Uniform with this volume
SOPHOCLES
Oedipus, King of Thebes
24th Thousand
The Antigone
4th Thousand
The Wife of Heracles
3rd Thousand
EURIPIDES
Alcestis
24th Thousand
Bacchae
31st Thousand
Electra
50th Thousand
Hippolytus
38th Thousand
Iphigenia in Tauris
32nd Thousand
Medea
33rd Thousand
Rhesus
9th Thousand
The Trojan Women
39th Thousand
ARISTOPHANES
The Frogs
24th Thousand
AESCHYLUS
Agamemnon
12th Thousand
The Choëphoroe
5th Thousand
The Eumenides
4th Thousand
The Suppliant Women (Supplices)
4th Thousand
Prometheus Bound
4th Thousand
The Seven Against Thebes
3rd Thousand
The Persians
4th Thousand
★
The Oresteia
Collected Edition
Translated into English rhyming verse
with Introduction and Notes
by
O.M., D.C.L.
Formerly Regius Professor of Greek
in the
University of Oxford
London
GEORGE ALLEN & UNWIN LTD
FIRST PUBLISHED IN 1948
This book is copyright
No portion of it may be reproduced by
any process without written permission
All inquiries should be addressed to
the publishers
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN
in 11-Point Caslon Old Face
BY UNWIN BROTHERS LIMITED
WOKING
The Oedipus at Colonus[1] has often been compared with King Lear. It is not only that both plays have for their central figure an old, dethroned and banished king, driven mad or half-mad by his awful experiences, and breathing a strange atmosphere of kingly pride alternating with helplessness, of towering passion with profound peace. In both also the suffering hero achieves a sort of change or conversion. "The poem," says Professor Dowden, "might well be named the redemption of Lear" and in a sense the present play shows the redemption of Oedipus. But whereas Lear repents of his pride and self-will and is brought "to kinship and sympathy with all afflicted humanity," Oedipus feels no need to repent for his involuntary acts of pollution, but by unflinching endurance of the evils laid upon him by mysterious gods, he is transformed from an outcast to a hero, from a despised and unclean wanderer to an object of adoration and dread. It is significant that both plays make heavy, if not impossible, demands on the producer for tempests and thunderstorms. And of both it may be said, that, while neither can quite be called a "well-made play," each nevertheless contains some of the author's very greatest work.
Greek tradition tells us that the play was produced by the poet's grandson, Sophocles the younger, four [Pg 6] years after the author's death at the age of ninety. This is confirmed by the metrical and linguistic tests, which clearly prove the Colonêüs to be among the last of the poet's writings; indeed it would almost seem that some parts of the play required a fourth actor, unless we escape that startling conclusion by the somewhat evasive hypothesis of a supernumerary persona muta who was not always entirely mute.[2] The play certainly leaves the impression of coming from one who has largely left the turmoil of life behind him and looks back upon it with deepened understanding and mature mastery of language and poetry.
Some modern readers have seen signs of old age in a certain lengthiness and lack of concentration in the drama. It is, as Aristotle would say, "episodic," and each episode involves some dissipation of interest. The ancient critics, however, seem to have singled out the "oeconomia"—the construction or management—of the play for particular admiration. Aristophanes of Byzantium considered that in this respect it had no equal. He might have pointed out that it contains many characters, none of them mere vessels of rhetoric but each with his own ethos and his own purposes and a good reason for entering when he does. And it is true that each episode serves its purpose in showing the gradual sanctification or "heroization" of Oedipus. A hero was by no means necessarily a lovable character; he had to be firstly, uncanny and different from common men, and secondly formidable, with powers to injure[Pg 7] or to bless, connected always with a taboo grave. So far he is like a mediaeval saint; but he need not be saintly in character. Aegisthus and Salmoneus, famous for their sins, were "heroes." An extreme case is that of the athlete Cleomêdês, who, after killing his opponent, went mad and destroyed a school with sixty children in it; naturally people were afraid of such a being and felt it desirable to "appease" his tomb. The terrific cursing of Polynices by his father, which was heart-breaking to Antigone, seems to us a very strange prelude to the scene of something like sanctification which immediately follows, but of course heroization is not the same thing as sanctification. The curse showed how truly formidable the inmate of that mysterious tomb was to be; and we must always remember that in an insecure and unpoliced society, like those of antiquity in general, the punishment of the wicked was a keenly felt social necessity. Was the wrong-doer to go scot-free, and the cry of the "wronged ones in the darkness" to be left unheard? A true hero must curse as well as bless.
Though not in any sense part of a trilogy, the Coloneüs has an obvious connection with two other Sophoclean plays. The Oedipus Rex, produced some twenty years earlier, had ended on a raw and painful note. The blinded man's last words, when all else has been taken from him, are a cry, "Ah no; take not away my daughters"; and they are immediately taken. This harsh "curtain" is against the normal practice of Greek Art, which likes to end on a note of calm, and it may[Pg 8] well be that Sophocles in his old age wished, as a sort of atonement, to let the agonized and accursed hero of his greatest drama attain, as it were, a special position of reconciliation with God. The Antigone also, which was even earlier than the first Oedipus, was, clearly in the mind of the poet when writing this play. The Polynices scenes, and especially the final speeches of the two sisters, are clearly meant to lead up to the situation in the beginning of the Antigone. Indeed the unusual obviousness of this technique in the last scene has led some scholars to suspect its genuineness. It is a curious coincidence that the final scene of Aeschylus' Seven against Thebes also seems to have been altered so as to suit the Antigone.
In many Greek tragedies a modern reader is struck by what is loosely called the "modernity" of the general tone. It is really the permanent human feeling which rises above the temporary conventions of a particular age. In such cases the dramatic sympathy, the conception of what is good or evil, in the ancient author falls naturally into sympathy with that of an enlightened European of the present day. In the Prometheus of Aeschylus, the Trojan Women or the Hippolytus of Euripides, the theme is one that still disturbs us, and the poet's attitude towards it is what we naturally expect. With Sophocles we have much more often to make the effort of putting ourselves imaginatively in an ancient, or what used to be called a "pagan," position. He seems to be untouched by the sophistic movement, untouched by Socrates, of course quite untouched by Plato.[Pg 9] He seems to be full of a correct or even a primitive piety. He makes no attempt to moralize his gods or to pass any moral judgement upon them. They are mostly terrifying, and often inexplicably malignant. Of course we must remember that he is an artist, not a philosopher. He does, far more than the other two tragedians, make a practice of deepening the darkness of his tragic situations both by an insistence on physical pain or horror and by making full use of the mysterious terrors of that irrational primitive religion to which Oedipus's parricide and incest were not offences or errors capable of being rationally thought about but monstrous and inhuman pollutions, the last limit of imaginable sin. The cultivated Athenian of Sophocles' time had largely, though not entirely, escaped from these primitive ways of thought; the philosophic movements of the last two generations had done their work of enlightenment. Theseus is above such things here, as he is in Euripides' Heracles. He is not only, as always, a good democrat as well as a King, but also a King of the heroic age who has nevertheless had the advantage of an education in fifth-century philosophy. It is worth noticing, however, that to the Chorus Oedipus has repeatedly to labour the point of his lack of intention or knowledge and consequent lack of guilt (ll. 266 ff., 540 ff., 960-1000). Even so he is only partially successful. Though excused, and even accepted as a citizen of Athens, he is still no normal man. Innocent or not, the atmosphere of his awful doings stays about him. The play is full of the infectiousness[Pg 10] of the untouchable, whether it be too polluted and evil to leave anyone in its close neighbourhood safe, or too holy to be approached with impunity, like the shrine of the Eumenides. In the Book of Samuel, we may remember, Uzzah was struck dead when, with the best intentions, he touched the Ark of God. (I Sam. vi. 7). The conceptions, which seem to us utterly different, are equally combined in such words as the Roman sacer, or the Polynesian taboo. Oedipus is araios, charged with a curse or Ara as a wire may be charged with electricity, not only because he is himself accursed, but also because he is an old, blind, helpless, and deeply-wronged man, and thus has much of the sacredness of a suppliant. To touch or even look upon (l. 1480-1484) one so unholy may be fatal; to do wrong to one so afflicted is an abominable offence. His curse, unlike those of Lear upon his children, acts like a law. Those upon Creon (l. 870, "an old age such as mine") and Polynices were both completely fulfilled.
Connected with this power of the curse is the power of the taboo grave. The grave of a specially holy or unholy man is itself araios, charged with a curse. The bones of saints are still a valuable possession in some eastern countries, both Christian and Moslem. Indeed there have been cases where a saint has been, if not murdered, at least encouraged to die in situ by his admirers, in order to get possession of his remains. The graves of Eurystheus in the Heraclidae, of Orestes in the Eumenides, and of Oedipus[Pg 11] here, are all to be a great defence to Athens, because any foreign invader, not knowing their position nor the correct ritual for appeasing them, would pretty certainly violate them and thus incur the wrath of the dead. The rightful possessor would give them the proper tendance and thus secure protection. The Thebans tried to play a double game; to exclude Oedipus from his native soil and yet to keep control over his grave. Theseus by his frank and merciful acceptance of the polluted suppliant seems, as it were, to nullify his pollution. One may compare his similar annulment of the pollution of his friend at the end of Euripides' Heracles, and a striking passage in the other Oedipus (ll. 1480 ff.) where no one dares to approach or even look upon the polluted and bloodstained man until the two little girls, not conscious of such things, throw themselves into his arms without fear. By that they have diverted the lightning and others can touch him too. Sophocles can use the philosophic ideas when it suits him, though he never obtrudes them.
Of the other characters, Antigone is the same loving and heroic girl as in the play that bears her name. If she is sometimes fierce she is fierce through love. There she faced death rather than fail her dead brother. Here she is ready for any ordeal rather than fail her blind father. It is worth noting that here too, she is a fighter. She stands up to the Colonean elders when her father has lost heart (l. 237), and stands up to him himself, unsparingly, when he refuses to see Polynices. The last scene of this play may throw light on a question which has[Pg 12] often been raised in the Antigone. Is Antigone the older and stronger of the two sisters, Ismene the younger and weaker? Or, on the contrary, is Antigone the young passionate and impulsive girl, Ismene the elder and more prudent? Most scholars have taken the first view; but the scene between the sisters after l. 1669 strongly suggests the second.
Creon is not brought into any particular relation to the falsely accused Creon of the Oedipus Rex nor yet to the rigid conscientious tyrant of the Antigone. He belongs to a type peculiarly detested by the dramatists, both tragic and comic, of the later years of the Peloponnesian War, the hard-faced politician. We know that he is a ruthless hypocritical schemer, but he contrives almost always to have the beau rôle and to put his opponents in the wrong. His entrance is masterly. It is almost impossible to resist so reasonable a plea, so modestly urged. When he shows his teeth he gets the best of the repartees. When denounced by Theseus he maintains his dignity and his power of sarcasm; an old man, alone in a strange country he yields calmly to superior strength but reserves his full answer till he is on his own soil. The name "Creon" means merely "ruler," and that is what the Creon of legend always is; an official rather than a person; but the poets can give that colourless figure such character as it pleases them.
Polynîcês is a character mainly created by his situation, the wronged warrior prince, determined at all costs to get his rights and indifferent to all else, ready[Pg 13] to die if he must but incapable of making any concession; perhaps too weak to change, perhaps too heroic; mostly blind to things outside himself, though capable of penitence for his neglect of his lather and of tender love for his two sisters.
The aged poet is said to have lived at Colonus, and this play is full of a special love for the actual neighbourhood of his home and the little religious rites and local sanctities that were centred there. No other play that has come down to us shows this sort of feeling, though we may be reminded of Horace's feeling for his Sabine farm. The sanctuary of the Eumenides, the grove where there is nearly always a nightingale, the two paths to the Theban border, the "brazen threshold" and the place midway between "the three-crested rock, the hollow pear-tree and the marble tomb," have by now become legendary; to Sophocles they were part of his home (l. 162);
The fame thereof
Was slender, but to know them was to love.
In an ancient Greek this love of the actual land and groves expressed itself naturally in local rituals of worship. The lists of deities and rites which Sophocles delights in often seem conventional and formal to us. Yet perhaps they are merely the natural expression of that "pagan" state of mind which was always ready to "have sight of Proteus rising from the sea" and from the sight to create both a ritual and a legend. The same love of the land merges easily into a national patriotism of[Pg 14] the more ordinary sort. By the year in which the Coloneüs was written the Beloved City was in dire distress, and it was difficult for any Athenian not to feel her an almost sacred being beset by lawless and brutal foes. There is great artistic skill in the lyrics in which Sophocles celebrates these homely places and worships, but many will feel that his full genius emerges most in those which deal with the impersonal and eternal subjects, old age and death. The particular part which the various choral lyrics play in the development of the drama will be treated in the notes.
[1] The two plays are generally known by their Latin names, Oedipus Rex, (Oedipus, king) and Oedipus Coloneüs, (Oedipus of Colônus).
[2] Called by Pollux (4, 110) a "parachorêgêma" or "extra supplement."
oedipus, formerly King of Thebes, now exiled; son of Laïus and Jocasta.
antigonê, his daughter.
ismênê, his daughter.
polynîcês, his eldest son.
creon, brother of Jocasta; the chief influence in Thebes.
thêseus, King of Athens, son of Aigeus.
an athenian stranger.
a messenger.
chorus of Elders of Colônus, with their leader.
