The ancient Council of the Areopagus, like other primeval councils, was at once political and judicial. It was the venerable stronghold of the old Athenian and conservative party to which Aeschylus belonged, and was at this time being attacked by the radical party under Pericles and Ephialtes. To save it from its enemies by awakening national sentiment on its behalf, Aeschylus presents it as the high court of justice selected on account of its supreme moral authority totry the grand mythical case of Orestes arraigned by the Furies for matricide. There is also a good word for the diplomatic connection between Argos, represented by Orestes, and Athens. Orestes by Apollo's advice has appealed to the Areopagus. The court consists of Athenian citizens. Athene in person presides. The Furies appear as the accusers. They form the Chorus, which in this case plays a part in the drama. Apollo appears as a witness for his accused votary, and as responsible for the act which he had commanded. The result is the acquittal of Orestes by the presiding goddess. The proceedings are opened by Athene.

* * * * *

LINES 536-747.

ATHENE.

Herald, proclaim good order through the host,
Then let the loud Tyrrhenian trumpet's blast
Thrill forth its warning to the multitude.
'Tis meet that while the judges take their seats
All citizens keep silence and give ear
To that which now and for all time to come
I have ordained, that justice may be done.

CHORUS OF FURIES.

(Seeing APOLLO approach.)

Rule, Lord Apollo, o'er thy own domain.
What portion hast thou in this cause of ours?

APOLLO.

First, as a witness in this cause I come,
To say this man with me took sanctuary,
And that I cleansed him of the stain of blood.
Next, as a party to this cause I come,
Since I was the prime mover of the deed.
Call on the cause, then, and let right be done.

ATHENE.

The cause is called, and the word rests with you.

(To the FURIES.)

Let the accuser first be heard and lay
The cause before the court, for so is best.

CHORUS.

Many we are, yet brief our speech shall be;
Do thou to questions plain, plain answer give;
And tell us first, didst thou thy mother slay?

ORESTES.

I slew my mother, and deny it not.

CHORUS.

One bout, then, of our wrestling match is won.

ORESTES.

Too soon thou boastest; not yet am I thrown.

CHORUS.

Now must thou tell us how the deed was done.

ORESTES.

I drew my sword and smote her that she died.

CHORUS.

Who was it counselled thee, and set thee on?

ORESTES.

His oracle that is my witness here.

CHORUS.

Sayest thou the prophet counselled matricide?

ORESTES.

He did, and so far I repent me not.

CHORUS.

Thou wilt when in the judgment thou art cast.

ORESTES.

No fear have I; aid from the dead will come.

CHORUS.

Aid from the dead to thee, a matricide?

ORESTES.

My mother bore a double taint of crime.

CHORUS.

How doubly? let the judges understand.

ORESTES.

She slew her consort and my sire in one.

CHORUS.

Her death has made her peace, but thou still liv'st.

ORESTES.

Why did ye not pursue her while she lived?

CHORUS.

Because she was not kin to him she slew.

ORESTES.

Am I of kin, then, to my mother's blood?

CHORUS.

Wretch, wast thou not beneath her girdle borne,
And dar'st thou to forswear thy mother's blood?

ORESTES.

Apollo, now stand forth and testify.
Say, was my mother rightly slain or not?
The deed itself is not by us denied;
Whether't was rightly done or not, judge thou,
That I may plead thy sentence to this court.

APOLLO.

I will before this high Athenian court
Bear witness true: the prophet cannot lie;
For never in my seat of prophecy
Spoke I of man, of woman, or of state,
Aught else than the Olympian father bade.
I pray you, mark the force of this my plea,
And yield obedience to the will of Zeus,
For Zeus is mightier than a judge's oath.

CHORUS.

Zeus, as thou sayest, inspired this oracle
Which bade Orestes, for his father's death
Take vengeance, reckless of a mother's claim.

APOLLO.

'Twas different when a noble warrior fell,
One that the heaven-entrusted sceptre swayed,
Slain by a woman's hand, not with the bow,
As slays the fierce far-darting Amazon,
But in such wise as Pallas and the court
Impanelled to decide this cause shall hear.—
As from the war he happily returned
She met him with perfidious flatteries.
Then in his bath, as to the laver's edge
He came, she, like a canopy, outspread
A robe and smote him tangled in its folds.
By such foul practice died a man of all
Worshipped, the puissant leader of our host.
Such was his murderess; well the tale may touch
The hearts of those who shall pass judgment here.

CHORUS.

Zeus, then, it seems, is on the father's side,
Yet Zeus his aged father put in bonds.
How squares that story with thy present plea?
I pray the court to hark to his reply.

APOLLO.

O hateful brood, abhorred of all the gods,
He who is bound may be unbound again.
There's many a way to set a captive free;
But when the dust has drunk the blood of man,
Death knows no cure or resurrection.
For death my father hath no remedy,
All else he with his will omnipotent
Sorts as him lists, exhaustless in his power.

CHORUS.

Suppose yon wretch acquitted on thy plea,
Can he, polluted with a mother's blood,
At Argos dwell and in his father's home?
What public altar can he use, what guild
Of kinsmen will admit him to their rite?

APOLLO.

