Translated by F. Storr (Heinemann/Macmillan, 1912)

Sophocles (c. 497–406 BCE) — the second of the three great Athenian tragedians, who won first prize at the Dionysia twenty-four times and never came third. Of his estimated one hundred and twenty plays, seven survive complete. He introduced the third actor, diminished the role of the chorus, perfected dramatic irony, and gave tragedy its most psychologically complex heroes.

Oedipus Rex — the play Aristotle called the model tragedy in the Poetics — demonstrates the impossibility of escaping one's fate. Antigone dramatizes the collision between divine law and civic authority. Ajax explores heroic pride and its destruction. Electra parallels Aeschylus's Libation Bearers. Philoctetes is the last and perhaps deepest of the seven: a play about betrayal, isolation, and what the state demands of the individual. Oedipus at Colonus, produced posthumously, is Sophocles's final word.

F. Storr's Loeb-standard translation (Heinemann, 1912) renders Sophocles with accuracy and dignity, tracking the Greek closely while maintaining dramatic momentum.

Ajax

By Sophocles — Translated by R. C. Trevelyan — London, G. Allen & Unwin ltd. [1919]

Dramatis Personae

ATHENA
ODYSSEUS
AJAX
CHORUS OF SALAMINIANS
TECMESSA, concubine of AJAX
MESSENGER
TEUCER, half-brother of AJAX
MENELAUS
AGAMEMNON
Mute Persons
EURYSACES, child of AJAX and TECMESSA
Attendants, Heralds, etc.

Before the tent of AJAX in the Greek camp at Troy. It is dawn. ODYSSEUS
is discovered examining the ground before the tent. ATHENA appears
from above.

ATHENA Son of Laertes, ever do I behold thee
Scheming to snatch some vantage o'er thy foes.
And now among the tents that guard the ships
Of Ajax, camped at the army's outmost verge,
Long have I watched thee hunting in his trail,
And scanning his fresh prints, to learn if now
He be within or forth. Skilled in the chase
Thou seemest, as a keen-nosed Spartan hound.
For the man but now has passed within, his face
And slaughterous hands streaming with sweat and blood.
No further need for thee to peer about
Inside these doors. But say what eager quest
Is thine, that I who know may give thee light.

ODYSSEUS Voice of Athena, dearest of Gods to me,
How clearly, though thou be invisible,
Do I hear thy call, and seize it with my soul,
As when a bronze-mouthed Tyrrhene trumpet sounds!
Rightly thou judgest that on a foe's trail,
Broad-shielded Ajax, I range to and fro.
Him, and no other, I have long been tracking.
This very night against us he has wrought
A deed incredible, if in truth 'tis he.
For we know nothing sure, but drift in doubt.
Gladly I assumed the burden of this task.
For not long since we found that our whole spoil
Had been destroyed, both herds and flocks, slaughtered
By some man's hand, their guardians dead beside them.
Now 'tis on him that all men lay this guilt:
And a scout who had seen him swiftly bounding
Across the plain alone with reeking sword,
Informed me and bore witness. I forthwith,
Darting in hot chase, now pick out his tracks,
But now, bewildered, know not whose they are.
Timely thou comest. As in past days, so
In days to come I am guided by thy hand.

ATHENA I know it, Odysseus: so on the path betimes
A sentinel friendly to thy chase I came.

ODYSSEUS Dear mistress, do I labour to good purpose?

ATHENA Know 'twas by yonder man these deeds were wrought.

ODYSSEUS And why did he so brandish a frenzied hand?

ATHENA In grievous wrath for Achilles' panoply.

ODYSSEUS Why then upon the flocks did he make this onslaught?

ATHENA Your blood he deemed it was that stained his hand.

ODYSSEUS Was this outrage designed against the Greeks?

ATHENA He had achieved it too, but for my vigilance.

ODYSSEUS What bold scheme could inspire such reckless daring?

ATHENA By night he meant to steal on you alone.

ODYSSEUS Did he come near us? Did he reach his goal?

ATHENA He stood already at the two chiefs' doors.

ODYSSEUS What then withheld his eager hand from bloodshed?

ATHENA 'Twas I restrained him, casting on his eyes
O'ermastering notions of that baneful ecstasy,
That turned his rage on flocks and mingled droves
Of booty yet unshared, guarded by herdsmen.
Then plunging amid the thronging horns he slew,
Smiting on all sides; and one while he fancied
The Atreidae were the captives he was slaughtering,
Now 'twas some other chief on whom he fell.
And I, while thus he raved in maniac throes,
Urged him on, drove him into the baleful toils.
Thereafter, when he had wearied of such labours,
He bound with thongs such oxen as yet lived,
With all the sheep, and drove them to his tents,
As though his spoil were men, not horned cattle.
Now lashed together in the hut he tortures them.
But to thee too will I expose this madness,
That seeing thou mayst proclaim it to all the Greeks.
Boldly await him here, nor apprehend
Mischance; for I will turn aside his eyes,
Foiling his vision lest he see thy face. (She calls to AJAX within
the tent.) Hearken, thou who art pinioning with cords
The wrists of captives; hither, I bid thee, come.
Thou, Ajax, hear me: come to thy tent's door.

ODYSSEUS What dost thou, Athena? Do not summon him forth.

ATHENA Abide in silence. Earn not the name of coward.

ODYSSEUS Nay, by the Gods, let him remain within.

ATHENA What dost thou dread? Was he not once a man?

ODYSSEUS Yes, and to me a foeman, and still is.

ATHENA To mock foes, is not that the sweetest mockery?

ODYSSEUS I am content he should remain indoors.

ATHENA To look upon a madman art thou afeard?

ODYSSEUS Had he been sane, no fear had made me shrink.

ATHENA Even now he shall not see thee, near as thou art.

ODYSSEUS How so, if still with the same eyes he sees?

ATHENA His orbs will I make dark, though vision is theirs.

ODYSSEUS Well, all is possible, when 'tis a god contrives.

ATHENA Stand then silent, abiding as thou art.

ODYSSEUS Stay I must; yet I fain would be far hence.

ATHENA Ho, Ajax! Once again I summon thee.
So slight is thy regard for thine ally? (AJAX appears in the tent
door, with a blood-stained scourge in his hand.)

AJAX Oh hail, Athena! Hail thou Zeus-born maid!
Nobly hast thou stood by me. Now will I crown thee
With trophies all of gold for this rich conquest.

ATHENA Thy words are welcome. But now tell me this:
Hast thou dyed well thy sword in the Argive host?

AJAX Such vaunt is mine. I disclaim not that glory.

ATHENA Against the Atreidae didst thou arm thy hand?

AJAX So that Ajax nevermore shall they insult.

ATHENA The men are dead, if rightly I take thy meaning.

AJAX Yes, dead. Now let them rob me of my arms.

ATHENA 'Tis well. And what then of Laertes' son?
In what plight does he stand? Or has he escaped thee?

AJAX Wouldst thou know where is that accursed fox?

ATHENA Even so-Odysseus, thine old adversary.

AJAX Goddess, a most dear captive in my tent
He sits. I do not mean him to die yet.

ATHENA Till thou hast done what, gained what further vantage?

AJAX Till bound fast to a pillar beneath my roof-

ATHENA What evil wilt thou inflict on the poor wretch?

AJAX His back the scourge must crimson ere he dies.

ATHENA Nay, do not torture so the wretched man.

AJAX Athena, in all else will I do thy will;
But his shall be no other doom than this.

ATHENA Thou then, since thy delight is to act thus,
Smite, spare not, abate nought of thy intent.

AJAX To my work I return: and thus I charge thee,
As now, so always fight thou upon my side. (AJAX goes back into the
tent.)

ATHENA Seest thou, Odysseus, how great the strength of gods?

Whom couldst thou find more prudent than this man,
Or whom in act more valiant, when need called?

ODYSSEUS I know none nobler; and I pity him
In his misery, albeit he is my foe,
Since he is yoked fast to an evil doom.
My own lot I regard no less than his.
For I see well, nought else are we but mere
Phantoms, all we that live, mere fleeting shadows.

ATHENA Warned therefore by his fate, never do thou
Thyself utter proud words against the gods;
Nor swell with insolence, if thou shouldst vanquish
Some rival by main strength or by wealth's power.
For a day can bring all mortal greatness low,
And a day can lift it up. But the gods love
The wise of heart, the froward they abhor. (ATHENA vanishes and ODYSSEUS
departs. The CHORUS OF SALAMINIANS enters.)

CHORUS (singing) Son of Telamon, lord of Salamis' isle,

On its wave-washed throne mid the breaking sea,
I rejoice when fair are thy fortunes:
But whene'er thou art smitten by the stroke of Zeus,
Or the vehement blame of the fierce-tongued Greeks,
Then sore am I grieved, and for fear I quake,
As a fluttering dove with a scared eye.
Even so by rumour murmuring loud
Of the night late-spent our ears are assailed.
'Tis a tale of shame, how thou on the plains
Where the steeds roam wild, didst ruin the Danaan
Flocks and herds,
Our spear-won booty as yet unshared,
With bright sword smiting and slaughtering.
Such now are the slanders Odysseus forges
And whispers abroad into all men's ears,
Winning easy belief: so specious the tale
He is spreading against thee; and each new hearer
Rejoices more than he who told,
Exulting in thy degradation.
For the shaft that is aimed at the noble of soul
Smites home without fail: but whoe'er should accuse me
Of such misdeeds, no faith would he win.
'Tis the stronger whom creeping jealousy strikes.
Yet small men reft of help from the mighty
Can ill be trusted to guard their walls.
Best prosper the lowly in league with the great;
And the great have need to be served by the less.
But none to the knowledge of such plain truths
May lead minds witless and froward.
Even such are the men who murmur against thee:
And vainly without thine aid, O King,
We strive to repel their accusing hate.
For whene'er they are safe from the scorn of thy glance,

They chatter and screech like bids in a flock:
But smitten with dread of the powerful vulture,
Doubtless at once, should'st thou but appear,
They will cower down dumbly in silence.