"The Oedipus at Colonus was produced after the death of the poet by his grandson, Sophocles, son of Ariston, in the archonship of Mikon (402 b.c.), who was fourth from Callias, in whose year of office most authorities say Sophocles died." the ancient argument
The Hill of COLONUS outside Athens, Back at the left the Grove of the Eumenides, a tangle of olive, laurel and vine: further back at the right a view of the Acropolis. In front of the Grove, near the middle, a Rock in which a seat has been cut.
Enter from spectators' left OEDIPUS, now an old man,
with beggar's dress and wallet and staff, his hair
long and wild, his eye-sockets empty. He is led by
his daughter ANTIGONE, a girl about eighteen,
poorly clad.
The time is toward the close of day.
Oedipus
Child of an age-worn father and a blind,
What lands be these, what town of human kind?
What new folk now shall greet with hazardous
And stinted alms the outcast Oedipus,
Who craves but little of them, and yet less
Receiving is content? Longsufferingness
I have learnt by much pain, and the company
Of the slow years, and mine own royalty.
My child, if thou canst see some resting place,
Be it on ground profane or by the grace
Of God o'ershadowed, lead and set me there.
When some man passeth I will ask him where
We are come. We needs must hearken all they say[Pg 18 12-25]
Whose lands we traverse, and their words obey.
Antigone [Looking off.
Father and king toil-worn, grey towers there are Crowning a city—to mine eyes still far. But where we stand the place is holy, green With bay, olive and vine: and deep within Are darting wings, and somewhere through the trees A nightingale, all song. Come take thine ease On this rough seat of stone. 'Tis a long way For one so old, thy feet have fared to-day.
Oedipus
Aye, help me sit, and guard my darkness. So. [Sits.
Antigone
If time can teach, that lesson I should know.
Oedipus
Know'st thou at all the region where we are?
Antigone
This spot, no. . . . It is Athens there afar.
Oedipus
So much we learned from every wayfarer.
Antigone
Well, shall I leave thee and go ask somewhere?
Oedipus
Yes; ask, if 'tis a place where men may dwell.
Antigone
Oh, 'tis inhabited.—Yet it were well To wait. I see a man there within call.
Oedipus
Doth he come towards us? . . . Doth he move at all?
Antigone
He soon will come . . . Now speak in question clear
What thy heart prompteth, for the man is here.
[Enter Stranger.
Oedipus
Sir Stranger, hearing from this maid, whose eyes Are hers and mine, that here in timely wise Thou comest for the solving of our doubt . . .
Stranger
Stay! Ere thou question further, get thee out From here; 'tis holy ground, where none may sit.
Oedipus
What is the grove? And what God haunteth it?
Stranger
Untouched it is, untrod. Dread Virgins hold Their court here, born of Earth and Darkness old.
Oedipus
Who? Let me hear their names and I will pray.
Stranger
[Hesitating to pronounce the real name.
The all-seeing Spirits of Mercy, our folk say
In Athens: elsewhere other names they bear.
Oedipus [Suddenly kneeling.
With mercy, then, may they accept and spare Him who now kneels to them. Here I have found My peace, and leave no more this holy ground.
Stranger
What means this?
Oedipus
'Tis the watchword of my fate.
Stranger
For me, I dare not move thee till the state
Give warrant. They who rule must know thy deed.
[He moves to go off.
Oedipus [Detaining him.
Nay, keep not from an outcast in his need, Stranger, the little knowledge that he sues.
Stranger
Well; make thy questions. I shall not refuse.
Oedipus
Tell me, what is this region that we tread?
Stranger
All that I know of it can soon be said. All here is holy ground: men say our Sire Poseidon treads it, and the Wand of Fire, Titan Promêtheus, with him. Thou dost feel The rock? The threshold of the Bronzen Heel 'Tis called, which guardeth Athens. On each hand Men say the primal master of the land Was old Colônus, he who first made tame The war-horse. All the folk yet bear his name. Such, stranger, are these hills. The fame thereof Is slender, yet to know them is to love.
Oedipus
There be, then, folk who dwell and habit here?
Stranger
Surely; Colônês is the name they bear.
Oedipus
Have they some lord, or doth the mass bear sway?
Stranger
In Athens is the king these lands obey.
Oedipus
And what king there doth such obedience claim?
Stranger
Old Aigeus' son, Theseus they call his name.
Oedipus
Will one of you bear him a word from me?
Stranger
What word? Or wouldst thou bid him come to thee?
Oedipus
That little toil shall bring him great reward.
Stranger
How can a man who sees not help our lord?
Oedipus
The words that I shall speak, they shall have eyes!
Stranger
Stranger, I would not have thee anywise Ill done by; for I see thou art a man Noble, in all save fortune. For a span Of time wait here; I will go forth and tell— Not all the city, but the folk who dwell Hard by, thy story. As their laws decide Thou shalt depart this precinct, or abide. [Exit.
Oedipus
Child, has the stranger left us?
Antigone
Yes: speak on
In peace all thy desire. I am here alone.
Oedipus
[Kneeling towards the Grove. O awful Eyes, O Shapes of Majesty, To you before all else this bended knee Its homage brings; be gracious for my sake And Lord Apollo's too; who when he spake Long since my doom of evil, made me blest Still by the far-off promise of this rest; In a last land, where They whom the world fears Should spread a chair for me and make me theirs, There this sore heart should rest and have an end; To them that shelter me a powerful friend, To them that drave me outcast from my home[Pg 24 93-116] A curse undying. And a sign shall come, So vowed he, or strange thunder, or the ground Quaking, or fire from God. . . . If I have found This grove, for sure some wingèd guide from you Hath led me. How else had I trod so true, Grey-souled to your all-wineless house, and won My rest with you on this unchiselled stone? O Spirits, by Apollo's word I pray, Vouchsafe me, after so long life, some way To pass and make an end, unless ye know Of aught that lacketh still to the great woe This heart must bear, beyond all human kind. Sweet Maidens born of Darkness old and blind, Be near, be merciful; O thou, alone Of cities, whom God's Virgin calls her own, Precious beyond all cities, hear me; scan The shape of this dim shadow, once a man And Oedipus . . . but I was different then.
Antigone
Peace, Father, now! I see some aged men Here hasting, to spy out thy resting place.
Oedipus
I am silent. . . . Hide me from the path a space
Behind yon trees, to hearken what they say.
Some knowledge of their minds would ease our way.
[Antigone leads Oedipus into the Grove where he stays unseen.
Enter Chorus of Elders, in groups, searching.
Chorus
[Various voices, confusedly. Strophe.—Mark there! Who was it?—Where lieth he? Fled, is he? —Gone as a quick bird goes? —The daring of it! The daring of it! But use your eyes. Sweep the thicket clear. —Put question to everyone. Old and a wanderer? —Surely a wanderer; no man that knows, Would dare to harbour him here Here in the trackless grove Of Them with whom none may strive, The Virgins who know not love, And their fear is a thing alive; We dare not name their name, We raise no eyes to them; Only a prayer, a spell We whisper beneath our breath, A voiceless wordless thought; And a man is here, men tell, Whom no fear entereth!
Leader
Yet I see him not,
Nor mark nor sign of him, though all round
Mine eyes have searched thro' the holy ground.
Oedipus [From the Grove.
Behold the man ye desire. In sound are mine only eyes.
Leader
Ah! Awful voice, and dire Aspect!
Oedipus
But yet nowise
A lawbreaker!
Leader
God's mercy!
What can this old man be?
Oedipus
Not one of a lot so bright, Ye guards: not a man to bless: Who walks by another's sight, Groping, and all his might Anchored on feebleness.
Chorus [Confusedly.
Antistrophe. —Ah there! His eyes, they are visionless! Was it then ever so? Even from birth? —A bitter lifetime, a long long lifetime is written there. Yet, if I can aid, Thou shalt not add sin to thy sorrows, O Stranger.[Pg 27 154-173] For this is great trespass! The wrath of the earth Lies in that speechless glade, Where the grass is green below, And rock-cupped waters flow With offerings honey-sweet Blended . . . Ah back! Thy feet Back there! And speak not yet. [He moves a step or two out.
Leader
Back still. It is safer there. Dost hear me, thou desolate, Thou age-worn wanderer? Out from the precinct, nearer still Where the ground is free. Then speak thy will.
Oedipus [Hesitating.
My child, what can one think?
Antigone
Incline
Thy will, Father, to these men's will.
Oedipus [Assenting.
Give me thy hand.
Antigone
'Tis laid in thine.
Oedipus
I come.—Oh, bring me not to ill, Strangers, because I trusted you And did as ye would have me do.
Leader
No man shall move thee more. No man Shall break thy rest or show thee wrath.
Oedipus
Further?
Leader
Yes.
Oedipus
Further?
Leader
Still a span: Thou lead him: thou canst see the path. [To Antigone. There, 'tis enough.
Oedipus
Now may I sit?
Leader
Aye; crouch a little: at thy right The rock's edge . . .
Antigone
I will show thee it.
Oedipus [Seating himself on the Rock seat.
Oh, without hope or sight!
Leader
Unhappy one, now thou hast ease again, Say who thou art, thus woman-led in pain; What is thy fatherland?
Oedipus [Desperately.
I have no land . . .
And now, no further!
Leader
I scarce understand.
Oedipus
Ask me not who I am, nor strive nor seek . . .
Leader
What can this mean?
Oedipus
Dark is my race . . .
Leader [Sternly.
Come, speak!
Oedipus
My child, what shall I say?
Leader
Speak swiftly thou!
Thy lineage and thy father's name!
Oedipus
Woe's me,
What will become of us?
Antigone
Best face them now
And speak; we are on the edge of destiny.
Oedipus
Then speak I will; Strangers, I have no way To hide it more . . .
Leader
Ye both make long delay.
Oedipus
Ye know by fame one born of Laius . . .
Chorus [Confusedly.
O God!
Oedipus
. . . a Prince of the Labdacidae,
Chorus [In tumult.
Great God in heaven!
Oedipus
. . . the ill-starred Oedipus?
Chorus
God shield us! Thou art he?
Various Voices [Confused.
O horror beyond horror!—Get thee gone! Hated of God!—Out, out, accursèd one!
Oedipus
Fear not the words I speak . . .
Chorus
—Thou bleeding stain,
Thou sin incarnate!
Oedipus (to Antigone)
Child, what will they do?
Chorus
—Out from the land! Begone for ever, both! —Out from the land!
Oedipus
Ye gave but now your oath . . .
Chorus
—Go, go! And far from Athens . . . both the twain!
Oedipus
. . . Will ye not prove it true?
Chorus [various voices.
—No; you deceived us first. Ye did a worse Wrong. Tis no sin to pay thee back in kind . . . —Shall we give faith and kindness for the curse Ye have cast on us?—Thou evil thing and blind, Speak not but go! We have no rest for thee In Athens. Go thy ways and leave her free!
[Oedipus, his voice drowned, loses heart and gives way: Antigone stands before him.
Antigone
O pitying strangers, since ye will not hear
My old blind father, for some tales ye have heard
Of his unpurposed sin, Oh, still give ear
To a lost maiden, and accept the word
I speak for his sake . . . See, I am not blind
As he is. I can look into your eyes;
Look into mine! 'Tis one of your own kind
Implores you for compassion. Our life lies
In your hand, as in heaven's . . . Unbend that brow
And grant the prayer we scarce dare hope for now.
Oh, if there be at home one thing you love
Most, I beseech you in the name thereof,
Be it woman, be it child, or work or God,
I that have nothing! And before you hate
My father, think what man can fly the road
That God hath marked and Fate.
Leader
Daughter of Oedipus, both him and thee We pity in this strange calamity. Yet if he stay, on all our land we dread God's wrath for harboured sin.—Our word is said.
Oedipus [Who has recovered himself.
What good is in men's praise? What profiteth High rumour, rolling like an idle breath? In fame is Athens the most god-fearing[Pg 34 260-283] Of cities; only she is swift to bring Help to the stranger vexèd, only she Strong to defend the weak. . . . Are you for me That Athens? Who have brought me here, beguiled From refuge, and then hunt me to the wild In dread at my mere name? For sure 'tis not Myself ye fear, nor any deed I wrought . . . If deeds ye call what were more sufferings Than doings . . . Since ye make me speak the things Ye dread me for, my parents, and the whole Darkness, how dare ye call me in my soul Evil? They planned my death: I smote again My smiters. Was that sin? Nay, had my brain Seen all my hand was working, even so 'Twere no great sin. As things were, each dark blow I struck, was struck unknowing, but those two Who cast their child to death, they knew, they knew! Oh, in God's name, I charge you, since 'tis ye None else, have drawn me from this sanctuary, Be now yourselves mine altar. Nor be hot To help the Gods with wrath. They need it not. They know the innocent and they know the man Of sin, and never since this world began Hath wrong escaped them and gone free. Let Them Suffice for me, nor cloud the diadem Of blessèd Athens by this traitor's deed. [To the Leader. O thou who didst accept me in my need,[Pg 35 284-300] Be true! Save me and keep! Nor, quailing now To see the wreck and horror of this brow, Cast me away. Both god-fearing am I And altar-sacred, and a boon most high I bring your people. When there cometh he Who needs must come, your King, whoe'er he be, Then ye shall hearken and know all; till then, Do me no wrong.
Leader
O ancient among men,
I needs must bow before thy counsel, thus
In grave words uttered. It sufficeth us
To leave thee judgeless 'till the King be come.
Oedipus
Where dwells your king?
