Chapter VII: Act I

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

_Antigone_: No power, my father, shall unloose my hold
Of thee; no one shall force me from thy side.
The illustrious, rich house of Labdacus,
Let my two brothers seek with strife to gain:
The greatest part of all my father's realm 55
Is mine--my father's self. Nor shall this share
Be reft away from me by him who holds
By stolen right the scepter over Thebes,
Nor by that other brother who leads on
Against his native land th' Argolic hosts;
Though Jove himself should thunder out of heaven,
And hurl his bolt against my clinging hands, 60
I would not let thee go. Though thou forbid,
I'll guide thee, O my father, 'gainst thy will,
And thy reluctant feet will I direct.
Seek'st thou the level plain? There will I go.
The rugged mountain heights? I'll not oppose,
But will precede thy way. Use me as guide
Wherever thou wouldst go; since for us both 65
Is every path selected that thou tread'st.
With me, but not without me, canst thou die.
There springs a lofty cliff, precipitous,
And looks far out upon the sea below:
Shall we seek this? There hangs a naked rock,
There yawns the riven earth with gaping jaws: 70
Wouldst thou to these? And there a mountain stream
In roaring torrent falls, and 'neath its waves
Worn fragments of the mountain roll along:
Shall we rush headlong in? Where thou wouldst go,
I go, but always first. I'll not oppose
Nor urge. Dost thou desire to be destroyed?
Is death thy highest wish? If thou dost die, 75
I go before thee; if thou liv'st, I follow.
But change thy mind, call up thine old-time strength,
And with a mighty will thy sorrows curb.
Resist, since in such ills defeat is death.

_Oedipus:_ Whence springs so rare a spirit in a house 80
So impious? Whence comes this noble maid,
Unlike her race? Can it be true indeed?
Has any pious thing been born of me?
Ne'er would it be, for well I know my fates,
Except for harmful ends. Nature herself
Has changed her laws: now shall the stream, reversed, 85
Bear back its whirling waters to their source;
The torch of Phoebus shall bring in the night,
And day be heralded by Hesperus;
And, that I may but add unto my woe,
I, too, shall pious be. Not to be saved--
This is for Oedipus the only cure.
Let me avenge my father, unavenged 90
Till now. My hand, why dost thou hesitate
To exact the penalty I owe to him?
Whatever I have suffered hitherto
Was for my mother's sake. Release my hand,
Undaunted girl; thou but delay'st my death,
And thy living father's funeral prolong'st. 95
Let earth conceal at last this hated form.
Thou wrongest me, though with a kind intent,
And deem'st it piety to keep thy sire
From burial. But they are one in guilt,
Both he who forces death upon a man
Who fain would live, and he who holds him back
Who longs to die. And yet they are not one;
For surely is the last the worser sin. 100
To be condemned to death were better far
For me than to be saved from death. Then cease,
My child, from this attempt. I have reserved
For my own will the right to live or die.
Right gladly did I yield the sovereignty
O'er all my realm; yet o'er myself alone
I still am king. If thou in very truth 105
Art loyal to me, give me back my sword,
That sword already with my father's blood
Defiled. Wilt give it back? Or do my sons
Retain my sword together with my throne?
'Tis well. Wherever there is need of crime,
There let it be; I gladly give it up.
Let both my sons possess the sword. But thou,
Flames, rather, and a heap of wood prepare; 110
Then will I fling myself upon the pyre,
Cling in its hot embrace, and hide myself
Within its deadly hold. There will I loose
This stubborn soul, and give to mortal dust
Whatever lives in me. Where is the sea?
Come, lead me where some beetling crag juts out, 115
Or where Ismenus rolls his savage waves;
Or thither would I go and end my life,
Where once upon a jutting rock abode
The hybrid Sphinx and wove her crafty speech. 120
Direct me thither, set thy father there.
Let not that dreadful seat be empty long,
But place me there, a greater monster still.
There will I sit and of my fate propose
A riddle dark which no man will resolve.
Come listen, ye, who plow the Theban fields;
Whoever worships in the sacred grove 125
Of Cadmus, for the deadly serpent famed,
Where hallowed Dirce lies; whoever drinks
Eurotas' stream; ye who in Sparta dwell,
Illustrious for its heavenly brothers twain;
And ye who reap Boeotia's fertile fields,
The plains of Elis and Parnassus' slopes: 130
What riddle like to this could she propose,
That curse of Thebes, who wove destructive words
In puzzling measures? What so dark as this?
_He was his grandsire's son-in-law, and yet
His father's rival; brother of his sons, 135
And father of his brothers; at one birth
The granddame bore unto her husband sons,
And grandson's to herself._ Who can unwind
A tangle such as this? E'en I myself,
Who bore the spoils of triumph o'er the Sphinx,
Stand mute before the riddle of my fate.