With this, too, will I deal, and mark me well,
The mother is not parent to the child,
But only fosters that she hath conceived.
The male is the true parent, and his mate
But holds the germ, so it 'scape blight, in trust.
This can I prove by puissant argument.
A father sans a mother there may be.
There stands the daughter of Olympian Zeus,
She ne'er was nurtured in the darkling womb,
Yet could no god in heaven beget her peer.
Pallas, as always my endeavour is
Thy city and thy people to exalt,
So I have sent this suppliant to thy hearth,
That he might be thy ever faithful friend,
And thou might'st count him as a sure ally,
Him and his race hereafter, and this bond
Unbroken through all ages might endure.

ATHENE.

The pleadings now are ended, and I call
Upon the panel for a righteous vote.

CHORUS.

On our side the last arrow has been shot;
We wait but for the verdict of the court.

ATHENE.

What order can I take that will content ye?

CHORUS.

Ye all have heard the pleadings in this cause;
Now in your hearts let justice rule the vote.

ATHENE.

Ye men of Athens, hear what is ordained
For this first trial of a homicide.
So long as Aegeus' nation shall endure
Upon this hill shall Justice hold her seat.
Here Theseus' foes, the Amazons, did camp
In days of old; here they a fortress built
In rivalry to this new-founded town;
Here sacrificed to Ares, whence the name
Of Ares' Hill; and here, by day and night,
Indwelling reverence and the fear of wrong
Shall keep my people from unrighteousness,
So they abstain from innovation rash.
Foul the clear fountain with impurities,
And of its waters thou canst drink no more.
Hold fast the golden mean, from anarchy
And from a despot's rule alike removed;
Nor cast all awe out of the commonwealth,
For who is righteous that is void of awe?
What now is founded if ye will revere,
Your land and state shall such a bulwark have
As hath no nation in the universe
From Pelops' realm to Scythia's utmost wild.
This counsel I establish incorrupt,
August, high-souled, and ever vigilant
To guard the public weal while others sleep.
Such is my counsel to my citizens
For times to come. Now let the judges rise.
Their ballots take, and a true verdict give
According to their oath; no more I say.

CHORUS.

(One FURY speaking for the rest.)

I warn ye to respect this company,
Whom else your land may find sore visitants.

APOLLO.

I warn ye to respect the oracles
Of Zeus and mine, nor dare to make them void.

CHORUS.

Bloodshedding falls not within thy domain;
Thy holy shrine will holy be no more.

APOLLO.

Was then my sire misled in that from blood
He cleansed Ixion, first of homicides?

CHORUS.

Say what thou wilt of justice, if we miss,
We shall return in wrath to haunt the land.

APOLLO.

Both by the new and by the ancient gods
Thou art despised: the victory will be mine.

CHORUS.

'Twas thou that didst in Pheres' house cajole
The fates to grant a mortal endless life.

APOLLO.

Was it not well to do good unto him
That honoured me, and at his utmost need?

CHORUS.

Thou didst, subverting all the rule of eld,
Beguile with wine those ancient deities.

APOLLO.

And thou wilt soon, barred of thy cruel will,
Spit forth thy venom, yet not harm thy foe.

CHORUS.

Since thy pert youth doth spurn my reverend age.
I wait the issue of this cause in doubt
Whether to lay my curse upon this land.

ATHENE.

To me it falls at last to give my vote,
And I my vote will for Orestes give;
No mother bore me, to the male I cleave
In all things saving that I wedlock shun
With my whole heart, and am my father's child.
Therefore, a woman's fate that slew her lord,
The guardian of her home, concerns me not.
Now, if there be a tie, Orestes wins.
Judges, to whom that office is assigned,
Be quick, turn out the ballots from the urns.

ORESTES.

Phoebus, kind god, what will the verdict be?

CHORUS.

O Night, my sable mother, now look down.

ORESTES.

For me salvation or despair is nigh.

CHORUS.

For us, fresh veneration or disgrace.

APOLLO.

Ye men of Athens, truly count the votes,
Strictly observing justice in the tale,
For want of caution here will work much woe,
While a great house may by one vote be saved.

ATHENE.

(To ORESTES.)

Thou art acquitted of blood-guiltiness,
For equal are the numbers of the votes.

ORESTES.

O Pallas, thou hast saved a royal house!
I was an exile; thou hast brought me home.
And now shall every son of Hellas say,
He is once more an Argive, once more holds.
His father's state, for which my gratitude
Is due to Pallas and to Loxias,
And, lastly, to the all-preserving Zeus,
Who, taking pity on my father's fate,
Saved me from these my mother's advocates.
Now to my home I go; but first I swear
To thee and thine an everlasting oath,
That never from my land shall chieftain come
To lift against this land his martial spear.
Ourselves, though then we in our graves shall be,
Will on the breakers of our covenant
Send such disaster, such perplexity,
Such faintness, and such evil auguries,
That they shall surely rue their enterprise;
But if my people keep the covenant,
And ever true allies to thine remain,
My spirit shall fight with them from the tomb.
Now fare ye well, thou and thy citizens;
Still in war's wrestle may your foemen fall,
And ever on your spears sit victory.

SOPHOCLES

OEDIPUS THE KING.