Leader
He keeps his father's home,
The fortress of our land. A messenger,
The same who found me, went to seek him there.
Oedipus
Think ye himself will come? Hath a king's mind Room for the call of one so poor and blind?
Leader
For sure he will. Thou hast far-reaching fame In Greece, old man, and once he hears thy name, Though sleeping, he would wake and hither speed.
Oedipus
Pray heaven, he come, to serve his city's need And mine! His own true welfare he must seek.
Antigone [Looking off.
O Zeus! How dare I think it? Dare I speak?
Oedipus
What is it, child Antigone?
Antigone
I see
A damsel on a colt of Sicily,
Her hat broad-shaded to the sun; apace
She rides to us. I cannot see her face . . .
Is it or is it not? I lose my way
Thinking; yes; no. I know not what to say.
Ah, she dismounts. . . . She has waved to me and smiled!
Father! It is Ismênê.
Oedipus
How, my child?
What sayst thou?
Antigone
Tis thy daughter and mine own
Sister. Her voice . . . Ah, thou wilt know its tone.
Ismene [Entering.
O Father! Sister! Names so sweet of sound, How hardly have I found you! And when found I scarce can see you for these blinding tears.
Oedipus
Child, thou art come!
Ismene
O Father, how the years
Have wrecked thee!
Oedipus
Thou art with us?
Ismene
And some pain
It cost me.
Oedipus
Touch me, child.
Ismene
To both the twain
I reach my hands. [All three clasp hands.
Oedipus
O sisters true to me!
Ismene
Alas, what suffering, suffering, lives!
Oedipus
That she
And I must lead?
Ismene
And I because of you.
Oedipus
Why hast thou come?
Ismene
To give thee service true.
Oedipus
Thou hast longed to see me?
Ismene
I had news for thee,
And came myself to bring it secretly
With this one faithful thrall to guide my way.
Oedipus
The young strong men, thy brothers, where are they?
Ismene
They! They are where they are; and dire their state.
Oedipus
Those two! 'Tis said, in Egypt the men wait At home in comfort, sitting at the loom Indoors, while out abroad the women roam, Toiling to earn their bread. 'Tis so with you My daughters. They whose place it was to do These deeds, like girls at home will stay at ease While you two in their stead go forth to appease Your father's sufferings. This one, from the day She ceased to be a child and won her way Towards womanhood, hath ever been my guide, The old man's staff. She has wandered through the wide Forests; aye, often hungry, with bare feet, She has trod through wintry rain and scorching heat. She thought not of the ease and royal fare At home, could but her father have due care. And thou, child, camest forth in former days From Thebes to let me know by secret ways All oracles that touched my destiny. A faithful watcher, Child, I had in thee, When first they drove me from the land. But now What brings thee to this place? What comest thou To tell me? For I trow not empty here Thou comest, nor without some load of fear.
Ismene
I will not tell what dangers of the road Befell me, searching for the unknown abode That covered thee. Why should I wake again By a tale told those memories of pain? But thine ill-fated sons: 'tis of the fell Doom that besets those two, I came to tell. At first they were content thy throne should be Passed on to Creon; that alone would free Thebes from her stain, so thought they, pondering What ancient poisons to thy lineage cling. Then, or by act of god, or by their own Wild hearts, between those brothers twain was sown A seed of strife—O thrice-infatuate!— To grasp again at power and kingly state. Now, in hot youth, the second of the pair Hath ta'en from Polynîcês, the true heir, His crown and right, and cast him from the land. He fled, as now in Thebes the rumours stand, To hill-girt Argos: there, though poor and lost, Won the king's daughter; won an armèd host To swear that Argos now, as his ally, Shall lay Thebes low or lift her to the sky In glory. 'Tis not words; deeds terrible Are gathering here, Father. And who can tell What gods may yet have pity for thy fall?
Oedipus
Hadst thou that hope? How should the gods at all Have thought for me, to raise me ere I die!
Ismene
What gives me hope is their last prophecy.
Oedipus
An oracle, my child? What hath it said?
Ismene
That thou beyond all else, alive or dead, Shalt be desired of Thebes, if Thebes would live.
Oedipus
Live? What life is there such as I could give?
Ismene
The secret health of Thebes is lodged in thee.
Oedipus
I am nothing; who can make a man of me?
Ismene
The gods o'erthrew thee, they can raise thee too.
Oedipus
Raise, weak with age, whom young and strong they threw?
Ismene
Creon himself believes that word of fate. He is travelling here himself and will not wait.
Oedipus
Explain, my child. What seeks he by such toil?
Ismene
To have thy body not in Theban soil But in their grasp, close by the border laid.
Oedipus
Beyond their gates, how can I bring them aid?
Ismene
Thy tomb, left in neglect, would work them woe.
Oedipus
That much without god's warning they might know.
Ismene
For fear of that they fain would bury thee Within their own control, not leave thee free.
Oedipus
Some Theban dust they will give to wrap me in?
Ismene
That is forbid thee by thine ancient sin.
Oedipus
Then never shall they hold me in their power!
Ismene
Woe, then to Thebes, when comes the appointed hour!
Oedipus
What visitation, child, shall bring their doom?
Ismene
Thine anger, when their feet shall tread thy tomb.
Oedipus
From whose word, daughter, is this presage known?
Ismene
From sacred envoys to the Delphic throne.
Oedipus
'Tis truly of me, Apollo hath spoken thus?
Ismene
'Tis thus the word from Delphi came to us.
Oedipus
Hath either of my sons that message heard?
Ismene
Both; they have pondered well Apollo's word.
Oedipus
False-hearted sons! Their rank and royalty Were more to them than any thoughts of me.
Ismene
I grieve to hear such words, yet hear I must.
Oedipus
Then quench not, O ye gods, if gods are just,
Their fore-ordained strife! And be it mine
This issue to decide, which now they join,
Spear against spear, in never-ending hate;
Then neither shall that man abide in state
Who now sits crowned, nor he that is cast out
Ever return. They spoke not, hindered not,
They stood and saw their father, driven in shame
From land and home, with heralds to proclaim
His everlasting exile. Wilt thou say
'Twas then mine own wish to be cast away,
And Thebes but granted what I asked? Not so.
On that first day, when all my soul, I know,
Was fiery with self-loathing, death alone
Seemed kind, the sinner's death by stone on stone.
None then stood forth to give me my desire.
But after, when, with length of days, the fire
Was burnt out, and I grew to know that wrath
Had swept me away upon too wild a path,
Too fierce a judgement of an old misdeed,
Twas then, then, after years, that Thebes decreed
My banishment; and they, born of my blood,[Pg 45 441-464]
Sons, in a father's peril, when they could
Have helped me would not, till for lack of one
Slight word I was cast out, beggared, alone,
Till death; save only that these sisters, two
Young girls, with what of strength they had, were true;
Came with me, found the food I live by, made
The earth no longer dreadful to my tread.
My only kindred these; these gave me love.
But those two sons—so hear me Zeus above!—
Who sold their father for a royal seat
And sceptre, and Thebes bowing at their feet,
My voice shall save them not, nor shall my throne
Bring blessing. That I know, and long have known
By ancient voices that long since have rolled
About me, and the tale this maid hath told.
Bid them send out their trackers—Creon, yea,
And what so traitor else in Thebes hath sway,
Will ye but take me in, will ye but stand
With These, the Holy Ones who watch your land,
Athens hath here a well-spring from which flows
Strong help for her and downfall to her foes.
Leader
Most worthy art thou, Oedipus, of all Compassion, thou and these two maids withal; And more, we ponder on that secret vow Of help through thee to Athens. Therefore now I fain would give thee warning for thy weal.
Oedipus
Friend, speak thy warning. I will all fulfil.
Leader
Make offering to these Spirits, to whose ground Thou first hast come, and crossed their holy bound.
Oedipus
What is the ritual, Stranger? Let me know.
Leader
First, from a fountain of unfailing flow Draughts must be poured by hands without a stain.
Oedipus
By stainless hands? And when the draught is ta'en?
Leader
Great urns, an artist's work, are there; all down The edge and the two handles weave a crown.
Oedipus
A crown of wool, or green leaves, or what kind?
Leader
A young lamb's fleece about it should be twined.
Oedipus
So be it; and after—how complete the rite?
Leader
Pour with thy face set toward the rising light.
Oedipus
Into those crownèd urns the gift is poured?
Leader
Three times; the vessel emptied at the third.
Oedipus
How should I fill it? Make that also clear.
Leader
With water and honey; let no wine be near.
Oedipus
And when the shadowed Earth has drunk my gift?
Leader
In both thine arms branches of olive lift Thrice nine, and laying them, thy prayer recite:
Oedipus
Speak it. That prayer must be a charm of might.
Leader
As they are called The Merciful, beseech That now they will a hand of mercy reach To save their suppliant; let that prayer be said By thee, or whoso speaketh in thy stead, With un-uplifted voice and speech unheard; Then go, and look not back. In every word Do thus, and I beside thee joyfully Will stand; else, stranger, I should fear for thee.
Oedipus
Daughters, ye heard what these near-dwellers say?
Ismene
We heard. Give us thy charge and we obey.
Oedipus
I can not go. A twofold plague on me Is laid, who have no strength and cannot see. Go, one of you, then, and perform the rite. The prayer of one pure heart, I think, hath might To atone for many. Let what must be done Be done with speed. But leave me not alone The while. My body scarce hath power to stand Friendless, or move without some guiding hand.
Ismene
I will perform the rite. But will ye not Direct me, strangers, to the appointed spot?
Leader
'Tis in this grove, but at the further side; And if thou hast need of aught, there is a guide Keeping the shrine, who will advise with thee.
Ismene
So, to my task. And thou, Antigone,
Watch o'er our father. Toiling for his sake
An aching body thinks not of the ache.
[Exit Ismene.
Chorus
Strophe.
It were cruel to awaken into life an ancient anguish
That hath long been untroubled in its rest,
Yet I long to ask . . .
Oedipus
What ask ye?
Chorus
Of the sick wound beyond healing, That hath all, all, the life of thee opprest.
Oedipus
Ah, unveil not to the sunlight the long shame that I have suffered,
I pray thee; grant so much to a guest.
Chorus
Tis a tale spread wide and never ceasing,
And I fain would know the truth.
Oedipus
Woe is me!
Chorus
Thou wilt bear with us, I pray thee.
Oedipus
Woe is me!
Chorus
Nay, I beseech thee Give grace to me as I gave to thee.
Oedipus
Antistrophe.
I have borne a yoke of evil that I willed not, God be witness!
Not one step I purposed of the way.
Chorus
What evil?
Oedipus
To a bondage of great sin the City bound me, They bound me on their high bridal day.
Chorus
'Twas a mother, though that name can scarce be spoken,
They delivered to thine arms, so men say.
Oedipus
Woe is me, 'tis death to hear it! Ye have spoke the word, O strangers;
And these twain that in my darkness I begot . . .
Chorus
Ah, what wilt thou?
Oedipus
My two daughters, two destroyers . . .
Chorus
God in heaven!
Oedipus
On a mother's flesh were wrought.
Chorus
Strophe 2.
Then these are both thy children and . . .
Oedipus
The very sisters of their sire.
Chorus
Oh, horror!
Oedipus
Horrors beyond count Come sweeping on my soul, like fire.
Chorus
Thou hast suffered!
Oedipus
Yes, I have suffered; pangs Are mine that never sleep nor tire.
Chorus
Thou hast done . . .
Oedipus
I did no deed!
Chorus
No deed?
Oedipus
I took a gift the City gave. Oh, why should she have given me that, The City that I sought to save?
Chorus
Antistrophe. Unhappy! Blood, too, on thy hand!
Oedipus
What wouldst thou? What dost seek to know?
Chorus
A father's blood.
Oedipus
Thou seekest still Torture on torture, blow on blow!
Chorus
Didst thou not slay?
Oedipus
I slew. But there Mine innocent heart hath answer, too.
Chorus
What answer?
Oedipus
'Twas but Justice.
Chorus
How?
Oedipus
'Tis simply told. The man I slew Would have slain me. In will, in law, Unstained I did what I must do.
Leader
See, at thy call, King Theseus, Aigeus' son,
Cometh himself; thy prayer will now be won.
[Enter Theseus.
Theseus
I know thee, Child of Laïus. Legendwise The blood-dark desolation of thine eyes Hath reached my ears, and here being come to-day Thou hast made thy tale more clear. This wild array And grief-dishonoured brow suffice to prove Thou art that King indeed, and needs must move Our pity. Say what now can comfort thee. What ask ye of my city or of me, Thou and thy most sad helper? 'Twere a dire Task that should make me shrink from your desire, Who well remember how myself, a child, Bore exile like to thine, and peril piled On peril fronted on strange shores alone, Which no man else hath borne. Therefore from none Who walks, like thee, in travail on strange ground Will I avert mine eyes. Here, standing crowned, I know my lot is mortal and for me Abides no surer morrow than for thee.
Oedipus
Theseus, thy nobleness in little speech Hath saved me long discourse. No need to teach My name to thee nor country, nor the race I spring from. All thou knowest. One sole grace I have to ask thee and my tale is told.
Theseus
So be it. I fain would hear.
Oedipus [After a slight pause.
Theseus, this old
And grief-worn body as a gift I bear
To Athens and to thee; not passing fair
To human eyes, yet 'tis a precious thing.
Theseus
How precious, friend? What blessing will it bring?
Oedipus
Hereafter thou shalt learn, not now. Not now.