(strophe)

Was it the Tauric Olympian Artemis,
(Oh, the dread rumour of woe,
Parent of my grievous shame!)
Who drove thee forth to slaughter the herds of the people,

In wrath perchance for some unpaid-for victory,
Whether defrauded of glorious spoil, or offerings
Due for a stag that was slain?
Or did the bronze-clad Demon of battle, aggrieved
On him who scorned the might of his succouring spear,
Plot revenge by nightly deception?

(antistrophe)

Ne'er of itself had thy heart, son of Telamon,
Strayed into folly so far
As to murder flocks and herds.
Escape from heaven-sent madness is none: yet Apollo
And Zeus avert these evil rumours of the Greeks.
But should the story be false, these crafty slanders
Spread by the powerful kings,
And by the child of the infamous Sisyphid line,
No more, my master, thus in the tent by the sea
Hide thy countenance, earning an ill fame.

(epode)

Nay, but arise from thy seat, where'er so long wrapt in

Brooding pause from the battle thou hast lurked: arise,
Heaven-high kindle the flame of death.
But the insolence of thy foes boldly
Thus wanders abroad in the wind-swept glens.
Meanwhile all men mocking
With venomous tongues taunt thee:
But grief in my heart wanes not. (TECMESSA enters. The following
lines between TECMESSA and the CHORUS are chanted responsively.)

TECMESSA Liegemen of Ajax, ship-companions,
Ye children of earth-sprung Erechthid race,
Lamentation is now our portion, to whom
Dear is the far-off house of Telamon,
Now that the stern and terrible Ajax
Lies whelmed by a storm
Of turbid wildering fury.

CHORUS To what evil change from the day's woe now
Has night given birth?
Thou daughter of Phrygian Teleutas, speak;
For a constant love has valiant Ajax
Borne thee, his spear-won prisoner bride.
Then hide from us nought that thou knowest.

TECMESSA How to utter a tale of unspeakable things!
For disastrous as death is the hap you will hear.
In the darkness of night madness has seized
Our glorious Ajax: he is ruined and lost.
Hereof in the tent may proof be seen;
Sword-slain victims in their own blood bathed,
By his hand sacrificially slaughtered.

CHORUS (strophe)

What tidings of the fiery warrior tellest thou,
Not to be borne, nor yet to be disputed,
Rumoured abroad by the chiefs of the Danaan host,
Mightily still spreading and waxing!
Woe's me! I dread the horror to come. Yea, to a public death doomed

Will he die, if in truth his be the hand that wielded
The red sword that in frenzy hath slain the herds and mounted herdsmen.

TECMESSA Ah me! Thence was it, thence that he came to me

Leading his captive flock from the pastures!
Thereof in the tent some did he slaughter,
Others hewed he asunder with slashing sword;
Then he caught up amain two white-footed rams,
Sliced off from the one both the head and the tongue,
And flings them away;
But the other upright to a pillar he binds,
Then seizing a heavy horse-harnessing thong
He smites with the whistling doubled lash,
Uttering fierce taunts which an evil fiend
No mere mortal could have taught him.

CHORUS (antistrophe)

'Tis time that now each with shamefully muffled head
Forth from the camp should creep with stealthy footsteps.

Nay, on the ship let us muster, and benched at the oars
Over the waves launch her in swift flight.
Such angry threats sound in our ears hurled by the brother princes,

The Atreidae: and I quake, fearing a death by stoning,
The dread portion of all who would share our hapless master's ruin.

TECMESSA Yet hope we: for ceased is the lightning's flash:

His rage dies down like a fierce south-wind.
But now, grown sane, new misery is his;
For on woes self-wrought he gazes aghast,
Wherein no hand but his own had share;
And with anguish his soul is afflicted.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS Nay, if 'tis ceased, there is good cause to
hope.
Once 'tis past, of less moment is his frenzy.

TECMESSA And which, were the choice thine, wouldst thou prefer,

To afflict thy friends and feel delight thyself,
Or to share sorrow, grieving with their grief?

LEADER The twofold woe, lady, would be the greater.

TECMESSA Then we, though plagued no more, are undone now.

LEADER What mean thy words? Their sense is dark to me.

TECMESSA Yonder man, while his spirit was diseased,
Himself had joy in his own evil plight,
Though to us, who were sane, he brought distress.
But now, since he has respite from his plague,
He with sore grief is utterly cast down,
And we likewise, no less than heretofore.
Are there not here two woes instead of one?

LEADER Yes truly. And I fear, from some god came
This stroke; how else? if, now his frenzy is ceased,
His mind has no more ease than when it raged.

TECMESSA 'Tis even as I said, rest well assured.

LEADER But how did this bane first alight upon him?
To us who share thy grief show what befell.

TECMESSA Thou shalt hear all, as though thou hadst been present.

In the middle of the night, when the evening braziers
No longer flared, he took a two-edged sword,
And fain would sally upon an empty quest.
But I rebuked him, saying: "What doest thou,
Ajax? Why thus uncalled wouldst thou go forth?
No messenger has summoned thee, no trumpet
Roused thee. Nay, the whole camp is sleeping still."
But curtly he replied in well-worn phrase:
"Woman, silence is the grace of woman."
Thus schooled, I yielded; and he rushed out alone.
What passed outside the tent, I cannot tell.
But in he came, driving lashed together
Bulls, and shepherd dogs, and fleecy prey.
Some he beheaded, the wrenched-back throats of some
He slit, or cleft their chines; others he bound
And tortured, as though men they were, not beasts.
Last, darting through the doors, as to some phantom
He tossed words, now against the Atreidae, now
Taunting Odysseus, piling up huge jeers
Of how he had gone and wreaked his scorn upon them.
Soon he rushed back within the tent, where slowly
And hardly to his reason he returned.
And gazing round on the room filled with havoc,
He struck his head and cried out; then amidst
The wrecks of slaughtered sheep a wreck he fell,
And sat clutching his hair with tight-clenched nails.
There first for a long while he crouched speechless;
Then did he threaten me with fearful threats,
If I revealed not all that had befallen him,
Asking what meant the plight wherein he lay.
And I, friends, terror-stricken, told him all
That had been done, so far as I had knowledge.
Forthwith he broke forth into bitter wailing,
Such as I ne'er had heard from him before
For always had he held that such laments
Befitted cowards only, and low-souled men:
But uttering no shrill cries, he would express
His grief in low groans, as of a moaning bull.
But now prostrate beneath so great a woe,
Not tasting food nor drink, he sits among
The sword-slain beasts, motionless where he sank.
And plainly he meditates some baleful deed,
For so portend his words and lamentations.
But, O friends!-'twas for this cause I came forth-
Enter and help, if help at all you can:
For by friends' words men so bestead are won.

LEADER Child of Teleutas, fearful are thy tidings,
That our prince has been maddened by his griefs.

AJAX (within) Alas! Woe, woe!

TECMESSA Soon, I fear, worse will follow. Heard you not?

'Twas Ajax. Oh, how dreadful was that cry.

AJAX Alas! Woe, woe!

LEADER He seems either still frenzied, or else grieving

For his past frenzies, now he sees their work.

AJAX Alas! My son, my son!

TECMESSA Woe's me! Eurysaces, 'tis for thee he calls.
What can he purpose?-Where art thou?-Ah, woe!

AJAX Teucer, come!-Where is Teucer? Will he never
Come back from cattle-raiding?-while I perish!

LEADER He seems in his right mind. But open the doors.
Perhaps even the sight of me may sober him. (She opens the doors
of the tent. AJAX is revealed sitting among the slain beasts.)

TECMESSA See, I have opened. You may now behold
What he has done, and in what plight he lies.

AJAX (chanting) Alas!
My shipmates and friends, you that alone to me
Loyal and true remain, of all friends alone,
Behold how great a billow lately rising from the storm of blood

Surging around engulphs me!

LEADER Ah me, too true, it seems, was thy report.
This sight reveals the work of no sane mind.

AJAX (chanting) Alas!
My mates, skilled and tried in brave seamanship,
Ye who embarking drove the wave-cleaving oar,
In you, in you alone I see a help and refuge from despair.

Smite me, and spill my blood too.

LEADER Keep silence from dread words; nor curing ill
By ill, so swell the misery of this curse.

AJAX (chanting) Behold now the bold, the man stout of heart,

Who ne'er shrank in fight against foes-behold
How I have spent my rage on beasts that feared no harm!
Ah me, the mockery! To what shame am I brought low

TECMESSA Ajax, my master, I entreat thee, speak not so.

AJAX (chanting) Away hence, I command thee! Take thyself elsewhere.

Aiai! Aiai!

LEADER Oh, by the Gods, we pray thee, yield to wisdom's voice.

AJAX (chanting) Oh, wretch that I was to allow
Those cursed foes to slip from my hands, and assaulting
Horned kine and goodly flocks, madly to spill
Their life in streams of dark blood!

LEADER Why still be afflicted, now the deed is done past cure?

Never can these things be as though they had not been.

AJAX (chanting) Thou all-spying knave, of all deeds of shame

The prompt, easy tool, Odysseus the wise!
Villain, of all the camp the most foul and vile!
Huge laughter doubtless shakes thee now for sheer delight.

LEADER As God appoints, so every man laughs or laments.

AJAX (chanting) Would I might meet him, crushed and broken though
I be.
Alas! Woe, woe!

LEADER Speak no proud words. Seest thou not to what woe thou art
sunk?

AJAX (chanting) O Zeus, of my fathers the sire,
Might I but kill that hateful and crafty dissembler,
Yea, and those two brother kings, partners in pride,
Then last myself too perish!

TECMESSA If thus thou prayest, pray therewith for me, that

Die with thee. Why, when thou art dead, should I live on?

AJAX (chanting) Alas!
Shadow that art my light!
Erebus, oh to me verily bright as day!
Receive, receive me your habitant.
Receive me now no more worthy to seek help of the gods,
Nor any more from fellow mortal men to claim kindness:
No, but she the strong
Zeus-born deity
Miserably tortures me.
Whither should I then flee?
Whither seek for rest?
Since my former glory is gone, my friends,
With yonder victims, yonder spoils by frenzy won,
Since all the host with swords uplifted
Sternly would slay me,

TECMESSA Ah, woe is me! from such a noble warrior
To hear such words as once he ne'er had deigned to speak!

AJAX (chanting) Alas!
Billowy paths of foam,
Eddying caves, and ye coppices by the shore,
A weary, weary time tarrying here
Beneath the walls of Troy me have you kept, but from this hour

Alive you shall not keep me. Truth I speak: let none doubt it.

