Chapter IV: Part 4

TEU. Fie! How doth gratitude when men are dead Prove renegade and swiftly pass away! This Agamemnon hath no slightest word Of kind remembrance any more for thee, Aias, who oftentimes for his behoof Hast jeoparded thy life in labour of war. Now all is clean forgotten and out of mind. Thou who hast multiplied words void of sense, Hast thou no faintest memory of the time When who but Aias came and rescued you Already locked within the toils,--all lost, The rout began: when close abaft the ships The torches flared, and o'er the bootless trench Hector was bounding high to board our fleet? Who stayed that onset? Was not Aias he? Whom thou deny'st to have once set foot by thine. Find ye no merit there? And once again When he met Hector singly, man to man, Not by your bidding, but the lottery's choice, His lot, that skulked not low adown i' the heap, A moist earth-clod, but sure to spring in air, And first to clear the plumy helmet's brim. Yes, Aias was the man, and I too there Kept rank, the 'barbarous mother's servile son.' I pity thee the blindness of that word. Who was thy father's father? A barbarian, Pelops, the Phrygian, if you trace him far! And what was Atreus, thine own father? One Who served his brother with the abominable Dire feast of his own flesh. And thou thyself Cam'st from a Cretan mother, whom her sire Caught with a man who had no right in her And gave dumb fishes the polluted prey. Such was thy race. What is the race thou spurnest? My father, Telamon, of all the host Being foremost proved in valour, took as prize My mother for his mate: a princess she, Born of Laomedon; Alcmena's son Gave her to grace him--a triumphant meed. Thus royally descended and thus brave, Shall I renounce the brother of my blood, Or suffer thee to thrust him in his woes Far from all burial, shameless that thou art? Be sure that, if ye cast him forth, ye'll cast Three bodies more beside him in one spot; For nobler should I find it here to die In open quarrel for my kinsman's weal, Than for thy wife--or Menelaues', was 't? Consider then, not my case, but your own. For if you harm me you will wish some day To have been a coward rather than dare me.

CH. Hail, Lord Odysseus! thou art come in time Not to begin, but help to end, a fray.

_Enter_ ODYSSEUS.

OD. What quarrel, sirs? I well perceived from far The kings high-voicing o'er the valiant dead.

AG. Yea, Lord Odysseus, for our ears are full Of this man's violent heart-offending talk.

OD. What words have passed? I cannot blame the man Who meets foul speech with bitterness of tongue.

AG. My speech was bitter, for his deeds were foul.

OD. What deed of his could harm thy sovereign head?

AG. He boldly says this corse shall not be left Unburied, but he'll bury it in our spite.

OD. May I then speak true counsel to my friend, And pull with thee in policy as of yore?

AG. Speak. I were else a madman; for no friend Of all the Argeians do I count thy peer.

OD. Then hear me in Heaven's name! Be not so hard Thus without ruth tombless to cast him forth; Nor be so vanquished by a vehement will, That to thy hate even Justice' self must bow. I, too, had him for my worst enemy, Since I gained mastery o'er Pelides' arms. But though he used me so, I ne'er will grudge For his proud scorn to yield him thus much honour, That, save Achilles' self, I have not seen So noble an Argive on the fields of Troy. Then 'twere not just in thee to slight him now; Nor would thy treatment wound him, but confound The laws of Heaven. No hatred should have scope To offend the noble spirits of the dead.

AG. Wilt thou thus fight against me on his side?

OD. Yea, though I hated him, while hate was comely.

AG. Why, thou shouldst trample him the more, being dead.

OD. Rejoice not, King, in feats that soil thy fame!

AG. 'Tis hard for power to observe each pious rule.

OD. Not hard to grace the good words of a friend.

AG. The 'noble spirit' should hearken to command.

OD. No more! 'Tis conquest to be ruled by love.

AG. Remember what he was thou gracest so.

OD. A noisome enemy; but his life was great.

AG. And wilt thou honour such a pestilent corse?

OD. Hatred gives way to magnanimity.

AG. With addle-pated fools.

OD. Full many are found Friends for an hour, yet bitter in the end.

AG. And wouldst thou have us gentle to such friends?

OD. I would not praise ungentleness in aught.

AG. We shall be known for weaklings through thy counsel.

OD. Not so, but righteous in all Grecian eyes.

AG. Thou bidst me then let bury this dead man?

OD. I urge thee to the course myself shall follow.

AG. Ay, every man for his own line! That holds.

OD. Why not for my own line? What else were natural?

AG. 'Twill be thy doing then, ne'er owned by me.

OD. Own it or not, the kindness is the same.

AG. Well, for thy sake I'd grant a greater boon; Then why not this? However, rest assured That in the grave or out of it, Aias still Shall have my hatred. Do thou what thou wilt. [_Exit_

CH. Whoso would sneer at thy philosophy, While such thy ways, Odysseus, were a fool.

OD. And now let Teucer know that from this hour I am more his friend than I was once his foe, And fain would help him in this burial-rite And service to his brother, nor would fail In aught that mortals owe their noblest dead.

TEU. Odysseus, best of men, thine every word Hath my heart's praise, and my worst thought of thee Is foiled by thy staunch kindness to the man Who was thy rancorous foe. Thou wast not keen To insult in present of his corse, like these, The insensate general and his brother-king, Who came with proud intent to cast him forth Foully debarred from lawful obsequy. Wherefore may he who rules in yon wide heaven, And the unforgetting Fury-spirit, and she, Justice, who crowns the right, so ruin them With cruellest destruction, even as they Thought ruthlessly to rob him of his tomb! For thee, revered Laertes' lineal seed, I fear to admit thy hand unto this rite, Lest we offend the spirit that is gone. But for the rest, I hail thy proffered aid; And bring whom else thou wilt, I'll ne'er resent it. This work shall be my single care; but thou, Be sure I love thee for thy generous heart.