Oedipus is the son of Laius, King of Thebes, and Queen Jocasta. It had been prophesied of him, before his birth, that he would kill his father and lie with his mother. To avert this, when born, he is devoted by his mother to death by exposure on a mountain. But he is saved and taken to Polybus, King of Corinth, who adopts him, and whose son he believes himself to be. Having heard of the prophecy concerning himself, he leaves Corinth to avoid its fulfilment; but on his road falls in with Laius, has a quarrel with his attendants, and kills him. He then goes to Thebes, delivers the Thebans from the Sphinx, by guessing her riddle, is rewarded with the kingdom, and marries the widowed Queen Jocasta, his own mother, who bears children to him. The gods, offended by the presence of murder and incest, send a plague on Thebes. Oedipus sends his brother-in-law, Creon, to consult the oracle at Delphi respecting the visitation. The oracle bids the Thebans expel the murderer of Laius. This leads to an inquiry after the murderer, and through successive disclosures, in the management of which the poet exerts his art, to the revelation of the dreadful secret. It is a story of overmastering fate.

* * * * *

THE PLAGUE.

The plague sent by the angry gods is raging at Thebes. The people are gathered in supplication round the altars before the palace of Oedipus, who comes forth to them.

LINES 1-77.

OEDIPUS.

My children, progeny of Cadmus old,
Why in this posture do I find you here,
With wool-wreathed branches in your suppliant hands?
The city is with breath of incense filled,
Filled with sad chant, and voices of lament,
Whereof the truth to learn from other lips
Deeming not right, myself am present here,
That Oedipus, the world-renowned, am hight.
Say, reverend sir, since thee it well beseems
To speak for all, what moves this company,
Fear or desire? Know that I fain would aid
With all my power. Hard-hearted I must be
If pity for such suppliants touched me not.

THE PRIEST.

Oedipus, puissant ruler of our land,
Behold us prostrate at thy altars here,
And mark our ages; some are callow boys,
Others are priests laden with years, as I
Am priest of Zeus; others are chosen youths.
The rest, with suppliant emblems in their hands,
Sit in the mart, or at the temples twain
Of Pallas' or Ismenus' prescient hearth.
The city, as thou dost perceive, is tossed
On the o'er-mastering billows, and no more
Can lift her head above the murderous surge.
Her foodful fruits all withering in the germ,
Her flocks and herds expiring on the lea,
Her births abortive, while the fiery fiend
Of deadly pestilence has swooped on her,
Making the homes of Cadmus desolate,
And gluts dark Hades with the wail of death.
An equal of the gods, I and these youths
That here sit on this earth, account thee not;
But we account thee first of men to deal
With visitation or cross accident.
A stranger thou didst bring to us release
From tribute to that cruel songstress paid.
Advantage from our guidance thou hadst none,
'Twas by the inspiration of a god
As we believe that thou didst redeem our State.
Now, Oedipus, thou whom we all revere,
We bow before thee, and implore thy grace
To find some succour for us if thou canst
By heavenly teaching or through human aid.
In men, who by experience have been tried,
We find the happiest fruits of policy.
Come, best of men, lift up our city's head!
Look to thy own renown; thy zeal once shown
Has earned for thee a patriot saviour's name.
Let us not think of thee as of a prince
That raised us up to let us fall again;
But make our restoration firm and sure.
'Twas under happy omens that thou then
Didst succour us; what then thou wast, be now.
Our king thou art; if king thou wilt remain,
Reign o'er a peopled realm, not o'er a waste.
Naught is the bravest ship without her crew,
The strongest fort without its garrison.

OEDIPUS.

Poor children, little needs to tell me that
For which ye come to pray; too well I know
Ye all are sick. And, sick as ye may be,
There is not one whose sickness equals mine.
The grief of each of you touches himself,
And touches none beside: your sovereign's heart
Bears your griefs, and the city's and his own.
Not from a slumber have ye wakened me,
Trust me, I many an anxious tear have shed,
And many a path have tried in wandering thought.
Such remedy as, scanning all, I find
I have applied. Creon, Menoeceus' son
And my Queen's brother, to the Pythian shrine
Of Phoebus I have sent to ask what act
Or word of mine this city will redeem.
And now, as anxiously I mete the time,
My soul is troubled, for, to my surprise,
He has been absent longer than he ought.
But when he comes, a caitiff I shall be
If I do not all that the god ordains.

* * * * *

THE DAWN OF DISCOVERY.

Oedipus, having learned from the oracle that the cause of the wrath of the gods and of the plague is the presence of the murderer of Laius in the land, sends for the blind prophet, Tiresias, to tell him who is the murderer. Tiresias, knowing the secret, is reluctant to reveal it, and an altercation ensues, Oedipus suspecting that Tiresias has been set on by Creon, the Queen's brother, who he thinks is intriguing to supplant him in the monarchy.

LINES 300-462.

OEDIPUS.

Tiresias, thou whose thought embraces all,
Revealed or unrevealed, in heaven or earth,
In how sad plight our city is, thy mind,
If not thy eye, discerns. Prophet, in thee
Resides our sole hope of deliverance.
Phoebus, if thou hast not the tidings heard,
Has to our envoys answered, that the plague
Will never leave this city till we find
The murderers of the late King Laius,
And slay them or expel them from the land.
Then, if a way thou know'st, by augury
Or divination, put forth all thy power,
Save this our commonwealth, thyself and me;
Put from us the pollution of this blood.
To thee alone we look; what gifts one has
To use for good is of all toil the best.