O Scamander's wave,
Stream whose neighbouring flow
Oft have the Argives blest,
Never, nevermore
Me shall you behold,
Me (a proud word will I utter now)
Whose peer in battle Troy has never seen yet come
From Hellas' land: but now dishonoured
Thus am I prostrate.

LEADER In truth I know not how to restrain thy speech, nor yet

To suffer it; so grievous is thy couch of woe.

AJAX Aiai! Who ever would have thought my name
Would harmonise so aptly with my woes?
For now well may I wail that sound out twice,
Yea thrice; such woeful destinies are mine,
Whose father from this land of Ida won
Fame's noblest guerdon over the whole host,
And crowned with praises only sailed back home;
But I, his son, who to the self-same Troy
Came after him, in might no less than he,
Nor rendering meaner service by my deeds,
Dishonoured by the Argives perish thus.
Yet this methinks I know for truth, were now
Achilles living and called on to adjudge
As the award of valour his own arms,
No man's hand would have grasped them before mine.
But now the Atreidae to a scheming knave
Have dealt them, thrusting by my valiant deeds.
And if these eyes, these wits had not in frenzy
Swerved from my purpose, never would they thus
Pervert judgment against another man.
But the irresistible fierce-eyed goddess, even
As I was arming my right hand to slay them,
Foiled me, smiting me with a maddening plague,
So that I stained my hand butchering these cattle.
Thus my foes mock me, escaped beyond my reach,
Through no goodwill of mine: but if a god
Thwart vengeance, even the base may escape the nobler.
And what should I now do, who manifestly
To Heaven am hateful; whom the Greeks abhor,
Whom every Trojan hates, and this whole land?
Shall I desert the beached ships, and abandoning
The Atreidae, sail home o'er the Aegean sea?
With what face shall I appear before my father
Telamon? How will he find heart to look
On me, stripped of my championship in war,
That mighty crown of fame that once was his?
No, that I dare not. Shall I then assault
Troy's fortress, and alone against them all
Achieve some glorious exploit and then die?
No, I might gratify the Atreidae thus.
That must not be. Some scheme let me devise
Which may prove to my aged sire that I,
His son, at least by nature am no coward.
For 'tis base for a man to crave long life
Who endures never-varying misery.
What joy can be in day that follows day,
Bringing us close then snatching us from death?
As of no worth would I esteem that man
Who warms himself with unsubstantial hopes.
Nobly to live, or else nobly to die
Befits proud birth. There is no more to say.

LEADER The word thou hast uttered, Ajax, none shall call

Bastard, but the true offspring of thy soul.
Yet pause. Let those who love thee overrule
Thy resolution. Put such thoughts aside.

TECMESSA O my lord Ajax, of all human ills
Greatest is fortune's wayward tyranny.
Of a free father was I born the child,
One rich and great as any Phrygian else.
Now am I a slave; for so the gods, or rather
Thy warrior's hand, would have it. Therefore since
I am thy bedfellow, I wish thee well,
And I entreat thee by domestic Zeus,
And by the embraces that have made me thine,
Doom me not to the cruel taunts of those
Who hate thee, left a bond-slave in strange hands.
For shouldst thou perish and forsake me in death,
That very day assuredly I to
Shall be seized by the Argives, with thy son
To endure henceforth the portion of a slave.
Then one of my new masters with barbed words
Shall wound me scoffing: "See the concubine
Of Ajax, who was mightiest of the host,
What servile tasks are hers who lived so daintily!"
Thus will men speak, embittering my hard lot,
But words of shame for thee and for thy race.
Nay, piety forbid thee to forsake
Thy father in his drear old age-thy mother
With her sad weight of years, who many a time
Prays to the gods that thou come home alive.
And pity, O king, thy son, who without thee
To foster his youth, must live the orphaned ward
Of loveless guardians. Think how great a sorrow
Dying thou wilt bequeath to him and me.
For I have nothing left to look to more
Save thee. By thy spear was my country ravaged;
And by another stroke did fate lay low
My mother and my sire to dwell with Hades.
Without thee then what fatherland were mine?
What wealth? On thee alone rests all my hope.
O take thought for me too. Do we not owe
Remembrance, where we have met with any joy?
For kindness begets kindness evermore
But he who from whose mind fades the memory
Of benefits, noble is he no more.

LEADER Ajax, would that thy soul would feel compassion,

As mine does; so wouldst thou approve her words.

AJAX Verily my approval shall she win,
If only she find heart to do my bidding.

TECMESSA Dear Ajax, in all things will I obey.

AJAX Then bring me here my son, for I would see him.

TECMESSA Nay, but I sent him from me in my fears.

AJAX During my late affliction, is that thy meaning?

TECMESSA Lest by ill chance he should meet thee and so perish.

AJAX Yes, that would have been worthy of my fate.

TECMESSA That at least I was watchful to avert.

AJAX I praise thine act and the foresight thou hast shown.

TECMESSA Since that is so, what shall I do to serve thee?

AJAX Let me speak to him and behold his face.

TECMESSA He is close by in the attendants' charge.

AJAX Why is his coming then so long delayed?

TECMESSA (calling) My son, thy father calls thee.-Bring him thither

Whichever of you is guiding the child's steps.

AJAX Is the man coming? Has he heard thy call?

TECMESSA See, he is here already with the child. (An attendant enters,
leading the child, EURYSACES.)

AJAX Lift him up, lift him hither. He will not shrink
In terror at sight of yonder new-spilt blood,
If he be rightly mine, his father's son.
Early must he be broken to his sire's
Stern rugged code, and grow like-natured with him.
O son, mayst thou prove happier than thy father,
In all else like him, and thou'lt prove not base.
Yet even now might I envy thee herein,
That of these woes thou hast no sense at all.
For the life that is unconscious is most sweet-
Until we learn what joy and sorrow are.
But that once learnt, then midst thy father's foes
Thou must show what thou art, and of what breed.
Till then be nurtured on soft airs, cherishing
Thy tender life, and be thy mother's joy.
None of the Greeks, I know, will do thee wrong
With cruel outrage, even though I be gone.
So trusty a guardian will I leave thee, Teucer,
Who will not stint his loving care, though now
He is gone far away, in chase of foes.
But you, my warriors, comrades in seafaring,
On you too I impose this task of love;
And fail not to announce my will to Teucer,
That to my home he take the child and show him
To Telamon and my mother Eriboea,
That henceforth he may comfort their old age.
And charge him that no game-steward make my arms
A prize for the Greeks-nor he who ruined me.
But this take thou, my son Eurysaces;
Hold it and wield it by its firm-stitched thong,
This sevenfold spear-proof shield, whence comes thy name.

But else with me my arms shall be interred. (Speaking now to TECMESSA)
Come, take the child hence quickly, and bolt the doors:

And let there be no weeping and lamenting
Before the hut. Women love tears too well.
Close quickly. It is not for a skilful leech
To drone charms o'er a wound that craves the knife.

LEADER I am fearful, listening to this eager mood.
The sharp edge of thy tongue, I like it not.

TECMESSA O my lord Ajax, what art thou purposing?

AJAX Question me not. To be discreet is best.

TECMESSA Ah me, heavy is my heart. Now by thy child,
By the gods, I entreat, forsake us not.

AJAX Vex me no further. Know'st thou not that I
To the gods owe no duty any more?

TECMESSA Utter no proud words.

AJAX Speak to those who listen.

TECMESSA Wilt thou not heed?

AJAX Too much thou hast spoken already.

TECMESSA Yes, through my fears, O king.

AJAX Close the doors quickly.

TECMESSA For the gods' love, relent.

AJAX 'Tis a foolish hope,
If thou shouldst now propose to school my mood. (The doors are closed
upon AJAX. TECMESSA goes out with EURYSACES.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

O famed Salamis, thou amidst
Breaking surges abidest ever
Blissful, a joy to the eyes of all men.
But I the while long and wearily tarrying
Through countless months still encamped on the fields of Ida

In misery here have made my couch,
By time broken and worn,
In dread waiting the hour
When I shall enter at last the terrible shadow abode of Hades.

(antistrophe 1)

Now dismays me a new despair,
This incurable frenzy (woe, ah
Woe's me!) cast by the gods on Ajax,
Whom thou of old sentest forth from thy shores, a strong

And valiant chief; but now, to his friends a sore grief,

Devouring his lonely heart he sits.
His once glorious deeds
Are now fallen and scorned,
Fallen to death without love from the loveless and pitiless sons of
Atreus.

(strophe 2)

His mother, 'tis most like, burdened with many days,
And whitened with old age, when she shall hear how frenzy

Has smitten his soul to ruin,
Ailinon! ailinon!
Will break forth her despair, not as the nightingale's
Plaintive, tender lament, no, but in passion's wailing
Shrill-toned cries; and with fierce strokes
Wildly smiting her bosom,
In grief's anguish her hands will rend her grey locks.

(antistrophe 2)

Yea, better Hell should hide one who is sick in soul,
Though there be none than he sprung from a nobler lineage

Of the war-weary Greeks, yet
Strayed from his inbred mood
Now amidst alien thoughts dwells he a stranger.
Hapless father! alas, bitter the tale that waits thee,
Thy son's grievous affliction.
No life save his alone
Of Aeacid kings such a curse has ever haunted. (AJAX enters, carrying
a sword. As he speaks, TECMESSA also enters.)