OD. I had gladly done it; but, since thou declinest, I bow to thy decision, and depart. [_Exit_

TEU. Speed we, for the hour grows late:
Some to scoop his earthy cell,
Others by the cauldron wait,
Plenished from the purest well.
Hoist it, comrades, here at hand,
High upon the three-foot stand!
Let the cleansing waters flow;
Brightly flame the fire below!
Others in a stalwart throng
From his chamber bear along
All the arms he wont to wield
Save alone the mantling shield.
Thou with me thy strength employ,
Lifting this thy father, boy;
Hold his frame with tender heed--
Still the gashed veins darkly bleed.
Who professes here to love him?
Ply your busy cares above him,
Come and labour for the man,
Nobler none since time began,
Aias, while his life-blood ran.

LEADER OF CH. Oft we know not till we see.
Weak is human prophecy.
Judge not, till the hour have taught thee
What the destinies have brought thee.

* * * * *

KING OEDIPUS

THE PERSONS

OEDIPUS, _King of Thebes._ _Priest of Zeus._ CREON, _brother of Jocasta._ CHORUS _of Theban Elders._ TIRESIAS, _the Blind Prophet._ JOCASTA, _the Queen, sister to Creon._ _A Corinthian Shepherd._ _A Theban Shepherd._ _Messenger_

The following also appear, but do not speak:

_A Train of Suppliants._ _The children_ ANTIGONE _and_ ISMENE.

SCENE. Before the Royal Palace in the Cadmean citadel of Thebes.

Laius, the descendant of Cadmus, and king of Thebes (or Thebe), had been told by an oracle that if a son were born to him by his wife Jocasta the boy would be his father's death.

Under such auspices, Oedipus was born, and to elude the prophecy was exposed by his parents on Mount Cithaeron. But he was saved by a compassionate shepherd, and became the adopted son of Polybus, king of Corinth. When he grew up he was troubled by a rumour that he was not his father's son. He went to consult the oracle of Apollo at Delphi, and was told--not of his origin but of his destiny--that he should be guilty of parricide and incest.

He was too horror-stricken to return to Corinth, and as he travelled the other way, he met Laius going from Thebes to Delphi. The travellers quarrelled and the son killed his father, but knew not whom he had slain. He went onward till he came near Thebes, where the Sphinx was making havoc of the noblest citizens, devouring all who failed to solve her riddle. But Oedipus succeeded and overcame her, and, as Laius did not return, was rewarded with the regal sceptre,-- and with the hand of the queen.

He reigned nobly and prosperously, and lived happily with Jocasta, by whom he had four children.

But after some years a plague descended on the people, and Apollo, on being inquired of, answered that it was for Laius' death. The act of regicide must be avenged. Oedipus undertakes the task of discovering the murderer,--and in the same act discovers his own birth, and the fulfilment of both the former prophecies.

Jocasta hangs herself, and Oedipus in his despair puts out his eyes.

KING OEDIPUS

OEDIPUS--Priest of Zeus (_with the_ Train of Suppliants _grouped before an altar_).

OEDIPUS. Nurslings of Cadmus, children of my care, Why press ye now to kneel before my gate With sacred branches in those suppliant hands, While o'er your city clouds of incense rise And sounds of praise, mingling with sounds of woe? I would not learn of your estate, my sons, Through others, wherefore I myself am come, Your Oedipus,--a name well known to men. Speak, aged friend, whose look proclaims thee meet To be their spokesman--What desire, what fear Hath brought you? Doubt not of my earnest will To lend all succour. Hard would be the heart That looked unmoved on such a kneeling throng.

PRIEST. Great ruler of my country, thou beholdest The different ages of our flock who here Are gathered round thine altar,--some, whose wing Hath not yet ventured far from home, and some Burdened with many years, priests of the Gods, Myself the arch priest of Zeus, and these fresh youths, A chosen few. Others there are who crowd The holy agora and the temples twain Of Pallas, and Ismenus' hallowed fires, A suppliant host. For, as thyself perceivest, Our city is tempest tost, and all too weak To lift above the waves her weary prow That plunges in a rude and ravenous sea. Earth's buds are nipped, withering the germs within, Our cattle lose their increase, and our wives Have fruitless travail; and that scourge from Heaven, The fiery Pestilence abhorred of men, Descending on our people with dire stroke Lays waste the Home of Cadmus, while dark Death Wins ample tribute of laments and groans. We kneel, then, at thy hearth; not likening thee Unto the gods, I nor these children here, But of men counting thee the first in might Whether to cope with earthly casualty Or visiting of more than earthly Power. Thou, in thy coming to this Theban land, Didst take away the hateful tax we paid To that stern songstress[1],--aided not by us With hint nor counsel, but, as all believe, Gifted from heaven with life-restoring thought. Now too, great Oedipus of matchless fame, We all uplift our suppliant looks to thee, To find some help for us, whether from man, Or through the prompting of a voice Divine. Experienced counsel, we have seen and know, Hath ever prosperous issue. Thou, then, come, Noblest of mortals, give our city rest From sorrow! come, take heed! seeing this our land Now calls thee Saviour for thy former zeal; And 'twere not well to leave this memory Of thy great reign among Cadmean men, 'He raised us up, only again to fall.' Let the salvation thou hast wrought for us Be flawless and assured! As once erewhile Thy lucky star gave us prosperity, Be the same man to-day. Wouldst thou be king In power, as in command, 'tis greater far To rule a people than a wilderness. Since nought avails or city or buttressed wall Or gallant vessel, if unmanned and void.