TIRESIAS.

Ah! what an ill possession knowledge is
When ignorance were gain. This well I know,
And yet forgot, else had I not come here.

OEDIPUS.

What ails thee that thou bring'st this face of gloom?

TIRESIAS.

Let me go home, for each of us will bear
His burden easiest if so thou dost.

OEDIPUS.

Whatever thou dost know, the voice of right
And call of patriot duty bids thee speak.

TIRESIAS.

Speech is not always opportune; in thee
It is not; thy mistake I would not share.

OEDIPUS.

Oh, by the gods, I pray thee stand not mute!
We all as suppliants kneel in heart to thee.

TIRESIAS.

Then are ye all misguided. As for me,
I tell not that which told would hurt us both.

OEDIPUS.

How! dost thou know and yet refuse to tell?
Wilt thou prove traitor and undo the State?

TIRESIAS.

I will not bring down woe on thee and me.
Press me no more; thy questioning is vain.

OEDIPUS.

O vilest of mankind, for thou would'st move
A stone to righteous wrath, wilt thou not speak
But still stand there unmoved and obdurate?

TIRESIAS.

Thou dost reprove my heart, yet near thine own
Is something that the censor wots not of.

OEDIPUS.

Whose wrath would not be kindled when he heard
Language so hateful to a patriot's ear?

TIRESIAS.

Even if I keep silence, it must come.

OEDIPUS.

That which must come why not disclose to me?

TIRESIAS.

I will speak no word more; then, if thou wilt,
Freely give vent to thy most savage wrath.

OEDIPUS.

Freely my anger shall give utterance
To what I think: I think that in thy mind
This murder was engendered, was thy act
Save the mere blow, and hadst thou not been blind,
I should have deemed thee the sole murderer.

TIRESIAS.

Ha! Then I call upon thee to be true
To thy own proclamation, and henceforth
Abstain from intercourse with these or me,
As he that brings on us the curse of blood.

OEDIPUS.

Hast thou the impudence such calumny
To vent, and dream'st thou of impunity?

TIRESIAS.

I fear thee not; truth's power is on my side.

OEDIPUS.

Whence did it come to thee? not from thy art.

TIRESIAS.

From thee that made me speak against my will.

OEDIPUS.

Speak how? Repeat thy words that I may know.

TIRESIAS.

Didst thou not understand or tempt'st thou me?

OEDIPUS.

Fully I did not. Say it once again.

TIRESIAS.

I say the murderer whom thou seek'st is thou.

OEDIPUS.

Unpunished twice thy slanders shall not go.

TIRESIAS.

Shall I say more, further to fire thy wrath?

OEDIPUS.

All that thou wilt; 'twill be of none effect.

TIRESIAS.

I say that thou dost with thy next of kin
Foully consort, not knowing where thou art.

OEDIPUS.

And think'st thou still unscathed to say these things?

TIRESIAS.

I do, if there is any strength in truth.

OEDIPUS.

In truth is strength, but that strength is not thine;
Thou in eyes, ears, and mind alike art blind.

TIRESIAS.

And thou art wretched, casting in my teeth
What all men presently will cast in thine.

OEDIPUS.

Thy lot is utter darkness; neither I
Nor any one who sees, can fear thy wrath.

TIRESIAS.

Not mine is chastisement; Apollo's might
Sufficient is, and will bring all to pass.

OEDIPUS.

Is this contrivance Creon's or thine own?

TIRESIAS.

Thyself, not Creon, is thy enemy.

OEDIPUS.

O wealth, O sovereignty, O art of arts
That givest victory in the race of life,
How are ye still by envious malice dogged!
This place of power, which now I hold, by me
Unsought, was by the city's will bestowed.
Yet the thrice-loyal Creon, my fast friend,
Seeks now to oust me by foul practices,
Using for tool this knavish soothsayer,
This lying mountebank, whose greedy palm
Has eyes, while in his science he is blind.
Show me the proofs of thy prophetic gift.
Why, when the riddling Sphinx was here, didst thou
Fail by thy skill to save the commonwealth?
The riddle was not such as all can read,
But gave thy art fair opportunity,
Yet neither inspiration served thee then,
Nor omens, but I, skilless Oedipus,
Out of my ignorance confounded her,
By my own wit, unhelped by auguries;
I, whom thou now conspirest to depose,
Hoping that thou wilt stand by Creon's throne.
These pious efforts, trust me, will be rued
By thee and him that sets thee on; thy years
Are thy defence from instant chastisement.

CHORUS.

To us, Lord Oedipus, alike thy word
And the seer's seem the utterance of your wrath.
Wrath here is out of place, what we would seek
Is a right reading of the oracle.

