPUS.**
Aye, and on you in all humility
I lay this charge: let her who lies within
Receive such burial as you shall ordain;
Such rites are yours, as brother, to perform.
But for myself, O never let my Thebes,
The city of my sires, be doomed to bear
The burden of my presence while I live.
No, let me be a dweller on the hills,
On yonder mount Cithaeron, famed as mine,
My tomb predestined for me by my sire
And mother, while they lived, that I may die
Slain as they sought to slay me, when alive.
This much I know full surely, nor disease
Shall end my days, nor any common chance;
For I had never been snatched from death, unless
I was predestined to some awful doom.
So be it. I reck not how Fate deals with me.
But my unhappy children—for my sons
Be not concerned, O Creon, they are men,
And for themselves, where'er they be, can fend.
But for my daughters twain, poor innocent maids,
Who ever sat beside me at the board
Sharing my viands, drinking of my cup,
For them, I pray you, care, and, if you will,
O might I feel their touch and make my moan.
Hear me, O prince, my noble-hearted prince!
Could I but blindly touch them with my hands
I would think they still were mine, as when I saw.
[*ANTIGONE and ISMENE are led in.*]
Whose sobs I hear? Has Creon pitied me
And sent me my two darlings? Can this be?
**CREON.**
It is true; it was I procured you this delight,
Knowing the joy they were to you of old.
**OEDIPUS.**
God speed you! And as meed for bringing them
May Providence deal with you kindlier
Than it has dealt with me! O children mine,
Where are you? Let me clasp you with these hands,
A brother's hands, a father's; hands that made
Lackluster sockets of his once bright eyes;
Hands of a man who blindly, recklessly,
Became your sire by her from whom he sprang.
Though I cannot behold you, I must weep
In thinking of the evil days to come,
The slights and wrongs that men will put on you.
Where'er you go to feast or festival,
No merrymaking will it prove for you,
But often abashed in tears you will return.
And when you come to marriageable years,
Where are the bold wooers who will jeopardize
To take unto himself such disrepute
As to my children's children still must cling?
For what of infamy is lacking here?
"Their father slew his father, sowed the seed
Where he himself was gendered, and begat
These maidens at the source wherefrom he sprang."
Such are the gibes that men will cast at you.
Who then will wed you? None, I think, but you
Must pine, poor maids, in single barrenness.
O Prince, Menoeceus' son, to you I turn,
With you it rests to father them, for we,
Their natural parents, both of us, are lost.
O leave them not to wander poor, unwed,
Your kin, nor let them share my low estate.
O pity them so young, and but for you
All destitute. Your hand on it, Prince.
To you, my children, I had much to say,
Were you but ripe to hear. Let this suffice:
Pray you may find some home and live content,
And may your lot prove happier than your sire's.
**CREON.** You have had enough of weeping; pass within.
**OEDIPUS.**
I must obey,
Though it is grievous.
**CREON.** Weep not, everything must have its day.
**OEDIPUS.** Well, I go, but on conditions.
**CREON.** What your terms for going, say.
**OEDIPUS.** Send me from the land an exile.
**CREON.** Ask this of the gods, not me.
**OEDIPUS.** But I am the gods' abhorrence.
**CREON.** Then they soon will grant your plea.
**OEDIPUS.** Lead me hence, then, I am willing.
**CREON.** Come, but let your children go.
**OEDIPUS.** Rob me not of these my children!
**CREON.** Crave not mastery in all, for the mastery that raised you was your bane and wrought your fall.
**CHORUS.**
Look you, countrymen and Thebans, this is Oedipus the great,
He who knew the Sphinx's riddle and was mightiest in our state.
Who of all our townsmen gazed not on his fame with envious eyes?
Now, in what a sea of troubles sunk and overwhelmed he lies!
Therefore wait to see life's ending ere you count one mortal blest;
Wait till free from pain and sorrow he has gained his final rest.
Chapter II: Oedipus at colonus
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
OEDIPUS, banished King of Thebes. ANTIGONE, his daughter. ISMENE, his daughter. THESEUS, King of Athens. CREON, brother of Jocasta, now reigning at Thebes. POLYNEICES, elder son of Oedipus. STRANGER, a native of Colonus. MESSENGER, an attendant of Theseus. CHORUS, citizens of Colonus.
Scene: In front of the grove of the Eumenides.
Enter the blind OEDIPUS led by his daughter, ANTIGONE.
Child of an old blind sire, Antigone,
What region, say, whose city have we reached?
Who will provide today with scanted dole
This wanderer? It is little that he craves,
And less obtains—that less enough for me;
For I am taught by suffering to endure,
And the long years that have grown old with me,
And last not least, by true nobility.
My daughter, if you see a resting place
On common ground or by some sacred grove,
Stay me and set me down. Let us discover
Where we have come, for strangers must inquire
Of denizens, and do as they are bid.
**ANTIGONE.**
Long-suffering father, Oedipus, the towers
That fence the city still are faint and far;
But where we stand is surely holy ground;
A wilderness of laurel, olive, vine;
Within a choir of songster nightingales
Rest; for an old man you have traveled far.
**OEDIPUS.** Guide these dark steps and seat me there secure.
**ANTIGONE.** If time can teach, I need not to be told.
**OEDIPUS.** Say, if you know, where we are.
**ANTIGONE.** Athens I recognize, but not the spot.
**OEDIPUS.** That much we heard from every wayfarer.
**ANTIGONE.** Shall I go on and ask about the place?
**OEDIPUS.** Yes, daughter, if it be inhabited.
**ANTIGONE.**
Sure there are habitations; but no need
To leave you; yonder is a man hard by.
**OEDIPUS.** What, moving this way and on his way?
**ANTIGONE.**
Say rather, here already. Ask him straight
The needful questions, for the man is here.
[Enter STRANGER]
O stranger, as I learn from her whose eyes
Must serve both her and me, that you are here
Sent by some happy chance to serve our doubts—
**STRANGER.**
First quit that seat, then question me at large:
The spot you tread on is holy ground.
**OEDIPUS.** What is the site, to what god dedicate?
**STRANGER.**
Inviolable, untrod; goddesses,
Dread brood of Earth and Darkness, here abide.
**OEDIPUS.** Tell me the awful name I should invoke?
**STRANGER.**
The Gracious Ones, All-seeing, so our folk
Call them, but elsewhere other names are rife.
**OEDIPUS.**
Then may they show their suppliant grace, for I
From this your sanctuary will never depart.
**STRANGER.** What word is this?
**OEDIPUS.** The watchword of my fate.
**STRANGER.**
Nay, it is not mine to bid you hence without
Due warrant and instruction from the State.
**OEDIPUS.**
Now in God's name, O stranger, scorn me not
As a wayfarer; tell me what I crave.
**STRANGER.** Ask; your request shall not be scorned by me.
**OEDIPUS.** How call you then the place wherein we bide?
**STRANGER.**
Whatever I know you too shall know; the place
Is all to great Poseidon consecrate.
Hard by, the Titan, he who bears the torch,
Prometheus, has his worship; but the spot
You tread, the Brass-footed Threshold named,
Is Athens' bastion, and the neighboring lands
Claim as their chief and patron yonder knight
Colonus, and in common bear his name.
Such, stranger, is the spot, to fame unknown,
But dear to us its native worshipers.
**OEDIPUS.** You say there are dwellers in these parts?
**STRANGER.** Surely; they bear the name of yonder god.
**OEDIPUS.** Ruled by a king or by the general voice?
**STRANGER.** The lord of Athens is our overlord.
**OEDIPUS.** Who is this monarch, great in word and might?
**STRANGER.** Theseus, the son of Aegeus our late king.
**OEDIPUS.** Might one be sent from you to summon him?
**STRANGER.** Wherefore? To tell him aught or urge his coming?
**OEDIPUS.** Say a slight service may avail him much.
**STRANGER.** How can he profit from a sightless man?
**OEDIPUS.** The blind man's words will be instinct with sight.
**STRANGER.**
Heed then; I would gladly see you out of harm;
For by the looks, marred though they be by fate,
I judge you noble; tarry where you are,
While I go seek the burghers—those at hand,
Not in the city. They will soon decide
Whether you are to rest or go your way.
[Exit STRANGER]
**ANTIGONE.** Yes, he has gone; now we are all alone, and you may speak, dear father, without fear.
**OEDIPUS.**
Stern-visaged queens, since coming to this land
First in your sanctuary I bent the knee,
Frown not on me or Phoebus, who, when erst
He told me all my miseries to come,
Spoke of this respite after many years,
Some haven in a far-off land, a rest
Vouchsafed at last by dread divinities.
"There," said he, "you shall round your weary life,
A blessing to the land wherein you dwell,
But to the land that cast you forth, a curse."
And of my weird he promised signs should come,
Earthquake, or thunderclap, or lightning flash.
And now I recognize as yours the sign
That led my wanderings to this your grove;
Else had I never lighted on you first,
A wineless man on your seat of native rock.
O goddesses, fulfill Apollo's word,
Grant me some consummation of my life,
If haply I appear not all too vile,
A thrall to sorrow worse than any slave.
Hear, gentle daughters of primeval Night,
Hear, namesake of great Pallas; Athens, first
Of cities, pity this dishonored shade,
The ghost of him who once was Oedipus.
**ANTIGONE.**
Hush! For I see some grey-beards on their way,
Their errand to spy out our resting-place.
**OEDIPUS.**
I will be mute, and you shall guide my steps
Into the covert from the public road,
Till I have learned their drift. A prudent man
Will ever shape his course by what he learns.
[Enter CHORUS]
*(Str. 1)*
Ha! Where is he? Look around!
Every nook and corner scan!
He the all-presumptuous man,
Whither vanished? Search the ground!
A wayfarer, I ween,
A wayfarer, no countryman of ours,
That old man must have been;
Never had native dared to tempt the Powers,
Or enter their demesne,
The Maids in awe of whom each mortal cowers,
Whose name no voice betrays nor cry,
And as we pass them with averted eye,
We move hushed lips in reverent piety.
But now some godless man,
It is rumored, here abides;
The precincts through I scan,
Yet wot not where he hides,
The wretch profane!
I search and search in vain.
**OEDIPUS.**
I am that man; I know you near.
Ears to the blind, they say, are eyes.
**CHORUS.** O dread to see and dread to hear!
**OEDIPUS.** Oh sirs, I am no outlaw under ban.
**CHORUS.** Who can he be—Zeus save us!—this old man?
**OEDIPUS.**
No favorite of fate,
That you should envy his estate,
O, sirs, would any happy mortal, say,
Grope by the light of other eyes his way,
Or face the storm on so frail a stay?
**CHORUS.**
*(Ant. 1)*
Were you then sightless from your birth?
Evil, methinks, and long
Your pilgrimage on earth.
Yet add not curse to curse and wrong to wrong.
I warn you, trespass not
Within this hallowed spot,
Where offerings are laid,
Bowls of spring water mingled with sweet mead.
You must not stay,
Come, come away,
Tired wanderer, do you heed?
(We are far off, but sure our voice can reach.)
Speak where it is right; till then refrain from speech.
**OEDIPUS.** Daughter, what counsel should we now pursue?
**ANTIGONE.** We must obey and do as here they do.
**OEDIPUS.** Your hand then!
**ANTIGONE.** Here, O father, is my hand.
**OEDIPUS.**
O sirs, if I come forth at your command,
Let me not suffer for my confidence.