OED. Ye touch me to the core. Full well I know Your trouble and your desire. Think not, my sons, I have no feeling of your misery! Yet none of you hath heaviness like mine. Your grief is held within the single breast Of each man severally. My burdened heart Mourns for myself, for Thebe, and for you. Your coming hath not roused me from repose: I have watched, and bitterly have wept; my mind Hath travelled many a labyrinth of thought. And now I have tried in act the only plan Long meditation showed me. I have sent The brother of my queen, Menoeceus' son, Creon, to learn, in Phoebus' Delphian Hall, What word or deed of mine may save this city. And when I count the time, I am full of pain To guess his speed; for he is absent long, Beyond the limit of expectancy. But when he shall appear, base then were I In aught to disobey the voice of Heaven.

PR. Lo, in good time, crowning thy gracious word, 'Tis told me by these youths, Creon draws near.

OED. Apollo! may his coming be as blest With saving fortune, as his looks are bright.

PR. Sure he brings joyful news; else had he ne'er Worn that full wreath of thickly-berried bay.

OED. We have not long to doubt. He can hear now.

_Enter_ CREON.

Son of Menoeceus, brother of my queen, What answer from Apollo dost thou bring?

CREON. Good; for my message is that even our woes, When brought to their right issue, shall be well.

OED. What saith the oracle? Thy words so far Neither embolden nor dishearten me.

CR. Say, must I tell it with these standing by, Or go within? I am ready either way.

OED. Speak forth to all. The burden of their grief Weighs more on me than my particular fear.

CE. My lips shall utter what the God hath said. Sovereign Apollo clearly bids us drive Forth from this region an accursed thing (For such is fostered in the land and stains Our sacred clime), nor cherish it past cure.

OED. What is the fault, and how to be redressed?

CR. By exile, or by purging blood with blood. Since blood it is that shakes us with this storm.

OED. Whose murder doth Apollo thus reveal?

CR. My gracious lord, before thy prosperous reign King Laius was the leader of our land.

OED. Though I ne'er saw him, I have heard, and know.

CR. Phoebus commands us now to punish home, Whoe'er they are, the authors of his death.

OED. But they, where are they? Where shall now be read The fading record of this ancient guilt?

CR He saith, 'tis in this land. And what is sought Is found, while things uncared for glide away.

OED. But where did Laius meet this violent end? At home, afield, or on some foreign soil?

CR. He had left us, as he said, to visit Delphi; But nevermore returned since he set forth.

OED. And was there none, no fellow traveller, To see, and tell the tale, and help our search?

CR. No, they were slain; save one, who, flying in fear, Had nought to tell us but one only thing.

OED. What was that thing? A little door of hope, Once opened, may discover much to view.

CR. A random troop of robbers, meeting him, Outnumbered and o'erpowered him. So 'twas told.

OED. What robber would have ventured such a deed, If unsolicited with bribes from hence?

CR. We thought of that. But Laius being dead, We found no helper in our miseries.

OED. When majesty was fallen, what misery Could hinder you from searching out the truth?

CR. A present trouble had engrossed our care. The riddling Sphinx compelled us to observe The moment's grief, neglecting things unknown.

OED. But I will track this evil to the spring And clear it to the day. Most worthily Doth great Apollo, worthily dost thou Prompt this new care for the unthought of dead. And me too ye shall find a just ally, Succouring the cause of Phoebus and the land. Since, in dispelling this dark cloud, I serve No indirect or distant claim on me, But mine own life, for he that slew the king May one day turn his guilty hand 'gainst me With equal rage. In righting Laius, then, I forward mine own cause.--Now, children, rise From the altar-steps, and lift your suppliant boughs, And let some other summon to this place All Cadmus' people, and assure them, I Will answer every need. This day shall see us Blest with glad fortune through God's help, or fallen.

PR. Rise then, my children. Even for this we came Which our good lord hath promised of himself. Only may Phoebus, who hath sent this word, With healing power descend, and stay the plague. [_Exeunt severally_

CHORUS (_entering_). Kind voice of Heaven, soft-breathing from the height I 1 Of Pytho's opulent home to Thebe bright, What wilt thou bring to day? Ah, Delian Healer, say! My heart hangs on thy word with trembling awe: What new giv'n law, Or what returning in Time's circling round Wilt thou unfold? Tell us, immortal sound, Daughter of golden Hope, tell us, we pray, we pray!

First, child of Zeus, Pallas, to thee appealing, I 2 Then to sweet Artemis, thy sister, kneeling, Who with benignant hand Still guards our sacred land, Throned o'er the circling mart that hears her praise, And thou, whose rays Pierce evil from afar, ho! come and save, Ye mighty three! if e'er before ye drave The threatening fire of woe from Thebe, come to day!

For ah! the griefs that on me weigh II 1
Are numberless; weak are my helpers all,
And thought finds not a sword to fray
This hated pestilence from hearth or hall.
Earth's blossoms blasted fall:
Nor can our women rise
From childbed after pangs and cries;
But flocking more and more
Toward the western shore,
Soul after soul is known to wing her flight,
Swifter than quenchless flame, to the far realm of Night.

So deaths innumerable abound. II 2
My city's sons unpitied lie around
Over the plague-encumbered ground
And wives and matrons old on every hand
Along the altar-strand
Groaning in saddest grief
Pour supplication for relief.
Loud hymns are sounding clear
With wailing voices near.
Then, golden daughter of the heavenly sire,
Send bright-eyed Succour forth to drive away this fire.