Theseus
At what time shall we feel it? Knowest thou?
Oedipus
When I am dead and thou hast made my grave.
Theseus
Nay! Is it Time's last bounty thou wilt crave, With all between uncared for or forgot?
Oedipus
Give me the last: the rest shall fail me not.
Theseus
Full gladly I would grant some larger grace.
Oedipus
Think! think! 'Tis no light trial thou shalt face.
Theseus
How? Will thy sons some blame against me bring?
Oedipus
They seek to take me back to Thebes, O King.
Theseus
In kindness? Then 'twere ill to stay exiled.
Oedipus
When I craved home they drove me to the wild.
Theseus
Proud heart! Small help is, in affliction, pride.
Oedipus
Wait. E'er thou hast heard all, forbear to chide.
Theseus
Say on. I must not judge before I know.
Oedipus
Long have I suffered, woe on deadly woe . . .
Theseus
What wouldst thou tell? That ancient tale of blood?
Oedipus
Nay; that tale everywhere is understood: This is another. I am cast away By mine own folk from mine own land, and may Never return nor dwell with them again. My father's blood hath left too deep a stain.
Theseus
How can they call thee home, being thus shut out?
Oedipus [Mysteriously.
The mouth of God shall compass them about.
Theseus
With dread of some foreshadowed misery?
Oedipus
That in this land, unless preserved by me, Thebes shall be smitten and perish.
Theseus
All is peace
'Twixt Thebes and me. How should that comfort cease?
Oedipus
Fair Aigeus' son, only to gods on high Not to grow old is given, nor yet to die, All else is turmoiled by our master, Time. Decay is in earth's bloom and manhood's prime, Faith dies and Unfaith blossoms like a flower, And who of men shall find from hour to hour, Or in loud cities and the marts thereof, Or silent chambers of his own heart's love, One wind blow true for ever? Soon or late Hate shall be love and love veer back to hate. And now if summer shines and all is well 'Twixt Thebes and thee, lo, Time immeasurable Flows on, night after night, day after day, Till that day come when Thebes, in armed array, Raging for some slight cause, shall front you here And this fair concord scatter with the spear. Then, here beneath them, my wronged body, deep And cold, shall turn him in his starvèd sleep And drain the hot red blood of them, like dew, If God be still God and his Son speak true . . . But who would breathe the secrets of the dark? I end as I began. Do thou but mark My promise and thine own, and none shall say That Theseus on a false and wasted day Did welcome Oedipus beneath these skies[Pg 59 628-643] To dwell for ever more . . . unless God lies.
Leader
Sire, from the first, sure-seeming promises He hath made to Athens, these and like to these.
Theseus
Who would reject the hand of such a man? Have not his fathers shared, since Thebes began, Our hearth in sojourn and our arms in war? And he, by men cast off and driven afar, Hath none save God and me; from such an one Cometh great vengeance or great benison. I will not spurn his prayer nor cast away The boon of his good will. . . . Be thou this day Our citizen. [He clasps Oedipus' hand. Oedipus much moved cannot at first answer. Stay, if it pleasure thee, Here under these men's care; or come with me To mine own house. Have it which way thou please.
Oedipus
O Zeus, be merciful to men like these!
Theseus
Which wouldst thou, then? Wilt share my hearth and cheer?
Oedipus
If that might be . . . ! But no. The place is here.
Theseus
The place? For what? I will not hinder thee.
Oedipus
Where I shall break them that rejected me.
Theseus
If that could be, 'twere great.
Oedipus
It shall be, friend,
If but thy word stay faithful to the end.
Theseus
Fear not. I shall not fail thee.
Oedipus
'Tis enough.
I would not, like a man of slighter stuff,
Bind thee with oaths.
Theseus
'Twould bring no surer trust.
Oedipus
How wilt thou act, then?
Theseus
What dost fear the most?
Oedipus
Those men will come . . .
Theseus
In these men's care thou art.
Oedipus
And if thou leave me . . .
Theseus
Teach me not my part!
Oedipus
'Tis fear constrains me.
Theseus
I know naught of fear.
Oedipus
Thou knowest not their threats.
Theseus
I know, from here No man in my despite shall carry thee. These threats; how often in some ecstasy Of wrath men rage in stormy words and vain! But when the true mind is enthroned again All is forgot. These men who wax so bold[Pg 62 661-684] In wrath, and swear to tear thee from my hold, May find, I think, before such heights they scale, A sundering sea too wide, too hard to sail. Thou needst not me. If Lord Apollo here Hath led thee, here canst sojourn without fear; Howbeit, the name of Theseus, though his arm Be distant, shall safeguard thee from all harm. [Exit Theseus.
Chorus
Here, where the Warrior Steed had birth, Come, wanderer, to a place of rest, A home, the dearest upon earth, Beneath Colonus' gleaming crest. Often a secret music through this vale Comes thrilling, where some sweet-voiced nightingale Hides in a dell of green; She loves the clustering ivy, dark as wine, And that deep-leaved, that thousand-berried shrine, Where no foot treads, where never sun may shine Nor storm-wind pierce the screen. Only the mystic Dionysus there, Ringed by the nymphs who erst his cradle bare, Treadeth his dance unseen. Here blossoms in fresh dew from heaven The crocus with its gleam of gold, And clusters of narcissus, given As crowns by men of old To Maid and Mother, goddesses most high;[Pg 63 685-711] Nor ever run those sleepless channels dry Which shepherd o'er the plain The runlets of Cephîsus; day by day Through earth's deep bosom he will wind his way, And swift her life increaseth, whereso stray Those waters without stain; A haunt not hated by the Muses' band, Nor turneth Aphrodîtê from this land Averse her golden rein. One bloom I know is hers, which hath no peer In Asian lands nor Pelops' Dorian isle. A thing self-born, a dread to the hostile spear, Fearless of force or guile, Whose root most richly in this soil hath sprung, The gray-leaved Olive, nurse of all things young; Which nor the craft of age nor youth's wild will With ravishing hand shall conquer; orbed on high Zeus of the Olive guards her still, and still Flashes Athena's eye. And one last praise I utter o'er this land, Our Mother; 'tis a gift to her alone Set out by Cronos-born Poseidon's hand, Who raised her to this throne, And made her mistress of his secrets three, The Horses, the Young Horses, and the Sea. The Horse he gave; the Curb that maketh sweet[Pg 64 712-729] Its wildness on our ways; the Oar he gave Deft to man's hand, fast following o'er the wave The Nereids' hundred feet.
Antigone [Looking off.
O land by all men's praises richly blest, Now shall thy shining honour meet the test.
Oedipus
Daughter, what is it?
Antigone
Father, hitherward
Creon is coming, Creon with his guard.
Oedipus
O Elders, if you love me, 'tis in you Alone that I may find deliverance true!
Leader
Fear not. It shall be thine. Though I be frayed
With age, the strength of Athens doth not fade.
[Enter Creon with armed guards.
Creon
Ye gentle habitants, do I surmise A sudden trouble clouding in your eyes At my approach? Nay, prithee, put all dread[Pg 65 730-758] Away, and let no word of wrath be said. 'Tis not in any mood for violent deeds I come, an old man, to a land which leads All Hellas in renown and majesty, To beg this wanderer to return with me, Two aged Thebans, home to Thebes again. Not my sole voice, but every citizen Through me doth call him, seeing that I, in race His nearest, suffer most for his distress. O Oedipus unhappy, hear my call: Come to thy home. The sons of Cadmus all Pray thee with right, but none with right so great As mine, who most for thy forlorn estate —Were I not else the vilest of mankind?— Feel pain, old friend, whom on strange soil I find For ever wandering, lacking all, thine aid In travel none, alas, but this one maid. Poor girl, whom never I had thought to see Fallen like this to shame and misery; Her only care thee and thy wounded face; Begging her food; so young, a husbandless Virgin, a prey to every passer by! Ah, shame upon me! 'Tis a wrong most high 'Gainst thee, 'gainst me, 'gainst all our house and pride! I have named it: 'tis a thing too gross to hide. Oh, by our fathers' gods, sweep it away, Thou, Oedipus, and grant me what I pray, Consenting to come with me to thine own Land, to thy fathers' house. All love be shown To Athens: she is worthy: but more worth[Pg 66 759-784] Is home, thy home which fostered thee from birth.
Oedipus
Man, wilt thou shrink from nothing? Canst devise
Always a fair front built by subtle lies?
Dost hope to cheat me still; trap me again
In snares whose memory is my bitterest pain?
In the early days when, sick with mine own sin,
I prayed to be cast out, to hold me in
And thwart my longing was thy whole intent;
But when my fury of self-rage was spent
And sweet it seemed in mine own house to stay
Sheltered, then thou must have me thrust away
From home, from country; little to thy mind
Was then all this regard for kith and kind.
And now again, when thou hast found me here
Well-friended in this city and held dear
By her strong sons, thy one thought is to part
Me from her, by soft words from a hard heart.
How should it please me, thus, against my mood
And will, by them I love not to be wooed?
If one when thou wert starving brought no aid,
But after, when all hunger was allayed,
Lavished his graceless meats, would that not be
A vain thing? That is what thou bringst to me;
Soft promises with bitter deeds behind!
Come, I will speak and show these friends what kind
Of man thou art. In love thou comest now
To lead me to mine own old home? Not thou!
Thou com'st to lay my dead bones in a grave[Pg 67 785-805]
Beyond thy borders, that their spell may save
Thy land for ever from the invader's tread.
That thou shalt never have! I grant instead
Deep in thy soil, rooted eternally,
My curse; and to my two sons I decree
My land . . . enough to die in! . . . Is it I
Or thou more surely knoweth what things lie
In store for Thebes? 'Tis I, not thou, have heard
The surer message, even Apollo's word,
Which errs not, being the word of Zeus, his sire.
Thy lips are as a sword engaged for hire
And sharpened; but the use of it will wreak
More ill than good to them that bade thee speak.
But go. I know I cannot move thee. Go,
And leave me here, outcast . . . Aye, even so
I am content, so but I have my will.
Creon
Dost think thy wild words bring to me more ill Than to thyself, man, in our converse now?
Oedipus
I only pray that on my misery thou Mayst have no power, nor yet on these men's ears.
Creon
Unhappy man, not yet, for all thy years, Grown wise! Should age be so self-torturing?
Oedipus
That subtle tongue! No honest man can bring The self-same art to plead for good or ill.
Creon
Words may be many and yet lack all skill.
Oedipus
And thine, so brief, are certain of their aim?
Creon
With minds like thine, that were a hopeless claim.
Oedipus
Go! For these too I speak. Go, nor beset With spies this land, my home predestinate.
Creon
These men, not thou, can say what answer vain Thou hast made to kindness. Once I have thee ta'en . . .
Oedipus
Ta'en! Who can take me against these men's will?
Creon
So be it! . . . Yet I can make thee miserable.
Oedipus
These threats . . . what base have they, or what intent?
Creon
Thou hast two daughters. One I have seized and sent To Thebes. The other I shall take anon.
Oedipus
Woe's me!
Creon
Thou soon shalt have good cause to moan.
Oedipus
Thou hast ta'en my child!
Creon
And soon shall have them both.
Oedipus
Friends! Friends! What say you? Will you keep your oath? Oh, cast from Athens this ungodly man!
Leader
Stranger, begone! Unlawful is the plan Thou plottest—and unlawful thy deeds done.
Creon [To the Guards.
'Tis time, men. Seize the girl there. Get her gone Quickly. Use force if she will not obey.
Antigone
Where can I go? What succour can I pray From god or man?
Leader
Stranger, what deeds are these?
Creon
I touch not him. 'Tis my own ward I seize.
Oedipus
Elders of Athens!
Leader
Man, a deed thou hast done
'Gainst law . . .
Creon
Most lawful!
Leader
How?
Creon
I claim my own.
Oedipus
Strophe.
O Athens!
Leader
Wouldst thou so? Back, stranger. Set her free. Shall it be word or blow?
Creon
Hands off, man!
Leader
Not from thee, Not while such things can be!
Creon
Touch me and Thebes in arms shall join the fray.
Oedipus
I warned you. . .
Leader
I command you, set her free!
Creon
Give orders where thou hast authority.
Leader
Let go, I charge you!
Creon
Captain, go your way.
Chorus
Forward! Oh, forward here, Ye who about us dwell! Forward! They wrong our dear Athens, our citadel By force. Oh, guard her well!
Antigone
Woe's me! They are dragging me. O strangers, friends . . .
Oedipus
Where art thou, child?
Antigone
I am torn away from thee.
Oedipus
Thy hand, my child!
Antigone
I cannot move my hands.
Creon
Away with her!
Oedipus
Misery, misery! [Exeunt Soldiers with Antigone.
Creon
So those two loving crutches shall no more Support thy goings! 'Tis thy will to score A victory o'er thy kindred and thy state, Whose servant, I, their king, am designate? Enjoy thy victory! Thou shalt learn at last Thy lesson, that both now and in time past A fool thou hast been to spurn all well-wishers And have no guide but rage, thy lifelong curse.
Leader
Hold, stranger! Stay!
Creon
I warn thee; drop that arm.
Leader
I will not, till those maids are safe from harm.
Creon
A greater forfeit then shall Athens pay Than those two girls. I seek a larger prey.
Leader
What mean'st thou?
Creon
This blind man shall follow too.
Leader
Thou threatenest us?
Creon
And what I threaten do.