**CHORUS.**
*(Str. 2)*
Against your will no man shall drive you hence.
**OEDIPUS.** Shall I go further?
**CHORUS.** Aye.
**OEDIPUS.** What further still?
**CHORUS.** Lead, maiden, you can guide him where we will.
**ANTIGONE.** 4 * * * * * *
**OEDIPUS.** * * * * * *
**ANTIGONE.**
* * * * * *
Follow with blind steps, father, as I lead.
**OEDIPUS.** * * * * * *
**CHORUS.**
In a strange land strange you are;
To her will incline your heart;
Honor whatsoever the State
Honors, all she frowns on hate.
**OEDIPUS.**
Guide me, child, where we may range
Safe within the paths of right;
Counsel freely may exchange,
Nor with fate and fortune fight.
**CHORUS.**
*(Ant. 2)*
Halt! Go no further than that rocky floor.
**OEDIPUS.** Stay where I now am?
**CHORUS.** Yes, advance no more.
**OEDIPUS.** May I sit down?
**CHORUS.**
Move sideways towards the ledge,
And sit you crouching on the scarped edge.
**ANTIGONE.** This is my office, father, O incline—
**OEDIPUS.** Ah me! Ah me!
**ANTIGONE.** Your steps to my steps, lean your aged frame on mine.
**OEDIPUS.** Woe on my fate unblest!
**CHORUS.**
Wanderer, now you are at rest,
Tell me of your birth and home,
From what far country are you come,
Led on your weary way, declare!
**OEDIPUS.** Strangers, I have no country. O forbear—
**CHORUS.** What is it, old man, that you would conceal?
**OEDIPUS.** Forbear, nor urge me further to reveal—
**CHORUS.** Why this reluctance?
**OEDIPUS.** Dread my lineage.
**CHORUS.** Say!
**OEDIPUS.** What must I answer, child, ah welladay!
**CHORUS.** Say of what stock you come, what man's son—
**OEDIPUS.** Ah me, my daughter, now we are undone!
**ANTIGONE.** Speak, for you stand on the slippery verge.
**OEDIPUS.** I will; no plea for silence can I urge.
**CHORUS.** Will neither speak? Come, sir, why dally thus!
**OEDIPUS.** Know one of Laius'—
**CHORUS.** Ha? Who!
**OEDIPUS.** Seed of Labdacus—
**CHORUS.** Oh Zeus!
**OEDIPUS.** The hapless Oedipus.
**CHORUS.** Are he?
**OEDIPUS.** Whatever I utter, have no fear of me.
**CHORUS.** Begone!
**OEDIPUS.** O wretched me!
**CHORUS.** Begone!
**OEDIPUS.** O daughter, what will happen anon?
**CHORUS.** Forth from our borders speed you both!
**OEDIPUS.** How keep you then your troth?
**CHORUS.**
Heaven's justice never smites
Him who ill with ill requites.
But if guile with guile contend,
Bane, not blessing, is the end.
Arise, begone and take you hence straightway,
Lest on our land a heavier curse you lay.
**ANTIGONE.**
O sirs! You suffer not my father blind,
Albeit gracious and to ruth inclined,
Knowing the deeds he wrought, not innocent,
But with no ill intent;
Yet heed a maiden's moan
Who pleads for him alone;
My eyes, not reft of sight,
Plead with you as a daughter's might.
You are our providence,
O make us not go hence!
O with a gracious nod
Grant us the nigh despaired-of boon we crave?
Hear us, O hear,
But all that you hold dear,
Wife, children, homestead, hearth and God!
Where will you find one, search you ne'er so well,
Who escapes perdition if a god impel?
**CHORUS.**
Surely we pity you and him alike,
Daughter of Oedipus, for your distress;
But as we reverence the decrees of Heaven
We cannot say aught other than we said.
**OEDIPUS.**
O what avails renown or fair repute?
Are they not vanity? For, look you, now
Athens is held of States the most devout,
Athens alone gives hospitality
And shelters the vexed stranger, so men say.
Have I found so? I whom you dislodged
First from my seat of rock and now would drive
Forth from your land, dreading my name alone;
For me you surely dread not, nor my deeds,
Deeds of a man more sinned against than sinning,
As I might well convince you, were it meet
To tell my mother's story and my sire's,
The cause of this your fear. Yet am I then
A villain born because in self-defense,
Stricken, I struck the striker back again?
Even had I known, no villainy it would prove:
But all unwitting whither I went, I went—
To ruin; my destroyers knew it well.
Wherefore, I pray you, sirs, in Heaven's name,
Even as you bade me quit my seat, defend me.
O pay not a lip service to the gods
And wrong them of their dues. Bethink you well,
The eye of Heaven beholds the just of men,
And the unjust, nor ever in this world
Has one sole godless sinner found escape.
Stand then on Heaven's side and never blot
Athens' fair scutcheon by abetting wrong.
I came to you a suppliant, and you pledged
Your honor; O preserve me to the end,
O let not this marred visage do me wrong!
A holy and god-fearing man is here
Whose coming purports comfort for your folk.
And when your chief arrives, whoever he be,
Then shall you have my story and know all.
Meanwhile I pray you do me no despite.
**CHORUS.**
The plea you urge needs must give us pause,
Set forth in weighty argument, but we
Must leave the issue with the ruling powers.
**OEDIPUS.** Where is he, strangers, he who sways the realm?
**CHORUS.**
In his ancestral seat; a messenger,
The same who sent us here, is gone for him.
**OEDIPUS.**
And think you he will have such care or thought
For the blind stranger as to come himself?
**CHORUS.** Aye, that he will, when once he learns your name.
**OEDIPUS.** But who will bear him word?
**CHORUS.**
The way is long,
And many travelers pass to speed the news.
Be sure he'll hear and hasten, never fear;
So wide and far your name is noised abroad,
That, were he never so spent and loth to move,
He would bestir him when he hears of you.
**OEDIPUS.** Well, may he come with blessing to his State and me! Who serves his neighbor serves himself. 5
**ANTIGONE.** Zeus! What is this? What can I say or think?
**OEDIPUS.** What now, Antigone?
**ANTIGONE.**
I see a woman
Riding on a colt of Aetna's breed;
She wears for headgear a Thessalian hat
To shade her from the sun. Who can it be?
She or a stranger? Do I wake or dream?
It is she; it is not—I cannot tell, alack;
It is no other! Now her brightening glance
Greets me with recognition, yes, it is she,
Herself, Ismene!
**OEDIPUS.** Ha! What say you, child?
**ANTIGONE.**
That I behold your daughter and my sister,
And you will know her straightway by her voice.
[Enter ISMENE]
Father and sister, names to me most sweet,
How hardly have I found you, hardly now
When found at last can see you through my tears!
**OEDIPUS.** Are you come, my child?
**ISMENE.** O father, sad your plight!
**OEDIPUS.** Child, you are here?
**ISMENE.** Yes, it was a weary way.
**OEDIPUS.** Touch me, my child.
**ISMENE.** I give a hand to both.
**OEDIPUS.** O children—sisters!
**ISMENE.** O disastrous plight!
**OEDIPUS.** Her plight and mine?
**ISMENE.** Aye, and my own no less.
**OEDIPUS.** What brought you, daughter?
**ISMENE.** Father, care for you.
**OEDIPUS.** A daughter's yearning?
**ISMENE.**
Yes, and I had news
I would myself deliver, so I came
With the one thrall who yet is true to me.
**OEDIPUS.** Your valiant brothers, where are they at need?
**ISMENE.** They are—enough, it is now their darkest hour.
**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 you, my child, once you went forth,
Eluding the Cadmeians' vigilance,
To bring your father all the oracles
Concerning Oedipus, and did make yourself
My faithful lieger, when they banished me.
And now what mission summons you from home,
What news, Ismene, have you for your father?
This much I know, you come not empty-handed,
Without a warning of some new alarm.
**ISMENE.**
The toil and trouble, father, that I bore
To find your lodging-place and how you fared,
I spare you; surely it were a double pain
To suffer, first in act and then in telling;
It is the misfortune of your ill-starred sons
I come to tell you. 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 your race.
But now some god and an infatuate soul
Have stirred between them a mad rivalry
To grasp at sovereignty and kingly power.
Today the hot-brained 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 your agony,
Ere the gods pity you, I cannot tell.
**OEDIPUS.**
Have you 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 has been uttered, child?
**ISMENE.**
Your country (so it runs) shall yearn in time
To have you for their weal alive or dead.
**OEDIPUS.** And who could gain by such a one as I?
**ISMENE.** On you, it is said, their sovereignty depends.
**OEDIPUS.** So, when I cease to be, my worth begins.
**ISMENE.** The gods, who once abased, uplift you now.
**OEDIPUS.** Poor help to raise an old man fallen in youth.
**ISMENE.**
However that be, it is for this cause alone
That Creon comes to you—and comes anon.
**OEDIPUS.** With what intent, my daughter? Tell me plainly.
**ISMENE.**
To plant you near the Theban land, and so
Keep you within their grasp, yet now allow
Your foot to pass beyond their boundaries.
**OEDIPUS.** What gain they, if I lie outside?
**ISMENE.**
Your tomb,
If disappointed, brings on them a curse.
**OEDIPUS.** It needs no god to tell what is plain to sense.
**ISMENE.** Therefore they would gladly have you close at hand, not where you would be master of yourself.
**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, you shall rue this bitterly some day!
**OEDIPUS.** When what conjunction comes to pass, my child?
**ISMENE.** Your angry wraith, when at your tomb they stand. 6
**OEDIPUS.** And who has told you what you tell me, child?
**ISMENE.** Envoys who visited the Delphic hearth.
**OEDIPUS.** Has 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 your words, yet I must own them true.
**OEDIPUS.**
Then may the gods never 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 it was 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 never 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 you my friends,
Championed by those dread Powers indigenous,
Espouse my cause; then for the State you gain
A great deliverer, for my foemen bane.
**CHORUS.**
Our pity, Oedipus, you needs must move,
You and these maidens; and the stronger plea
You urge, as the savior of our land,
Disposes me to counsel for your weal.
**OEDIPUS.** Aid me, kind sirs; I will do all you bid.
**CHORUS.** First make atonement to the deities, whose grove by trespass you did 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 you will find, the carver's handiwork;
Crown you 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 your libation, turning to the dawn.
**OEDIPUS.** Pouring it from the urns whereof you spoke?
**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 has drunk thereof?
**CHORUS.**
Then lay on it thrice nine olive sprays
With both your hands, and offer up this prayer.
**OEDIPUS.** I would gladly 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 yourself or whoso prays for you,
In whispered accents, not with lifted voice;
Then go and look back. Do as I bid,
And I shall then be bold to stand your friend;
Else, stranger, I should have my fears for you.
**OEDIPUS.** Hear ye, my daughters, what these strangers say?
**ANTIGONE.** We listened, and attend your 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 loyal and true.
So to your work with speed, but leave me not
Untended; for this frame is all too weak
To move without the help of guiding hand.
**ISMENE.**
Then I will go perform these rites, but where
To find the spot, I have yet to learn.
**CHORUS.**
Beyond this grove; if you have need of aught,
The guardian of the close will lend his aid.
**ISMENE.**
I go, and you, Antigone, meanwhile
Must guard our father. In a parent's cause
Toil, if there be toil, is of no account.
