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Delphi Complete Works of Sophocles

Page 17

by Sophocles


  And makes a mouthpiece of a knavish seer.

  JOCASTA

  Then thou mayest ease thy conscience on that score.

  Listen and I’ll convince thee that no man

  Hath scot or lot in the prophetic art.

  Here is the proof in brief. An oracle

  Once came to Laius (I will not say

  ’Twas 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. Whate’er the god deems fit

  To search, himself unaided will reveal.

  OEDIPUS

  What memories, what wild tumult of the soul

  Came o’er me, lady, as I heard thee speak!

  JOCASTA

  What mean’st thou? What has shocked and startled thee?

  OEDIPUS

  Methought I heard thee say that Laius

  Was murdered at the meeting of three roads.

  JOCASTA

  So ran the story that is current still.

  OEDIPUS

  Where did this happen? Dost thou know the place?

  JOCASTA

  Phocis the land is called; the spot is where

  Branch roads from Delphi and from Daulis meet.

  OEDIPUS

  And how long is it since these things befell?

  JOCASTA

  ’Twas but a brief while were thou wast proclaimed

  Our country’s ruler that the news was brought.

  OEDIPUS

  O Zeus, what hast thou willed to do with me!

  JOCASTA

  What is it, Oedipus, that moves thee so?

  OEDIPUS

  Ask me not yet; tell me the build and height

  Of Laius? Was he still in manhood’s prime?

  JOCASTA

  Tall was he, and his hair was lightly strewn

  With silver; and not unlike thee in form.

  OEDIPUS

  O woe is me! Mehtinks unwittingly

  I laid but now a dread curse on myself.

  JOCASTA

  What say’st thou? When I look upon thee, my king,

  I tremble.

  OEDIPUS

  ’Tis a dread presentiment

  That in the end the seer will prove not blind.

  One further question to resolve my doubt.

  JOCASTA

  I quail; but ask, and I will answer all.

  OEDIPUS

  Had he but few attendants or a train

  Of armed retainers with him, like a prince?

  JOCASTA

  They were but five in all, and one of them

  A herald; Laius in a mule-car rode.

  OEDIPUS

  Alas! ’tis clear as noonday now. But say,

  Lady, who carried this report to Thebes?

  JOCASTA

  A serf, the sole survivor who returned.

  OEDIPUS

  Haply he is at hand or in the house?

  JOCASTA

  No, for as soon as he returned and found

  Thee 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. ’Twas an honest slave

  And well deserved some better recompense.

  OEDIPUS

  Fetch him at once. I fain would see the man.

  JOCASTA

  He shall be brought; but wherefore summon him?

  OEDIPUS

  Lady, I fear my tongue has overrun

  Discretion; therefore I would question him.

  JOCASTA

  Well, he shall come, but may not I too claim

  To share the burden of thy heart, my king?

  OEDIPUS

  And thou shalt not be frustrate of thy wish.

  Now my imaginings have gone so far.

  Who has a higher claim that thou 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 “Thou art not true son of thy 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, — thou shalt 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 thy 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

  Betwixt 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.

  Yea 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, ye 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!

  CHORUS

  We too, O king, are troubled; but till thou

  Hast questioned the survivor, still hope on.

  OEDIPUS

&
nbsp; My hope is faint, but still enough survives

  To bid me bide the coming of this herd.

  JOCASTA

  Suppose him here, what wouldst thou learn of him?

  OEDIPUS

  I’ll tell thee, lady; if his tale agrees

  With thine, I shall have ‘scaped calamity.

  JOCASTA

  And what of special import did I say?

  OEDIPUS

  In thy report of what the herdsman said

  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.

  JOCASTA

  Well, rest assured, his tale ran thus at first,

  Nor can he now retract what then he said;

  Not I alone but all our townsfolk heard it.

  E’en 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.

  OEDIPUS

  Thou reasonest well. Still I would have thee send

  And fetch the bondsman hither. See to it.

  JOCASTA

  That will I straightway. Come, let us within.

  I would do nothing that my lord mislikes.

  [Exeunt OEDIPUS and JOCASTA]

  CHORUS

  (Str. 1)

  My lot be still to lead

  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:

  Ne’er shall they slumber in oblivion cold,

  The god in them is strong and grows not old.

  (Ant. 1)

  Of insolence is bred

  The tyrant; insolence full blown,

  With empty riches surfeited,

  Scales the precipitous height and grasps the throne.

  Then topples o’er 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.

  (Str. 2)

  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?

  (Ant. 2)

  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 bade plain.

  O Zeus, reveal thy might,

  King, if thou’rt 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.]

  JOCASTA

  My lords, ye look amazed to see your queen

  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 naught avail, I turn

  To thee, our present help in time of trouble,

  Apollo, Lord Lycean, and to thee

  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.]