And swiftly speed afar, III 1
Windborne on backward car,
The viewless fiend who scares me with wild cries,
To oarless Thracian tide,
Of ocean-chambers wide,
About the bed where Amphitrite lies.
Day blights what night hath spared. O thou whose hand
Wields lightning, blast him with thy thundrous brand.

Shower from the golden string III 2
Thine arrows Lycian King!
O Phoebus, let thy fiery lances fly
Resistless, as they rove
Through Xanthus' mountain-grove!
O Thoeban Bacchus of the lustrous eye,
With torch and trooping Maenads and bright crown
Blaze on thee god whom all in Heaven disown.
[OEDIPUS _has entered during the Choral song_

OED. Your prayers are answered. Succour and relief Are yours, if ye will heed my voice and yield What help the plague requires. Hear it from me, Who am hitherto a stranger to the tale, As to the crime. Being nought concerned therewith, I could not of myself divine the truth. But now, as one adopted to your state, To all of you Cadmeans I speak this: Whoe'er among you knoweth the murderer Of Laius, son of royal Labdacus, Let him declare the deed in full to me. First, if the man himself be touched with fear, Let him depart, carrying the guilt away; No harm shall follow him:--he shall go free. Or if there be who knows another here, Come from some other country, to have wrought This murder, let him speak. Reward from me And store of kind remembrance shall be his. But if ye are silent, and one present here Who might have uttered this, shall hold his peace, As fearing for himself, or for his friend, What then shall be performed, hear me proclaim. I here prohibit all within this realm Whereof I wield the sceptre and sole sway, To admit the murderer, whosoe'er he be, Within their houses, or to speak with him, Or share with him in vow or sacrifice Or lustral rite. All men shall thrust him forth, Our dark pollution, so to me revealed By this day's oracle from Pytho's cell. So firm is mine allegiance to the God And your dead sovereign in this holy war. Now on the man of blood, whether he lurk In lonely guilt, or with a numerous band, I here pronounce this curse:--Let his crushed life Wither forlorn in hopeless misery. Next, I pray Heaven, should he or they be housed With mine own knowledge in my home, that I May suffer all I imprecate on them. Last, I enjoin each here to lend his aid For my sake, and the God's, and for your land Reft of her increase and renounced by Heaven. It was not right, when your good king had fallen, Although the oracle were silent still, To leave this inquisition unperformed. Long since ye should have purged the crime. But now I, to whom fortune hath transferred his crown, And given his queen in marriage,--yea, moreover, His seed and mine had been one family Had not misfortune trampled on his head Cutting him off from fair posterity,-- All this being so, I will maintain his cause As if my father's, racking means and might To apprehend the author of the death Of Laius, son to Labdacus, and heir To Polydorus and to Cadmus old, And proud Agenor of the eldest time. Once more, to all who disobey in this May Heaven deny the produce of the ground And offspring from their wives, and may they pine With plagues more horrible than this to-day. But for the rest of you Cadmean men, Who now embrace my word, may Righteousness, Strong to defend, and all the Gods for aye Watch over you for blessing in your land.

LEADER OF CH. Under the shadow of thy curse, my lord, I will speak. I slew him not, nor can I show The man who slew. Phoebus, who gave the word, Should name the guilty one.

OED. Thy thought is just, But man may not compel the Gods.

CH. Again, That failing, I perceive a second way.

OED. Were there a third, spare not to speak it forth.

CH. I know of one alone whose kingly mind Sees all King Phoebus sees--Tiresias,--he Infallibly could guide us in this quest.

OED. That doth not count among my deeds undone. By Creon's counsel I have sent twice o'er To fetch him, and I muse at his delay.

CH. The rumour that remains is old and dim.

OED. What rumour? Let no tale be left untried.

CH. 'Twas said he perished by some wandering band.

OED. But the one witness is removed from ken.

CH. Well, if the man be capable of fear, He'll not remain when he hath heard thy curse.

OED. Words have no terror for the soul that dares Such doings.

CH. Yet lives one who shall convict him. For look where now they lead the holy seer, Whom sacred Truth inspires alone of men.

_Enter_ TIRESIAS.

OED. O thou whose universal thought commands All knowledge and all mysteries, in Heaven And on the earth beneath, thy mind perceives, Tiresias, though thine outward eye be dark, What plague is wasting Thebe, who in thee, Great Sir, finds her one saviour, her sole guide. Phoebus (albeit the messengers perchance Have told thee this) upon our sending sent This answer back, that no release might come From this disaster, till we sought and found And slew the murderers of king Laius, Or drave them exiles from our land. Thou, then, Withhold not any word of augury Or other divination which thou knowest, But rescue Thebe, and thyself, and me, And purge the stain that issues from the dead. On thee we lean: and 'tis a noble thing To use what power one hath in doing good.

TIRESIAS. Ah! terrible is knowledge to the man Whom knowledge profits not. This well I knew, But had forgotten. Else I ne'er had come.

OED. Why dost thou bring a mind so full of gloom?

TI. Let me go home. Thy part and mine to-day Will best be borne, if thou obey me in that.

OED. Disloyal and ungrateful! to deprive The state that reared thee of thine utterance now.

TI. Thy speech, I see, is foiling thine intent; And I would shield me from the like mishap. (_Going._)

OED. Nay, if thou knowest, turn thee not away: All here with suppliant hands importune thee.

TI. Yea, for ye all are blind. Never will I Reveal my woe;--mine, that I say not, thine.

OED. So, then, thou hast the knowledge of the crime And wilt not tell, but rather wouldst betray This people, and destroy thy fatherland!

TI. You press me to no purpose. I'll not pain Thee, nor myself. Thou wilt hear nought from me.