* * * * *

[_Has a speech of_ Antigone _dropped out at this point, or does_ Oedipus _hark back to a previous thought after a dramatic pause?_]

But why waste further words? Why dost thou try 140
To soften my determined heart with prayers?
My will is fixed to pour this spirit forth
Which now for long has struggled sore with death,
And seek the world of shades; for blackest night
Is still not black enough for this my crime.
'Tis sweet in deepest Tartarus to hide;
Or, if there yet is deeper pit than this, 145
There would I go. 'Tis well to do at last
The thing which long ago should have been done.
I cannot be prevented from my death.
Wilt take away my sword? Wilt bar all paths
That lead unto the fatal precipice?
Wilt keep my neck free from the choking noose?
Remove all poisonous herbs from me? Yet what, 150
Think'st thou, will all that care of thine avail?
For death is everywhere. A kindly God
Hath this great law with wisest care ordained:
That anyone can take man's life away,
But none can stay his death; for countless ways
Are open unto him who seeks to die.
I ask no aid of thine. Well am I used
To employ this naked hand. Then come, my hand, 155
With all thy force, with all thy passion, come.
And not one wound alone would I endure,
For I have sinned in every part of me.
Come, strike the mortal blow where'er thou wilt:
Break through my breast and tear my heart away,
So full of sin; lay bear my vitals all; 160
Rain blows upon my neck until it break,
Or let thy gouging fingers tear my veins
Until they flow with blood. Or, if thou wilt,
Direct thine anger whither thou art wont:
These healing wounds reopen; let them flow
With streams of blood and loathsome gore again;
And through this passage drag my life away,
So stubborn in defeat, so hard to storm. 165
And thou, O father, wheresoe'er thou art,
Who stand'st as judge upon my just deserts,
I ne'er have thought that such a crime as mine
Could ever be sufficiently atoned,
Nor has this living death contented me;
I have not bought my pardon with my eyes,
But fain would perish for thee, limit by limb. 170
Exact at last the penalty I owe.
Now I atone; then I but sacrificed
Unto thy manes. Be thou here to aid,
And my reluctant hand help me to plunge
Deep down and deeper in my sightless eyes.
A scant and timid offering I made,
When first I plucked my eager eyeballs out. 175
And even now my trembling spirit halts,
Yea, halts, though downward to my shrinking hands
My face inclines. Now shalt thou hear the truth,
O Oedipus: less boldly than thou plan'dst
Did'st thou pluck out thine eyes. Let now thy brain 180
Feel those avenging fingers; through this door
Complete the death which has begun in me.

_Antigone:_ O father, great of soul, I pray thee hear
With quiet mind thy wretched daughter's words:
I do not seek to lead thee back again
Into the presence of thy former home,
Nor to the illustrious splendor of thy realm; 185
I ask thee not with calm and peaceful soul
To bear again that fearful shock of woe
Which even yet the soothing hand of time
Has not assuaged. And yet it is not meet
That one so stout of heart should be o'ercome
And to misfortune weakly turn his back.
It is not valor, father, as thou think'st, 190
To shrink from life; but 'gainst the mightiest ills
To stand opposed, and not to flinch or budge,
That is the truest test of manly worth.
Who tramples under foot his destiny,
Who disregards and scorns the goods of life,
And aggravates the evils of his lot, 195
Who has no further need of Providence:
Wherefore should such a man desire to die,
Or seek for death? Each is the coward's act.
No one holds death in scorn who seeks to die.
The man whose evils can no farther go
Is safely lodged. Who of the gods, think'st thou, 200
Grant that he wills it so, can add one jot
Unto thy sum of trouble? Nor canst thou,
Save that thou deem'st thyself unfit to live.
But thou art not unfit, for in thy breast
No taint of sin has come. And all the more,
My father, art thou free from taint of sin,
Because, though heaven willed it otherwise, 205
Thou still art innocent. What is there now
Which has so maddened thee, which goads thy heart
To fresh outbursts of grief? What forces thee
To seek the abodes of hell, and fly from these?
Is't that thou wouldst avoid the light of day?
Thou dost avoid the light. Or wouldst thou flee
This noble palace and thy native land?
Thy native land, although thou livest still,
Is dead to thee. Wouldst from thy sons escape, 210
And from thy mother? From the sight of all
Has fate removed thee; and whatever death
From any man can take, thy life has taken.
Art weary of the kingdom's press and stir?
At thy command thy former courtier throng
Has vanished.--Whom, O father, dost thou flee? 215