[Exit ISMENE]
*(Str. 1)*
Ill it is, stranger, to awake
Pain that long since has ceased to ache,
And yet I would gladly hear—
**OEDIPUS.** What thing?
**CHORUS.**
Your tale of cruel suffering
For which no cure was found,
The fate that held you 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 would gladly hear.
**OEDIPUS.** Ah me!
**CHORUS.** I pray you yield.
**OEDIPUS.** Ah me!
**CHORUS.** Grant my request, I granted all to you.
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.** Did you 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 your 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.** You have 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, you have shed blood?
**OEDIPUS.** Must you 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 can you 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 your summons to perform his part.
[Enter THESEUS]
**THESEUS.** Oft had I heard of you in times gone by— The bloody mutilation of your eyes— And therefore know you, son of Laius. All that I lately gathered on the way Made my conjecture doubly sure; and now Your garb and that marred visage prove to me That you are he. So pitying your estate, Most ill-starred Oedipus, I would gladly know What is the suit you urge on me and Athens, You and the helpless maiden at your side. Declare it; dire indeed must be the tale Whereat *I* should recoil. I too was reared, Like you, 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 shall you; I know myself a mortal, and my share In what the morrow brings no more than yours.
**OEDIPUS.** Theseus, your 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, you have declared. So without prologue I may utter now My brief petition, and the tale is told.
**THESEUS.** Say on, and tell me what I would gladly learn.
**OEDIPUS.** I come to offer you this woe-worn frame, A gift not fair to look on; yet its worth More precious far than any outward show.
**THESEUS.** What profit do you proffer to have brought?
(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.
*[Enter CREON with attendants]*
*[Enter THESEUS]*
*[Exeunt THESEUS and CREON]*
There I might chance behold Theseus our captain bold Meet with the robber band, Ere they have fled the land, Rescue by might and main Maidens, the captives twain.
(Ant. 1) Haply on swiftest steed, Or in the flying car, Now they approach the glen, West of white Oea's scaur. They will be vanquished: Dread are our warriors, dread Theseus our chieftain's men. Flashes each bridle bright, Charges each gallant knight, All that our Queen adore, Pallas their patron, or Him whose wide floods enring Earth, the great Ocean-king Whom Rhea bore.
(Str. 2) Fight they or now prepare To fight? a vision rare Tells me that soon again I shall behold the twain Maidens so ill bestead, By their kin buffeted. Today, today Zeus worketh some great thing This day shall victory bring. O for the wings, the wings of a dove, To be borne with the speed of the gale, Up and still upwards to sail And gaze on the fray from the clouds above.
(Ant. 2) All-seeing Zeus, O lord of heaven, To our guardian host be given Might triumphant to surprise Flying foes and win their prize. Hear us, Zeus, and hear us, child Of Zeus, Athene undefiled, Hear, Apollo, hunter, hear, Huntress, sister of Apollo, Who the dappled swift-foot deer O'er the wooded glade dost follow; Help with your two-fold power Athens in danger's hour! O wayfarer, thou wilt not have to tax The friends who watch for thee with false presage, For lo, an escort with the maids draws near.
*[Enter ANTIGONE and ISMENE with THESEUS]*
Let the prince have his will and pay withal
What in his eyes is service to the god;
For our sake also let our brother come.
If what he urges tend not to thy good
He cannot surely wrest perforce thy will.
To hear him then, what harm? By open words
A scheme of villainy is soon bewrayed.
Thou art his father, therefore canst not pay
In kind a son's most impious outrages.
O listen to him; other men like thee
Have thankless children and are choleric,
But yielding to persuasion's gentle spell
They let their savage mood be exorcised.
Look thou to the past, forget the present, think
On all the woe thy sire and mother brought thee;
Thence wilt thou draw this lesson without fail,
Of evil passion evil is the end.
Thou hast, alas, to prick thy memory,
Stern monitors, these ever-sightless orbs.
O yield to us; just suitors should not need
To be importunate, nor he that takes
A favor lack the grace to make return.
By pleading. Let it be then; have your way
Only if come he must, I beg thee, friend,
Let none have power to dispose of me.
It likes me not to boast, but be assured
Thy life is safe while any god saves mine.
[Exit THESEUS]
(Str.)
Scorning the common span
Of life, I judge that man
A giddy wight who walks in folly's ways.
For the long years heap up a grievous load,
Scant pleasures, heavier pains,
Till not one joy remains
For him who lingers on life's weary road
And come it slow or fast,
One doom of fate
Doth all await,
For dance and marriage bell,
The dirge and funeral knell.
Death the deliverer freeth all at last.
(Ant.)
Is best, far best that can befall,
Next best, when born, with least delay
To trace the backward way.
For when youth passes with its giddy train,
Troubles on troubles follow, toils on toils,
Pain, pain for ever pain;
And none escapes life's coils.
Envy, sedition, strife,
Carnage and war, make up the tale of life.
Last comes the worst and most abhorred stage
Of unregarded age,
Joyless, companionless and slow,
Of woes the crowning woe.
(Epode)
He too our guest hath known,
E'en as some headland on an iron-bound shore,
Lashed by the wintry blasts and surge's roar,
So is he buffeted on every side
By drear misfortune's whelming tide,
By every wind of heaven o'erborne
Some from the sunset, some from orient morn,
Some from the noonday glow.
Some from Rhipean gloom of everlasting snow.
Alone he comes and weeping plenteous tears.
From the outset—Polyneices. He is here.
[Enter POLYNEICES]
My own afflictions, or my aged sire's,
Whom here I find a castaway, with you,
In a strange land, an ancient beggar clad
In antic tatters, marring all his frame,
While o'er the sightless orbs his unkept locks
Float in the breeze; and, as it were to match,
He bears a wallet against hunger's pinch.
All this too late I learn, wretch that I am,
Alas! I own it, and am proved most vile
In my neglect of thee: I scorn myself.
But as almighty Zeus in all he doth
Hath Mercy for co-partner of this throne,
Let Mercy, father, also sit enthroned
In thy heart likewise. For transgressions past
May be amended, cannot be made worse.
Why silent? Father, speak, nor turn away,
Hast thou no word, wilt thou dismiss me then
In mute disdain, nor tell me why thou art wrath?
O ye his daughters, sisters mine, do ye
This sullen, obstinate silence try to move.
Let him not spurn, without a single word
Of answer, me the suppliant of the god.
For large discourse may send a thrill of joy,
Or stir a chord of wrath or tenderness,
And to the tongue-tied somehow give a tongue.
First will I call in aid the god himself,
Poseidon, from whose altar I was raised,
With warrant from the monarch of this land,
To parley with you, and depart unscathed.
These pledges, strangers, I would see observed
By you and by my sisters and my sire.
Now, father, let me tell thee why I came.
I have been banished from my native land
Because by right of primogeniture
I claimed possession of thy sovereign throne
Wherefrom Etocles, my younger brother,
Ousted me, not by weight of precedent,
Nor by the last arbitrament of war,
But by his popular acts; and the prime cause
Of this I deem the curse that rests on thee.
So likewise hold the soothsayers, for when
I came to Argos in the Dorian land
And took the king Adrastus' child to wife,
Under my standard I enlisted all
The foremost captains of the Apian isle,
To levy with their aid that sevenfold host
Of spearmen against Thebes, determining
To oust my foes or die in a just cause.
Why then, thou askest, am I here today?
Father, I come a suppliant to thee
Both for myself and my allies who now
With squadrons seven beneath their seven spears
Beleaguer all the plain that circles Thebes.
Foremost the peerless warrior, peerless seer,
Amphiaraiis with his lightning lance;
Next an Aetolian, Tydeus, Oeneus' son;
Eteoclus of Argive birth the third;
The fourth Hippomedon, sent to the war
By his sire Talaos; Capaneus, the fifth,
Vaunts he will fire and raze the town; the sixth
Parthenopaeus, an Arcadian born
Named of that maid, longtime a maid and late
Espoused, Atalanta's true-born child;
Last I thy son, or thine at least in name,
If but the bastard of an evil fate,
Lead against Thebes the fearless Argive host.
Thus by thy children and thy life, my sire,
We all adjure thee to remit thy wrath
And favor one who seeks a just revenge
Against a brother who has banned and robbed him.
For victory, if oracles speak true,
Will fall to those who have thee for ally.
So, by our fountains and familiar gods
I pray thee, yield and hear; a beggar I
And exile, thou an exile likewise; both
Involved in one misfortune find a home
As pensioners, while he, the lord of Thebes,
O agony! makes a mock of thee and me.
I'll scatter with a breath the upstart's might,
And bring thee home again and stablish thee,
And stablish, having cast him out, myself.
This will thy goodwill I will undertake,
Without it I can scare return alive.
Dismiss him not without a meet reply.
Who sent him hither to have word of me.
Never again would he have heard my voice;
But now he shall obtain this parting grace,
An answer that will bring him little joy.
O villain, when thou hadst the sovereignty
That now thy brother holdeth in thy stead,
Didst thou not drive me, thine own father, out,
An exile, cityless, and make we wear
This beggar's garb thou weepest to behold,
Now thou art come thyself to my sad plight?
Nothing is here for tears; it must be borne
By me till death, and I shall think of thee
As of my murderer; thou didst thrust me out;
'Tis thou hast made me conversant with woe,
Through thee I beg my bread in a strange land;
And had not these my daughters tended me
I had been dead for aught of aid from thee.
They tend me, they preserve me, they are men
Not women in true service to their sire;
But ye are bastards, and no sons of mine.
Therefore just Heaven hath an eye on thee;
Howbeit not yet with aspect so austere
As thou shalt soon experience, if indeed
These banded hosts are moving against Thebes.
That city thou canst never storm, but first
Shall fall, thou and thy brother, blood-imbrued.
Such curse I lately launched against you twain,
Such curse I now invoke to fight for me,
That ye may learn to honor those who bear thee
Nor flout a sightless father who begat
Degenerate sons—these maidens did not so.
Therefore my curse is stronger than thy "throne,"
Thy "suppliance," if by right of laws eterne
Primeval Justice sits enthroned with Zeus.
Begone, abhorred, disowned, no son of mine,
Thou vilest of the vile! and take with thee
This curse I leave thee as my last bequest:—
Never to win by arms thy native land,
No, nor return to Argos in the Vale,
But by a kinsman's hand to die and slay
Him who expelled thee. So I pray and call
On the ancestral gloom of Tartarus
To snatch thee hence, on these dread goddesses
I call, and Ares who incensed you both
To mortal enmity. Go now proclaim
What thou hast heard to the Cadmeians all,
Thy staunch confederates—this the heritage
that Oedipus divideth to his sons.
From the beginning; now go back with speed.
Woe worth my comrades! What a desperate end
To that glad march from Argos! Woe is me!
I dare not whisper it to my allies
Or turn them back, but mute must meet my doom.
My sisters, ye his daughters, ye have heard
The prayers of our stern father, if his curse
Should come to pass and ye some day return
To Thebes, O then disown me not, I pray,
But grant me burial and due funeral rites.
So shall the praise your filial care now wins
Be doubled for the service wrought for me.
And ruin not thyself and Thebes as well.
An army that had seen their leader quail?
What profit from thy country's ruin comes?
The elder bear a younger brother's flouts?
Who threatens mutual slaughter to you both?
Hearing his prophecy, to follow thee?
Reports successes and conceals mishaps.
Dogged by my sire and his avenging spirit,
Leads me to ruin; but for you may Zeus
Make your path bright if ye fulfill my hest
When dead; in life ye cannot serve me more.
Now let me go, farewell, a long farewell!