TIRESIAS

High is thy throne, yet must thou stoop so low
As to endure free speech; that power is mine.
I to my god am servant, not to thee,
And therefore, ask not Creon's patronage.
I tell thee who with blindness tauntest me,
Sight though thou hast thou seest not what thou art,
Nor where thou hast been dwelling, nor with whom.
Know'st thou thy birth? No, nor that thou art loathed
By thine own kin, the living and the dead.
One day thy sire's and mother's awful curse,
With double scourge, will whip thee from this land.
Dark then shall be those eyes which now are light,
And with thy cries what place shall not resound,
What glen of wide Cithaeron shall not ring,
As soon as thou dost learn into what port
Of marriage swelling sails have wafted thee?
Much is in store beside to bring thee down
Unto thy children's level and thy own.
Then trample upon Creon and my gift
Of prophecy. Of all mankind is none
Whom ruin more complete awaits than thee.

OEDIPUS.

Who can endure this caitiff's insolence?
Go to perdition on the instant; pack,
And of thy presence let this house be rid.

TIRESIAS.

I had not come except at thy command.

OEDIPUS.

I knew not then what folly thou would'st talk,
Else should I scarce have called thee to my house.

TIRESIAS.

Such it appears in thy conceit, am I,
A fool; yet to thy parents I seemed wise.

OEDIPUS.

My parents, hold there! Tell me who were they.

TIRESIAS.

This day shall bring thee parents and despair.

OEDIPUS.

Riddles again; still utterances dark.

TIRESIAS.

In guessing riddles art thou not supreme?

OEDIPUS.

Welcome the taunt which to my greatness points.

TIRESIAS.

And yet that day of greatness ruined thee.

OEDIPUS.

I reck not if it saved the commonwealth.

TIRESIAS.

I will be gone. Boy, lead me to my home.

OEDIPUS.

Yea, let him lead thee; thy intrusion here
Troubles us; thy departure were relief.

TIRESIAS.

I go, but first will my deliverance make
Maugre thy frown, which can do me no harm.
I tell thee that the man whom thou dost seek
With proclamations and with threat'nings dire,
The man who murdered Laius, is here;
In name a foreigner, a native born
In fact, as will to his small joy appear.
For he who now has sight will go forth blind,
He who is rich will go forth penniless,
Groping his way to dwell in a strange land;
Brother of his own offspring he has been,
As all the world shall know, husband of her
That brought him forth, with incest stained, and stained
With parricide. Get thee into thy house,
There think upon my words, and if I lie
Say I have lost the gift of prophecy.

* * * * *

DISCOVERY.

A messenger from Corinth announces to Oedipus the death of his reputed father, Polybus, king of Corinth, and incidentally reveals to him in part the history of his birth. Jocasta, the queen of Oedipus and his real mother, is on the scene when the messenger arrives; upon her the fatal secret dawns at once.

LINES 924-1085.

MESSENGER.

Strangers, I pray ye tell me if ye can
Where is the palace of King Oedipus;
Or better, where is Oedipus himself.

CHORUS.

This is the palace, in it is the king,
And there the mother of his children stands.

MESSENGER.

Blessed may she be, be all around her blessed,
If she indeed his honoured consort is.

JOCASTA.

Blessed be thou too, O stranger; such return
Thy courtesy demands; but let me know
Wherefore thou comest, what thou hast to tell.

MESSENGER.

Good news to thee, lady, and to thy lord.

JOCASTA.

What is the news, whence is thy embassage?

MESSENGER.

From Corinth, and the tidings on my lips
May please, must please, and yet perchance may pain.

JOCASTA.

What can it be that has this double power?

MESSENGER.

The denizens of yonder Isthmian land
Will make thy lord their king, as rumour goes.

JOCASTA.

What? Is old Polybus their king no more?

MESSENGER.

His lease of power has ended in his grave.

JOCASTA.

What say'st thou, that King Polybus is dead?

MESSENGER.

If I speak false let death be my reward.

JOCASTA.

Fly, fly, my handmaid, bear unto your lord
This news without delay. O oracles,
Where are ye? Oedipus in exile lives
Lest he should slay this prince, and lo, this prince,
Untouched by him, in course of nature dies.

OEDIPUS (entering).

Jocasta, dearest partner of my life,
Why from the palace hast thou summoned me?

JOCASTA.

Hear this man's tidings, and by them be taught
To what have come those reverend oracles.

OEDIPUS.

Who is the man? What is the news he brings?

JOCASTA.

He comes from Corinth, and the news he brings
Is that thy father, Polybus, is dead.

OEDIPUS.

What say'st thou, stranger? Tell it me thyself.

MESSENGER.

If it is this thou first wouldst surely know,
Then surely know that Polybus is gone.

OEDIPUS.

Died he of sickness or through treachery?

MESSENGER.

A touch will lay the aged form to sleep.

OEDIPUS.

He died, poor king, by sickness it would seem.

MESSENGER.

By sickness added to his length of years.

OEDIPUS.

Fie on it, wife! why should we ever waste
One thought on that prophetic Pythian shrine,
Or on the notes of birds whose boding cry
Foretold that I should be a parricide?
Beneath the ground my father lies, and I
Am guiltless of his blood, unless his heart
Broke at my loss, and thus through me he died.
These prophecies that trouble us are naught,
Are buried in the grave of Polybus.

JOCASTA.

Said I not from the first it would be so?