OED. How? Miscreant! Thy stubbornness would rouse Wrath in a breast of stone. Wilt thou yet hold That silent, hard, impenetrable mien?

TI. You censure me for my harsh mood. Your own Dwells unsuspected with you. Me you blame!

OED. Who can be mild and gentle, when thou speakest Such words to mock this people?

TI. It will come: Although I bury it in silence here.

OED. Must not the King be told of what will come?

TI. No word from me. At this, an if thou wilt, Rage to the height of passionate vehemence.

OED. Ay, and my passion shall declare my thought. 'Tis clear to me as daylight, thou hast been The arch-plotter of this deed; yea, thou hast done All but the actual blow. Hadst thou thy sight, I had proclaimed thee the sole murderer.

TI. Ay, say'st thou so?--I charge thee to abide By thine own ordinance; and from this hour Speak not to any Theban nor to me. Thou art the vile polluter of the land.

OED. O void of shame! What wickedness is this? What power will give thee refuge for such guilt?

TI. The might of truth is scatheless. I am free.

OED. Whence came the truth to thee? Not from thine art.

TI. From thee, whose rage impelled my backward tongue.

OED. Speak it once more, that I may know the drift.

TI. Was it so dark? Or wouldst thou tempt me further?

OED. I cannot say 'twas clear. Speak it again.

TI. I say thou art the murderer whom thou seekest.

OED. Again that baleful word! But thou shalt rue.

TI. Shall I add more, to aggravate thy wrath?

OED. All is but idleness. Say what thou wilt.

TI. I tell thee thou art living unawares In shameful commerce with thy near'st of blood, Ignorant of the abyss wherein thou liest.

OED. Think you to triumph in offending still?

TI. If Truth have power.

OED. She hath, but not for thee. Blind as thou art in eyes and ears and mind.

TI. O miserable reproach, which all who now Behold thee, soon shall thunder forth on thee!

OED. Nursed in unbroken night, thou canst not harm Or me, or any man who seeth the day.

TI. No, not from me proceeds thy fall; the God, Who cares for this, is able to perform it.

OED. Came this device from Creon or thyself?

TI. Not Creon: thou art thy sole enemy.

OED. O wealth and sovereign power and high success Attained through wisdom and admired of men, What boundless jealousies environ you! When for this rule, which to my hand the State Committed unsolicited and free, Creon, my first of friends, trusted and sure, Would undermine and hurl me from my throne, Meanly suborning such a mendicant Botcher of lies, this crafty wizard rogue, Blind in his art, and seeing but for gain. Where are the proofs of thy prophetic power? How came it, when the minstrel-hound was here, This folk had no deliverance through thy word? Her snare could not be loosed by common wit, But needed divination and deep skill; No sign whereof proceeded forth from thee Procured through birds or given by God, till I, The unknowing traveller, overmastered her, The stranger Oedipus, not led by birds, But ravelling out the secret by my thought: Whom now you study to supplant, and trust To stand as a supporter of the throne Of lordly Creon,--To your bitter pain Thou and the man who plotted this will hunt Pollution forth[2].--But for thy reverend look Thou hadst atoned thy trespass on the spot.

CH. Your friends would humbly deprecate the wrath That sounds both in your speech, my lord, and his. That is not what we need, but to discern How best to solve the heavenly oracle.

TI. Though thou art king and lord, I claim no less Lordly prerogative to answer thee. Speech is my realm; Apollo rules my life, Not thou. Nor need I Creon to protect me. Now, then: my blindness moves thy scorn:--thou hast Thy sight, and seest not where thou art sunk in evil, What halls thou dost inhabit, or with whom: Know'st not from whence thou art--nay, to thy kin, Buried in death and here above the ground, Unwittingly art a most grievous foe. And when thy father's and thy mother's curse With fearful tread shall drive thee from the land, On both sides lashing thee,--thine eye so clear Beholding darkness in that day,--oh, then, What region will not shudder at thy cry? What echo in all Cithaeron will be mute, When thou perceiv'st, what bride-song in thy hall Wafted thy gallant bark with nattering gale To anchor,--where? And other store of ill Thou seest not, that shall show thee as thou art, Merged with thy children in one horror of birth. Then rail at noble Creon, and contemn My sacred utterance! No life on earth More vilely shall be rooted out, than thine.

OED. Must I endure such words from him? Begone! Off to thy ruin, and with speed! Away, And take thy presence from our palace-hall!

TI. Had you not sent for me, I ne'er had come.

OED. I knew not thou wouldst utter folly here, Else never had I brought thee to my door.

TI. To thee I am foolish, then; but to the pair Who gave thee life, I was wise.

OED. Hold, go not! who? Who gave me being?

TI. To-day shall bring to light Thy birth and thy destruction.

OED. Wilt thou still Speak all in riddles and dark sentences?

TI. Methought thou wert the man to find them out.

OED. Ay! Taunt me with the gift that makes me great.

TI. And yet this luck hath been thy overthrow.

OED. I care not, since I rescued this fair town.

TI. Then I will go. Come, sirrah, guide me forth!

OED. Be it so! For standing here you vex our eye, But, you being gone, our trouble goes with you.

TI. I go, but I will speak. Why should I fear Thy frown? Thou ne'er canst ruin me. The word Wherefore I came, is this: The man you seek With threatening proclamation of the guilt Of Laius' blood, that man is here to-day, An alien sojourner supposed from far, But by-and-by he shall be certified A true-born Theban: nor will such event Bring him great joy; for, blind from having sight And beggared from high fortune, with a staff In stranger lands he shall feel forth his way; Shown living with the children of his loins, Their brother and their sire, and to the womb That bare him, husband-son, and, to his father, Parricide and corrival. Now go in, Ponder my words; and if thou find them false, then say my power is naught in prophecy. [_Exeunt severally_

CHORUS. Whom hath the voice from Delphi's rocky throne I 1 Loudly declared to have done Horror unnameable with murdering hand? With speed of storm-swift car 'Tis time he fled afar With mighty footstep hurrying from the land. For, armed with lightning brand, The son of Zeus assails him with fierce bounds, Hunting with Death's inevitable hounds.