Ye ne'er shall see my living face again.
Thee, brother, hurrying to an open pit!
If I must lose thee.
Whether I live or die; but for you both
I pray to heaven ye may escape all ill;
For ye are blameless in the eyes of all.
[Exit POLYNEICES]
(Str. 1)
Come they from our sightless guest?
Or haply now we see fulfilled
What fate long time hath willed?
For ne'er have I proved vain
Aught that the heavenly powers ordain.
Time with never sleeping eye
Watches what is writ on high,
Overthrowing now the great,
Raising now from low estate.
Hark! How the thunder rumbles! Zeus defend us!
Go summon hither Theseus my best friend?
Anon to Hades. Send and tarry not.
(Ant. 1)
The bolt of Zeus descends once more.
My spirit quails and cowers: my hair
Bristles for fear. Again that flare!
What doth the lightning-flash portend?
Ever it points to issues grave.
Dread powers of air! Save, Zeus, O save!
Has come; no turning from it any more.
Go summon hither the Athenian prince.
(Str. 2)
Peals yet louder all around
If thou darkenest our land,
Lightly, lightly lay thy hand;
Grace, not anger, let me win,
If on a man of sin
I have looked with pitying eye,
Zeus, our king, to thee I cry!
Find me yet living and my senses clear!
The promise made when I received them first.
(Ant. 2)
Altar leave and sacrifice,
If haply to Poseidon now
In the far glade thou pay'st thy vow.
For our guest to thee would bring
And thy folk and offering,
Thy due guerdon. Haste, O King!
[Enter THESEUS]
My people call me and the stranger calls.
Is it a thunderbolt of Zeus or sleet
Of arrowy hail? a storm so fierce as this
Would warrant all surmises of mischance.
I promised thee and thine before I die.
Of their appointed warnings nothing fails.
A prophet true; then speak what must be done.
Unfold a treasure age cannot corrupt.
Myself anon without a guiding hand
Will take thee to the spot where I must end.
This secret ne'er reveal to mortal man,
Neither the spot nor whereabouts it lies,
So shall it ever serve thee for defense
Better than native shields and near allies.
But those dread mysteries speech may not profane
Thyself shalt gather coming there alone;
Since not to any of thy subjects, nor
To my own children, though I love them dearly,
Can I reveal what thou must guard alone,
And whisper to thy chosen heir alone,
So to be handed down from heir to heir.
Thus shalt thou hold this land inviolate
From the dread Dragon's brood. The justest State
By countless wanton neighbors may be wronged,
For the gods, though they tarry, mark for doom
The godless sinner in his mad career.
Far from thee, son of Aegeus, be such fate!
But to the spot—the god within me goads—
Let us set forth no longer hesitate.
Follow me, daughters, this way. Strange that I
Whom you have led so long should lead you now.
Oh, touch me not, but let me all alone
Find out the sepulcher that destiny
Appoints me in this land. Hither, this way,
For this way Hermes leads, the spirit guide,
And Persephassa, empress of the dead.
O light, no light to me, but mine erewhile,
Now the last time I feel thee palpable,
For I am drawing near the final gloom
Of Hades. Blessing on thee, dearest friend,
On thee and on thy land and followers!
Live prosperous and in your happy state
Still for your welfare think on me, the dead.
[Exit THESEUS followed by ANTIGONE and ISMENE]
(Str.)
Hear, Goddess dread, invisible!
Monarch of the regions drear,
Aidoneus, hear, O hear!
By a gentle, tearless doom
Speed this stranger to the gloom,
Let him enter without pain
The all-shrouding Stygian plain.
Wrongfully in life oppressed,
Be he now by Justice blessed.
(Ant.)
Watch-dog of the gates of hell,
Who, as legends tell, dost glare,
Gnarling in thy cavernous lair
At all comers, let him go
Scathless to the fields below.
For thy master orders thus,
The son of earth and Tartarus;
In his den the monster keep,
Giver of eternal sleep.
[Enter MESSENGER]
That Oedipus is gone, but the event
Was not so brief, nor can the tale be brief.
That he has passed away from life to death.
How he moved hence, you saw him and must know;
Without a friend to lead the way, himself
Guiding us all. So having reached the abrupt
Earth-rooted Threshold with its brazen stairs,
He paused at one of the converging paths,
Hard by the rocky basin which records
The pact of Theseus and Peirithous.
Betwixt that rift and the Thorician rock,
The hollow pear-tree and the marble tomb,
Midway he sat and loosed his beggar's weeds;
Then calling to his daughters bade them fetch
Of running water, both to wash withal
And make libation; so they clomb the steep;
And in brief space brought what their father bade,
Then laved and dressed him with observance due.
But when he had his will in everything,
And no desire was left unsatisfied,
It thundered from the netherworld; the maids
Shivered, and crouching at their father's knees
Wept, beat their breast and uttered a long wail.
He, as he heard their sudden bitter cry,
Folded his arms about them both and said,
"My children, ye will lose your sire today,
For all of me has perished, and no more
Have ye to bear your long, long ministry;
A heavy load, I know, and yet one word
Wipes out all score of tribulations—love.
And love from me ye had—from no man more;
But now must live without me all your days."
So clinging to each other sobbed and wept
Father and daughters both, but when at last
Their mourning had an end and no wail rose,
A moment there was silence; suddenly
A voice that summoned him; with sudden dread
The hair of all stood up and all were 'mazed;
For the call came, now loud, now low, and oft.
"Oedipus, Oedipus, why tarry we?
Too long, too long thy passing is delayed."
But when he heard the summons of the god,
He prayed that Theseus might be brought, and when
The Prince came nearer: "O my friend," he cried,
"Pledge ye my daughters, giving thy right hand—
And, daughters, give him yours—and promise me
Thou never wilt forsake them, but do all
That time and friendship prompt in their behoof."
And he of his nobility repressed
His tears and swore to be their constant friend.
This promise given, Oedipus put forth
Blind hands and laid them on his children, saying,
"O children, prove your true nobility
And hence depart nor seek to witness sights
Unlawful or to hear unlawful words.
Nay, go with speed; let none but Theseus stay,
Our ruler, to behold what next shall hap."
So we all heard him speak, and weeping sore
We companied the maidens on their way.
After brief space we looked again, and lo
The man was gone, evanished from our eyes;
Only the king we saw with upraised hand
Shading his eyes as from some awful sight,
That no man might endure to look on.
A moment later, and we saw him bend
In prayer to Earth and prayer to Heaven at once.
But by what doom the stranger met his end
No man save Theseus knoweth. For there fell
No fiery bold that reft him in that hour,
Nor whirlwind from the sea, but he was taken.
It was a messenger from heaven, or else
Some gentle, painless cleaving of earth's base;
For without wailing or disease or pain
He passed away—and end most marvelous.
And if to some my tale seems foolishness
I am content that such could count me fool.
Of lamentation tells they come this way.
[Enter ANTIGONE and ISMENE]
(Str. 1)
We sisters of one blasted stock
must bow beneath the shock,
Must weep and weep the curse that lay
On him our sire, for whom
In life, a life-long world of care
'Twas ours to bear,
In death must face the gloom
That wraps his tomb.
What tongue can tell
That sight ineffable?
Not in battle or sea storm,
But reft from sight,
By hands invisible borne
To viewless fields of night.
Ah me! on us too night has come,
The night of mourning. Wither roam
O'er land or sea in our distress
Eating the bread of bitterness?
Might nip my breath,
And let me share my aged father's fate.
I cannot live a life thus desolate.
What heaven brings ye needs must bear,
Fret no more 'gainst Heaven's will;
Fate hath dealt with you not ill.
(Ant. 1)
What seemed bitter now is sweet.
Ah me! that happy toil is sweet.
The guidance of those dear blind feet.
Dear father, wrapt for aye in nether gloom,
E'en in the tomb
Never shalt thou lack of love repine,
Her love and mine.
Lapped in kind earth he sleeps his long last sleep,
And o'er his grave friends weep.
How great our lost these streaming eyes can tell,
This sorrow naught can quell.
Thou hadst thy wish 'mid strangers thus to die,
But I, ah me, not by.
* * * * * *
* * * * * *
Befalls us orphans desolate?
Your sorrow. Man is born to fate a prey.
(Str. 2)
Friendless, helpless, how drag on
A life of misery alone?
(Ant. 2)
I know not.
Of hope to cheer the way
Whereon the fates our desperate voyage urge.
[Enter THESEUS]
On the quick and on the dead
By dark Powers beneficent,
Over-grief they would resent.
Our father's tomb.
Charged me straitly that no mortal
Should approach the sacred portal,
Or greet with funeral litanies
The hidden tomb wherein he lies;
Saying, "If thou keep'st my hest
Thou shalt hold thy realm at rest."
The God of Oaths this promise heard,
And to Zeus I pledged my word.
We must yield. Then let us go
Back to Thebes, if yet we may
Heal this mortal feud and stay
The self-wrought doom
That drives our brothers to their tomb.
Ought of toil and zealous care,
But on all your needs attend,
Gladdening in his grave my friend.
All is ordered for the best.
5 (return) [ To avoid the blessing, still a secret, he resorts to a commonplace; literally, "For what generous man is not (in befriending others) a friend to himself?"] 6 (return) [ Creon desires to bury Oedipus on the confines of Thebes so as to avoid the pollution and yet offer due rites at his tomb. Ismene tells him of the latest oracle and interprets to him its purport, that some day the Theban invaders of Athens will be routed in a battle near the grave of Oedipus.] 7 (return) [ The Thebans sprung from the Dragon's teeth sown by Cadmus.]
Chapter III: Antigone
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
ANTIGONE and ISMENE—daughters of Oedipus and sisters of Polyneices and Eteocles. CREON, King of Thebes. HAEMON, Son of Creon, betrothed to Antigone. EURYDICE, wife of Creon. TEIRESIAS, the prophet. CHORUS, of Theban elders.
ANTIGONE and ISMENE before the Palace gates.
**ANTIGONE.**
Ismene, sister of my blood and heart,
See'st thou how Zeus would in our lives fulfill
The weird of Oedipus, a world of woes!
For what of pain, affliction, outrage, shame,
Is lacking in our fortunes, thine and mine?
And now this proclamation of today
Made by our Captain-General to the State,
What can its purport be? Didst hear and heed,
Or art thou deaf when friends are banned as foes?
**ISMENE.**
To me, Antigone, no word of friends
Has come, or glad or grievous, since we twain
Were reft of our two brethren in one day
By double fratricide; and since i' the night
Our Argive leaguers fled, no later news
Has reached me, to inspirit or deject.
**ANTIGONE.**
I know 'twas so, and therefore summoned thee
Beyond the gates to breathe it in thine ear.
**ISMENE.** What is it? Some dark secret stirs thy breast.
**ANTIGONE.**
What but the thought of our two brothers dead,
The one by Creon graced with funeral rites,
The other disappointed? Eteocles
He hath consigned to earth (as fame reports)
With obsequies that use and wont ordain,
So gracing him among the dead below.
But Polyneices, a dishonored corse,
(So by report the royal edict runs)
Must leave him tombless and unwept, a feast
For kites to scent afar and swoop on.
Such is the edict (if report speak true)
Of Creon, our most noble Creon, aimed
At thee and me, aye me too; and anon
He will be here to promulgate, for such
As have not heard, his mandate; 'tis in sooth
No passing humor, for the edict says
Whoe'er transgresses shall be stoned to death.