OEDIPUS.

Thou didst, but I was led astray by fear.

JOCASTA.

Henceforth dismiss these bugbears from thy soul.

OEDIPUS.

The incest—have I not still that to dread?

JOCASTA.

Why should man fear whose life is but the sport
Of chance, to whom the future is all dark?
'Tis best to live at hazard as one may.
For that predicted incest, dread it not,
For many a man has in a dream ere this
Lain with his mother. He who takes no thought
Of such hobgoblins, lives the easiest life.

OEDIPUS.

All thou hast said would have my full assent
Were not my mother still alive; but now,
Though thou say'st well, I cannot choose but fear.

JOCASTA.

A light of hope shines from your father's grave.

OEDIPUS.

Yes, but my mother lives, and fear with her.

MESSENGER.

What, lady, is the cause of your alarm?

OEDIPUS.

'Tis Merope, the Queen of Polybus.

MESSENGER.

And what is there in her to breed your fears?

OEDIPUS.

A dreadful ordinance of destiny.

MESSENGER.

Is it a mystery? May it be told?

OEDIPUS.

It may be told. The god before my birth
Foreshowed that with my mother I should lie,
And shed with my own hands my father's blood.
For which cause I have long my dwelling made
Far off from Corinth. Happily, 'tis true,
Yet to behold a parent's face is sweet.

MESSENGER.

Was this the fear that drove thee from that land?

OEDIPUS.

This, and the dreadful thought of parricide.

MESSENGER.

Why do I not at once, as here I am
Wishing thy good, relieve thee of that fear?

OEDIPUS.

Thou wouldst not fail to reap my gratitude.

MESSENGER.

'Twas to that end I came, that to thy home
When thou hadst come I might the gainer be.

OEDIPUS.

Home, while my mother lives, I will not go.

MESSENGER.

My son, 'tis plain thou know'st not what thou dost.

OEDIPUS.

How? By the gods, old man, explain to me!

MESSENGER.

If thou on her account dost shun thy home.

OEDIPUS.

I fear the god's prediction may prove true.

MESSENGER.

Touching the stain of incest, wouldst thou say?

OEDIPUS.

'Tis this, old man, I dread unceasingly.

MESSENGER.

Knowest thou not that thy alarms are vain?

OEDIPUS.

How vain, if of these parents I was born?

MESSENGER.

Polybus was no relative of thine.

OEDIPUS.

What say'st thou? Was not Polybus my sire?

MESSENGER.

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

OEDIPUS.

Can father and not father be the same?

MESSENGER.

Neither did I beget thee nor did he.

OEDIPUS.

Then for what reason did he call me son?

MESSENGER.

Thou wast a gift to him, and from this hand.

OEDIPUS.

And could he take a foundling to his heart?

MESSENGER.

It was the yearning of a childless man.

OEDIPUS.

Was I thine own, or was I bought by thee?

MESSENGER.

I found thee in Cithaeron's bosky glade.

OEDIPUS.

What was it brought thee to this neighbourhood?

MESSENGER.

I kept the flocks that fed upon these hills.

OEDIPUS.
Wast thou a shepherd wandering for hire?

MESSENGER.

Poor as I was, O King, I saved thy life.

OEDIPUS.

In what so evil plight then was I found?

MESSENGER.

Thy insteps to that question can reply.

OEDIPUS.

Alack! what evil memory is this?

MESSENGER.

Thy feet were pierced through when I rescued thee.

OEDIPUS.

A hapless babe, foul swaddling clothes had I.

MESSENGER.

Thy name is thy misfortune's monument.

OEDIPUS.

Was it my mother's or my father's act?

MESSENGER.

I know not; he who gave me thee may tell.

OEDIPUS.

Was I received, then, and not found by thee?

MESSENGER.

Another shepherd put thee in my hands.

OEDIPUS.

Who was he? Canst thou point him out to me?

MESSENGER.

A serving-man of Laius he was called.

OEDIPUS.

That Laius who was ruler of this land?

MESSENGER.

The same; the man I mean his herdsman was.

OEDIPUS.

Is he alive? can he be seen by me?

MESSENGER.

You that this land inhabit best can tell.

OEDIPUS.
Does any one of you who stand around
The herdsman know of whom this stranger speaks?
Either afield or here has he been seen?
Speak out! 'tis time that all should be revealed.

CHORUS.

I ween it is no other than the hind
Of whom thou wast in quest some time ago;
But Queen Jocasta could most likely tell.

OEDIPUS.

Wife, dost thou know the man for whom erewhile
We sent? Is it of him that this man speaks?

JOCASTA.

Why ask? what matters it of whom he spoke?
Let not such follies dwell upon thy mind.

OEDIPUS.

Think not to hinder me, with such a clue,
From searching out the secret of my birth.

JOCASTA.

For Heaven's sake, for the sake of thy own life,
Desist! That I am stricken is enough.

OEDIPUS.

Fear not; though I be proved through three descents
Three times a slave, thy birth will take no stain.

JOCASTA.

Hear me, I do implore thee! Search no more.

OEDIPUS.

I will not stop till all has been revealed!

JOCASTA.

She that entreats thee has thy good at heart.

OEDIPUS.