AJAX All things the long and countless lapse of time
Brings forth. displays, then hides once more in gloom.
Nought is too strange to look for; but the event
May mock the sternest oath, the firmest will.
Thus I, who late so strong, so stubborn seemed
Like iron dipped, yet now grow soft with pity
Before this woman, whom I am loath to leave
Midst foes a widow with this orphaned child.
But I will seek the meadows by the shore:
There will I wash and purge these stains, if so
I may appease Athena's heavy wrath.
Then will I find some lonely place, where I
May hide this sword, beyond all others cursed,
Buried where none may see it, deep in earth.
May night and Hades keep it there below.
For from that hour my hand accepted it,
The gift of Hector, deadliest of my foes,
Nought from the Greeks towards me hath sped well.
So now I find that ancient proverb true,
Foes' gifts are no gifts: profit bring they none.
Therefore henceforth I study to obey
The Gods, and reverence the sons of Atreus.
Our rulers are they: we must yield. How else?
For to authority yield all things most dread
And mighty. Thus must Winter's snowy feet
Give place to Summer with her wealth of fruits;
And from her weary round doth Night withdraw,
That Day's white steeds may kindle heaven with light.
After fierce tempest calm will ever lull
The moaning sea; and Sleep, that masters all,
Binds life awhile, yet loosens soon the bond.
And who am I that I should not learn wisdom?
Of all men I, whom proof hath taught of late
How so far only should we hate our foes
As though we soon might love them, and so far
Do a friend service, as to one most like
Some day to prove our foe; since oftenest men
In friendship but a faithless haven find.
Thus well am I resolved. (To TECMESSA) Thou, woman, pass

Within, and pray the gods that all things so
May be accomplished as my heart desires.
And you, friends, heed my wishes as she doth;
And when he comes, bid Teucer he must guard
My rights at need, and withal stand your friend.
For now I go whither I needs must pass.
Do as I bid. Soon haply you shall hear,
With me, for all this misery, 'tis most well. (AJAX departs. TECMESSA
goes into the tent.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe)

I thrill with rapture, flutter on wings of ecstasy.
Io, Io, Pan, Pan!
O Pan, Pan! from the stony ridge,
Snow-bestrewn of Cyllene's height
Appear roving across the waters,
O dance-ordering king of gods,
That thou mayst join me in flinging free
Fancy measures of Nysa and of Cnossus.
Yea for the dance I now am eager.
And over the far Icarian billows come, O king Apollo,
From Delos in haste, come thou,
Thy kindly power here in our midst revealing.

(antistrophe)

Ares hath lifted horror and anguish from our eyes.
Io, Io! Now again,
Now, O Zeus, can the bright and blithe
Glory of happier days return
To our swift-voyaging ships, for now
Hath Ajax wholly forgot his grief,
And all rites due to the gods he now
Fain would meetly perform with loyal worship.
Mighty is time to dwindle all things.
Nought would I call too strange for belief, when Ajax thus beyond
hope
Hath learnt to repent his proud feuds,
And lay aside anger against the Atreidae. (A MESSENGER enters.)

MESSENGER My friends, these tiding I would tell you first:

Teucer is present, from the Mysian heights
But now returned, and in the central camp
By all the Greeks at once is being reviled.
As he drew near they knew him from afar,
Then gathering around him one and all
With taunts assailed him from this side and that,
Calling him kinsman of that maniac,
That plotter against the host, saying that nought
Should save him; stoned and mangled he must die.
And so they had come to such a pitch that swords
Plucked from their sheaths stood naked in men's hands.
Yet when the strife ran highest, it was stayed
By words from the elders and so reconciled.
But where is Ajax? I must speak with him.
He whom it most concerns must be told all.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS He is not within, but has just now gone forth

With a new purpose yoked to a new mood.

MESSENGER Alas! Alas!
Then too late on this errand was I sped
By him who sent me; or I have proved too slow.

LEADER What urgent need has been neglected here?

MESSENGER Teucer forbade that Ajax should go forth
Outside his hut, till he himself should come.

LEADER Well, he is gone. To wisest purpose now
His mind is turned, to appease heaven's wrath.

MESSENGER These words of thine are filled with utter folly,

If there was truth in Calchas' prophecy.

LEADER What prophecy? And what know you of this thing?

MESSENGER Thus much I know, for by chance I was present.

Leaving the circle of consulting chiefs
Where sat the Atreidae, Calchas went aside,
And with kind purpose grasping Teucer's hand
Enjoined him that by every artifice
He should restrain Ajax within his tents
This whole day, and not leave him to himself,
If he wished ever to behold him alive.
For on this day alone, such were his words,
Would the wrath of divine Athena vex him.
For the overweening and unprofitable
Fall crushed by heaven-sent calamities
(So the seer spoke), whene'er one born a man
Has conceived thoughts too high for man's estate:
And this man, when he first set forth from home,
Showed himself foolish, when his father spoke to him
Wisely: "My son, seek victory by the spear;
But seek it always with the help of heaven."
Then boastfully and witlessly he answered:
"Father, with heaven's help a mere man of nought
Might win victory: but I, albeit without
Their aid, trust to achieve a victor's glory."
Such was his proud vaunt. Then a second time
Answering divine Athena, when she urged him
To turn a slaughterous hand upon his foes,
He gave voice to this dire, blasphemous boast:
"Goddess, stand thou beside the other Greeks.
Where I am stationed, no foe shall break through."
By such words and such thoughts too great for man
Did he provoke Athena's pitiless wrath.
But if he lives through this one day, perchance,
Should heaven be willing, we may save him yet.
So spoke the seer; and Teucer from his seat
No sooner risen, sent me with this mandate
For you to observe. But if we have been forestalled,
That man lives not, or Calchas is no prophet.

LEADER (calling) Woful Tecmessa, woman born to sorrow,

Come forth and hear this man who tells of a peril
That grazes us too close for our mind's ease. (TECMESSA enters from
the tent.)

TECMESSA Why alas do you break my rest again
After brief respite from relentless woes?

LEADER Give hearing to this messenger, who brings
Tidings that grieve me of how Ajax fares.

TECMESSA Ah me, what sayest thou, man? Are we undone?

MESSENGER I know not of thy fortune; but for Ajax,
If he be gone abroad, my mind misgives.

TECMESSA Yes, he is gone. I am racked to know thy meaning.

MESSENGER Teucer commands you to keep him within doors,

And not to let him leave his tent alone.

TECMESSA And where is Teucer, and why speaks he thus?

MESSENGER He has but now returned, and he forebodes
That this going-forth will prove fatal to Ajax.

TECMESSA Woe's me, alas! From whom has he learned this?

MESSENGER From the seer, Thestor's son, this very day,
Which is fraught either with his death or life.

TECMESSA Ah me, my friends, avert this threatening doom

Speed some of you to hasten Teucer hither:
Others go search the bays, some west, some east,
And track my lord's ill-omened going-forth.
Yes, now I know I have been deceived by him,
And from his former favour quite cast out.
Alas, child, what shall I do? Sit still I must not:
But far as I have strength I too will go.
Let us start quickly-'tis no time for loitering,
If we would save one who is in haste to die.

LEADER I am ready, as not words alone shall prove,
But speed of act and foot to make words good. (The CHORUS, TECMESSA
and MESSENGER go out. The scene changes to a lonely place by the sea-shore.
Bushes and under- brush are in the background. AJAX enters alone.)

AJAX The slayer stands so that his edge may cleave
Most surely (if there be leisure for such thought),
Being the gift of Hector, of all friends
Most unloved, and most hateful to my sight.
Then it is planted in Troy's hostile soil,
New-sharpened on the iron-biting whet.
And heedfully have I planted it, that so
With a swift death it prove to me most kind.
Thus have I made all ready. Next be thou
The first, O Zeus, to aid me, as is right.
It is no mighty boon that I shall crave.
Send some announcer of the evil news
To Teucer, that he first may lift me up,
When I have fallen upon this reeking sword,
Lest ere he come some enemy should espy me
And cast me forth to dogs and birds a prey.
This, O Zeus, I entreat thee, and likewise call
On Hermes, guide to the underworld, to lay me
Asleep without a struggle, at one swift bound,
When I have thrust my heart through with this sword.
Next I call on those maidens ever-living
And ever watchful of all human miseries,
The dread swift-striding Erinyes, that they mark
How by the Atreidae I have been destroyed:
And these vile men by a vile doom utterly
May they cut off, even as they see me here.
Come, O ye swift avenging Erinyes,
Spare not, touch with affliction the whole host.
And thou, whose chariot mounts up the steep sky,
Thou Sun, when on the land where I was born
Thou shalt look down, check thy gold-spangled rein,
And announce my disasters and my doom
To my aged sire and her who nurtured me.
She, woful woman, when she hears these tidings
Will wail out a loud dirge through all the town.
But I waste labour with this idle moan.
The act must now be done, and that with speed.
O Death, Death, come now and look upon me.-
No, 'tis there I shall meet and speak to thee.
But thee, bright daylight which I now behold,
And Helios in his chariot I accost
For this last time of all, and then no more.
O sunlight! O thou hallowed soil, my own
Salamis, stablished seat of my sire's hearth,
And famous Athens, with thy kindred race,
And you, ye springs and streams, and Trojan plains,
Farewell, all ye who have sustained my life.
This is the last word Ajax speaks to you.
All else in Hades to the dead will I say. (He falls on his sword.
His body lies partially concealed by the underbrush. SEMI-CHORUS 1
enters.)

SEMI-CHORUS 1 (chanting) 'Tis toil on toil, and toil again.

Where! where!
Where have not my footsteps been?
And still no place reveals the secret of my search.
But hark!
There again I hear a sound. (SEMI-CHORUS 2 enters.)

SEMI-CHORUS 2 (chanting) 'Tis we, the ship-companions of your voyage.

SEMI-CHORUS 1 (chanting) Well how now?

SEMI-CHORUS 2 (chanting) We have searched the whole coast westward
from the ship.

SEMI-CHORUS 1 (chanting) You have found nought?

SEMI-CHORUS 2 (chanting) A deal of toil, but nothing more to see.

SEMI-CHORUS 1 (chanting) Neither has he been found along the path

That leads from the eastern glances of the sun.

CHORUS (singing, strophe)

From whom, oh from whom? what hard son of the waves,
Plying his weary task without thought of sleep,
Or what Olympian nymph of hill or stream that flows
Down to the Bosporus' shore,
Might I have tidings of my lord
Wandering somewhere seen
Fierce of mood? Grievous it is
When I have toiled so long, and ranged far and wide
Thus to fail, thus to have sought in vain.
Still the afflicted hero nowhere may I find. (TECMESSA enters and
discovers the body.)

TECMESSA Alas, woe, woe!

CHORUS (chanting) Whose cry was it that broke from yonder copse?

TECMESSA Alas, woe is me!

LEADER OF THE CHORUS It is the hapless spear-won bride I see,

Tecmessa, steeped in that wail's agony.

TECMESSA I am lost, destroyed, made desolate, my friends.