Late from divine Parnassus' snow-capped height I 2 This utterance sprang to light, To track by every path the man unknown. Through woodland caverns deep And o'er the rocky steep Harbouring in caves he roams the wild alone, With none to share his moan. Shunning that prophet-voice's central sound, Which ever lives, and haunts him, hovering round.

The reverend Seer hath stirred me with strange awe. II 1 Gainsay I cannot, nor yet think him true. I know not how to speak. My fluttering heart In wild expectancy sees nothing clear. Things past and future with the present doubt Are shrouded in one mist. What quarrel lay 'Twixt Cadmus' issue and Corinthus' heir Was never shown me, from old times till now, By one on whose sure word I might rely In running counter to the King's fair fame, To wreak for Laius that mysterious death.

Zeus and Apollo scan the ways of men II 2 With perfect vision. But of mortals here That soothsayers are more inspired than I What certain proof is given? A man through wit May pass another's wisdom in the race. But never, till I see the word fulfilled, Will I confirm their clamour 'gainst the King. In open day the female monster came: Then perfect witness made his wisdom clear. Thebe hath tried him and delights in him. Wherefore my heart shall still believe him good.

_Enter_ CREON.

CR. Citizens, hearing of dire calumny Denounced on me by Oedipus the King, I am here to make loud protest. If he think, In this embroilment of events, one word Or deed of mine hath wrought him injury, I am not careful to prolong my life Beneath such imputation. For it means No trifling danger, but disastrous harm, Making my life dishonoured in the state, And meanly thought of by my friends and you.

CH. Perchance 'twas but the sudden flash of wrath, Not the deliberate judgement of the soul.

CR. Who durst declare it[3], that Tiresias spake False prophecies, set on to this by me?

CH. Such things were said, I know not how advised.

CR. And were the eyes and spirit not distraught, When the tongue uttered this to ruin me?

CH. I cannot say. To what my betters do I am blind. But see, the King comes forth again.

_Enter_ OEDIPUS.

OED. Insolent, art thou here? Hadst thou the face To bring thy boldness near my palace-roof, Proved as thou art to have contrived my death And laid thy robber hands upon my state? Tell me, by heaven, had you seen in me A coward or a fool, when you planned this?-- Deemed you I should be blind to your attempt Craftily creeping on, or, when perceived, Not ward it off? Is't not a silly scheme, To think to compass without troops of friends Power, that is only won by wealth and men?

CR. Wilt them be counselled? Hear as much in turn As thou hast spoken, and then thyself be judge.

OED. I know thy tongue, but I am slow to learn From thee, whom I have found my grievous foe.

CR. First on this very point, hear me declare--

OED. I will not hear that thou art not a villain.

CR. Thine is a shallow judgement, if thou thinkest Self-will without true thought can bring thee gain.

OED. Thine is a shallow judgement, if thou thinkest Thou canst abuse thy kinsman and be free.

CR. A rightful sentence. But I fain would learn What wrong is that you speak of?

OED. Tell me this; Didst thou, or not, urge me to send and bring The reverend-seeming prophet?

CR. Yea, and still I hold that counsel firm.

OED. How long is 't now Since Laius--

CR. What? I do not catch your drift.

OED. Vanished in ruin by a dire defeat?

CR. 'Twere long to count the years that come between.

OED. And did this prophet then profess his art?

CR. Wise then as now, nor less in reverence.

OED. Then at that season did he mention me?

CR. Not in my hearing.

OED. But, I may presume, Ye held an inquisition for the dead?

CR. Yes, we inquired, of course: and could not hear.

OED. Why was he dumb, your prophet, in that day?

CR. I cannot answer, for I do not know.

OED. This you can answer, for you know it well.

CR. Say what? I will not gainsay, if I know.

OED. That, but for your advice, he had not dared To talk of Laius' death as done by me.

CR. You know, that heard him, what he spake. But I Would ask thee too a question in my turn.

OED. No questioning will fasten blood on me.

CR. Hast thou my sister for thine honoured queen?

OED. The fact is patent, and denial vain.

CR. And shar'st with her dominion of this realm?

OED. All she desires is given her by my will.

CR. Then, am not I third-partner with you twain?

OED. There is your villany in breaking fealty.

CR. Not so, if thou wouldst reason with thyself As I do. First consider one thing well: Who would choose rule accompanied with fear Before safe slumbers with an equal sway? 'Tis not my nature, no, nor any man's, Who follows wholesome thoughts, to love the place Of domination rather than the power. Now, without fear, I have my will from thee; But were I king, I should do much unwillingly. How then can I desire to be a king, When masterdom is mine without annoy? Delusion hath not gone so far with me As to crave more than honour joined with gain. Now all men hail me happy, all embrace me; All who have need of thee, call in my aid; For thereupon their fortunes wholly turn. How should I leave this substance for that show? No man of sense can harbour thoughts of crime. Such vain ambition hath no charm for me, Nor could I bear to lend it countenance. If you would try me, go and ask again If I brought Phoebus' answer truly back. Nay more, should I be found to have devised Aught in collusion with the seer, destroy me, Not by one vote, but two, mine own with thine. But do not on a dim suspicion blame me Of thy mere will. To darken a good name Without clear cause is heinous wickedness; And to cast off a worthy friend I call No less a folly than to fling away What most we love, the life within our breast. The certainty of this will come with time; For time alone can clear the righteous man. An hour suffices to make known the villain.