Good it may be, yet does it please me ill.

JOCASTA.

Unhappy man! what thou art, never know.

OEDIPUS.

Go, some one; fetch the herdsman with all speed,
And let this lady vaunt her pedigree.

JOCASTA.

Alack! alack! Wretch, by no other name
Can I now call thee or shall call thee more!
(JOCASTA rushes off the scene.)

CHORUS.

O King, why has the lady rushed away
In this wild burst of grief? I sorely fear
Her silence prefaces a storm of woe.

OEDIPUS.

Let her storm on! resolved am I to find
The stem that bore me, lowly though it be.
She, very like, puffed with a woman's pride,
May feel ashamed of my ignoble birth.
For me, I do esteem me Fortune's child,
Nor blush to hold me of her favour born.
She is my mother; and my father, Time,
Whose months have on to greatness borne his child.
With such a parentage I fear no change
That should forbid me to search out my birth.

* * * * *

THE CATASTROPHE.

Jocasta, in despair, hangs herself. Oedipus puts out his own eyes. The scene is described by a second messenger, who has witnessed it.

LINES 1223-1296.

MESSENGER.

O reverend priests and elders of this land,
What are ye doomed to hear? what to behold?
What sorrow will be yours if loyally
Ye love the royal house of Labdacus?
Ister or Phasis were too scant a stream,
To wash the bloodstains of this roof away,
Such horrors does it hide, and presently
Will show beneath the sun; horrors self-caused,
And self-caused woes are of all woes the worst.

CHORUS.

That which we knew already topped the height
Of misery. What hast thou more to tell?

MESSENGER.

What fewest words serve to impart is this,
Jocasta the illustrious is no more.

CHORUS.

Alas, poor Queen! How was it that she died?

MESSENGER.

By her own hand. That which is worst of all,
The sight of what was done, your eyes are spared;
But to your ears, so far as memory serves,
I will recount her most disastrous end.
When, in a storm of passion, hence she passed
To yonder house, straight to her marriage-bed,
Tearing her hair with both her hands, she flew.
She slammed the door behind her; then she cries
To Laius, that had long been in his grave,
Calling to mind the seed that they had raised
To murder its begetter, while his mate,
Was left to her own child's incestuous arms.
She cursed the bed which to a husband bore
A husband and gave children to a child.
Thereon she slew herself, I wot not how,
For, with loud outcries Oedipus rushed in,
And on his movements all our eyes were turned,
So that we could not mark Jocasta's end.
He, raving, shouted to us for a sword,
And asked where was his wife that was no wife,
But his own mother and his children's, too.
Then, in his frenzy, some mysterious power,
For it was none of us, showed him the way.
With a wild yell, as though one led him on,
He charged the doorway, from their sockets tore
The bolts, and headlong dashed into the room.
There we beheld Jocasta hanging dead,
Her neck entangled in the fatal noose.
This the King seeing, gave a fearful yell,
And loosed the rope; the corpse fell to the ground.
What then ensued was fearful to behold:
The golden buckles wherewith she was dight
He from her garment plucked, and, lifting them
On high, he smote the pupils of his eyes,
Crying aloud that they should look no more
Upon his suffering or his crimes, but dark
Henceforth betray their duty seeing those
Whom they ought not, not seeing those they ought.
Chanting this strain, once and again he smote,
With hand uplift, his eyeballs, till the blood
Ran from his wounded eyes down to his chin,
Not in slow-oozing drops of clotted gore,
But in a pelting shower of crimson hue.
Such is the wreck, not of a single life,
But of a husband's and a wife's in one.
The grandeur of this house in happier hours
Was grandeur worthy of the name. To-day
Sorrow and desolation, death and shame,
All evils for which man has names are here.

CHORUS.

Rests now the victim from this agony?

MESSENGER.

He calls to us to open wide the door
And let all Thebes behold the parricide.
His mother's—names too horrible he used,
Vowing he'll doom himself to banishment,
Nor live beneath the curse himself called down.
But some support and guidance he will need,
For he is stricken past man's strength to bear.
Thyself will see it, for behold, the gates
Open and will a spectacle disclose
That might the bitterest foe to pity move!

* * * * *

THE PARTING.

Oedipus bewails his calamities. A scene follows between him and Creon, his wife's brother, whom he had accused of treasonably plotting against him in concert with Tiresias.

LINES 1369-1514.

OEDIPUS.