LEADER What is it? Speak.

TECMESSA Ajax, our master, newly slaughtered lies
Yonder, a hidden sword sheathed in his body.

CHORUS (chanting) Woe for my lost hopes of home!
Woe's me, thou hast slain me, my king,
Me thy shipmate, hapless man!
Woful-souled woman too!

TECMESSA Since thus it is with him, 'tis mine to wail.

LEADER By whose hand has he wrought this luckless deed?

TECMESSA By his own hand, 'tis evident. This sword
Whereon he fell, planted in earth, convicts him.

CHORUS (chanting) Woe for my blind folly! Lone in thy blood thou
liest, from friends' help afar.
And I the wholly witless, the all unwary,
Forbore to watch thee. Where, where
Lieth the fatally named, intractable Ajax?

TECMESSA None must behold him. I will shroud him wholly

In this enfolding mantle; for no man
Who loved him could endure to see him thus
Through nostrils and through red gash spouting up
The darkened blood from his self-stricken wound.
Ah me, what shall I do? What friend shall lift thee?
Where is Teucer? Timely indeed would he now come,
To compose duly his slain brother's corpse.
O hapless Ajax, who wast once so great,
Now even thy foes might dare to mourn thy fall.

CHORUS (chanting, antistrophe)

'Twas fate's will, alas, 'twas fate then for thou
Stubborn of soul at length to work out a dark
Doom of ineffable miseries. Such the dire
Fury of passionate hate
I heard thee utter fierce of mood
Railing at Atreus' sons
Night by night, day by day.
Verily then it was the sequence of woes
First began, when as the prize of worth
Fatally was proclaimed the golden panoply.

TECMESSA Alas, woe, woe!

CHORUS (chanting) A loyal grief pierces thy heart, I know.

TECMESSA Alas, woe, woe!

CHORUS (chanting) Woman, I marvel not that thou shouldst wail

And wail again, reft of a friend so dear.

TECMESSA 'Tis thine to surmise, mine to feel, too surely.

CHORUS (chanting) 'Tis even so.

TECMESSA Ah, my child, to what bondage are we come,
Seeing what cruel taskmasters will be ours.

CHORUS (chanting) Ah me, at what dost thou hint?
What ruthless, unspeakable wrong
From the Atreidae fearest thou?
But may heaven avert that woe!

TECMESSA Ne'er had it come to this save by heaven's will.

CHORUS (chanting) Yes, too great to be borne this heaven-sent burden.

TECMESSA Yet such the woe which the dread child of Zeus,

Pallas, has gendered for Odysseus' sake.

CHORUS (chanting) Doubtless the much-enduring hero in his dark spy's
soul exults mockingly,
And laughs with mighty laughter at these agonies
Of a frenzied spirit. Shame! Shame!
Sharers in glee at the tale are the royal Atreidae.

TECMESSA Well, let them mock and glory in his ruin.
Perchance, though while he lived they wished not for him,

They yet shall wail him dead, when the spear fails them.

Men of ill judgment oft ignore the good
That lies within their hands, till they have lost it.
More to their grief he died than to their joy,
And to his own content. All his desire
He now has won, that death for which he longed.
Why then should they deride him? 'Tis the gods
Must answer for his death, not these men, no.
Then let Odysseus mock him with empty taunts.
Ajax is no more with them; but has gone,
Leaving to me despair and lamentation.

TEUCER (from without) Alas, woe, woe!

LEADER OF THE CHORUS Keep silence! Is it Teucer's voice I hear

Lifting a dirge over this tragic sight? (TEUCER enters.)

TEUCER O brother Ajax, to mine eyes most dear,
Can it be thou hast fared as rumour tells?

LEADER Yes, he is dead, Teucer: of that be sure.

TEUCER Alas, how then can I endure my fate!

LEADER Since thus it is...

TEUCER O wretched, wretched me!

LEADER Thou hast cause to moan.

TEUCER O swift and cruel woe!

LEADER Too cruel, Teucer!

TEUCER Woe is me! But say-
His child-where shall I find him? Tell me where.

LEADER Alone within the tent.

TEUCER (to TECMESSA) Then with all speed
Go, bring him thither, lest some foe should snatch him
Like a whelp from a lioness bereaved.
Away! See it done quickly! All men are wont
To insult over the dead, once they lie low. (TECMESSA departs.)

LEADER Yes, Teucer, while he lived, did he not charge thee

To guard his son from harm, as now thou dost?

TEUCER O sight most grievous to me of all sights
That ever I have looked on with my eyes!
And hatefullest of all paths to my soul
This path that now has led me to thy side,
O dearest Ajax, when I heard thy fate,
While seeking thee I tracked thy footsteps out.
For a swift rumour, as from some god, ran
Through the Greek host that thou wast dead and gone.
While yet far off I heard it, and groaned deep
In anguish; now I see, and my life dies.
Ay me!
Uncover. Let me behold woe's very worst. (The cover is lifted from
the body.) O ghastly sight! victim of ruthless courage!

What miseries hast thou dying sown for me!
Whither, among what people, shall I go,
Who in thy troubles failed to give thee succour?
Oh doubtless Telamon, thy sire and mine,
With kind and gracious face is like to greet me,
Returned without thee: how else?-he who is wont
Even at good news to smile none the sweeter.
What will he keep back? What taunt not hurl forth
Against the bastard of a spear-won slave,
Him who through craven cowardice betrayed
Thee, beloved Ajax-or by guile, that so
I might inherit thy kingdom and thy house.
So will he speak, a passionate man, grown peevish
In old age, quick to wrath without a cause.
Then shall I be cast off, a banished man,
Proclaimed no more a freeman but a slave.
Such is the home that waits me; while at Troy
My foes are many, my well-wishers few.
All this will be my portion through thy death.
Ah me, what shall I do? How draw thee, brother,
From this fell sword, on whose bright murderous point
Thou hast breathed out thy soul? See how at last
Hector, though dead, was fated to destroy thee!
Consider, I pray, the doom of these two men.
Hector, with that same girdle Ajax gave him
Was lashed fast to Achilles' chariot rail
And mangled till he had gasped forth his life.
And 'twas from him that Ajax had this gift,
The blade by which he perished and lies dead.
Was it not some Erinys forged this sword,
And Hades the grim craftsman wrought that girdle?
I at least would maintain that the gods plan
These things and all things ever for mankind.
But whosoever's judgment likes not this,
Let him uphold his doctrine as I mine.

LEADER Speak no more, but take counsel how to inter
Our dear lord, and what now it were best to say:
For 'tis a foe I see. Perchance he comes
To mock our misery, villain that he is.

TEUCER What chieftain of the host do you behold?

LEADER Menelaus, for whose sake we voyaged hither.

TEUCER 'Tis he. I know him well, now he is near. (MENELAUS enters
with his retinue.)

MENELAUS You, Sir, I warn you, raise not yonder corpse
For burial, but leave it as it lies.

TEUCER For what cause do you waste such swelling words?

MENELAUS 'Tis my will, and his will who rules the host.

TEUCER Let us know then what pretext you allege.

MENELAUS We hoped that we had brought this man from home

To be a friend and champion for the Greeks:
But a worse than Phrygian foe on trial we found him.
Devising death for the whole host, by night
He sallied forth against us, armed for slaughter.
And had not some god baffled this exploit,
Ours would have been the lot which now is his:
While we lay slain by a most shameful doom,
He would have still been living. But his outrage,
Foiled by a god, has fallen on sheep and herds.
Wherefore there lives no man so powerful
That he shall lay this corpse beneath a tomb;
But cast forth somewhere upon the yellow sands
It shall become food for the sea-shore birds.
Then lift not up your voice in threatening fury.
If while he lived we could not master him,
Yet in death will we rule him, in your despite,
Guiding him with our hands, since in his life
At no time would he hearken to my words.
Yet 'tis a sign of wickedness, when a subject
Deigns not to obey those placed in power above him.
For never can the laws be prosperously
Stablished in cities where awe is not found;
Nor may a camp be providently ruled
Without the shield of dread and reverence.
Yea, though a man be grown to mighty bulk,
Let him look lest some slight mischance o'erthrow him.
He with whom awe and reverence abide,
Doubt not, will flourish in security.
But where outrage and licence are not checked,
Be sure that state, though sped by prosperous winds,
Some day at last will founder in deep seas.
Yes, fear should be established in due season.
Dream not that we can act as we desire,
Yet avoid payment of the price in pain.
Well, fortune goes by turns. This man was fiery
And insolent once: 'tis mine now to exult.
I charge thee, bury him not, lest by that act
Thou thyself shouldst be digging thine own grave,

LEADER Menelaus, do not first lay down wise precepts,
Then thyself offer outrage to the dead.

TEUCER (to the CHORUS) Never, friends, shall I marvel any more,

If one of low birth acts injuriously,
When they who are accounted nobly born
Can utter such injurious calumnies. (To MENELAUS) Come, once more
speak. You say you brought him hither?
Took him to be a champion of the Greeks?
Did he not sail as his own master, freely?
How are you his chieftain? How have you the right
To lord it o'er the folk he brought from home?
As Sparta's lord you came, not as our master.
In no way was it your prerogative
To rule him, any more than he could you.
As vassal of others you sailed hither, not
As captain of us all, still less of Ajax.
Go, rule those whom you may rule: chastise them
With proud words. But this man, though you forbid me,
Aye, and your fellow-captain, by just right
Will I lay in his grave, scorning your threats.
It was not for the sake of your lost wife
He came to Troy, like your toil-broken serfs,
But for the sake of oaths that he had sworn,
Not for yours. What cared he for nobodies?
Then come again and bring more heralds hither,
And the captain of the host. For such as you
I would not turn my head, for all your bluster.

LEADER Such speech I like not, either, in peril's midst:

For harsh words rankle, be they ne'er so just.

MENELAUS This bowman, it seems, has pride enough to spare.

TEUCER Yes, 'tis no mean craft I have made my own.

MENELAUS How big would be your boasts, had you a shield!

TEUCER Shieldless, I would outmatch you panoplied.

MENELAUS How terrible a courage dwells within your tongue!

TEUCER He may be bold of heart whose side right favours.

MENELAUS Is it right that my assassin should be honoured?