Leader
Not if the Prince of Athens hinders thee!
Oedipus
That pitiless voice! Wilt thou lay hands on me?
Creon
Be silent, thou!
Oedipus
O grant me, of your grace,
Voice, even here, ye spirits of this place,
To speak one curse! Thou cruellest of men,
Mine eyes of old being darkened, hast thou then
My one light, my true eye, unshielded, torn
By violence from me? Therefore, be it sworn!
The all-seeing Sun on thee and all thy line
Shall bring to pass . . . an old age such as mine!
Creon
Ye see his madness, people of the land?
Oedipus
They see both me and thee, and understand, To what deeds I retort with empty breath.
Creon
By force then, for I will not curb my wrath, Alone here as I am and old and slow, Myself will seize him.
Oedipus
Woe upon thee, woe!
Chorus
Antistrophe. Stranger, a boldness rare Is thine if such a thought Thou darest.
Creon
See! I dare.
Chorus
Are Athens' laws as naught?
Creon
Weakness can master strength when justice leads.
Oedipus
Ye hear his words?
Leader
Which never shall be deeds!
Zeus knoweth!
Creon
Zeus may know, not thou for sure!
Leader
This is an outrage.
Creon
One you must endure.
Chorus
Hither, ye people all! 'Tis crime, and more than crime. Lords of the land, I call For succour, for help in time! [Enter Theseus.
Theseus
What means that cry? What work is here? What fear hath made you summon me From the high Altar where I stood in prayer to Him who Rules the Sea, The Lord of your Colonus? Speak and tarry not; let all be said; For hot-foot, recking not of ease or order, to your call I sped.
Oedipus
O faithful friend, 'tis thou! Thy voice I know. This man hath wronged me, struck me a coward's blow.
Theseus
What kind of wrong? And who hath wrought it? Say.
Oedipus
Yon Creon, whom thou seest, hath torn away Both, both, those that are left to me, and fled.
Theseus
What means he?
Oedipus
What I have suffered I have said.
Theseus [To his attendants.
Up, with all speed! Go, take mine order straight
To yonder altars where my people wait.
Break off the sacrifice. Bid foot and horse
Uncurbed, together, speed to where the course
Of the two trackways joins, lest they get past
Our border watch unseen, and I be cast
To scorn as one by strangers easily
Despoiled and mocked at. Up, I tell thee; fly!
For this man, if mine anger ranged as far
As his offences, not without a scar
Had he escaped my grasp. But, as it is,
On him my sentence shall be even as his
On those two maids . . . Thou art my prisoner here,[Pg 78 908-936]
And shalt not move till thou restore them, clear
And free before mine eyes. The deed thou hast done
Is worthy neither of me nor of thine own
City nor race. Thou hast trespassed on a land
Observing justice, firm to take her stand
Always on law; rushed in and, hot with pride,
Swept all the City's 'stablished powers aside;
Ta'en prisoners at thy pleasure; laid thine hand
On all that pleased thee. Is Athens then a land
Of slaves, not men, and I a thing of naught?
Thebes, surely, to such doings schooled thee not;
She never chose unrighteous sons to rear.
She will not speak thy praises, if she hear
Thy wrong to me, thy wrong to God on high,
Wrought on His suppliants in their misery.
Would I, suppose my foot were on thy soil,
Without due permit from its King, take spoil
And ransom? Nay, although as clear as day
My rights were, I should know too well what way
Of life is seemly in an alien land.
But thou on thine own Thebes hast laid a brand
Of shame that she deserves not. Age hath brought
Grey hairs to thee, but no grey powers of thought.
Therefore I tell thee again, and thou take heed:
Have those two maids brought hither with all speed
Unless thou wouldst make longer in the land
Thy much enforcèd sojourn. This command
Comes not from my lips only but my heart.
Leader
Stranger, 'tis so. Of righteous blood thou art And noble, but thy deeds belie thy blood.
Creon
Neither in counsel nor in hardihood Lacking, O Son of Aigeus, did I deem Thy folk; but entering here, how could I dream So strong a fancy for my kinsfolk would Possess them, as to claim them theirs for good, Against my will? I felt full sure beside Athens would scarce receive a parricide, A man incestuous, known to all as one Stained by a mother coupling with her son: Full sure the wisdom that in Ares' Rock Is rooted ne'er would take wayfaring folk Of that sort in her sacred boundaries. In such belief I sought to take my prize. Nor, even so thinking, had I turned to force, Until on me and mine he laid a curse Most deadly. Whereupon, being wronged, to smite The wrongdoer I reckoned but my right. For anger ages not, but burns till death. Only dead men no dolour wakeneth. Take, therefore, whatso action pleaseth thee, Since I, though just my cause, am solitary And powerless; yet for all my weakness I Some day will to thy deeds with deeds reply.
Oedipus
O shameless heart! And think'st thou to have thrown
On my grey head these horrors or thine own?
Hast cried aloud that stain of kindred gore,
Incest and desolation, which I bore
But willed not? 'Twas, methinks, the wrath divine
Against some dark forefather of my line,
Not me; in me what evil can ye find
For which I should be cursed with crimes so blind
'Gainst mine, and me? The oracle had said
My father . . . 'twas God's doom . . . should be struck dead
By his own son. Am I to be believed
Guilty, I, unbegotten, unconceived,
Unborn? And if thereafter, born to doom
Like that, I met and slew, not knowing whom
I slew nor what I did, my father, who
Can charge on me the crime I never knew
Nor willed? And then my mother, she, thine own
Sister, whose shame with gibes thou harpest on,
And seek'st to make me speak . . . Aye, speak I will,
Since thou of foulest talk hast had thy fill.
She was, she was, my mother . . . Misery! . . .
My mother, when I knew it not, nor she,
And to her shame bore children to the son
Herself had borne. But thou, what hast thou done?
With full will thou hast wakened, with full will,
My shame and hers. I did my deed of ill
Unwilling, and unwilling I speak now.
And this I say, that vainly seekest thou,
Or in that deed or in my father's death,[Pg 81 989-1013]
Which everlastingly with bitter breath
Thou hurl'st against me, a fair ground to call
Me evil. This thing answer me withal.
If, here and now, some stranger came and sought
To kill thee, thee, so strict in deed and thought,
Wouldst question: "Is this unknown man by chance
My father?" or strike quickly in defence.
Smite him, I think, if still thou lov'st the light,
Not look around thee for thy legal right.
In such a pass, by God bewildered, then
I strove. Oh, were my father risen again
I think, I think, himself would pardon me.
But thou . . . not righteous art thou, only free
To fling foul condemnations, mouth at will
Things speakable and things unspeakable,
All to defile me here before the eyes
Of strangers. Aye, and thou hast found it wise
To praise the fame of Theseus and of great
Athens, the just, the law-abiding state;
But this forgettest, that, if any land
On earth hath piety to understand
The gods' due rites, 'tis Athens; and 'tis there
Thou darest from the hearth of God to tear
This age-worn suppliant, violent hands to lay
On me, and my two daughters bear away.
Wherefore in prayer I lift my voice to these
Dread Goddesses against such enemies
To give due aid, so thou shalt learn ere long
What breed of men defends this land from wrong.
Leader
This man, though dogged by dire calamity, Is noble, Sire, and meet for help from thee.
Theseus
Enough! Or shall the plunderers of the land Escape while we, their victims, idly stand?
Creon
Speak thy commands to one whose light is low.
Theseus
Thou lead me on their track. Myself will go To escort thee. If thou hast hid the maids hard by, Reveal them to me. If their slavers fly Far off we need not trouble. There be those Gone forth whose nets even now about them close; They will not thank their gods for passage fair! Lead on; but know the hand that set the snare Is now ensnared. The hunter is the prey. The prizes of such treason melt away Full fast. Nor think of helpers; though I guess That never to such pride of recklessness Hadst thou advanced unarmed or unallied. Was there help here in which thou durst confide? That I must watch. My city neither can, Nor shall, be weaker than one lawless man. Dost understand at all? Or is it in vain I spoke to thee before, and speak again?
Creon
I came not here thy charges to deny; At home I shall know well how to reply.
Theseus
Threaten thy fill but go. Thou, Oedipus, Remain in peace, putting full trust in us. I swear, unless I die, I will restore Right soon the daughters whom thou longest for.
Oedipus
Theseus, may God reward thy nobleness,
And this foresheltering aid for my distress.
[Exeunt Theseus and Creon.
Chorus
It is there that I would be, Where the foemen turn at bay, With a shout, no more to flee, But confront us in the fray; Be it inland where the Great Rocks soar, Or amid the lit torches of the shore, Where an old rite is cherished and made young By the Holy Ones whose high golden Key Of Silence is laid upon the tongue Of the grave Eumolpidae. Is it there our Prince's word With a war-cry strong to save Shall awake the sleeping sword[Pg 84 1058-1079] Ere the border line be passed, And beside those sisters brave Stand at last? Or it may be, drawing nigh By the northward and the west To the pastures lying high Beneath Oicê's snowy crest, They are rushing in a rivalry of speed On chariots or on steed outvying steed. Oh, ours shall be the prize! Dread in fight Are the lances of Colonus; very dread Is the cavalry of Theseus, borne ahead With bridles flashing bright. For Athena they will ride, In their harness full of pride; For above them watcheth She With the Shaker of the Earth, Whom the Horse loves and the Sea, Rhea's birth. They strike; or do they wait their hour? A hope is whispering in my brain, Of sudden weakening in the power Of evil o'er those captives twain Much-suffering, who have found in these Their kinsmen their worst enemies. Ere evening falleth Zeus shall send Fulfilment of a wondrous end; The voices of my heart foretell[Pg 85 1080-1099] A day of battle ended well. But, Oh, amid the clouds to fly On storm-swift pinions of a dove, And, sudden, with far-ranging eye, Sweep on the battle from above! O Thou above all gods that are, All-seeing eye, all-ruling hand, Great Zeus, we pray thee, in this war Give strength to them who rule our land; And with thee let Athena be, Thy daughter, robed in majesty. And, oh, ye twain in swift array, Apollo, Hunter of the Prey, And Artemis, the Archer Maid, Fleet follower of the dappled doe Fast-flying, come, a twofold aid; To us and ours your mercy show! [Enter Theseus with Guards escorting Antigone and Ismene.
Leader
Ah, wanderer, mark! Not false the prophecy Of us, thy watchers. Yonder I descry The maidens with their escort drawing near.
Oedipus
Where? Where? What sayst thou?
Antigone
Father! Father dear!
Would that some god could give thee power to see
This brave man who has brought us back to thee!
Oedipus
Child, are ye both here?
Antigone
Yes. 'Tis Theseus' arm,
With his true guards, hath saved us from all harm.
Oedipus
Come to me, child, and let me feel once more Those dear arms that so long I looked not for!
Antigone
Thy prayer is mine. 'Tis what I long for most.
Oedipus
Where are ye? Where?
Antigone
Here, both. We are not lost.
Oedipus
Sweet flowers!
Antigone
All fathers of their own are fain.
Oedipus
Props of my age!
Antigone
And partners of thy pain. [The two daughters embrace their father.
Oedipus
I hold my best beloved, and cannot be Living or dead, unhappy utterly, With you beside me. Press my body, so, Children, on either side. Come closer. Grow Into your father's being. Breathe again From that hard path of loneliness and pain. And quickly as ye may . . . brief speech is well For maidens such as you . . . say what befell.
Antigone
Here stands our champion. As the deed was his, His be the tale. My task the lighter is.
Oedipus [To Theseus.
Thy pardon, if too long, too eagerly,
I have greeted these, mine own, restored to me
Past hope. I know through thee, through thee alone,
Like light upon our eyes, this joy hath shone.
'Tis thou, hast saved them. May the all-powerful God[Pg 88 1123-1148]
Grant such reward as I, the powerless, would,
To thee and to this land. For here I find
Alone among the cities of mankind
Honour and godliness and truth. Even so
I speak her praise, and what I speak I know,
Seeing all I have, O King, I have through thee.
Reach out, I pray thee, thy right hand for me
To clasp it close, friend, aye, and if I may,
To kiss thy cheek . . . Alas, what would I say?
Wretch that I am, how could I ask that thou
Shouldst bear the touch of one upon whose brow
Is burned every pollution that man knows . . .
I ask not, nor will suffer it. 'Tis those
Only who have my burden borne, may share
With me my desolation. Nay, stand there
Apart; I still can bless thee, friend, and thou
Still grant me the same righteous care as now.
Theseus
I marvel not that, having thus re-won
Thy lost ones, long in joy thy speech hath run,
Nor yet that their sweet greeting before mine
Hath claimed thy welcome. Why should I repine?
'Tis by deeds done I fain would seek to gird
My life to greatness, not the spoken word.
See, Father, have I failed in aught I swore
To do? Have I not brought them here, before
Thine eyes, alive, by all those menaces
Unscarred? About the fray scarce mine it is
To speak. Thou hast those with thee who, I know[Pg 89 1149-1165]
Will tell thee all. But, prithee, here bestow
Thy thought. There came a tale to me but now,
As here I came; no great thing, yet, I vow,
Strange; and the smallest thing may call for thought.
Oedipus
What is it, Son of Aigeus? I know naught Of what thou hast heard; say how the story ran.
Theseus
Some man, thy kin but not thy countryman, Hath cast him suppliant, I know not how, On the Altar of Poseidon, where but now I stood at sacrifice ere here I came.
Oedipus
Whence comes he? What doth his petition claim?
