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Oedipus Trilogy

Page 5

by Sophocles


  What weird?

  HERDSMAN

  'Twas told that he should slay his sire.

  OEDIPUS

  What didst thou give it then to this old man?

  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 thou art in sooth what this man saith,

  God pity thee! thou wast to misery born.

  OEDIPUS

  Ah me! ah me! all brought to pass, all true!

  O light, may I behold thee nevermore!

  I stand a wretch, in birth, in wedlock cursed,

  A parricide, incestuously, triply cursed!

  (Exit OEDIPUS)

  CHORUS

  (Str. 1)

  Races of mortal man

  Whose life is but a span,

  I count ye but the shadow of a shade!

  For he who most doth know

  Of bliss, hath but the show;

  A moment, and the visions pale and fade.

  Thy fall, O Oedipus, thy 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 thee 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 thine, whose lot more dire?

  O Oedipus, discrowned head,

  Thy cradle was thy marriage bed;

  One harborage sufficed for son and sire.

  How could the soil thy father eared so long

  Endure to bear in silence such a wrong?

  (Ant. 2)

  All-seeing Time hath caught

  Guilt, and to justice brought

  The son and sire commingled in one bed.

  O child of Laius' ill-starred race

  Would I had ne'er beheld thy face;

  I raise for thee a dirge as o'er the dead.

  Yet, sooth to say, through thee I drew new breath,

  And now through thee I feel a second death.

  (Enter SECOND MESSENGER.)

  SECOND MESSENGER

  Most grave and reverend senators of Thebes,

  What Deeds ye soon must hear, what sights behold

  How will ye mourn, if, true-born patriots,

  Ye reverence still the race of Labdacus!

  Not Ister nor all Phasis' flood, I ween,

  Could wash away the blood-stains 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 canst thou 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.

  Nathless, 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 eye-balls, uttering words like these:

  "No more shall ye behold such sights of woe,

  Deeds I have suffered and myself have wrought;

  Henceforward quenched in darkness shall ye see

  Those ye should ne'er 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 oft, he struck with his hand uplift

  His eyes, and at each stroke the ensanguined 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 hath 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 upon 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 ye shall behold a sight so sad

  That he who must abhorred would pity it.

  (Enter OEDIPUS blinded.)

  CHORUS

  Woeful sight! more woeful none

  These sad eyes have looked upon.

  Whence this madness? None can tell

  Who did cast on thee his spell,

  prowling all thy life around,

  Leaping with a demon bound.

  Hapless wretch! how can I brook

  On thy misery to look?

  Though to gaze on thee 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 en
d, 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 athwart me shoot,

  What pangs of agonizing memory?

  CHORUS

  No marvel if in such a plight thou feel'st

  The double weight of past and present woes.

  OEDIPUS

  (Ant. 1)

  Ah friend, still loyal, constant still and kind,

  Thou carest for the blind.

  I know thee near, and though bereft of eyes,

  Thy voice I recognize.

  CHORUS

  O doer of dread deeds, how couldst thou mar

  Thy vision thus? What demon goaded thee?

  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! 'tis as thou sayest.

  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 thy despair well suits thy desperate case.

  Would I had never looked upon thy face!

  OEDIPUS

  (Ant. 2)

  My curse on him whoe'er unrived

  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,

  Co-mate of him who gendered me, and child.

  Was ever man before afflicted thus,

  Like Oedipus.

  CHORUS

  I cannot say that thou hast counseled well,

  For thou wert better dead than living blind.

  OEDIPUS

  What's done was well done. Thou canst 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 twain

  I sinned, a sin no gallows could atone.

  Aye, but, ye 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 wretchedst 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 'tis bliss

  to bide in regions sorrow cannot reach.

  Why didst thou harbor me, Cithaeron, why

  Didst thou 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 wast thou 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.

  Ye triple high-roads, and thou hidden glen,

  Coppice, and pass where meet the three-branched ways,

  Ye drank my blood, the life-blood these hands spilt,

  My father's; do ye call to mind perchance

  Those deeds of mine ye witnessed and the work

  I wrought thereafter when I came to Thebes?

  O fatal wedlock, thou didst 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.)

  CREON

  Lo, here is Creon, the one man to grant

  Thy prayer by action or advice, for he

  Is left the State's sole guardian in thy stead.

  OEDIPUS

  Ah me! what words to accost him can I find?

  What cause has he to trust me? In the past

  I have bee proved his rancorous enemy.

  CREON

  Not in derision, Oedipus, I come

  Nor to upbraid thee with thy past misdeeds.

  (To BYSTANDERS)

  But shame upon you! if ye 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 thy presence comes to me

  A shock of glad surprise—so noble thou,

  And I so vile—O grant me one small boon.

  I ask it not on my behalf, but thine.

  CREON

  And what the favor thou wouldst crave of me?

  OEDIPUS

  Forth from thy 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 spake, but in our present plight

  'Twere better to consult the god anew.

  OEDIPUS

  Dare ye inquire concerning such a wretch?

  CREON

  Yea, for thyself wouldst credit now his word.

  OEDIPUS

  Aye, and on thee in all humility

  I lay this charge: let her who lies within

  Receive such burial as thou shalt ordain;

  Such rites 'tis thine, 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 ful
l surely, nor disease

  Shall end my days, nor any common chance;

  For I had ne'er 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 thee, care, and, if thou willst,

  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'd think they still were mine, as when I saw.

  (ANTIGONE and ISMENE are led in.)

  What say I? can it be my pretty ones

  Whose sobs I hear? Has Creon pitied me

  And sent me my two darlings? Can this be?

  CREON

  'Tis true; 'twas I procured thee this delight,

  Knowing the joy they were to thee of old.

  OEDIPUS

  God speed thee! and as meed for bringing them

  May Providence deal with thee kindlier

  Than it has dealt with me! O children mine,

  Where are ye? Let me clasp you with these hands,

  A brother's hands, a father's; hands that made

  Lack-luster 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 upon you.

  Where'er ye go to feast or festival,

  No merrymaking will it prove for you,

  But oft abashed in tears ye will return.

  And when ye come to marriageable years,

  Where's 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 ween, but ye

  Must pine, poor maids, in single barrenness.

  O Prince, Menoeceus' son, to thee, I turn,

  With the it rests to father them, for we

  Their natural parents, both of us, are lost.

  O leave them not to wander poor, unwed,

  Thy kin, nor let them share my low estate.

  O pity them so young, and but for thee

  All destitute. Thy hand upon it, Prince.

  To you, my children I had much to say,

  Were ye but ripe to hear. Let this suffice:

  Pray ye may find some home and live content,

  And may your lot prove happier than your sire's.

 

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