CH. Prudence bids hearken to such words, my lord, For fear one fall. Swift is not sure in counsel.

OED. When he who hath designs on me is swift In his advance, I must bethink me swiftly. Should I wait leisurely, his work hath gained Achievement, while my plans have missed success.

CR. What would you then? To thrust me from the land?

OED. Nay, death, not exile, is my wish for thee, When all have seen what envy brings on men.

[CR. You'll ne'er relent nor listen to my plea.][4]

OED. You'll ne'er be governed or repent your guilt.

CR. Because I see thou art blind.

OED. Not to my need.

CR. Mine must be thought of too.

OED. You are a villain.

CR. How if thy thought be vain?

OED. Authority Must be maintained.

CR. Not when authority Declines to evil.

OED. O my citizens!

CR. I have a part in them no less than you.

LEADER OF CH. Cease, princes. Opportunely I behold Jocasta coming toward you from the palace. Her presence may attune your jarring minds.

_Enter_ JOCASTA.

JOCASTA. Unhappy that ye are, why have ye reared Your wordy rancour 'mid the city's harms? Have you no shame, to stir up private broils In such a time as this? Get thee within! (_To_ OED) And thou too, Creon! nor enlarge your griefs To make a mountain out of nothingness.

CR. Sister, thy husband Oedipus declares One of two horrors he will wreak on me, Banishment from my native land, or death.

OED. Yea, for I caught him practising, my queen, Against our person with malignant guile.

CR. May comfort fail me, and a withering curse Destroy me, if I e'er planned aught of this.

JO. I pray thee, husband, listen to his plea; Chiefly respecting his appeal to Heaven, But also me, and these who stand by thee.

CH. 1. Incline to our request I 1 Thy mind and heart, O King!

OED. What would you I should yield unto your prayer?

CH. 2. Respect one ever wise, Whose oath protects him now.

OED. Know ye what thing ye ask?

CH. 3. I know.

OED. Then plainly tell.

CH. 4. Thy friend, who is rendered sacred by his oath, Rob not of honour through obscure surmise.

OED. In asking that, you labour for my death Or banishment. Of this be well assured.

CH. 5. No, by the Sun I swear, II 1 Vaunt-courier of the host of heaven. For may I die the last of deaths, Unblest of God or friend, If e'er such thought were mine. But oh! this pining land Afflicts my sorrow-burdened soul, To think that to her past and present woe She must add this, which springs to her from you.

OED. Then let him range, though I must die outright, Or be thrust forth with violence from the land! --Not for his voice, but thine, which wrings my heart: He, wheresoe'er he live, shall have my hate.

CR. You show yourself as sullen when you yield, As unendurable in your fury's height. Such natures justly give themselves most pain.

OED. Let me alone, then, and begone!

CR. I go, Untainted in their sight, though thou art blind. [_Exit_

CH. 1. Lady, why tarriest thou I 2 To lead thy husband in?

JO. Not till I learn what mischief is befallen.

CH. 2. A dim, unproved debate. Reproach, though unfounded, stings.

JO. From both?

CH. 3. From both alike.

JO. How caused?

CH. 4. Enough for me, Amply enough it seems, when our poor land Is vexed already, not to wake what sleeps.

OED. (_to_ LEADER OF CH.). See where thine honest zeal hath landed thee, Bating my wrath, and blunting my desire!

CH. 5. My prince, I say it again: II 2 Assure thee, I were lost to sense, Infatuate, void of wholesome thought, Could I be tempted now To loose my faith from thee, Who, when the land I love Laboured beneath a wildering load, Didst speed her forth anew with favouring gale. Now, too, if but thou may'st, be her good guide.

JO. Let not thy queen be left in ignorance What cause thou hadst to lift thy wrath so high.

OED. I'll tell thee, lady, for I honour thee More than these citizens. 'Twas Creon there, And his inveterate treason against me.

JO. Accuse him, so you make the quarrel plain.

OED. He saith I am the murderer of the King.

JO. Speaks he from hearsay, or as one who knows?

OED. He keeps his own lips free: but hath suborned A rascal soothsayer to this villany.

JO. Hearken to me, and set your heart at rest On that you speak of, while I make you learn No mortal thing is touched by soothsaying. Of that I'll give thee warrant brief and plain. Word came to Laius once, I will not say From Phoebus' self, but from his ministers, The King should be destroyed by his own son, If son were born to him from me. What followed? Laius was slain, by robbers from abroad, Saith Rumour, in a cross-way! But the child Lived not three days, ere by my husband's hand His feet were locked, and he was cast and left By messengers on the waste mountain wold. So Phoebus neither brought upon the boy His father's murder, nor on Laius The thing he greatly feared, death by his son. Such issue came of prophesying words. Therefore regard them not. God can himself With ease bring forth what for his ends he needs.

OED. What strange emotions overcloud my soul, Stirred to her depths on hearing this thy tale!

JO. What sudden change is this? What cares oppress thee?

OED. Methought I heard thee say, King Laius Was at a cross-road overpowered and slain?

JO. So ran the talk that yet is current here.

OED. Where was the scene of this unhappy blow?

JO. Phocis the land is named. The parted ways Meet in one point from Dauha and from Delphi.

OED. And since the event how much of time hath flown?

JO. 'Twas just ere you appeared with prospering speed And took the kingdom, that the tidings came.

OED. What are thy purposes against me, Zeus?

JO. Why broods thy mind upon such thoughts, my king?