Theseus
I know but one thing; speech with thee, they say, He seeks, not long, not grievous any way.
Oedipus
To what end? Thus to kneel hath import grave.
Theseus
Some speech with thee; that only doth he crave, And then a safe return by the same road.
Oedipus
Who can it be who thus implores the God?
Theseus
Think if in Argos any of thy race Hath settled, who might seek to win thy grace.
Oedipus [Trembling.
O friend! Peace! No word more!
Theseus
What shakes thee so?
Oedipus
Ask me not that!
Theseus
What? Tell me all.
Oedipus
I know
That suppliant. Thy last question tells me all.
Theseus
On whom could it with such dire meaning fall?
Oedipus
My son, O King, the accursèd, whom to hear, Were anguish, like none other, to mine ear.
Theseus
Canst thou not hear him without doing aught Thou wouldst not? The mere hearing hurts thee not.
Oedipus
That voice, my son's, rings hateful to his sire. Compel me not to yield him his desire.
Theseus
The suppliant's knee is a compulsion hard To escape. The God too claimeth due regard.
Antigone
O Father, hear my word, though I be still
But young in counsel. Let Theseus fulfill
His own heart's prompting and the God revere.
For our sake, too, admit our brother here
To implore thee. He cannot force thee to revoke
Thy purpose—fear it not—by mere words spoke
Unwisely. But to hear him. . . . where can be
The harm in that? And if some treachery
Be brewing, speech will bring it to the test.
He is thy child, and though the cruellest
Of wrongs and most ungodly he had wrought
On thee, thou, Father, must requite him not.
Oh, let him come! Men have had evil sons
Ere now, and hot wrath, yet the gentle tones
Of counsel and the prayers of friends have power
Softly to charm away their evil hour.
Ah, turn again, remember what dire woe[Pg 92 1195-1214]
From sire, from mother, smote thee long ago.
Look to those days; and think on what a path
Thou then wast guided by this fire of wrath.
Alas, a living monitor thou hast
In those dark orbs, that light for ever lost.
Oh, yield to us! Dost see not? It is wrong
That those who pray for justice should pray long;
Or one who hath received great love should yet
Make no requital but stand obdurate.
Oedipus
Daughter, a grievous grace ye win from me, Pleading; but as ye will so let it be. Yet, if that man must come to me and speak . . . This only, Friend, I ask, that none shall seek Again to hold my body in his sway.
Theseus
Enough. That word once spoken I obey,
Old Prince. No boast I speak but promise true,
The god that guardeth me shall guard thee too.
[Exit Theseus.
Chorus
Who craveth more and ever more Of life, beyond his lotted span, As one astray and cleaving sore To the wrong road I judge that man. The stores his long days may have won[Pg 93 1215-1248] Move nearer suffering and defeat; And joy—he knows not where 'tis gone, When life lags longer than is meet, Till one Deliverer from all wrong The unseen portal openeth, Where lives no love, no lyre, no song, Only the last thing, Death. Not to be born, by all acclaim, Were best; but once that gate be passed, To hasten thither whence he came Is man's next prize—and fast, Oh fast! For, once he has unloosed his hand From Youth and Youth's light vanities, What blow can from his path be banned? What griefs will not be surely his? Strife, envy, falseness, blood and hate, Till, last, the curse of curses, lone, Despised, weak, friendless, desolate, Old age hath claimed his own. We are old and know suffering; but dread Is the doom of this stranger at the door. Like a wave-lashed and winter-beaten shore, By the tempests of the North overrun, The cold storms beat upon his head: There is storm from the sinking of the sun, And storm from his first going forth, Storm from the noon-tide's light, Storm from the mountains of the night, And the wild winds of the north.
Antigone
Ah, yonder! 'Tis that suppliant, meseems, Alone, untended. Father, his cheek streams With tears new-shed. 'Tis thee he seeks to find.
Oedipus
Who is he?
Antigone
Who but he that in our mind Hath been so long. 'Tis Polynîcês here. [Enter Polynices; Oedipus turns away.
Polynices
What shall I do? God help me, should this tear, Sisters, be shed for sufferings of my own Or his, my father's, aged and alone Save for you two, in a strange land outcast, In such a garb! Its ancient filth has passed Into his withered flesh, infecting all His flank; and o'er that eyeless face withal Long hair untended tosses in the wind. And food; poor fragments of a beggar's kind His nurture! Oh, I am accurst, accurst, To have learnt all this too late! Let me be first Now to bear witness that in villainy Most vile am I, thus to have tended thee! Hear what I am from no lips but my own. Yet doth not Mercy share the supreme throne Of Zeus in all his doings? Let her win[Pg 95 1268-1292] A place in thy heart, Father; for my sin May yet be atoned, made worse it cannot be. Why art thou silent? O Father, speak! Turn not away from me! Wilt answer nothing, but in silent scorn Reject me? Can that wrath that long hath torn Thy heart not speak? O ye, sprung from his seed, My sisters, try to move in my dire need Those lips implacable, inexorable! A suppliant here I kneel. It is not well To turn me thus, without a word, away. [Oedipus remains silent.
Antigone
Unhappy one, speak thou. Say all thy say. A flow of words may waken some old joys, Sorrows, or pities, that may render voice Back to the lips that had no voice before.
Polynices
So be it. I will speak out. I thank thee for That counsel. First, I summon to mine aid The God himself, at whose feet I was laid When the King raised me up and hither sent To speak and hear, with due enfranchisement Of safe return; which safety I require, Strangers, from you, my sisters, and my sire. Now, I will tell thee, Father, why I came. I am an outcast from my home, in shame And banishment, because, as elder son,[Pg 96 1293-1322] I claimed to sit upon thy sovereign throne; Whence Eteoclês, my younger, by no right Of law, by no ordeal of armèd might, Cozening the people's favour, had me cast To banishment. Whereof the first and last Cause I pronounce the Curse that clings to thee, No act of mine. And so our seers decree. Straightway to Dorian Argos did I bring My cause. I won the daughter of the King Adrastus. Then by oaths to me I bound Them that for deeds of war were most renowned In Argos. With their aid I now advance A sevenfold host, good wielders of the lance, 'Gainst Thebes, and either in just battle die Or cast the usurper down . . . Wilt ask me why I have now come hither? 'Tis a suppliant call And prayer to thee, Father, from me and all My host that round the plain of Thêbê stands, Seven mighty spearmen, seven united bands. Great Amphiaraüs, first in fight, is there, And first in all the auguries of the air; The Aetolian son of Oineus with his Vine, Tydeus; Eteoclus, of true Argive line; Hippomedon, sent by Talaos, his sire; Great Capaneus, who swears to burn with fire The tower of Thebes. Then from Arcadia came A knight who bears his warrior-mother's name, That Maid so long by lovers unbeguiled, Parthenopaeus, Atalanta's child. The chief am I, thy first-born—or if not[Pg 97 1323-1347] Thy son, then by some demon fate begot— To lead 'gainst Thebes the dauntless Argive spear. All these, by whatsoe'er to thee is dear, Home, child, or life, implore thee to forget Thy heavy wrath 'gainst me, who now am set Forth to chastise that brother who hath banned My right and robbed me of my fatherland. The oracles—if aught of truth there be In oracles—have spoke: whoso from thee Hath blessing shall the key of victory hold. Oh, by our springs and fountains, by the old Gods of our race, be softened! Look on me; Like thee I am a beggar, and like thee In a strange land. Like thee I have no home, Saving by court to strangers. The same doom Imprisons both, while yonder in our house The usurper in his pride makes mock of us. Father, if thou wilt join thy heart to ours, With little time or toil my gathered powers Will break his fences, lead thee to thy throne, 'Stablish in right thy honour and my own, And drive him to the winds. If thy good will Is with me all this hope I can fulfil: Without thee, I shall not return alive. [Oedipus stands silent.
Leader
Nay, for the sender's sake some answer give, Or good or ill, e'er he be turned away.
Oedipus
Lords of Colônus, hearken what I say.
Were this not Theseus' charge; had he not stirred
My heart to grant this man an answering word,
He ne'er had heard my voice. But be it so!
He shall not hence without an answer go,
And such an answer as shall bring, I trow,
Joy to his life no more. . . . Thou traitor, thou!
Thou, when thou hadst the sceptre and the throne
Which now thy brother holdeth for his own,
Didst me, thy father, drive unfriended, out
To exile; thou didst cast these rags about
My beggared frame, which now, made one with me
In toil and suffering, thou weepst to see.
I shed no tears. I bear what I must bear
Till death, remembering thee, my murderer.
'Tis thou hast made me thus to live in woe;
Thou hast cast me out. 'Tis by thy deed I go
A wanderer, begging from strange hands my lot
Of daily bread; and, had I not begot
These daughters, my true help, in certainty
I had died long since, for any aid from thee.
These girls have fed me, these preserve me, these
Are men, not women, for hard services.
But ye two brothers, ye are bastard blood,
Not sons of mine. Therefore the eye of God
Is burning—but not yet with all the hate
Stored for thine armies by the Theban gate.
Thou shalt not take that city. Thou shalt die
Blood-stained in sin, and with thy brother lie.
So ran the curse that my soul sent before[Pg 99 1375-1397]
Against you, and now calls to rise once more
To fight my battle, that ye two may deign
To reverence your begetters, and refrain
From trampling on an eyeless man, brought low
By sons like you. These two girls did not so.
Thy right of royal birth, thy suppliant's cry,
This curse annuls for ever, while on high
At the right hand of Zeus Justice shall hold
Her seat, true guardian of the laws of old.
Begone, thou thing abhorred and fatherless,
And with thee take, most foul in wickedness,
These words of doom, the last gift of my hand.
Thou shalt not wreck by war thy fatherland;
Thou shalt not back to Argos make thy way;
By hand of kindred thou shalt die, and slay
Dying, the man who flung thee from the throne.
Such doom I speak, and call in prayer the lone
Darkness from which we spring, that home again
It take thee, never more to dwell with men.
I call the awful spirits of this glade,
I call Ares the Slayer, who hath laid
In your two hearts the seed of that dire hate . . .
Hear and begone! To all in Thebes relate,
And thine own host, how Oedipus outshares,
With his last word, his kingdom to his heirs.
Leader
That e'er thou camest here, unhappy one, My heart can feel no joy; and now, begone.
Polynices
Woe for my coming and my baffled quest! Woe for my comrades! What an end unblest To that proud march from Argos! Such an end— I cannot speak thereof to any friend; I cannot turn my army back. Woe's me! Silent I go to meet my destiny. O Sisters, ye his children, who have heard Here at my side our father's ruthless word, I charge ye, by God's mercy, when on me That curse shall be fulfilled, if then you be In Thebes and home, leave not my body all Dishonoured; give me rites of burial And unction. So the praises that ye two Have earned from this man for your service true Shall be again by other praise not less Increased, for that last deed of faithfulness.
Antigone
Brother! I pray, in one thing list to me!
Polynices
What wouldst thou? Speak, most dear Antigone.
Antigone
Turn back thy host to Argos; quickly, now; E'er all be lost, Thebes and thy friends and thou.
Polynices
It may not be. If I turn back, the men I lead now ne'er would follow me again.
Antigone
Again? But why again? What good should come To thee, brother, from having wrecked thy home?
Polynices
'Tis base to stay an outcast, while his scorn Mocks at my weakness, me his elder-born.
Antigone
Dost seek to give thy father's prophecy Fulfilment, dooming both to slay and die?
Polynices
'Tis what he wishes!—No. I cannot yield.
Antigone
Woe's me! But who will follow to the field Of battle when they hear those oracles?
Polynices
They will not hear them. A good leader tells The heartening news. The worse must silent fall.
Antigone
Brother! Thy will is fixed beyond recall?
Polynices
It is. Detain me not. A path is mine To tread henceforth facing that doom, that sign Of evil, planted by my sire and his Avengers. Sisters, for you twain it is My prayer that God may bless the paths ye tread; Grant me but that one grace when I am dead; I shall not ask another. Let me go, And fare ye well, both.
Antigone
Woe for ever, woe!
Polynices
Weep not for me.
Antigone
Who could her weeping hide
When to stark death thou marchest open-eyed?
Polynices
I die when I needs must.
Antigone
Friend! For my sake . . .
Polynices
No more vain pleading!
Antigone
Oh, my heart will break
If I lose thee!
Polynices
Thus or some other way; Fate will decide. But for you twain I pray That God protect you from all ill; for ye By all your deeds deserve not misery. [Exit Polynices. Low thunder is heard far off.
Chorus
New threatenings of wrath before us loom From this man old and blind; 'Tis evil, fraught with doom; Or doth perchance some heavenly purpose find Its end here, some decree Of God that without aim can never be? For Time's eye watcheth, watcheth, to undo The strong, and on the morrow to make new. Loud Thunder. O voice of Heaven! O Zeus!
Oedipus
O children, children! Haste. Whom can ye send For Theseus, in this need my truest friend?
Antigone
Father, what is there thou wouldst have him do?
Oedipus
This winged thunder of Zeus will guide my way
Even now to Hades. Send. Make no delay.
Thunder as before.
Chorus
Ah 'tis the hand of God! It crashes there Again, unspeakable. My head is stabbed with fear, And all my spirit cowers beneath its spell, Striking from sky to earth. What new thing from these signs shall come to birth? I tremble. Meaningless it cannot be. Such wrath, nor fall without calamity. O voice of Heaven! O Zeus!