TEUCER Assassin? How strange, if, though slain, you live!

MENELAUS Heaven saved me: I was slain in his intent.

TEUCER Do not dishonour then the gods who saved you.

MENELAUS What, I rebel against the laws of heaven?
TEUCER,
Yes, if you come to rob the dead of burial.

MENELAUS My own foes! How could I endure such wrong?

TEUCER Did Ajax ever confront you as your foe?

MENELAUS He loathed me, and I him, as well you know.

TEUCER Because to defraud him you intrigued for votes.

MENELAUS It was the judges cast him, and not I.

TEUCER Much secret villainy you could make seem fair.

MENELAUS That saying will bring someone into trouble.

TEUCER Not greater trouble than we mean to inflict.

MENELAUS My one last word: this man must not have burial.

TEUCER Then hear my answer: burial he shall have.

MENELAUS Once did I see a fellow bold of tongue,
Who had urged a crew to sail in time of storm;
Yet no voice had you found in him, when winds
Began to blow; but hidden beneath his cloak
The mariners might trample on him at will.
And so with you and your fierce railleries,
Perchance a great storm, though from a little cloud
Its breath proceed, shall quench your blatant outcry.

TEUCER And I once saw a fellow filled with folly,
Who gloried scornfully in his neighbour's woes.
So it came to pass that someone like myself,
And of like mood, beholding him spoke thus.
"Man, act not wickedly towards the dead;
Or, if thou dost, be sure that thou wilt rue it."
Thus did he monish that infatuate man.
And lo! yonder I see him; and as I think,
He is none else but thou. Do I speak riddles?

MENELAUS I go. It were disgrace should any know
I had fallen to chiding where I might chastise.

TEUCER Begone then. For to me 'twere worst disgrace
That I should listen to a fool's idle blustering. (MENELAUS and his
retinue depart.)

CHORUS (chanting) Soon mighty and fell will the strife be begun.

But speedily now, Teucer, I pray thee,
Seek some fit place for his hollow grave,
Which men's memories evermore shall praise,
As he lies there mouldering at rest. (TECMESSA enters with EURYSACES.)

TEUCER Look yonder, where the child and wife of Ajax
Are hastening hither in good time to tend
The funeral rites of his unhappy corpse.
My child, come hither. Stand near and lay thy hand
As a suppliant on thy father who begat thee.
And kneel imploringly with locks of hair
Held in thy hand-mine, and hers, and last thine-
The suppliant's treasure. But if any Greek
By violence should tear thee from this corpse,
For that crime from the land may he be cast
Unburied, and his whole race from the root
Cut off, even as I sever this lock.
There, take it, boy, and keep it. Let none seek
To move thee; but still kneel there and cling fast.
And you, like men, no women, by his side
Stand and defend him till I come again,
When I have dug his grave, though all forbid. (TEUCER goes out.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

When will this agony draw to a close?
When will it cease, the last of our years of exile?
Years that bring me labour accurst of hurtling spears,
Woe that hath no respite or end,
But wide-spread over the plains of Troy
Works sorrow and shame for Hellas' sons.

(antistrophe 1)

Would he had vanished away from the earth,
Rapt to the skies, or sunk to devouring Hades,
He who first revealed to the Greeks the use of arms
Leagued in fierce confederate war!
Ah, toils eternally breeding toils!
Yea, he was the fiend who wrought man's ruin.

(strophe 2)

The wretch accurst, what were his gifts?
Neither the glad, festival wreath,
Nor the divine, mirth-giving wine-cup;
No music of flutes, soothing and sweet:
Slumber by night, blissful and calm,
None he bequeathed us.
And love's joys, alas! love did he banish from me.
Here couching alone neglected,
With hair by unceasing dews drenched evermore, we curse
Thy shores, O cruel Ilium.

(antistrophe 2)

Erewhile against terror by night, javelin or sword, firm was our
trust:
He was our shield, valiant Ajax.
But now a malign demon of fate
Claims him. Alas! When, when again
Shall joy befall me?
Oh once more to stand, where on the wooded headland
The ocean is breaking, under
The shadow of Sunium's height; thence could I greet from far

The divine city of Athens. (TEUCER enters, followed by AGAMEMNON
and his retinue.)

TEUCER In haste I come; for the captain of the host,
Agamemnon, I have seen hurrying hither.
To a perverse tongue now will he give rein.

AGAMEMNON Is it you, they tell me, have dared to stretch your lips

In savage raillery against us, unpunished?
'Tis you I mean, the captive woman's son.
Verily of well-born mother had you been bred,
Superb had been your boasts and high your strut,
Since you, being nought, have championed one who is nought,

Vowing that no authority is ours
By sea or land to rule the Greeks or you.
Are not these monstrous taunts to hear from slaves?
What was this man whose praise you vaunt so loudly?
Whither went he, or where stood he, where I was not?
Among the Greeks are there no men but he?
In evil hour, it seems, did we proclaim
The contest for Achilles' panoply,
If come what may Teucer is to call us knaves,
And if you never will consent, though worsted,
To accept the award that seemed just to most judges,
But either must keep pelting us with foul words,
Or stab us craftily in your rage at losing.
Where such discords are customary, never
Could any law be stablished and maintained,
If we should thrust the rightful winners by,
And bring the rearmost to the foremost place.
But such wrong must be checked. 'Tis not the big
Broad-shouldered men on whom we most rely;
No, 'tis the wise who are masters everywhere.
An ox, however large of rib, may yet
Be kept straight on the road by a little whip.
And this corrective, I perceive, will soon
Descend on you, unless you acquire some wisdom,
Who, though this man is dead, a mere shade now,
Can wag your insolent lips so freely and boldly.
Come to your senses: think what you are by birth.
Bring hither someone else, a man born free,
Who in your stead may plead your cause before us.
For when you speak, the sense escapes me quite:
I comprehend not your barbarian tongue.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS Would that you both might learn wisdom and temperance.

There is no better counsel I can give you.

TEUCER Alas! how soon gratitude to the dead
Proves treacherous and vanishes from men's minds,
If for thee, Ajax, this man has no more
The least word of remembrance, he for whom oft
Toiling in battle thou didst risk thy life.
But all that is forgotten and flung aside.
Thou who but now wast uttering so much folly,
Hast thou no memory left, how in that hour
When, pent within your lines, you were already
No more than men of nought, routed in battle,
He alone stood forth to save you, while the flames
Were blazing round the stern-decks of the ships
Already, and while Hector, leaping high
Across the trench, charged down upon the hulls?
Who checked this ruin? Was it not he, who nowhere
So much as stood beside thee, so thou sayest?
Would you deny he acted nobly there?
Or when again chosen by lot, unbidden,
Alone in single combat he met Hector?
For no runaway's lot did he cast in,
No lump of clammy earth, but such that first
It should leap lightly from the crested helm?
His were these exploits; and beside him stood
I the slave, the barbarian mother's son.
Wretch, with what face can you fling forth such taunts?
Know you not that of old your father's father
Was Pelops, a barbarian, and a Phrygian?
That your sire Atreus set before his brother
A feast most impious of his own children's flesh?
And from a Cretan mother you were born,
Whom when her father found her with a paramour,
He doomed her for dumb fishes to devour.
Being such, do you reproach me with my lineage?
Telamon is the father who begat me,
Who, as the foremost champion of the Greeks,
Won as his bride my mother, a princes
By birth, Laomedon's daughter: a chosen spoil
She had been given him by Alcmena's son.
Thus of two noble parents nobly born,
How should I shame one of my blood, whom now,
Laid low by such calamity, you would thrust
Unburied forth, and feel no shame to say it?
But of this be sure: wheresoever you may cast him,
Us three also with him will you cast forth.
For it beseems me in his cause to die
In sight of all, rather than for the sake
Of your wife-or your brother's should I say?
Look then not to my interest, but your own.
For if you assail me, you shall soon wish rather
To have been a coward than too bold against me. (ODYSSEUS enters.)

LEADER In good time, King Odysseus, hast thou come,
If 'tis thy purpose not to embroil but reconcile.

ODYSSEUS What is it, friends? Far off I heard high words

From the Atreidae over this hero's corpse.

AGAMEMNON Royal Odysseus, but now from this man
We have been listening to most shameful taunts.

ODYSSEUS How shameful? I could find excuse for one
Who, when reviled, retorts with bitter words.

AGAMEMNON Yes, I repaid his vile deeds with reviling.

ODYSSEUS What has he done thee whereby thou art wronged?

AGAMEMNON He says he will not leave yon corpse unhonoured

By sepulture, but will bury it in my spite.

ODYSSEUS May now a friend speak out the truth, yet still

As ever ply his oar in stroke with thine?

AGAMEMNON Speak: I should be witless else; for thee
Of all the Greeks I count the greatest friend.

ODYSSEUS Then listen. For the gods' sake venture not
Thus ruthlessly to cast forth this man unburied:
And in no wise let violence compel thee
To such deep hate that thou shouldst tread down justice.

Once for me too this man was my worst foe,
From that hour when I won Achilles' arms;
Yet, though he was such towards me, I would not so
Repay him with dishonour as to deny
That of all Greeks who came to Troy, no hero
So valiant save Achilles have I seen.
So it is not just thou shouldst dishonour him.
Not him wouldst thou be wronging, but the laws
Of heaven. It is not righteousness to outrage
A brave man dead, not even though thou hate him.

AGAMEMNON Thou, Odysseus, champion him thus against me?

ODYSSEUS Yes; but I hated him while hate was honourable.

AGAMEMNON Shouldst thou not also trample on him when dead?

ODYSSEUS Atreides, glory not in dishonouring triumphs.

AGAMEMNON 'Tis hard for a king to act with piety.

ODYSSEUS Yet not hard to respect a friend's wise counsel.

AGAMEMNON A good man should obey those who bear rule.

ODYSSEUS Relent. 'Tis no defeat to yield to friends.

AGAMEMNON Reflect who it is to whom thou dost this grace.

ODYSSEUS This man was once my foe, yet was he noble.

AGAMEMNON Can it be thou wilt reverence a dead foe?

ODYSSEUS His worth with me far outweighs enmity.

AGAMEMNON Unstable of impulse are such men as thou.

ODYSSEUS Many are friends now and hereafter foes.