So stands it with us; now 'tis thine to show
If thou art worthy of thy blood or base.
**ISMENE.**
But how, my rash, fond sister, in such case
Can I do anything to make or mar?
**ANTIGONE.** Say, wilt thou aid me and abet? Decide.
**ISMENE.** In what bold venture? What is in thy thought?
**ANTIGONE.** Lend me a hand to bear the corpse away.
**ISMENE.** What, bury him despite the interdict?
**ANTIGONE.**
My brother, and, though thou deny him, thine
No man shall say that _I_ betrayed a brother.
**ISMENE.** Wilt thou persist, though Creon has forbid?
**ANTIGONE.** What right has he to keep me from my own?
**ISMENE.**
Bethink thee, sister, of our father's fate,
Abhorred, dishonored, self-convinced of sin,
Blinded, himself his executioner.
Think of his mother-wife (ill sorted names)
Done by a noose herself had twined to death
And last, our hapless brethren in one day,
Both in a mutual destiny involved,
Self-slaughtered, both the slayer and the slain.
Bethink thee, sister, we are left alone;
Shall we not perish wretchedest of all,
If in defiance of the law we cross
A monarch's will?—weak women, think of that,
Not framed by nature to contend with men.
Remember this too that the stronger rules;
We must obey his orders, these or worse.
Therefore I plead compulsion and entreat
The dead to pardon. I perforce obey
The powers that be. 'Tis foolishness, I ween,
To overstep in aught the golden mean.
**ANTIGONE.**
I urge no more; nay, wert thou willing still,
I would not welcome such a fellowship.
Go thine own way; myself will bury him.
How sweet to die in such employ, to rest,—
Sister and brother linked in love's embrace—
A sinless sinner, banned awhile on earth,
But by the dead commended; and with them
I shall abide for ever. As for thee,
Scorn, if thou wilt, the eternal laws of Heaven.
**ISMENE.**
I scorn them not, but to defy the State
Or break her ordinance I have no skill.
**ANTIGONE.**
A specious pretext. I will go alone
To lap my dearest brother in the grave.
**ISMENE.** My poor, fond sister, how I fear for thee!
**ANTIGONE.** O waste no fears on me; look to thyself.
**ISMENE.**
At least let no man know of thine intent,
But keep it close and secret, as will I.
**ANTIGONE.**
O tell it, sister; I shall hate thee more
If thou proclaim it not to all the town.
**ISMENE.** Thou hast a fiery soul for numbing work.
**ANTIGONE.** I pleasure those whom I would liefest please.
**ISMENE.** If thou succeed; but thou art doomed to fail.
**ANTIGONE.** When strength shall fail me, yes, but not before.
**ISMENE.** But, if the venture's hopeless, why essay?
**ANTIGONE.**
Sister, forbear, or I shall hate thee soon,
And the dead man will hate thee too, with cause.
Say I am mad and give my madness rein
To wreck itself; the worst that can befall
Is but to die an honorable death.
**ISMENE.**
Have thine own way then; 'tis a mad endeavor,
Yet to thy lovers thou art dear as ever.
_[Exeunt]_
**CHORUS.**
*(Str. 1)*
Sunbeam, of all that ever dawn on
Our seven-gated Thebes the brightest ray,
O eye of golden day,
How fair thy light o'er Dirce's fountain shone,
Speeding on their headlong homeward course,
Far quicker than they came, the Argive force;
Putting to flight
The argent shields, the host with scutcheons white.
Against our land the proud invader came
To vindicate fell Polyneices' claim.
Like to an eagle swooping low,
On pinions white as new fall'n snow.
With clanging scream, a horsetail plume his crest,
The aspiring lord of Argos onward pressed.
*(Ant. 1)*
Hovering around our city walls he waits,
His spearmen raven at our seven gates.
But ere a torch our crown of towers could burn,
Ere they had tasted of our blood, they turn
Forced by the Dragon; in their rear
The din of Ares panic-struck they hear.
For Zeus who hates the braggart's boast
Beheld that gold-bespangled host;
As at the goal the paean they upraise,
He struck them with his forked lightning blaze.
*(Str. 2)*
To earthy from earth rebounding, down he crashed;
The fire-brand from his impious hand was dashed,
As like a Bacchic reveler on he came,
Outbreathing hate and flame,
And tottered. Elsewhere in the field,
Here, there, great Area like a war-horse wheeled;
Beneath his car down thrust
Our foemen bit the dust.
Seven captains at our seven gates
Thundered; for each a champion waits,
Each left behind his armor bright,
Trophy for Zeus who turns the fight;
Save two alone, that ill-starred pair
One mother to one father bare,
Who lance in rest, one 'gainst the other
Drave, and both perished, brother slain by brother.
*(Ant. 2)*
Now Victory to Thebes returns again
And smiles on her chariot-circled plain.
Now let feast and festal should
Memories of war blot out.
Let us to the temples throng,
Dance and sing the live night long.
God of Thebes, lead thou the round.
Bacchus, shaker of the ground!
Let us end our revels here;
Lo! Creon our new lord draws near,
Crowned by this strange chance, our king.
What, I marvel, pondering?
Why this summons? Wherefore call
Us, his elders, one and all,
Bidding us with him debate,
On some grave concern of State?
_[Enter CREON]_
**CREON.**
Elders, the gods have righted one again
Our storm-tossed ship of state, now safe in port.
But you by special summons I convened
As my most trusted councilors; first, because
I knew you loyal to Laius of old;
Again, when Oedipus restored our State,
Both while he ruled and when his rule was o'er,
Ye still were constant to the royal line.
Now that his two sons perished in one day,
Brother by brother murderously slain,
By right of kinship to the Princes dead,
I claim and hold the throne and sovereignty.
Yet 'tis no easy matter to discern
The temper of a man, his mind and will,
Till he be proved by exercise of power;
And in my case, if one who reigns supreme
Swerve from the highest policy, tongue-tied
By fear of consequence, that man I hold,
And ever held, the basest of the base.
And I contemn the man who sets his friend
Before his country. For myself, I call
To witness Zeus, whose eyes are everywhere,
If I perceive some mischievous design
To sap the State, I will not hold my tongue;
Nor would I reckon as my private friend
A public foe, well knowing that the State
Is the good ship that holds our fortunes all:
Farewell to friendship, if she suffers wreck.
Such is the policy by which I seek
To serve the Commons and conformably
I have proclaimed an edict as concerns
The sons of Oedipus; Eteocles
Who in his country's battle fought and fell,
The foremost champion—duly bury him
With all observances and ceremonies
That are the guerdon of the heroic dead.
But for the miscreant exile who returned
Minded in flames and ashes to blot out
His father's city and his father's gods,
And glut his vengeance with his kinsmen's blood,
Or drag them captive at his chariot wheels—
For Polyneices 'tis ordained that none
Shall give him burial or make mourn for him,
But leave his corpse unburied, to be meat
For dogs and carrion crows, a ghastly sight.
So am I purposed; never by my will
Shall miscreants take precedence of true men,
But all good patriots, alive or dead,
Shall be by me preferred and honored.
**CHORUS.**
Son of Menoeceus, thus thou will'st to deal
With him who loathed and him who loved our State.
Thy word is law; thou canst dispose of us
The living, as thou will'st, as of the dead.
**CREON.** See then ye execute what I ordain.
**CHORUS.** On younger shoulders lay this grievous charge.
**CREON.** Fear not, I've posted guards to watch the corpse.
**CHORUS.** What further duty would'st thou lay on us?
**CREON.** Not to connive at disobedience.
**CHORUS.** No man is mad enough to court his death.
**CREON.**
The penalty _is_ death: yet hope of gain
Hath lured men to their ruin oftentimes.
_[Enter GUARD]_
**GUARD.**
My lord, I will not make pretense to pant
And puff as some light-footed messenger.
In sooth my soul beneath its pack of thought
Made many a halt and turned and turned again;
For conscience plied her spur and curb by turns.
"Why hurry headlong to thy fate, poor fool?"
She whispered. Then again, "If Creon learn
This from another, thou wilt rue it worse."
Thus leisurely I hastened on my road;
Much thought extends a furlong to a league.
But in the end the forward voice prevailed,
To face thee. I will speak though I say nothing.
For plucking courage from despair methought,
'Let the worst hap, thou canst but meet thy fate.'
**CREON.** What is thy news? Why this despondency?
**GUARD.**
Let me premise a word about myself?
I neither did the deed nor saw it done,
Nor were it just that I should come to harm.
**CREON.**
Thou art good at parry, and canst fence about
Some matter of grave import, as is plain.
**GUARD.** The bearer of dread tidings needs must quake.
**CREON.** Then, sirrah, shoot thy bolt and get thee gone.
**GUARD.**
Well, it must out; the corpse is buried; someone
E'en now besprinkled it with thirsty dust,
Performed the proper ritual—and was gone.
**CREON.** What say'st thou? Who hath dared to do this thing?
**GUARD.**
I cannot tell, for there was ne'er a trace
Of pick or mattock—hard unbroken ground,
Without a scratch or rut of chariot wheels,
No sign that human hands had been at work.
When the first sentry of the morning watch
Gave the alarm, we all were terror-stricken.
The corpse had vanished, not interred in earth,
But strewn with dust, as if by one who sought
To avert the curse that haunts the unburied dead:
Of hound or ravening jackal, not a sign.
Thereat arose an angry war of words;
Guard railed at guard and blows were like to end it,
For none was there to part us, each in turn
Suspected, but the guilt brought home to none,
From lack of evidence. We challenged each
The ordeal, or to handle red-hot iron,
Or pass through fire, affirming on our oath
Our innocence—we neither did the deed
Ourselves, nor know who did or compassed it.
Our quest was at a standstill, when one spake
And bowed us all to earth like quivering reeds,
For there was no gainsaying him nor way
To escape perdition: _Ye_are_bound_to_tell_
_The_King,_ye_cannot_hide_it; so he spake.
And he convinced us all; so lots were cast,
And I, unlucky scapegoat, drew the prize.
So here I am unwilling and withal
Unwelcome; no man cares to hear ill news.
**CHORUS.**
I had misgivings from the first, my liege,
Of something more than natural at work.
**CREON.**
O cease, you vex me with your babblement;
I am like to think you dote in your old age.
Is it not arrant folly to pretend
That gods would have a thought for this dead man?
Did they forsooth award him special grace,
And as some benefactor bury him,
Who came to fire their hallowed sanctuaries,
To sack their shrines, to desolate their land,
And scout their ordinances? Or perchance
The gods bestow their favors on the bad.
No! no! I have long noted malcontents
Who wagged their heads, and kicked against the yoke,
Misliking these my orders, and my rule.
'Tis they, I warrant, who suborned my guards
By bribes. Of evils current on earth
The worst is money. Money 'tis that sacks
Cities, and drives men forth from hearth and home;
Warps and seduces native innocence,
And breeds a habit of dishonesty.
But they who sold themselves shall find their greed
Out-shot the mark, and rue it soon or late.
Yea, as I still revere the dread of Zeus,
By Zeus I swear, except ye find and bring
Before my presence here the very man
Who carried out this lawless burial,
Death for your punishment shall not suffice.
Hanged on a cross, alive ye first shall make
Confession of this outrage. This will teach you
What practices are like to serve your turn.
There are some villainies that bring no gain.
For by dishonesty the few may thrive,
The many come to ruin and disgrace.