Oedipus
Daughters, the fated end of life is come Upon me. I cannot fly nor turn therefrom.
Antigone
Thou know'st? Some sign is here that tells thee true?
Oedipus
Most sure I know it. Send some messenger
With speed to lead the Lord of Athens here.
More Thunder.
Chorus
Ah, list! Once again, piercing, echoing round . . . Be merciful, O our God, merciful! . . . peals that sound. Though upon Earth the All-Mother thine anger fall, Mercy, O God, for me! Let me not, if mine eye Has looked on a man of sin, share in his sin and die!
Oedipus
Is Theseus near, my daughter? Will he find Me still in life and master of my mind?
Antigone
What prayer hast thou to press, What pledge of faithfulness?
Oedipus
He helped my need. I would fulfil this day The pledge I gave, and his good gift repay.
Chorus
Hither, my prince, oh, swift! Up from the inmost shade Of that sea-altar rise. Thy sacrifice is paid. 'Tis thee that his needs invoke, Thy city and all thy folk. He craveth the price to pay for thy love, thy harbouring. Hither! Be swift, O King. [Enter Theseus.
Theseus
Why this new clamour rising from you all? I hear my people's voice, I hear the call Of this my guest. Say not some thunderstroke Or storm of lashing hail from Zeus hath broke Upon you—though no terror were amiss When heaven is opened in such rage as this.
Oedipus
O King, I pined for thee. 'Tis thou indeed? Praise God thou art with me in my hour of need!
Theseus
What new need is upon thee, Laïus' son?
Oedipus
My life's last hour. I would not leave undone What I have vowed to Athens, when I die.
Theseus
What signs are here of such calamity?
Oedipus
The gods are their own heralds. They have told Their tale, naught failing from their words of old.
Theseus
Old sufferer, how do they their doom reveal?
Oedipus
This never-ceasing thunder, peal on peal, Doth speak their message, and yon levin brand That lightens in the unconquerable hand. [Thunder.
Theseus
Thou conquerest me. These signs have proved thee true And filled with power. Tell me what thing to do.
Oedipus
Theseus, for thee and thine I will unfold A secret that shall live and grow not old. Myself first, with no aid of hand or eye, Will lead thee to the place where I must die. Which place reveal thou never, nor the guise It beareth, nor the region where it lies; So shalt thou gain a stronger fence from harm Than many a shield or many an allied arm. . . . More things there be to tell thee, but no speech May wake them yet; when thou and I shall reach That place alone, with no man near us, then 'Tis thine to know them. For no sons of men, Not these, not mine own children, whom I love, Shall ever from my lips hear word thereof. Guard them thyself alone. And when thy share Of life draws near its end, then to thine heir Reveal the tale, and he to his; and so For ever more. Thus shall thy city go Her ways unravaged by the Dragon's Brood. Else . . . crowding round thee, though thy deeds be good, Are cities that will lightly turn to wrong. For God is slow to smite: yet sure and strong His judgement upon them that go astray From godliness and turn the madman's way. O Son of Aigeus, seek not thou to go[Pg 108 1538-1559] That road . . . But all this it was thine to know Long since. And that which from the God is come Doth urge me. Let us on to my dark home Nor scruple more. Ye Daughters, to my side Come, both. Henceforth I am become your guide, Whom once ye guided. Come, but touch me not. Myself alone will find that holy spot Where hid for ever I shall lie. This way; So; come this way. Soul-guiding Hermes goes Before and She whose name the Darkness knows . . . O Lamp unlit, the only light of old To these wrecked eyes, for the last time thy hold Is on me. Yea, it looseth as I go To hide my blindness and my wrongs below Where Hades dwells . . . O friend, O helping hand, Blessed be thou, thy lieges and thy land, Remembering one here hidden, one who trod Through sin, through death, the path ordained of God. [Exeunt Oedipus, Theseus and the Sisters.
Chorus
To the Bride whom none beholdeth, And to thee, Lord of the Dying, To the calm seats that enthrone you, To the dark where none hath known you, We uplift our adoration; Lo, I name thee, kneeling, crying, Aïdôneu, Aïdôneu!
Not in torment, we beseech thee, Not with noise of lamentation, May he strive to thee and reach thee, Through the fields that fear enfoldeth, Through the shadow-haunted City. He hath borne enough of sorrow; God is just and shall have pity, Shall have mercy on the morrow. Aïdôneu, Aïdôneu! There be noises of disaster, There be goddess-shapes infernal, And beyond the crowded portal— So men whisper and refrain not— Lo, a wild beast body lying And the voice of one that ravens, One that sleeps not, one immortal, Watching, gnarling, from his caverns. Still them, Thou that art their master, Thou, O Terrene, O Nocturnal! Let them slumber and complain not; Let them cease and leave this mortal Passage, where the gates are parted, Through the turmoil of the dying, Through the dreams of the departed, Home to Thee, O Sleep Eternal! [Enter a Messenger.
Messenger
Athenians, in the briefest shape I may I tell you: Oedipus hath passed away. But all his doings cannot in a few Light words be told. Not light they were to do.
Leader
How? Is he dead?
Messenger
Most surely from the sight
Of man he hath passed, and left the realms of light.
Leader
Some griefless stroke from heaven upon him fell?
Messenger
Thou hast said it. 'Tis a wondrous tale to tell. How from this place he started, thou wilt know, Who saw him, with no guide, no friend to show The way, himself a leader to us all. So came he to that threshold mystical Of Earth, deep-rooted by the Brazen Stair Precipitous. Many branching paths are there. He made his choice among them, till he stayed Close by the basoned rock where Theseus laid The inviolate memorial of his pledge Sworn to Pirithoüs, near the bason's edge, Midway between that Stone of Triple Plume,[Pg 111 1595-1622] The hollow Pear-tree and the marble tomb. There pausing he sat down and loosed withal His sordid raiment. Then with a proud call He charged his daughters water from the spring To find, for cleansing and for offering Libation. Swift to do their father's will, The maidens sped to where Dêmêtêr's Hill, Green with the goddess' gift, stood clear to view. They brought the water, and with ritual due Prepared him, and the raiment of the grave About him wrapped; then, when his heart could crave No more of service, and there rested naught Undone of the lustration that he sought, God's voice beneath us thundered. At that sound The maidens sank to earth in tears, and wound Their arms about his knee and beat their breast. He heard their sudden cry of grief, and pressed Both to his arms: "My children, from this day You have no father. All is passed away That once was mine or me, and all the sore Toils of my tendance shall be yours no more; Hard toils, I know well; yet one word there is That maketh light your heaviest services. Love I have given you, such as none beside Could give. But now alone ye shall abide And orphaned of that love through all your days." So, clinging close and sobbing in amaze, All wept; but when the rite of tears was o'er, And that lamenting cry arose no more, Deep silence fell; then on the silence brake[Pg 112 1623-1652] A great voice calling. All our hearts did shake With fear and our hair stiffened, for all round Like many divine voices, rose that sound: "Ho Thou! Thou Oedipus! Why do we stay Our goings? All too long is thy delay." He heard, and, hearing, knew God's summons clear. Straightway he called that Theseus be brought near, And when he came, "O friend," he cried, "in troth Give me thy right hand—man's most ancient oath— Clasp it, my daughters!—never to forsake These twain but act in all things for their sake As love will prompt." And he, as a true friend, Unshrinking, vowed in good faith to the end To observe his promise. Once that deed was done, The father laid his groping hands upon His children's heads and spake: "Be strong of heart, Daughters! From this place ye must now depart. Seek not to see forbidden sights, or hear Words spoken that are not for mortal ear. Go with all haste. Theseus, alone with me, Hath right this secret thing to hear and see." We all had heard his charge, and, with lament And tears, followed the maidens as they went. At last, we turned again to look; and there, Long gazing, him we saw not anywhere, But Theseus standing all alone, his hand Across his face uplifted, to withstand The sight of some dread vision which no eye Of mortal might endure. To Earth and Sky, To Mother Earth and Sky the House of God,[Pg 113 1653-1676] We saw him, in one movement where he stood, Make prayer. And what way Oedipus hath gone From life none knoweth save Theseus alone. For sure there came no visible death, no sweep Of fire from God, no storm-wind of the deep; But or some guide was sent from heaven above, Or yawned the firmament of death, in love And mercy, to receive him without pain. For not in mortal anguish was he ta'en, Nor sickness nor lament, but in a dream Of wonder. For this tale if any deem Me mad . . . for such, I care not what they say. [Exit Messenger.
Leader
The daughters and their escort, where are they?
Not far, methinks. Those voices that we hear
Lamenting show the maidens drawing near.
[Enter Antigone and Ismene.
Antigone
Misery, misery! What can remain for us, twain in unhappiness, utterly naught? Only to look on this curse that hath lain on us, born of our father's blood, never forgot; Long as he lived we have served him unrestingly. Now, at the last, what saw we, what suffered we? An end too strange for thought.
Leader
What is that end?
Antigone
We know not, only guess.
Leader
Gone is he?
Antigone
Gone, methinks, in blessedness. How say ye? He to whom there came No stroke of war nor stormy seas, But unseen regions without name Rapt him to their great silences. For us, a darkness of the grave Heavy upon our eyelid stays; On what far land or tossing wave Shall we two wander through our weary days?
Ismene
I know not, sister, I, forlorn! I would that Hades' hand of fire Would give me rest beside my wearied sire; For that which cometh is not to be borne.
Leader
Bravest of daughters, sisters one in fame, 'Tis wisdom where life leadeth to be led. Stir not your hearts to flame; Not without glory is the path ye tread.
Antigone
Even for sorrow the heart of mortality craveth in memory once it is past; That which was sorely unsweet could be sweet to me, father and sorrow together held fast. Father, belovèd one, thou that hast covered thee Deep in the darkness, still reacheth our love to thee— Her love and mine shall last.
Leader
His end was . . .
Antigone
Even the end he hungered for.
Leader
What wise?
Antigone
Upon a strange yet chosen shore; For ever in a shaded sleep Below the realm of light he lies, While those he left are left to weep. Dost see, Father, my streaming eyes? I know not how to crush, to lay In nothingness, such grief as mine; To die unknown, the wish was thine; But must I give thee nothing on thy way?
Ismene
Alas, what fate abideth thee and me, Sister? For ever fatherless are we.
Leader
Nay, sisters well-belovèd, since his life In happy wise is now unyoked and free, Cease from this mourning strife. Unsnared by sorrow can no mortal be.
Antigone
Now haste we back!
Ismene
What haste have we?
Antigone
Desire constrains me.
Ismene
What desire?
Antigone
That dark and earthly home to see.
Ismene
Of whom?
Antigone
Unhappy! Of our sire.
Ismene
Can that be lawful? Seest thou not . . . ?
Antigone
What should I see?
Ismene
This too recall . . .
Antigone
Thou chidest me?
Ismene
He passed without Or grave or rite, unseen of all.
Antigone
Oh, take me where he died, and there Slay me!
Ismene
Alas, with neither friend Nor hope, in what land shall I bear My life to its last end?
Leader
Ah, fear not!
Antigone
Whither shall I fly?
Leader
Your flights are ended.
Antigone
In what home?
Leader
Here, where all grief shall pass you by.
Antigone
Nay; I have thoughts . . .
Leader
Say where they roam.
Antigone
Toward Thebes, our home; but how to go
I know not.
Leader
That road seek not thou!
'Tis troublous, all.
Antigone
'Twas alway so.
Leader
Hopeless of old, more hopeless now.
A sea of storms is tossing there.
Antigone
O Zeus, yet guide me to begone! To what last hope, amid despair, Doth some god urge me on? [Enter Theseus.
Theseus
Weep not, my children. Who would weep When Unseen Powers to quick and dead Alike a gracious end have sped. Stir not the anger of the deep.
Antigone
O Son of Aigeus, grant one thing . . .
Theseus
My daughter, speak that one desire.
Antigone
To see the tomb that holds our sire.
Theseus
It may not be.
Antigone
How so, O King?
Theseus
Your sire on me this charge has thrown; No mortal shall approach that place, Nor lift a voice that tomb to grace Wherein he sleeps, unseen, unknown. Thus shall he keep my soil untrod By foeman's feet; his charge was clear; 'Twas heard in Heaven: it reached the ear Of Faith, the all-seeing Child of God.
Antigone
If so our father wills, 'tis good. To ancient Thebes, then, let us speed; We still may stem, in hour of need, The torrent of our brethren's blood.
Theseus
That will I; and if aught avail To aid or you or him, yet new In his dark travel, him and you I never shall betray nor fail.
Chorus
Let there be Peace, O ye that mourn! Give o'er Your vain lament; whate'er hath been before, This that is done shall stand for ever more.