That what is done is not done for the best,
Forbear to preach; thy counsel is in vain.
Could I have looked upon my father's face,
Meeting him yonder in the underworld,
Or on my hapless mother's, when to both
I had done wrongs worse than the worst of deaths?
Perchance you'll say to see my progeny
Were sweet! when I remembered whence they sprung.
Never, believe me, to their father's eyes;
Nor to see city, tower, or temple more,
From which, of all men most unfortunate,
When I had lived the noblest life in Thebes,
I did myself cut off, adjuring all
To drive the sinner out by heaven declared
Accursed and of the blood of Laius.
When I had thus proclaimed my infamy,
Could I meet, eye to eye, those citizens?
It might not be. Nay, were there any means
Of cutting off the source of hearing, too,
I would have closed all avenues of sense,
And made this wretched frame both blind and deaf.
The mind has peace that dwells apart from ills.
Why, O Cithaeron, didst thou cherish me,
Not end my life at once, that so my kind
Had never learned the secret of my birth?
O Polybus, and Corinth, and that home
By me paternal deemed, how foul beneath
Was that which ye brought up so outward fair!
I stand a villain, and of villains born.
O meeting of three ways, and lonely glen,
And copse, and narrow pass at the cross-roads,
That from my father's veins drank, by my hand,
The blood which filled my own, remember ye,
What ye beheld me do, and what I did
Thereafter in this land? Marriage ill-starred,
Thou gavest me birth, and then of me gave birth
To a fresh offspring, and before the sun
Showed fathers, brothers, children, parricides,
Brides, wives, and mothers in unnatural train,
With all things most abhorred among mankind.
But what is foul to do is foul to hear,
Therefore, at once bury me out of sight;
Put me to death, cast me into the sea,
That never eye of man may see me more.
Come, lay your hands upon my wretched frame,
Do as I pray ye, fearing naught, my load
Of woe no mortal can support but I.
(Enter CREON.)

CHORUS.

At the right time thy wish to execute
And give thee counsel, Creon comes, now left
In place of thee sole guardian of our State.

OEDIPUS.

Alas! To him what can I find to say,
What plea of justice, since my conscience cries
That he has met foul treatment at my hands?

CREON.

I came not, Oedipus, to mock thy fall,
Nor to upbraid thee with unkindness past.
But ye, that stand around, if human hearts
Ye do not reverence, reverence yonder sun
Whose fire feeds all things, and expose no more
Unveiled to view this horror, which nor earth
Nor heaven's sweet rains nor sunlight can endure.
Bear him within; let there be no delay.
The sorrows of a household, piety
Reserves for kindred eyes and ears alone.

OEDIPUS.

Since thou my expectation hast belied,
Proving thyself as good as I am bad,
Grant what I ask, for thy behoof I speak.

CREON.

What is this thing that thou wouldst have me do?

OEDIPUS.

Cast me, and instantly, out of this land,
Beyond the pale of human intercourse.

CREON.

Already had I done this, but I first
Desired to ask the counsel of the god.

OEDIPUS.

The god had fully made his counsel known,
Which was to slay the impious parricide.

CREON.

So did we hold, yet in our present case
Better we deemed it to be circumspect.

OEDIPUS.

Wilt thou enquire about a wretch like me?

CREON.

Thyself by this hast learned to trust the gods.

OEDIPUS.

I do conjure thee, and enjoin on thee,
Her that within there lies, as seems thee fit,
Lay in the ground. To thee that care belongs.
But me, let never this my fatherland
Be so dishonoured as to hold alive.
Upon the mountains let my dwelling be,
Upon my own Cithaeron, which my sire
And mother chose as my appointed tomb,
And so let those who sought it take my life.
And yet past doubt it is that I was proof
'Gainst death in all its forms; if I were saved,
It must have been for some fell destiny.
But be my own lot what it may, my care
Is for my children, Creon. For the boys
I'd have thee take no thought; as they are men,
Where'er they be they'll find a livelihood.
But for my girls now lorn and desolate,
My girls, apart from whom was never set
Their father's table, who still had their share
Of everything on which his hand was laid,
I crave thy care. And first let me embrace
My darlings and unite my tears to theirs.
Pray, good my lord,
Consent, kind heart. To hold them in my arms
Would be to feel them mine as when I saw—
What shall I say?

(ANTIGONE and ISMENE, OEDIPUS' daughters, are brought upon the scene.)

Is it my darlings' weeping that I hear?
Do my ears tell me true? Has Creon sent
My best beloved in mercy to their sire?
Say I aright?

CREON.

Thou say'st aright. 'Tis I that, knowing well
Thy heart's desire, have granted thee this boon.

OEDIPUS.

Fortune befriend thee for their presence here,
Heaven guard thee better than it guarded me.
Daughters, where are ye? Come unto these arms,
These arms that issued from one womb with you,
Which on the father that begot you brought
This darkness for the light he had before.
Blindly, my children, and unwittingly,
Offspring I got in an incestuous bed.
See you I cannot, but I weep for you,
When I bethink me of the bitter life
That ye must live, marks for the scorn of men.
To what assembly, to what festival,
Will ye e'er go and not be driven home
In tears, excluded from the spectacle?
And when your marriageable hour has come,
Where will be found the man so venturesome
To take upon him the reproach that falls
Upon my parents and from them on you?
What stain is lacking when your father slew
His father, her that bore him took to wife
'Gainst nature's law, and had you born to him
From the same womb from which himself was born?
In face of such reproaches who will wed?
No one will dare. Daughters, to waste away
Lonely and childless is your certain doom.
Son of Menoeceus, thou alone art left
As father to these children, in one day
Bereft of both their parents; let them not
Go forth to roam famished and desolate,
Nor let them be confounded with my crimes.
Have pity on them, seeing them so young,
Deprived of all saving thy charity.
Reach forth thy hand in token of assent.
Children, were ye of age to understand,
I had much counsel giv'n ye; but now pray
That you may dwell where it is best to dwell,
And yours may be a happier lot than mine.