**GUARD.**
May I not speak, or must I turn and go
Without a word?—
**CREON.**
Begone! canst thou not see
That e'en this question irks me?
**GUARD.**
Where, my lord?
Is it thy ears that suffer, or thy heart?
**CREON.** Why seek to probe and find the seat of pain?
**GUARD.** I gall thine ears—this miscreant thy mind.
**CREON.** What an inveterate babbler! get thee gone!
**GUARD.** Babbler perchance, but innocent of the crime.
**CREON.** Twice guilty, having sold thy soul for gain.
**GUARD.** Alas! how sad when reasoners reason wrong.
**CREON.**
Go, quibble with thy reason. If thou fail'st
To find these malefactors, thou shalt own
The wages of ill-gotten gains is death.
_[Exit CREON]_
**GUARD.**
I pray he may be found. But caught or not
(And fortune must determine that) thou never
Shalt see me here returning; that is sure.
For past all hope or thought I have escaped,
And for my safety owe the gods much thanks.
**CHORUS.**
*(Str. 1)*
Many wonders there be, but naught more wondrous than man;
Over the surging sea, with a whitening south wind wan,
Through the foam of the firth, man makes his perilous way;
And the eldest of deities Earth that knows not toil nor decay
Ever he furrows and scores, as his team, year in year out,
With breed of the yoked horse, the ploughshare turneth about.
*(Ant. 1)*
The light-witted birds of the air, the beasts of the weald and the wood
He traps with his woven snare, and the brood of the briny flood.
Master of cunning he: the savage bull, and the hart
Who roams the mountain free, are tamed by his infinite art;
And the shaggy rough-maned steed is broken to bear the bit.
*(Str. 2)*
Speech and the wind-swift speed of counsel and civic wit,
He hath learnt for himself all these; and the arrowy rain to fly
And the nipping airs that freeze, 'neath the open winter sky.
He hath provision for all: fell plague he hath learnt to endure;
Safe whate'er may befall: yet for death he hath found no cure.
*(Ant. 2)*
Passing the wildest flight thought are the cunning and skill,
That guide man now to the light, but now to counsels of ill.
If he honors the laws of the land, and reveres the Gods of the State
Proudly his city shall stand; but a cityless outcast I rate
Whoso bold in his pride from the path of right doth depart;
Ne'er may I sit by his side, or share the thoughts of his heart.
What strange vision meets my eyes,
Fills me with a wild surprise?
Sure I know her, sure 'tis she,
The maid Antigone.
Hapless child of hapless sire,
Didst thou recklessly conspire,
Madly brave the King's decree?
Therefore are they haling thee?
_[Enter GUARD bringing ANTIGONE]_
**GUARD.**
Here is the culprit taken in the act
Of giving burial. But where's the King?
**CHORUS.**
There from the palace he returns in time.
_[Enter CREON]_
**CREON.** Why is my presence timely? What has chanced?
**GUARD.**
No man, my lord, should make a vow, for if
He ever swears he will not do a thing,
His afterthoughts belie his first resolve.
When from the hail-storm of thy threats I fled
I sware thou wouldst not see me here again;
But the wild rapture of a glad surprise
Intoxicates, and so I'm here forsworn.
And here's my prisoner, caught in the very act,
Decking the grave. No lottery this time;
This prize is mine by right of treasure-trove.
So take her, judge her, rack her, if thou wilt.
She's thine, my liege; but I may rightly claim
Hence to depart well quit of all these ills.
**CREON.** Say, how didst thou arrest the maid, and where?
**GUARD.** Burying the man. There's nothing more to tell.
**CREON.** Hast thou thy wits? Or know'st thou what thou say'st?
**GUARD.**
I saw this woman burying the corpse
Against thy orders. Is that clear and plain?
**CREON.** But how was she surprised and caught in the act?
**GUARD.**
It happened thus. No sooner had we come,
Driven from thy presence by those awful threats,
Than straight we swept away all trace of dust,
And bared the clammy body. Then we sat
High on the ridge to windward of the stench,
While each man kept he fellow alert and rated
Roundly the sluggard if he chanced to nap.
So all night long we watched, until the sun
Stood high in heaven, and his blazing beams
Smote us. A sudden whirlwind then upraised
A cloud of dust that blotted out the sky,
And swept the plain, and stripped the woodlands bare,
And shook the firmament. We closed our eyes
And waited till the heaven-sent plague should pass.
At last it ceased, and lo! there stood this maid.
A piercing cry she uttered, sad and shrill,
As when the mother bird beholds her nest
Robbed of its nestlings; even so the maid
Wailed as she saw the body stripped and bare,
And cursed the ruffians who had done this deed.
Anon she gathered handfuls of dry dust,
Then, holding high a well-wrought brazen urn,
Thrice on the dead she poured a lustral stream.
We at the sight swooped down on her and seized
Our quarry. Undismayed she stood, and when
We taxed her with the former crime and this,
She disowned nothing. I was glad—and grieved;
For 'tis most sweet to 'scape oneself scot-free,
And yet to bring disaster to a friend
Is grievous. Take it all in all, I deem
A man's first duty is to serve himself.
**CREON.** Speak, girl, with head bent low and downcast eyes, Does thou plead guilty or deny the deed?
**ANTIGONE.** Guilty. I did it, I deny it not.
**CREON** *(to GUARD)*
Sirrah, begone whither thou wilt, and thank
Thy luck that thou hast 'scaped a heavy charge.
*(To ANTIGONE)*
Now answer this plain question, yes or no,
Wast thou acquainted with the interdict?
**ANTIGONE.** I knew, all knew; how should I fail to know?
**CREON.** And yet wert bold enough to break the law?
**ANTIGONE.**
Yea, for these laws were not ordained of Zeus,
And she who sits enthroned with gods below,
Justice, enacted not these human laws.
Nor did I deem that thou, a mortal man,
Could'st by a breath annul and override
The immutable unwritten laws of Heaven.
They were not born today nor yesterday;
They die not; and none knoweth whence they sprang.
I was not like, who feared no mortal's frown,
To disobey these laws and so provoke
The wrath of Heaven. I knew that I must die,
E'en hadst thou not proclaimed it; and if death
Is thereby hastened, I shall count it gain.
For death is gain to him whose life, like mine,
Is full of misery. Thus my lot appears
Not sad, but blissful; for had I endured
To leave my mother's son unburied there,
I should have grieved with reason, but not now.
And if in this thou judgest me a fool,
Methinks the judge of folly's not acquit.
**CHORUS.** A stubborn daughter of a stubborn sire, This ill-starred maiden kicks against the pricks.
**CREON.**
Well, let her know the stubbornest of wills
Are soonest bended, as the hardest iron,
O'er-heated in the fire to brittleness,
Flies soonest into fragments, shivered through.
A snaffle curbs the fieriest steed, and he
Who in subjection lives must needs be meek.
But this proud girl, in insolence well-schooled,
First overstepped the established law, and then—
A second and worse act of insolence—
She boasts and glories in her wickedness.
Now if she thus can flout authority
Unpunished, I am woman, she the man.
But though she be my sister's child or nearer
Of kin than all who worship at my hearth,
Nor she nor yet her sister shall escape
The utmost penalty, for both I hold,
As arch-conspirators, of equal guilt.
Bring forth the older; even now I saw her
Within the palace, frenzied and distraught.
Dark deeds in darkness schemed, before the act.
More hateful still the miscreant who seeks
When caught, to make a virtue of a crime.
**ANTIGONE.** Would'st thou do more than slay thy prisoner?
**CREON.** Not I, thy life is mine, and that's enough.
ANTIGONE.** Why dally then? To me no word of thine Is pleasant: God forbid it e'er should please; Nor am I more acceptable to thee. And yet how otherwise had I achieved A name so glorious as by burying A brother? so my townsmen all would say, Where they not gagged by terror, Manifold A king's prerogatives, and not the least That all his acts and all his words are law
**CREON.** Of all these Thebans none so deems but thou.
**ANTIGONE.** These think as I, but bate their breath to thee.
**CREON.** Hast thou no shame to differ from all these?
**ANTIGONE.** To reverence kith and kin can bring no shame.
**CREON.** Was his dead foeman not thy kinsman too?
**ANTIGONE.** One mother bare them and the self-same sire.
**CREON.** Why cast a slur on one by honoring one?
**ANTIGONE.** The dead man will not bear thee out in this.
**CREON.** Surely, if good and evil fare alive.
**ANTIGONE.** The slain man was no villain but a brother.
**CREON.** The patriot perished by the outlaw's brand.
**ANTIGONE.** Nathless the realms below these rites require.
**CREON.** Not that the base should fare as do the brave.
**ANTIGONE.** Who knows if this world's crimes are virtues there?
**CREON.** Not even death can make a foe a friend.
**ANTIGONE.** My nature is for mutual love, not hate.
**CREON.** Die then, and love the dead if thou must; No woman shall be the master while I live.
_[Enter ISMENE]_
**CHORUS.** Lo from out the palace gate, Weeping o'er her sister's fate, Comes Ismene; see her brow, Once serene, beclouded now, See her beauteous face o'erspread With a flush of angry red.
**CREON.** Woman, who like a viper unperceived Didst harbor in my house and drain my blood, Two plagues I nurtured blindly, so it proved, To sap my throne. Say, didst thou too abet This crime, or dost abjure all privity?
**ISMENE.** I did the deed, if she will have it so, And with my sister claim to share the guilt.
**ANTIGONE.** That were unjust. Thou would'st not act with me At first, and I refused thy partnership.
**ISMENE.** But now thy bark is stranded, I am bold To claim my share as partner in the loss.
**ANTIGONE.** Who did the deed the under-world knows well: A friend in word is never friend of mine.
**ISMENE.** O sister, scorn me not, let me but share Thy work of piety, and with thee die.
**ANTIGONE.** Claim not a work in which thou hadst no hand; One death sufficeth. Wherefore should'st thou die?
**ISMENE.** What would life profit me bereft of thee?
**ANTIGONE.** Ask Creon, he's thy kinsman and best friend.
**ISMENE.** Why taunt me? Find'st thou pleasure in these gibes?
**ANTIGONE.** 'Tis a sad mockery, if indeed I mock.
**ISMENE.** O say if I can help thee even now.
**ANTIGONE.** No, save thyself; I grudge not thy escape.
**ISMENE.** Is e'en this boon denied, to share thy lot?
**ANTIGONE.** Yea, for thou chosed'st life, and I to die.
**ISMENE.** Thou canst not say that I did not protest.
**ANTIGONE.** Well, some approved thy wisdom, others mine.
**ISMENE.** But now we stand convicted, both alike.
**ANTIGONE.** Fear not; thou livest, I died long ago Then when I gave my life to save the dead.
**CREON.** Both maids, methinks, are crazed. One suddenly Has lost her wits, the other was born mad.
**ISMENE.** Yea, so it falls, sire, when misfortune comes, The wisest even lose their mother wit.
**CREON.** I' faith thy wit forsook thee when thou mad'st Thy choice with evil-doers to do ill.
**ISMENE.** What life for me without my sister here?
**CREON.** Say not thy sister _here_: thy sister's dead.
**ISMENE.** What, wilt thou slay thy own son's plighted bride?
**CREON.** Aye, let him raise him seed from other fields.
**ISMENE.** No new espousal can be like the old.
**CREON.** A plague on trulls who court and woo our sons.
**ANTIGONE.** O Haemon, how thy sire dishonors thee!
**CREON.** A plague on thee and thy accursed bride!
**CHORUS.** What, wilt thou rob thine own son of his bride?
**CREON.** 'Tis death that bars this marriage, not his sire.
**CHORUS.** So her death-warrant, it would seem, is sealed.
**CREON.** By you, as first by me; off with them, guards, And keep them close. Henceforward let them learn To live as women use, not roam at large. For e'en the bravest spirits run away When they perceive death pressing on life's heels.