NOTES
OEDIPUS:
The Previous Story
Laïus, king of Thebes, had kidnapped the beautiful son of his benefactor, Pelops. For this Apollo decreed that he must have no son himself; if he had, it would kill him and commit incest upon its mother, Jocasta. A son was born, and his parents exposed it to die on Mt. Kithairon, but a Corinthian shepherd found it and took it to Corinth, where it was named Oedipus and was reared as the son of the childless queen Merope and her husband Polybus. Hearing a taunt that he was no true son of Polybus, Oedipus inquired at Delphi, and the oracle, not answering his question, told him he was doomed to kill his father and wed his mother. Thinking this referred to Polybus and Merope, Oedipus fled away from Corinth. On his travel he was rudely struck and driven off the road by a stranger and in the ensuing fight killed him. The stranger was really Laïus. Coming to Thebes Oedipus found the city in distress, ravaged by the riddling Sphinx. The king was lost, and Creon, as governor, offered the crown and the hand of Jocasta to any one who would deliver the city. Oedipus faced the Sphinx, guessed her riddle, and accepted the prize. Later the city was visited by a plague; the[Pg 122] Delphic oracle said this was because the murderer of Laïus was in the city, unknown. Oedipus vows to find him, and in an unshrinking search, even when he sees where it is leading, proves that the murderer is he himself. Jocasta kills herself; Oedipus puts out his eyes, so that he may never in the next life see his parents' faces. He begs to be cast out on the mountain to die as his parents had wished, but Creon refuses to do this till advice shall come from the oracle at Delphi. Later, apparently, he was cast out and would have died, had he not been tended by his daughter Antigone. His kingdom was divided between his sons, Eteocles and Polynices.
P. 17, l. 16, Ground profane or.] A holy place would be more undisturbed than the open road but not necessarily forbidden ground. The grove of the Eumenides was specially sacred and "untrodden."
P. 20, l. 42, Spirits of Mercy.] The Erinyes, or Furies, originally perhaps the spirits of the wronged dead calling for vengeance, were so formidable that they were generally known by some euphemistic name, Semnai, "The Venerable" or Eumenides, "Those of Good Will." But Oedipus has a special relation or kinship with them. Like them he is ancient and sad and craves for justice; and the oracle has foretold that in their shrine he shall find peace.
P. 21, l. 53 ff. On these local sanctities see Introduction p. 13.
P. 28, l. 174. He is leaving sanctuary and will be at their mercy.
P. 33, l. 245, Not blind.] That is, "You and I can look into each other's eyes and thus meet in human sympathy."
P. 34, l. 274, They planned my death.] The exposure of unwanted infants has been, throughout history, a common practice in times of distress. It is a frequent ficelle in Menander's plays. Here however it is treated as a cruel crime.
P. 36 f. The Ismene scene. See Introduction, p. 6.
P. 39, l. 337. In Egypt . . . men sitting at the loom. This is one of three passages in which Sophocles seems clearly to be borrowing from the book, or the public readings, of his friend Herodotus. See Hdt., ii, 35. The others are Electra 62, compared with the return of Zalmoxis in Hdt., iv, 95, and Antigone, 905 ff., on the irreplaceableness of a brother, compared with Hdt., iii, 119.
P. 39, l. 354, All oracles.] Notice how much the helpless and wronged old man, having no prospect of ordinary human aid, pins his hopes upon signs and oracles.
P. 40, l. 375, Polynices is here the elder; Eteoclês gets rid of him, not by any honourable means, such as ordeal by battle, but "by persuading the city." In Aeschylus' Seven and Euripides' Phoenissae Eteocles is the elder, but the two brothers, in order to avoid strife, have agreed to share the throne, reigning year and year about. Eteocles reigns first and refuses to resign at the end of the year.
P. 42, l. 406, Some Theban dust.] Even outside Theban territory his[Pg 124] body might have a casing of Theban earth wrapped round it; in that case he would, ritually, be buried in his native soil.
P. 44, ll. 431-444. This somewhat awkward and elaborate argument is strictly in accord with the end of Oedipus Rex. Perhaps the extraordinarily moving prayer of Oedipus there, to be cast out to die on the mountains, could not be forgotten either by Sophocles or his audience. Otherwise it would have been much simpler to avoid the story of the change of mind. (Cf. 766 ff.)
P. 46, l. 470, With clean hands.] It is true that Oedipus might make his hands ritually "clean" before entering the precinct, but it looks as if he rather shrank from the word and preferred that one of the daughters should go.
P. 48, l. 486. The Merciful. See on l. 42.
Pp. 49-53, ll. 510-550. Chorus. One might have thought that the horror expressed by the Elders at their first hearing of the names of Laïus and Oedipus was enough without this reinforcement of all the details of Oedipus's incest and parricide. Evidently Sophocles felt it necessary to emphasize strongly both the "untouchableness" of Oedipus and the heroic charity of Theseus. To an ancient audience Oedipus bore a twofold stain of kindred blood, having committed the greatest offence possible against both father and mother, and this produced a sentiment of religious horror which we cannot quite feel.
P. 54, l. 562. This speech of Theseus is a typical expression of Greek[Pg 125] Sophrosynê, or "moderation," the opposite of Hubris.
P. 55, l. 576, My body . . . a gift.] See Introduction p. 10.
P. 58, l. 620, Thebes in armed array.] History, of course confirmed this prophecy. Thebes was a constant enemy of Athens.
Pp. 62-64, ll. 667-719. Chorus. This lyric, I think, is meant to suggest a fairly long space of time during which Oedipus has stayed in untroubled peace at Colonus, and further to show what a peaceful and heaven-protected place of rest he has at last found.
P. 62, l. 667. The Greek says merely "this well-horsed land"; but I think the meaning of the word is religious or mystical, like all the references in this ode. One of the great Attic legends tells of the contest between Athêna and Poseidon for the possession of Attica; as their rival gifts, Poseidon created the horse, Athêna the olive. The story typifies, no doubt, the contest between the Pedieis, or the people of the plain, and the Paraloi, those of the sea. (Cf. 59, 713, 1072.) The reference to the "young horses" as distinct from "the horses" is something to which we have no clue; the Olive is, of course, the sacred olive which the Persians burned but could not kill, when they destroyed the Acropolis in 480 b.c.
P. 63, l. 693, golden rein:] Aphrodite had a golden chariot.
P. 63, l. 704, orbed on high:] the orb of the sun was "Olive Zeus," the chief force that makes the olive grow.
P. 65, ll. 728 ff. Observe what a good case Creon makes for himself. Even his later speech in 939 ff., after he has put himself obviously in the wrong by his acts, is dignified and effective.
P. 66, l. 766, I prayed to be cast out.] Cf. on 431-444.
P. 67, l. 799, Cf. 870. Oedipus is in extreme misery; his curse on Creon emphasizes it; but at least he is not in the power of his enemies.
P. 73, l. 860. By ordinary Greek law Creon, as Antigone's uncle, is her natural guardian, her father being an exile without rights. But he has no right to kidnap her on Attic territory. Over Oedipus he has no rights, at any rate now that Oedipus is accepted as an Athenian citizen. (l. 637.)
P. 78, l. 919. This extremely respectful language towards Thebes herself is interesting. It suggests a political attitude: "The Thebans are quite good people, it is only the wicked anti-Athenian party in Thebes who make the trouble."
Pp. 83-85, ll. 1044-1095. Battles in Greek tragedy must always be "off stage" and are usually described in a Messenger's speech. The finest example is the description of the Battle of Salamis in the Persae. A lyric like this is hardly suitable for describing a battle, but can indicate the feelings and guesses of those who are left behind waiting for the result. For a much deeper and more tragic form of the same effect compare the prayers and terrified exclamations of the besieged women in Aeschylus' Seven Against Thebes (78-180).
P. 83, l. 1047. Be it inland etc. Cf. l. 900. The Theban guards might have started by either of two roads, one through the hills (by the pass of Daphne?), one by the Bay of Eleusis, where torch-light processions formed part of the Mysteries in worship of the Holy goddesses, i.e. the Mother and the Maid, Demeter and Korê. The Eumolpid family had certain hereditary duties in Eleusinian worship, and the "key," or bar, of silence was of course incumbent on all the initiated.
P. 84, l. 1072. Rhea's birth: Poseidon was the son of Cronos and Rhea. Observe that in Sophocles there is no conflict between Poseidon and Athena.
P. 88, l. 1131, Stand there apart:] The kiss of the untouchable would be too much, even after his acceptance as a citizen. Theseus does stand far off.
P. 89, l. 1156, not thy countryman:] Polynices had no doubt lost his Theban citizenship; at any rate he had come from Argos.
P. 90, l. 1172, with such dire meaning fall:] That is: "My last words, apparently harmless, seem to have branded the man as evil or hostile."
P. 91, l. 1177. The actual sound of Polynices' voice is pain to the blind man, as the voice of Creon was in l. 863.
Pp. 92 f., ll. 1211-1249. Lyric on Old Age. Old age was like Love and Death, a conventional subject for gnomic poetry. In Stobaeus's Anthology three successive chapters are "Praise of Age," "Dispraise of Age," "That Age can be borne well." The present ode expresses well the feeling of the Elders when faced with the misery and age of Oedipus,[Pg 128] whose worst wish for Creon had been "an old age such as mine." (870) "Not to be born" is best for a man in the same sense in which "to have no history" is happiness for a nation; both are true if you count only "the crimes, follies, and disasters of mankind," leaving out the joys and achievements.
P. 95, l. 1281. An incomplete line, or rather two words spoken extra metrum.
P. 96, ll. 1284 ff. It was a proud achievement for a homeless exile, like Polynices, to inspire such confidence that Adrastus was willing to give him his daughter's hand and the seven great chiefs to make common cause with him. The list of the Seven is the same as in Aeschylus; in Euripides' Phoenissae the shadowy Eteoclus is omitted and Adrastus himself included.
P. 98, l. 1360. "I do not weep; I curse my enemy." I conquer sorrow and nurse undying anger.
P. 99, l. 1375, The curse . . . before:] After hearing Ismene's news (ll. 421 ff., 451 ff.)
P. 99, l. 1390. The lone Darkness from which we spring:] The conception seems to be that the accursed race has sprung from some special Erebos of its own, which can now receive Polynices to its home apart from all human kind.
P. 100, l. 1410. Polynices' prayer for due funeral rites turns one's mind at once to the Antigone. Cf. l. 1442. "If I lose thee," which shows the same special love for Polynices as in the Antigone.
P. 103, ll. 1447 ff., "Evil, fraught with doom."] Oedipus is still a sinister figure, especially after his curse upon his son. A little later on (l. 1483) he is still "a man of sin" the mere sight of whom may be fatal.
P. 107, l. 1519. Having heard the divine summons Oedipus is changed. It is like the change at l. 84 where, as soon as the Stranger is gone, he turns in prayer to the Eumenides: terrible to others, to him they are kindred and friends. He has, of course, no thought of forgiving his enemies or withdrawing his curse; his curse is part of his supernatural power; but he has turned to greater things.
P. 107, l. 1534, Dragon brood.] The teeth of the Dragon that Cadmus killed were sown as seeds, and from them sprang a harvest of armed men who fought till only five were left. From those five the true Thebans were descended.
P. 108, l. 1541, "That which from the god is come."] It is not defined further. It is an inward feeling or sense of command. Cf. the "guide" in l. 1661.
P. 108, l. 1549. The "Lamp unlit" is of course the darkness that envelops the blind. Such darkness no longer affects him.
P. 108 f., l. 1556 ff. This whole lyric has an echoing liturgical effect. The mysterious name "Aïdôneus" is a Homeric form of "Hades." In drama it occurs only here and in the invocation of the ghost of Darius in the Persae, ll. 649 ff. There too it is repeated twice. The infernal goddesses would perhaps be such as Persephone herself, Hecate, and certain avenging spirits.[Pg 130] The wailing recalls Cocytus, "the river of Wailing." The "wild beast body" and the ravening voice of course belong to the watch-dog of Hades, Cerberus.
P. 110 f., ll. 1587 ff. As the scholiast says, "These places are known to the natives."
The rock of triple plume.] There was such a rock at Colônus (Schol. on l. 57), so "three-crested" may well be the right word here in place of the MS "Thorycian rock." Thorycus was a deme in the extreme south of Attica, far away from Colônus. Observe that though these local details are given so exactly, evidently from local tradition, the site of the actual grave is known to none. Perhaps Sophocles is combining two different traditions by making the place where Oedipus was translated different from the place where his body was ultimately laid. Nothing is known of the pear tree or the marble tomb.
P. 110, l. 1594, Pledge.] It was in consequence of this pledge that Theseus, after vainly trying to dissuade Pirithoüs from his journey to Hades, was compelled to accompany him and to share his long imprisonment. The whole language here is more suited to the time of Sophocles than to the lifetime of Theseus himself.
P. 113, l. 1658, No visible death.] There had been storm and lightning just before, but at this moment there was nothing to account for the disappearance of Oedipus. It must have been some influence or "presence" from the Gods, or else perhaps the roof of Hades opened and the nether world received him.
P. 116, l. 1724, Can that be lawful?] Observe that Ismene is the wiser; Antigone is carried away by her feelings. Cf. l. 1756.
P. 120, l. 1769, Faith.] The Greek Horkos, "oath," is in its original meaning a "fence" or "sanction." When you have given your word there is some Thing or Spirit that binds you or "fences" you in; it is a "watcher of oaths." See Rise of the Greek Epic, Appendix D.
P. 120 l. 1770, Thebes.] They reach Thebes too late to stop the mutual slaying of the brothers; cf. the opening of the Antigone.
GEORGE ALLEN & UNWIN LTD
London: 40 Museum Street, W.C.1
Cape Town: 58-60 Long Street
Sydney, N.S.W.: 55 York Street
Toronto: 91 Wellington Street West
Calcutta: 17 Central Ave., P.O. Dharamtala
Bombay: 15 Graham Road, Ballard Estate
Wellington, N.Z.: 8 Kings Crescent, Lower Hutt
Transcriber's Notes:-
The line numbers refer to the lines in the original Greek text, not the lines as translated.
Gesperrt spacing changed to bold.
Minor punctuation errors and omissions corrected.