OED. Nay, ask me not! But tell me first what height Had Laius, and what grace of manly prime?

JO. Tall, with dark locks just sprinkled o'er with grey: In shape and bearing much resembling thee.

OED. O heavy fate! How all unknowingly I laid that dreadful curse on my own head!

JO. How? I tremble as I gaze on thee, my king!

OED. The fear appals me that the seer can see. Tell one thing more, to make it doubly clear!

JO. I am lothe to speak, but, when you ask, I will.

OED. Had he scant following, or, as princes use, Full numbers of a well-appointed train?

JO. There were but five in all: a herald one; And Laius travelled in the only car.

OED. Woe! woe! 'Tis clear as daylight. Who was he That brought you this dire message, O my queen?

JO. A home-slave, who alone returned alive.

OED. And is he now at hand within the house?

JO. No, truly. When he came from yonder scene And found thee king in room of Laius murdered, He touched my hand, and made his instant prayer That I would send him to o'erlook the flocks And rural pastures, so to live as far As might be from the very thought of Thebes. I granted his desire. No servant ever More richly merited such boon than he.

OED. Can he be brought again immediately?

JO. Indeed he can. But why desire it so?

OED. Words have by me been uttered, O my queen, That give me too much cause to wish him here.

JO. Then come he shall. But I may surely claim To hear what in thy state goes heavily.

OED. Thou shalt not lose thy rights in such an hour, When I am harrowed thus with doubt and fear. To whom more worthy should I tell my grief? --My father was Corinthian Polybus, My mother, Dorian Merope.--I lived A prince among that people, till a chance Encountered me, worth wonder, but, though strange, Not worth the anxious thought it waked in me. For at a feasting once over the wine One deep in liquor called aloud to me, 'Hail, thou false foundling of a foster-sire!' That day with pain I held my passion down; But early on the morrow I came near And questioned both my parents, who were fierce In anger at the man who broached this word. For their part I was satisfied, but still It galled me, for the rumour would not die. Eluding then my parents I made way To Delphi, where, as touching my desire, Phoebus denied me; but brake forth instead With other oracles of misery And horrible misfortune, how that I Must know my mother's shame, and cause to appear A birth intolerable in human view, And do to death the author of my life. I fled forth at the word, conjecturing now Corinthia's region by the stars of heaven, And wandered, where I never might behold Those dreadful prophecies fulfilled on me. So travelling on, I came even to the place Where, as thou tell'st, the King of Thebe fell. And, O my wife, I will hide nought from thee. When I drew near the cross-road of your tale, A herald, and a man upon a car, Like your description, there encountered me. And he who led the car, and he himself The greybeard, sought to thrust me from the path. Then in mine angry mood I sharply struck The driver-man who turned me from the way; Which when the elder saw, he watched for me As I passed by, and from the chariot-seat Smote full upon my head with the fork'd goad; But got more than he gave; for, by a blow From this right hand, smit with my staff, he fell Instantly rolled out of the car supine. I slew them every one. Now if that stranger Had aught in common with king Laius, What wretch on earth was e'er so lost as I? Whom have the Heavens so followed with their hate? No house of Theban or of foreigner Must any more receive me, none henceforth Must speak to me, but drive me from the door! I, I have laid this curse on mine own head! Yea, and this arm that slew him now enfolds His queen. O cruel stain! Am I not vile? Polluted utterly! Yes, I must flee, And, lost to Thebe, nevermore behold My home, nor tread my country, lest I meet In marriage mine own mother, and bring low His head that gave me life and reared my youth, My father, Polybus. Ah! right were he Who should declare some god of cruel mood Had sent this trouble upon my soul! Ye Powers, Worshipped in holiness, ne'er may I see That day, but perish from the sight of men, Ere sins like these be branded on my name!

CH. Thy fear is ours, O king: yet lose not hope, Till thou hast heard the witness of the deed.

OED. Ay, that is all I still have left of hope, To bide the coming of the shepherd man.

JO. What eager thought attends his presence here?

OED. I'll tell thee. Should his speech accord with thine, My life stands clear from this calamity.

JO. What word of mine agreed not with the scene?

OED. You said he spake of robbers in a band As having slain him. Now if he shall still Persist in the same number, I am free. One man and many cannot be the same. But should he tell of one lone traveller, Then, unavoidably, this falls on me.

JO. So 'twas given out by him, be sure of that. He cannot take it back. Not I alone But all the people heard him speak it so. And should he swerve in aught from his first tale, He ne'er can show the murder of the king Rightly accordant with the oracle. For Phoebus said expressly he should fall Through him whom I brought forth. But that poor babe Ne'er slew his sire, but perished long before. Wherefore henceforth I will pursue my way Regardless of all words of prophecy.

OED. Wisely resolved. But still send one to bring The labourer swain, and be not slack in this.

JO. I will, and promptly. Go we now within! My whole desire is but to work thy will. [_Exeunt_

CHORUS O may my life be evermore I 1 Pure in each holy word and deed By those eternal laws decreed That pace the sapphire-paven floor! Children of Heaven, of Ether born, No mortal knew their natal morn, Nor may Oblivion's waters deep E'er lull their wakeful spirit asleep, Nor creeping Age o'erpower the mighty God Who far within them holds his unprofaned abode.

Pride breeds the tyrant: monstrous birth! I 2 Insolent Pride, if idly nursed On timeless surfeit, plenty accursed, Spurning the lowlier tract of Earth Mounts to her pinnacle,--then falls, Dashed headlong down sheer mountain walls To dark Necessity's deep ground, Where never foothold can be found. Let wrestlers for my country's glory speed, God, I thee pray! Be God my helper in all need!