AGAMEMNON Do you then praise such friends as worth the winning?

ODYSSEUS I am not wont to praise a stubborn soul.

AGAMEMNON Cowards you would have us show ourselves this day.

ODYSSEUS Not so, but just men before all the Greeks.

AGAMEMNON You bid me then permit these funeral rites?

ODYSSEUS Even so: for I myself shall come to this.

AGAMEMNON Alike in all things each works for himself.

ODYSSEUS And for whom should I work, if not myself?

AGAMEMNON Let it be known then as your doing, not mine.

ODYSSEUS So be it. At least you will have acted nobly.

AGAMEMNON Nay, but of this be certain, that to thee
Willingly would I grant a greater boon.
Yet he, in that world as in this, shall be
Most hateful to me. But act as you deem fit. (AGAMEMNON and his retinue
go out.)

LEADER After such proof, Odysseus, a fool only
Could say that inborn wisdom was not thine.

ODYSSEUS Let Teucer know that I shall be henceforth
His friend, no less than I was once his foe.
And I will join in burying this dead man,
And share in all due rites, omitting none
Which mortal men to noblest heroes owe.

TEUCER Noble Odysseus, for thy words I praise thee
Without stint. Wholly hast thou belied my fears.
Thou, his worst foe among the Greeks, hast yet
Alone stood by him staunchly, nor thought fit
To glory and exult over the dead,
Like that chief crazed with arrogance, who came,
He and his brother, hoping to cast forth
The dead man shamefully without burial.
May therefore the supreme Olympian Father,
The remembering Fury and fulfilling Justice
Destroy these vile men vilely, even as they
Sought to cast forth this hero unjustly outraged.
But pardon me, thou son of old Laertes,
That I must scruple to allow thine aid
In these rites, lest I so displease the dead.
In all else share our toil; and wouldst thou bring
Any man from the host, we grudge thee not.
What else remains, I will provide. And know
That thou towards us hast acted generously.

ODYSSEUS It was my wish. But if my help herein
Pleases you not, so be it, I depart. (ODYSSEUS goes out.)

TEUCER 'Tis enough. Too long is the time we have wasted

In talk. Haste some with spades to the grave:
Speedily hollow it. Some set the cauldron
On high amid wreathing flames ready filled
For pious ablution.
Then a third band go, fetch forth from the tent
All the armour he once wore under his shield.
Thou too, child, lovingly lay thy hand
On thy father's corpse, and with all thy strength
Help me to lift him: for the dark blood-tide
Still upward is streaming warm through the arteries.
All then who openly now would appear
Friends to the dead, come, hasten forwards.
To our valiant lord this labour is due.
We have served none nobler among men.

CHORUS (chanting) Unto him who has seen may manifold knowledge

Come; but before he sees, no man
May divine what destiny awaits him.

THE END

Antigone

By Sophocles — Translated by R. C. Jebb — Cambridge, University Press [1902]

Dramatis Personae

daughters of Oedipus:
ANTIGONE
ISMENE
CREON, King of Thebes
EURYDICE, his wife
HAEMON, his son
TEIRESIAS, the blind prophet
GUARD, set to watch the corpse of Polyneices
FIRST MESSENGER
SECOND MESSENGER, from the house
CHORUS OF THEBAN ELDERS

The same as in Oedipus the King, an open space before the royal palace,
once that of Oedipus, at Thebes. The backscene represents the front
of the palace, with three doors, of which the central and largest
is the principal entrance into the house. The time is at daybreak
on the morning after the fall of the two brothers, Eteocles and Polyneices,
and the flight of the defeated Argives. ANTIGONE calls ISMENE forth
from the palace, in order to speak to her alone.

ANTIGONE Ismene, sister, mine own dear sister, knowest thou what
ill there is, of all bequeathed by Oedipus, that Zeus fulfils not
for us twain while we live? Nothing painful is there, nothing fraught
with ruin, no shame, no dishonour, that I have not seen in thy woes
and mine.

And now what new edict is this of which they tell, that our Captain
hath just published to all Thebes? Knowest thou aught? Hast thou heard?
Or is it hidden from thee that our friends are threatened with the
doom of our foes?

ISMENE No word of friends, Antigone, gladsome or painful, hath come
to me, since we two sisters were bereft of brothers twain, killed
in one day by twofold blow; and since in this last night the Argive
host hath fled, know no more, whether my fortune be brighter, or more
grievous.

ANTIGONE I knew it well, and therefore sought to bring thee beyond
the gates of the court, that thou mightest hear alone.

ISMENE What is it? 'Tis plain that thou art brooding on some dark
tidings.

ANTIGONE What, hath not Creon destined our brothers, the one to honoured
burial, the other to unburied shame? Eteocles, they say, with due
observance of right and custom, he hath laid in the earth, for his
honour among the dead below. But the hapless corpse of Polyneices-as
rumour saith, it hath been published to the town that none shall entomb
him or mourn, but leave unwept, unsepulchred, a welcome store for
the birds, as they espy him, to feast on at will.

Such, 'tis said, is the edict that the good Creon hath set forth for
thee and for me,-yes, for me,-and is coming hither to proclaim it
clearly to those who know it not; nor counts the matter light, but,
whoso disobeys in aught, his doom is death by stoning before all the
folk. Thou knowest it now; and thou wilt soon show whether thou art
nobly bred, or the base daughter of a noble line.

ISMENE Poor sister,-and if things stand thus, what could I help to
do or undo?

ANTIGONE Consider if thou wilt share the toil and the deed.

ISMENE In what venture? What can be thy meaning?

ANTIGONE Wilt thou aid this hand to lift the dead?

ISMENE Thou wouldst bury him,-when 'tis forbidden to Thebes?

ANTIGONE I will do my part,-and thine, if thou wilt not,-to a brother.
False to him will I never be found.

ISMENE Ah, over-bold! when Creon hath forbidden?

ANTIGONE Nay, he hath no right to keep me from mine own.

ISMENE Ah me! think, sister, how our father perished, amid hate and
scorn, when sins bared by his own search had moved him to strike both
eyes with self-blinding hand; then the mother wife, two names in one,
with twisted noose did despite unto her life; and last, our two brothers
in one day,-each shedding, hapless one, a kinsman's blood,-wrought
out with mutual hands their common doom. And now we in turn-we two
left all alone think how we shall perish, more miserably than all
the rest, if, in defiance of the law, we brave a king's decree or
his powers. Nay, we must remember, first, that we were born women,
as who should not strive with men; next, that we are ruled of the
stronger, so that we must obey in these things, and in things yet
sorer. I, therefore, asking the Spirits Infernal to pardon, seeing
that force is put on me herein, will hearken to our rulers. for 'tis
witless to be over busy.

ANTIGONE I will not urge thee,-no nor, if thou yet shouldst have
the mind, wouldst thou be welcome as a worker with me. Nay, be what
thou wilt; but I will bury him: well for me to die in doing that.
I shall rest, a loved one with him whom I have loved, sinless in my
crime; for I owe a longer allegiance to the dead than to the living:
in that world I shall abide for ever. But if thou wilt, be guilty
of dishonouring laws which the gods have stablished in honour.

ISMENE I do them no dishonour; but to defy the State,-I have no strength
for that.

ANTIGONE Such be thy plea:-I, then, will go to heap the earth above
the brother whom I love.

ISMENE Alas, unhappy one! How I fear for thee!

ANTIGONE Fear not for me: guide thine own fate aright.

ISMENE: At least, then, disclose this plan to none, but hide it closely,-and
so, too, will I.

ANTIGONE Oh, denounce it! Thou wilt be far more hateful for thy silence,
if thou proclaim not these things to all.

ISMENE Thou hast a hot heart for chilling deeds.

ANTIGONE I know that I please where I am most bound to please.

ISMENE Aye, if thou canst; but thou wouldst what thou canst not.

ANTIGONE Why, then, when my strength fails, I shall have done.

ISMENE A hopeless quest should not be made at all.

ANTIGONE If thus thou speakest, thou wilt have hatred from me, and
will justly be subject to the lasting hatred of the dead. But leave
me, and the folly that is mine alone, to suffer this dread thing;
for I shall not suffer aught so dreadful as an ignoble death.

ISMENE Go, then, if thou must; and of this be sure,-that though thine
errand is foolish, to thy dear ones thou art truly dear. (Exit ANTIGONE
on the spectators' left. ISMENE retires into the palace by one of
the two side-doors. When they have departed, the CHORUS OF THEBAN
ELDERS enters.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

Beam of the sun, fairest light that ever dawned on Thebe of the seven
gates, thou hast shone forth at last, eye of golden day, arisen above
Dirce's streams! The warrior of the white shield, who came from Argos
in his panoply, hath been stirred by thee to headlong flight, in swifter
career;

LEADER OF THE CHORUS (systema 1)

who set forth against our land by reason of the vexed claims of Polyneices;
and, like shrill-screaming eagle, he flew over into our land, in snow-white
pinion sheathed, with an armed throng, and with plumage of helms.

CHORUS (antistrophe 1)

He paused above our dwellings; he ravened around our sevenfold portals
with spears athirst for blood; but he went hence, or ever his jaws
were glutted with our gore, or the Fire-god's pine-fed flame had seized
our crown of towers. So fierce was the noise of battle raised behind
him, a thing too hard for him to conquer, as he wrestled with his
dragon foe.

LEADER (systema 2)

For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue; and when he
beheld them coming on in a great stream, in the haughty pride of clanging
gold, he smote with brandished fire one who was now hasting to shout
victory at his goal upon our ramparts.

CHORUS (strophe 2)

Swung down, he fell on the earth with a crash, torch in hand, he
who so lately, in the frenzy of the mad onset, was raging against
us with the blasts of his tempestuous hate. But those threats fared
not as he hoped; and to other foes the mighty War-god dispensed their
several dooms, dealing havoc around, a mighty helper at our need.

LEADER (systema 3)

For seven captains at seven gates, matched against seven, left the
tribute of their panoplies to Zeus who turns the battle; save those
two of cruel fate, who, born of one sire and one mother, set against
each other their twain conquering spears, and are sharers in a common
death.