**CHORUS.**
*(Str. 1)* Thrice blest are they who never tasted pain! If once the curse of Heaven attaint a race, The infection lingers on and speeds apace, Age after age, and each the cup must drain.
So when Etesian blasts from Thrace downpour Sweep o'er the blackening main and whirl to land From Ocean's cavernous depths his ooze and sand, Billow on billow thunders on the shore.
*(Ant. 1)* On the Labdacidae I see descending Woe on woe; from days of old some god Laid on the race a malison, and his rod Scourges each age with sorrows never ending.
The light that dawned on its last born son Is vanished, and the bloody axe of Fate Has felled the goodly tree that blossomed late. O Oedipus, by reckless pride undone!
*(Str. 2)* Thy might, O Zeus, what mortal power can quell? Not sleep that lays all else beneath its spell, Nor moons that never tire: untouched by Time, Throned in the dazzling light That crowns Olympus' height, Thou reignest King, omnipotent, sublime.
Past, present, and to be, All bow to thy decree, All that exceeds the mean by Fate Is punished, Love or Hate.
*(Ant. 2)* Hope flits about never-wearying wings; Profit to some, to some light loves she brings, But no man knoweth how her gifts may turn, Till 'neath his feet the treacherous ashes burn. Sure 'twas a sage inspired that spake this word; _If evil good appear_ _To any, Fate is near_; And brief the respite from her flaming sword.
Hither comes in angry mood Haemon, latest of thy brood; Is it for his bride he's grieved, Or her marriage-bed deceived, Doth he make his mourn for thee, Maid forlorn, Antigone?
[Enter HAEMON]
Learning my fixed decree anent thy bride,
Thou mean'st not, son, to rave against thy sire?
Know'st not whate'er we do is done in love?
Thy wisdom as the helm to steer withal.
Therefore no wedlock shall by me be held
More precious than thy loving governance.
In all deferring to a father's will.
For 'tis the hope of parents they may rear
A brood of sons submissive, keen to avenge
Their father's wrongs, and count his friends their own.
But who begets unprofitable sons,
He verily breeds trouble for himself,
And for his foes much laughter. Son, be warned,
And let no woman fool away thy wits.
Ill fares the husband mated with a shrew,
And her embraces very soon wax cold.
For what can wound so surely to the quick
As a false friend? So spue and cast her off,
Bid her go find a husband with the dead.
For since I caught her openly rebelling,
Of all my subjects the one malcontent,
I will not prove a traitor to the State.
She surely dies. Go, let her, if she will,
Appeal to Zeus the God of Kindred, for
If thus I nurse rebellion in my house,
Shall not I foster mutiny without?
For whoso rules his household worthily,
Will prove in civic matters no less wise.
But he who overbears the laws, or thinks
To overrule his rulers, such a one
I never will allow. Whome'er the State
Appoints must be obeyed in everything,
But small and great, just and unjust alike.
I warrant such a one in either case
Would shine, as King or subject; such a man
Would in the storm of battle stand his ground,
A comrade leal and true; but Anarchy—
What evils are not wrought by Anarchy!
She ruins States, and overthrows the home,
She dissipates and routs the embattled host;
While discipline preserves the ordered ranks.
Therefore we must maintain authority
And yield no title to a woman's will.
Better, if needs be, men should cast us out
Than hear it said, a woman proved his match.
Thy words appear both reasonable and wise.
Reason, the choicest gift bestowed by heaven.
'Tis not for me to say thou errest, nor
Would I arraign thy wisdom, if I could;
And yet wise thoughts may come to other men,
And, as thy son, it falls to me to mark
The acts, the words, the comments of the crowd.
The commons stand in terror of thy frown,
And dare not utter aught that might offend,
But I can overhear their muttered plaints,
Know how the people mourn this maiden doomed
For noblest deeds to die the worst of deaths.
When her own brother slain in battle lay
Unsepulchred, she suffered not his corse
To lie for carrion birds and dogs to maul:
Should not her name (they cry) be writ in gold?
Such the low murmurings that reach my ear.
O father, nothing is by me more prized
Than thy well-being, for what higher good
Can children covet than their sire's fair fame,
As fathers too take pride in glorious sons?
Therefore, my father, cling not to one mood,
And deem not thou art right, all others wrong.
For whoso thinks that wisdom dwells with him,
That he alone can speak or think aright,
Such oracles are empty breath when tried.
The wisest man will let himself be swayed
By others' wisdom and relax in time.
See how the trees beside a stream in flood
Save, if they yield to force, each spray unharmed,
But by resisting perish root and branch.
The mariner who keeps his mainsheet taut,
And will not slacken in the gale, is like
To sail with thwarts reversed, keel uppermost.
Relent then and repent thee of thy wrath;
For, if one young in years may claim some sense,
I'll say 'tis best of all to be endowed
With absolute wisdom; but, if that's denied,
(And nature takes not readily that ply)
(To HAEMON)
Lesson'd in prudence by a beardless boy?
Weigh me on my merit, not my years.
And jeer and flout me with impunity.
Off with the hateful thing that she may die
At once, beside her bridegroom, in his sight.
Or by my side; never shalt thou again
Behold my face hereafter. Go, consort
With friends who like a madman for their mate.
[Exit HAEMON]
Fell is the wrath of youth beneath a smart.
The body.
By man untrod, and in a rock-hewn cave,
With food no more than to avoid the taint
That homicide might bring on all the State,
Buried alive. There let her call in aid
The King of Death, the one god she reveres,
Or learn too late a lesson learnt at last:
'Tis labour lost, to reverence the dead.
Love who pillowed all night on a maiden's cheek dost lie,
Over the upland holds. Shall mortals not yield to thee?
(Ant.) Mad are thy subjects all, and even the wisest heart
Straight to folly will fall, at a touch of thy poisoned dart.
Thou didst kindle the strife, this feud of kinsman with kin,
By the eyes of a winsome wife, and the yearning her heart to win.
For as her consort still, enthroned with Justice above,
Thou bendest man to thy will, O all invincible Love.
Lo I myself am borne aside,
From Justice, as I view this bride.
(O sight an eye in tears to drown)
Thus hurried down
Death's bower with the dead to share.
(Str. 1)
My journey's done.
One last fond, lingering, longing look I take
At the bright sun.
For Death who puts to sleep both young and old
Hales my young life,
And beckons me to Acheron's dark fold,
An unwed wife.
No youths have sung the marriage song for me,
My bridal bed
No maids have strewn with flowers from the lea,
'Tis Death I wed.
Great and glorious, to the dead.
Thou the sword's edge hast not tasted,
No disease thy frame hath wasted.
Freely thou alone shalt go
Living to the dead below.
(Ant. 1)
Of Tantalus' doomed child,
Chained on Siphylus' high rocky fell,
That clung like ivy wild,
Drenched by the pelting rain and whirling snow,
Left there to pine,
While on her frozen breast the tears aye flow—
Her fate is mine.
Mortals we of mortal line.
Like renown with gods to gain
Recompenses all thy pain.
Take this solace to thy tomb:
Hers in life and death thy doom.
(Str. 2)
Thus to insult me living, to my face?
Cease, by our country's altars I entreat,
Ye lordly rulers of a lordly race.
O fount of Dirce, wood-embowered plain
Where Theban chariots to victory speed,
Mark ye the cruel laws that now have wrought my bane,
The friends who show no pity in my need!
Was ever fate like mine? O monstrous doom,
Within a rock-built prison sepulchred,
And alien midst the living and the dead.
(Str. 3)
Madly thou thy foot didst dash
'Gainst high Justice' altar stair.
Thou a father's guilt dost bear.
(Ant. 2)
My ill-starred father's piteous disgrace,
The taint of blood, the hereditary stain,
That clings to all of Labdacus' famed race.
Woe worth the monstrous marriage-bed where lay
A mother with the son her womb had borne,
Therein I was conceived, woe worth the day,
Fruit of incestuous sheets, a maid forlorn,
And now I pass, accursed and unwed,
To meet them as an alien there below;
And thee, O brother, in marriage ill-bestead,
'Twas thy dead hand that dealt me this death-blow.
Let rite be paid when rites are due.
Yet is it ill to disobey
The powers who hold by might the sway.
Thou hast withstood authority,
A self-willed rebel, thou must die.
No longer may I see the day's bright eye;
Not one friend left to share my bitter woe,
And o'er my ashes heave one passing sigh.
To stave off death, I trow they'd never end.
Away with her, and having walled her up
In a rock-vaulted tomb, as I ordained,
Leave her alone at liberty to die,
Or, if she choose, to live in solitude,
The tomb her dwelling. We in either case
Are guiltless as concerns this maiden's blood,
Only on earth no lodging shall she find.
Hewn from the rock, my everlasting home,
Whither I go to join the mighty host
Of kinsfolk, Persephassa's guests long dead,
The last of all, of all more miserable,
I pass, my destined span of years cut short.
And yet good hope is mine that I shall find
A welcome from my sire, a welcome too,
From thee, my mother, and my brother dear;
For with these hands I laved and decked your limbs
In death, and poured libations on your grave.
And last, my Polyneices, unto thee
I paid due rites, and this my recompense!
Yet am I justified in wisdom's eyes.
For even had it been some child of mine,
Or husband mouldering in death's decay,
I had not wrought this deed despite the State.
What is the law I call in aid? 'Tis thus
I argue. Had it been a husband dead
I might have wed another, and have borne
Another child, to take the dead child's place.
But, now my sire and mother both are dead,
No second brother can be born for me.
Thus by the law of conscience I was led
To honour thee, dear brother, and was judged
By Creon guilty of a heinous crime.
And now he drags me like a criminal,
A bride unwed, amerced of marriage-song
And marriage-bed and joys of motherhood,
By friends deserted to a living grave.
What ordinance of heaven have I transgressed?
Hereafter can I look to any god
For succour, call on any man for help?
Alas, my piety is impious deemed.
Well, if such justice is approved of heaven,
I shall be taught by suffering my sin;
But if the sin is theirs, O may they suffer
No worse ills than the wrongs they do to me.
Drives like a gale the maiden still.
Shall smart full sore for their delay.
Brings death most near.
Portends no other thing than death.
Ye gods of Thebes whence sprang my line,
Look, puissant lords of Thebes, on me;
The last of all your royal house ye see.
Martyred by men of sin, undone.
Such meed my piety hath won.
[Exit ANTIGONE]
(Str. 1)
Danae, in her brass-bound tower,
Once exchanged the glad sunlight
For a cell, her bridal bower.
And yet she sprang of royal line,
My child, like thine,
And nursed the seed
By her conceived
Of Zeus descending in a golden shower.
Strange are the ways of Fate, her power
Nor wealth, nor arms withstand, nor tower;
Nor brass-prowed ships, that breast the sea
From Fate can flee.
(Ant. 1)
For words of high disdain
Did Bacchus to a rocky dungeon bring,
To cool the madness of a fevered brain.
His frenzy passed,
He learnt at last
'Twas madness gibes against a god to fling.