  MESSENGER

  My masters, tell me where the palace is

  Of Oedipus; or better, where’s the king.

  CHORUS

  Here is the palace and he bides within;

  This is his queen the mother of his children.

  MESSENGER

  All happiness attend her and the house,

  Blessed is her husband and her marriage-bed.

  JOCASTA

  My greetings to thee, stranger; thy fair words

  Deserve a like response. But tell me why

  Thou comest — what thy need or what thy news.

  MESSENGER

  Good for thy consort and the royal house.

  JOCASTA

  What may it be? Whose messenger art thou?

  MESSENGER

  The Isthmian commons have resolved to make

  Thy husband king — so ’twas reported there.

  JOCASTA

  What! is not aged Polybus still king?

  MESSENGER

  No, verily; he’s dead and in his grave.

  JOCASTA

  What! is he dead, the sire of Oedipus?

  MESSENGER

  If I speak falsely, may I die myself.

  JOCASTA

  Quick, maiden, bear these tidings to my lord.

  Ye god-sent oracles, where stand ye 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.]

  OEDIPUS

  My wife, my queen, Jocasta, why hast thou

  Summoned me from my palace?

  JOCASTA

  Hear this man,

  And as thou hearest judge what has become

  Of all those awe-inspiring oracles.

  OEDIPUS

  Who is this man, and what his news for me?

  JOCASTA

  He comes from Corinth and his message this:

  Thy father Polybus hath passed away.

  OEDIPUS

  What? let me have it, stranger, from thy mouth.

  MESSENGER

  If I must first make plain beyond a doubt

  My message, know that Polybus is dead.

  OEDIPUS

  By treachery, or by sickness visited?

  MESSENGER

  One touch will send an old man to his rest.

  OEDIPUS

  So of some malady he died, poor man.

  MESSENGER

  Yes, having measured the full span of years.

  OEDIPUS

  Out on it, lady! why should one regard

  The Pythian hearth or birds that scream i’ the air?

  Did they not point at me as doomed to slay

  My father? but he’s dead and in his grave

  And here am I who ne’er 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.

  JOCASTA

  Say, did not I foretell this long ago?

  OEDIPUS

  Thou didst: but I was misled by my fear.

  JOCASTA

  Then let I no more weigh upon thy soul.

  OEDIPUS

  Mu
st I not fear my mother’s marriage bed.

  JOCASTA

  Why should a mortal man, the sport of chance,

  With no assured foreknowledge, be afraid?

  Best live a careless life from hand to mouth.

  This wedlock with thy mother fear not thou.

  How oft it chances that in dreams a man

  Has wed his mother! He who least regards

  Such brainsick phantasies lives most at ease.

  OEDIPUS

  I should have shared in full thy confidence,

  Were not my mother living; since she lives

  Though half convinced I still must live in dread.

  JOCASTA

  And yet thy sire’s death lights out darkness much.

  OEDIPUS

  Much, but my fear is touching her who lives.

  MESSENGER

  Who may this woman be whom thus you fear?

  OEDIPUS

  Merope, stranger, wife of Polybus.

  MESSENGER

  And what of her can cause you any fear?

  OEDIPUS

  A heaven-sent oracle of dread import.

  MESSENGER

  A mystery, or may a stranger hear it?

  OEDIPUS

  Aye, ’tis no secret. Loxias once foretold

  That I should mate with mine 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 trove abroad,

  But missed the sweetest sight, my parents’ face.

  MESSENGER

  Was this the fear that exiled thee from home?

  OEDIPUS

  Yea, and the dread of slaying my own sire.

  MESSENGER

  Why, since I came to give thee pleasure, King,

  Have I not rid thee of this second fear?

  OEDIPUS

  Well, thou shalt have due guerdon for thy pains.

  MESSENGER

  Well, I confess what chiefly made me come

  Was hope to profit by thy coming home.

  OEDIPUS

  Nay, I will ne’er go near my parents more.

  MESSENGER

  My son, ’tis plain, thou know’st not what thou doest.

  OEDIPUS

  How so, old man? For heaven’s sake tell me all.

  MESSENGER

  If this is why thou dreadest to return.

  OEDIPUS

  Yea, lest the god’s word be fulfilled in me.

  MESSENGER

  Lest through thy parents thou shouldst be accursed?

  OEDIPUS

  This and none other is my constant dread.

  MESSENGER

  Dost thou not know thy fears are baseless all?

  OEDIPUS

  How baseless, if I am their very son?

  MESSENGER

  Since Polybus was naught to thee in blood.

  OEDIPUS

  What say’st thou? was not Polybus my sire?

  MESSENGER

  As much thy sire as I am, and no more.

  OEDIPUS

  My sire no more to me than one who is naught?

  MESSENGER

  Since I begat thee not, no more did he.

  OEDIPUS

 

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