_Oedipus:_ Myself I flee, I flee this heart of mine,
Full of all crimes; I flee this hand, this sky,
These gods; I flee those dreadful sins which I,
Though innocent, have done. And can it be
That this fair world, whence bounteous harvests spring,
Is trod by such as I? This wholesome air
Do I with pestilential lips inhale, 220
With water quench my thirst, or any gift
Of kindly earth enjoy? And do I dare,
This impious, incestuous, curséd wretch,
To touch thy maiden hand? Have I still ears
To hear the name of parent or of son? 225
Oh, that with rending hands I might destroy
These narrow ways of sound by which I hear
The words of men. My child, all sense of thee,
Who art a parcel of my impious deeds,
In my unhappiness I would have fled. 230
But now my crime sticks fast within my heart,
And threatens ever to break out afresh;
For what my blinded eyes have spared to me,
Is through my ears poured in upon my soul.
Oh, why do I not plunge this darkened life
Into the eternal shadow-world of Dis?
Why do I longer hold my spirit here? 235
Why be a burden to the upper world,
And wander still among the living men?
What evil yet remains? My fatherland,
My parents, children, valor--all are lost,
And that illustrious glory of the mind;
Yea, evil chance hath stripped me of my all.
Tears yet remained, but these with my own hand 240
Have I destroyed. Then go thy ways, my child.
My soul will not give ear to any prayers,
And only seeks new punishment for crime,
And equal to my sin--if that can be.
While yet an infant was I doomed to death.
What mortal ever drew so hard a fate?
Ere I had seen the light, while still confined 245
Within the darksome prison of the womb,
I was a thing of dread. The night of death
Lays hold on many at the hour of birth,
And snatches them away from dawning life;
But death anticipated birth in me.
Some are o'ertaken by untimely fate
While still within the womb, yet without sin. 250
But I, yet hid within the hold of life,
While yet my very being was in doubt,
Was by the heavenly oracle compelled
To answer to a charge unspeakable.
My sire condemned me at Apollo's word,
And through my tender ankles thrust a rod
Still glowing from the forge; then sent his child
Into the forest deep, a prey for beasts 255
And all the savage birds Cithaeron breeds,
Accustomed to be stained with royal blood.
Yet him, whom God condemned, who by his sire
Was cast away to die, death also fled.
And Delphi's oracle have I fulfilled:
For I with impious hand assailed my sire, 260
And slew him.
[_With bitter irony_] Yet, for this impiety,
Perchance another act of piety
Will make amends: I killed my father; true,
But still I loved my mother.--Oh, 'tis shame
To mention such a wedlock; yet I will,
And force myself to bear this punishment,
To tell abroad my more than bestial crime,
So strange, that nations stand in dumb amaze, 265
So shameful, that no age will credit it,
That e'en the shameless parricide is shocked:
Into my father's bed I bore my hands
Smeared with my father's blood, and there received
The wages of my crime--a greater crime.
My father's murder was a trivial thing; 270
But, that my sum of crime might be complete,
My mother, to my marriage chamber led,
Conceived--Oh, how could nature e'er endure
A greater crime? And yet, if aught remains,
I have begotten children vile enough
To do this also. I have cast away
The scepter which I won by parricide, 275
And with it other hands are armed for war.
Full well do I my kingdom's fortune know,
That never more shall any gain the throne
Without the sacrifice of kindred blood.
Dire evils doth my father-soul presage,
For even now are sown the baleful seeds
Of future strife; the plighted pact is spurned; 280
One will not yield the throne he hath usurped,
The other claims his right, calls on the gods
To witness of his bond, and, driven from home,
Moves Argos and the towns of Greece to arms.
No light destruction comes to weary Thebes;
For weapons, flames, and wounds press hard on her, 285
And greater woes than these, if such there be,
That all may know I have begotten sons.

_Antigone:_ If thou no other cause for living hast,
My father, this one reason is enough,
That thou as father mayst restrain thy sons
From deadly strife. Thou only canst avert 290
Their threats of impious war, curb their mad hearts,
Give peace to citizens, to country rest,
And to their broken treaty honest faith.
To many men art thou refusing life,
If for thyself thou dost refuse to live.

_Oedipus:_ Think'st thou that such as they have aught of love 295
For father or for right, whose hearts are filled
With lust for blood and power and impious arms,
Profane and cruel sons--in brief, my own?
Toward every form of evil deed they strive,
And have no scruples where their wrath impels.
In shame begot, they have no sense of shame. 300
They have no feeling for their wretched sire,
None for their country. Naught but lust of power
Rules in their maddened breasts. I know full well
To what dire ends they tend, what monstrous deeds
They are prepared to do; and for this cause
I seek to find destruction's shortest path,
And haste to die, while yet within my house 305
There is no soul more steeped in guilt than I.
O child, why dost thou weep about my knees,
Why seek with prayer to soften my hard heart?
This means alone my fortune has reserved
By which I may be led, unconquered else;
For thou alone canst soothe my stubborn soul, 310
Canst teach me piety. For naught is hard
Or grievous in my sight, if I perceive
That thou dost wish it. Do thou but command:
Then will I swim the broad Aegean straits,
Will drink the flames which from Sicilia's mount
Earth belches forth in whirling, molten streams, 315
Will beard the savage dragon in his den,
Still raging at the theft of Hercules;
At thy command, to birds of prey will give
My bleeding heart--at thy command will live.

[_The first act seems to be complete here, except for the commenting chorus which would naturally follow._ Oedipus _has temporarily yielded to his daughter's will._]