For once he fain had quenched the Maenad's fire;
And of the tuneful Nine provoked the ire.
(Str. 2)
On Bosporus' lone strand,
Where stretcheth Salmydessus' plain
In the wild Thracian land,
There on his borders Ares witnessed
The vengeance by a jealous step-dame ta'en,
The gore that trickled from a spindle red,
The sightless orbits of her step-sons twain.
(Ant. 2)
The blasted issue of their mother's womb.
But she her lineage could trace
To great Erechtheus' race;
Daughter of Boreas in her sire's vast caves
Reared, where the tempest raves,
Swift as his horses o'er the hills she sped;
A child of gods; yet she, my child, like thee,
By Destiny
That knows not death nor age—she too was vanquished.
[Enter TEIRESIAS and BOY]
Having betwixt us eyes for one, we are here.
The blind man cannot move without a guide.
And when thou hearest thou must heed the seer.
The razor edge of peril.
Thy words inspire a dread presentiment.
Sitting on my throne of augury,
As is my wont, where every fowl of heaven
Find harborage, on mine ears was borne
A jargon strange of twitterings, hoots, and screams;
So knew I that each bird at the other tare
With bloody talons, for the whirr of wings
Could signify naught else. Perturbed in soul,
I straight essayed the sacrifice by fire
On blazing altars, but the God of Fire
Came not in flame, and from the thigh bones dripped
And sputtered in the ashes a foul ooze;
Gall-bladders cracked and spurted up: the fat
Melted and fell and left the thigh bones bare.
Such are the signs, taught by this lad, I read—
As I guide others, so the boy guides me—
The frustrate signs of oracles grown dumb.
O King, thy willful temper ails the State,
For all our shrines and altars are profaned
By what has filled the maw of dogs and crows,
The flesh of Oedipus' unburied son.
Therefore the angry gods abominate
Our litanies and our burnt offerings;
Therefore no birds trill out a happy note,
Gorged with the carnival of human gore.
O ponder this, my son. To err is common
To all men, but the man who having erred
Hugs not his errors, but repents and seeks
The cure, is not a wastrel nor unwise.
No fool, the saw goes, like the obstinate fool.
Let death disarm thy vengeance. O forbear
To vex the dead. What glory wilt thou win
By slaying twice the slain? I mean thee well;
Counsel's most welcome if I promise gain.
Like archers at a target; yea, ye set
Your soothsayer on me. Peddlers are ye all,
And I the merchandise ye buy and sell.
Go to, and make your profit where ye will,
Silver of Sardis change for gold of Ind;
Ye will not purchase this man's burial,
Not though the winged ministers of Zeus
Should bear him in their talons to his throne;
Not e'en in awe of prodigy so dire
Would I permit his burial, for I know
No human soilure can assail the gods;
This too I know, Teiresias, dire's the fall
Of craft and cunning when it tries to gloss
Foul treachery with fair words for filthy gain.
The mystery deep hidden in my breast.
Not many times shall run their race, before
Thou shalt have given the fruit of thine own loins
In quittance of thy murder, life for life;
For that thou hast entombed a living soul,
And sent below a denizen of earth,
And wronged the nether gods by leaving here
A corpse unlaved, unwept, unsepulchred.
Herein thou hast no part, nor e'en the gods
In heaven; and thou usurp'st a power not thine.
For this the avenging spirits of Heaven and Hell
Who dog the steps of sin are on thy trail:
What these have suffered thou shalt suffer too.
And now, consider whether bought by gold
I prophesy. For, yet a little while,
And sound of lamentation shall be heard,
Of men and women through thy desolate halls;
And all thy neighbour States are leagues to avenge
Their mangled warriors who have found a grave
I' the maw of wolf or hound, or winged bird
That flying homewards taints their city's air.
These are the shafts, that like a bowman I
Provoked to anger, loosen at thy breast,
Unerring, and their smart thou shalt not shun.
Boy, lead me home, that he may vent his spleen
On younger men, and learn to curb his tongue
With gentler manners than his present mood.
[Exit TEIRESIAS]
And, O believe me, since these grizzled locks
Were like the raven, never have I known
The prophet's warning to the State to fail.
To yield is grievous, but the obstinate soul
That fights with Fate is smitten grievously.
And for the unburied outlaw build a tomb.
Is swift to overtake the impenitent.
My heart's resolve; but Fate is ill to fight.
My henchmen! Get ye axes! Speed away
To yonder eminence! I too will go,
For all my resolution this way sways.
'Twas I that bound, I too will set her free.
Almost I am persuaded it is best
To keep through life the law ordained of old.
[Exit CREON]
(Str. 1)
Child of Zeus the God of thunder,
Of a Theban bride the wonder,
Fair Italia's guardian lord;
In the deep-embosomed glades
Of the Eleusinian Queen
Haunt of revelers, men and maids,
Dionysus, thou art seen.
Where Ismenus rolls his waters,
Where the Dragon's teeth were sown,
Where the Bacchanals thy daughters
Round thee roam,
There thy home;
Thebes, O Bacchus, is thine own.
(Ant. 1)
Lurid-flaming torches see;
Where Corisian maidens flock,
Thee the springs of Castaly.
By Nysa's bastion ivy-clad,
By shores with clustered vineyards glad,
There to thee the hymn rings out,
And through our streets we Thebans shout,
All hail to thee,
Evoe, Evoe!
(Str. 2)
To thee, and to thy Mother levin-stricken,
In our dire need we call;
Thou see'st with what a plague our townsfolk sicken.
Thy ready help we crave,
Whether adown Parnassian heights descending,
Or o'er the roaring straits thy swift way wending,
Save us, O save!
(Ant. 2)
Authentic son of Zeus, immortal king,
Leader of all the voices of the night,
Come, and thy train of Thyiads with thee bring,
Thy maddened rout
Who dance before thee all night long, and shout,
Thy handmaids we,
Evoe, Evoe!
[Enter MESSENGER]
Of Cadmus and Amphion. No man's life
As of one tenor would I praise or blame,
For Fortune with a constant ebb and rise
Casts down and raises high and low alike,
And none can read a mortal's horoscope.
Take Creon; he, methought, if any man,
Was enviable. He had saved this land
Of Cadmus from our enemies and attained
A monarch's powers and ruled the state supreme,
While a right noble issue crowned his bliss.
Now all is gone and wasted, for a life
Without life's joys I count a living death.
You'll tell me he has ample store of wealth,
The pomp and circumstance of kings; but if
These give no pleasure, all the rest I count
The shadow of a shade, nor would I weigh
His wealth and power 'gainst a dram of joy.
Creon's unhappy wife, Eurydice.
Comes she by chance or learning her son's fate?
[Enter EURYDICE]
As I passed out to offer up my prayer
To Pallas, and was drawing back the bar
To open wide the door, on my ears
There broke a wail that told of household woe.
Stricken with terror in my handmaids' arms
I fell and fainted. But repeat your tale
To one not unacquaint with misery.
The perfect truth, omitting not one word.
Why should we gloze and flatter, to be proved
Liars hereafter? Truth is ever best.
Well, in attendance on my liege, your lord,
I crossed the plain to its utmost margin, where
The corse of Polyneices, gnawn and mauled,
Was lying yet. We offered first a prayer
To Pluto and the goddess of cross-ways,
With contrite hearts, to deprecate their ire.
Then laved with lustral waves the mangled corse,
Laid it on fresh-lopped branches, lit a pyre,
And to his memory piled a mighty mound
Of mother earth. Then to the caverned rock,
The bridal chamber of the maid and Death,
We sped, about to enter. But a guard
Heard from that godless shrine a far shrill wail,
And ran back to our lord to tell the news.
But as he nearer drew a hollow sound
Of lamentation to the King was borne.
He groaned and uttered then this bitter plaint:
"Am I a prophet? Miserable me!
Is this the saddest path I ever trod?
'Tis my son's voice that calls me. On, press on,
My henchmen, haste with double speed to the tomb
Where rocks down-torn have made a gap, look in,
And tell me if in truth I recognize
The voice of Haemon or am heaven-deceived."
So at the bidding of our distraught lord
We looked, and in the cavern's vaulted gloom
I saw the maiden lying strangled there,
A noose of linen twined about her neck;
And hard beside her, clasping her cold form,
Her lover lay bewailing his dead bride
Death-wedded, and his father's cruelty.
When the King saw him, with a terrible groan
He moved towards him, crying, "O my son,
What hast thou done? What ailed thee? What mischance
Has reft thee of thy reason? O come forth,
Come forth, my son; thy father supplicates."
But the son glared at him with tiger eyes,
Spat in his face, and then, without a word,
Drew his two-hilted sword and smote, but missed
His father flying backwards. Then the boy,
Wroth with himself, poor wretch, incontinent
Fell on his sword and drove it through his side
Home, but yet breathing clasped in his lax arms
The maid, her pallid cheek incarnadined
With his expiring gasps. So there they lay
Two corpses, one in death. His marriage rites
Are consummated in the halls of Death:
A witness that of ills whate'er befall,
Mortals' unwisdom is the worst of all.
[Exit EURYDICE]
Without a word importing good or ill.
'Tis that she shrinks in public to lament
Her son's sad ending, and in privacy
Would with her maidens mourn a private loss.
Trust me, she is discreet and will not err.
Is no less ominous than excessive grief.
Whether the tumult of her heart conceals
Some fell design. It may be thou art right:
Unnatural silence signifies no good.
Evidence he with him bears
'Gainst himself (ah me! I quake
'Gainst a king such charge to make)
But all must own,
The guilt is his and his alone.
(Str. 1)
Deadly fraught with mortal curse.
Behold us slain and slayers, all akin.
Woe for my counsel dire, conceived in sin.
Alas, my son,
Life scarce begun,
Thou wast undone.
The fault was mine, mine only, O my son!
(Str. 2)
Thorny and rough the paths my feet have trod,
Humbled my pride, my pleasure turned to pain;
Poor mortals, how we labour all in vain!
[Enter SECOND MESSENGER]
One lying at thy feet, another yet
More grievous waits thee, when thou comest home.
Lies stricken by a fresh inflicted blow.
(Ant. 1)
Doth claim me too, O Death?
What is this word he saith,
This woeful messenger? Say, is it fit
To slay anew a man already slain?
Is Death at work again,
Stroke on stroke, first son, then mother slain?
(Ant. 2)
What more remains to crown my agony?
A minute past I clasped a lifeless son,
And now another victim Death hath won.
Unhappy mother, most unhappy son!
She fell and closed her eyes in night, but first
She mourned for Megareus who nobly died
Long since, then for her son; with her last breath
She cursed you, the slayer of her child.
(Str. 3)
O for a two-edged sword to slay outright
A wretch like me,
Made one with misery.
(Str. 4)
Your murderer. Yes, I guilty plead.
My henchmen, lead me hence, away, away,
A cipher, less than nothing; no delay!
His past errors demand the speediest cure.
(Ant. 3)
Come with all speed!
Come, my best friend,
And speed my end!
Away, away!
Let me not look on another day!
That those whom it concerns must take in hand.
Of fate for mortals refuge is there none.
(Ant. 4)
Unwittingly, my son, your mother too.
Where to turn I know not now; every way
Leads but astray,
And on my head I feel the heavy weight
Of crushing Fate.
Is a wise heart:
And to defraud the gods in aught
With peril is fraught.
Swelling words of high-flown might
Mightily the gods do smite.
Chastisement for errors past
Wisdom brings to age at last.

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