CHORUS (antistrophe 2)

But since Victory of glorious name hath come to us, with joy responsive
to the joy of Thebe whose chariots are many, let us enjoy forgetfulness
after the late wars, and visit all the temples of the gods with night-long
dance and song; and may Bacchus be our leader, whose dancing shakes
the land of Thebe.

LEADER (systema 4)

But lo, the king of the land comes yonder, Creon, son of Menoeceus,
our new ruler by the new fortunes that the gods have given; what counsel
is he pondering, that he hath proposed this special conference of
elders, summoned by his general mandate? (Enter CREON, from the central
doors of the palace, in the garb of king, with two attendants.)

CREON Sirs, the vessel of our State, after being tossed on wild waves,
hath once more been safely steadied by the gods: and ye, out of all
the folk, have been called apart by my summons, because I knew, first
of all, how true and constant was your reverence for the royal power
of Laius; how, again, when Oedipus was ruler of our land, and when
he had perished, your steadfast loyalty still upheld their children.
Since, then, his sons have fallen in one day by a twofold doom,-each
smitten by the other, each stained with a brother's blood,-I now possess
the throne and all its powers, by nearness of kinship to the dead.

No man can be fully known, in soul and spirit and mind, until he hath
been seen versed in rule and law-giving. For if any, being supreme
guide of the State, cleaves not to the best counsels, but, through
some fear, keeps his lips locked, I hold, and have ever held, him
most base; and if any makes a friend of more account than his fatherland,
that man hath no place in my regard. For I-be Zeus my witness, who
sees all things always-would not be silent if I saw ruin, instead
of safety, coming to the citizens; nor would I ever deem the country's
foe a friend to myself; remembering this, that our country is the
ship that bears us safe, and that only while she prospers in our voyage
can we make true friends.

Such are the rules by which I guard this city's greatness. And in
accord with them is the edict which I have now published to the folk
touching the sons of Oedipus;-that Eteocles, who hath fallen fighting
for our city, in all renown of arms, shall be entombed, and crowned
with every rite that follows the noblest dead to their rest. But for
his brother, Polyneices,-who came back from exile, and sought to consume
utterly with fire the city of his fathers and the shrines of his fathers'
gods,-sought to taste of kindred blood, and to lead the remnant into
slavery;-touching this man, it hath been proclaimed to our people
that none shall grace him with sepulture or lament, but leave him
unburied, a corpse for birds and dogs to eat, a ghastly sight of shame.

Such the spirit of my dealing; and never, by deed of mine, shall the
wicked stand in honour before the just; but whoso hath good will to
Thebes, he shall be honoured of me, in his life and in his death.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS Such is thy pleasure, Creon, son of Menoeceus,
touching this city's foe, and its friend; and thou hast power, I ween,
to take what order thou wilt, both for the dead, and for all us who
live.

CREON See, then, that ye be guardians of the mandate.

LEADER Lay the burden of this task on some younger man.

CREON Nay, watchers of the corpse have been found.

LEADER What, then, is this further charge that thou wouldst give?

CREON That ye side not with the breakers of these commands.

LEADER No man is so foolish that he is enamoured of death.

CREON In sooth, that is the meed; yet lucre hath oft ruined men through
their hopes. (A GUARD enters from the spectators' left.)

GUARD My liege, I will not say that I come breathless from speed,
or that have plied a nimble foot; for often did my thoughts make me
pause, and wheel round in my path, to return. My mind was holding
large discourse with me; 'Fool, why goest thou to thy certain doom?'
'Wretch, tarrying again? And if Creon hears this from another, must
not thou smart for it?' So debating, I went on my way with lagging
steps, and thus a short road was made long. At last, however, it carried
the day that I should come hither-to thee; and, though my tale be
nought, yet will I tell it; for I come with a good grip on one hope,-that
I can suffer nothing but what is my fate.

CREON And what is it that disquiets thee thus?

GUARD I wish to tell thee first about myself-I did not do the deed-I
did not see the doer-it were not right that I should come to any harm.

CREON Thou hast a shrewd eye for thy mark; well dost thou fence thyself
round against the blame; clearly thou hast some strange thing to tell.

GUARD Aye, truly; dread news makes one pause long.

CREON Then tell it, wilt thou, and so get thee gone?

GUARD Well, this is it.-The corpse-some one hath just given it burial,
and gone away,-after sprinkling thirsty dust on the flesh, with such
other rites as piety enjoins.

CREON What sayest thou? What living man hath dared this deed?

GUARD I know not; no stroke of pickaxe was seen there, no earth thrown
up by mattock; the ground was hard and dry, unbroken, without track
of wheels; the doer was one who had left no trace. And when the first
day-watchman showed it to us, sore wonder fell on all. The dead man
was veiled from us; not shut within a tomb, but lightly strewn with
dust, as by the hand of one who shunned a curse. And no sign met the
eye as though any beast of prey or any dog had come nigh to him, or
torn him.

Then evil words flew fast and loud among us, guard accusing guard;
und it would e'en have come to blows at last, nor was there any to
hinder. Every man was the culprit, and no one was convicted, but all
disclaimed knowledge of the deed. And we were ready to take red-hot
iron in our hands;-to walk through fire;-to make oath by the gods
that we had not done the deed,-that we were not privy to the planning
or the doing.

At last, when all our searching was fruitless, one spake, who made
us all bend our faces on the earth in fear; for we saw not how we
could gainsay him, or escape mischance if we obeyed. His counsel was
that this deed must be reported to thee, and not hidden. And this
seemed best; and the lot doomed my hapless self to win this prize.
So here I stand,-as unwelcome as unwilling, well I wot; for no man
delights in the bearer of bad news.

LEADER O king, my thoughts have long been whispering, can this deed,
perchance, be e'en the work of gods?

CREON Cease, ere thy words fill me utterly with wrath, lest thou
be found at once an old man and foolish. For thou sayest what is not
to be borne, in saying that the gods have care for this corpse. Was
it for high reward of trusty service that they sought to hide his
nakedness, who came to burn their pillared shrines and sacred treasures,
to burn their land, and scatter its laws to the winds? Or dost thou
behold the gods honouring the wicked? It cannot be. No! From the first
there were certain in the town that muttered against me, chafing at
this edict, wagging their heads in secret; and kept not their necks
duly under the yoke, like men contented with my sway.

'Tis by them, well I know, that these have been beguiled and bribed
to do this deed. Nothing so evil as money ever grew to be current
among men. This lays cities low, this drives men from their homes,
this trains and warps honest souls till they set themselves to works
of shame; this still teaches folk to practise villainies, and to know
every godless deed.

But all the men who wrought this thing for hire have made it sure
that, soon or late, they shall pay the price. Now, as Zeus still hath
my reverence, know this-I tell it thee on my oath:-If ye find not
the very author of this burial, and produce him before mine eyes,
death alone shall not be enough for you, till first, hung up alive,
ye have revealed this outrage,-that henceforth ye may thieve with
better knowledge whence lucre should be won, and learn that it is
not well to love gain from every source. For thou wilt find that ill-gotten
pelf brings more men to ruin than to weal.

GUARD May I speak? Or shall I just turn and go?

CREON Knowest thou not that even now thy voice offends?

GUARD Is thy smart in the ears, or in the soul?

CREON And why wouldst thou define the seat of my pain?

GUARD The doer vexes thy mind, but I, thine ears.

CREON Ah, thou art a born babbler, 'tis well seen.

GUARD May be, but never the doer of this deed.

CREON Yea, and more,-the seller of thy life for silver.

GUARD Alas! 'Tis sad, truly, that he who judges should misjudge.

CREON Let thy fancy play with 'judgment' as it will;-but, if ye show
me not the doers of these things, ye shall avow that dastardly gains
work sorrows. (CREON goes into the palace.)

GUARD Well, may he be found! so 'twere best. But, be he caught or
be he not-fortune must settle that-truly thou wilt not see me here
again. Saved, even now, beyond hope and thought, I owe the gods great
thanks. (The GUARD goes out on the spectators' left.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

Wonders are many, and none is more wonderful than man; the power
that crosses the white sea, driven by the stormy south-wind, making
a path under surges that threaten to engulf him; and Earth, the eldest
of the gods, the immortal, the unwearied, doth he wear, turning the
soil with the offspring of horses, as the ploughs go to and fro from
year to year.

(antistrophe 1)

And the light-hearted race of birds, and the tribes of savage beasts,
and the sea-brood of the deep, he snares in the meshes of his woven
toils, he leads captive, man excellent in wit. And he masters by his
arts the beast whose lair is in the wilds, who roams the hills; he
tames the horse of shaggy mane, he puts the yoke upon its neck, he
tames the tireless mountain bull.

(strophe 2)

And speech, and wind-swift thought, and all the moods that mould
a state, hath he taught himself; and how to flee the arrows of the
frost, when 'tis hard lodging under the clear sky, and the arrows
of the rushing rain; yea, he hath resource for all; without resource
he meets nothing that must come: only against Death shall he call
for aid in vain; but from baffling maladies he hath devised escapes.

(antistrophe 2)

Cunning beyond fancy's dream is the fertile skill which brings him,
now to evil, now to good. When he honours the laws of the land, and
that justice which he hath sworn by the gods to uphold, proudly stands
his city: no city hath he who, for his rashness, dwells with sin.
Never may he share my hearth, never think my thoughts, who doth these
things! (Enter the GUARD on the spectators' left, leading in ANTIGONE.)

LEADER OF THE CHORUS What portent from the gods is this?-my soul
is amazed. I know her-how can I deny that yon maiden is Antigone?

O hapless, and child of hapless sire,-Of Oedipus! What means this?
Thou brought a prisoner?-thou, disloyal to the king's laws, and taken
in folly?

GUARD Here she is, the doer of the deed:-caught this girl burying
him:-but where is Creon? (CREON enters hurriedly from the palace.)

LEADER Lo, he comes forth again from the house, at our need.

CREON What is it? What hath chanced, that makes my coming timely?

GUARD O king, against nothing should men pledge their word; for the
after-thought belies the first intent. I could have vowed that I should
not soon be here again,-scared by thy threats, with which I had just
been lashed: but,-since the joy that surprises and transcends our
hopes is like in fulness to no other pleasure,-I have come, though
'tis in breach of my sworn oath, bringing this maid; who was taken
showing grace to the dead. This time there was no casting of lots;
no, this luck hath fallen to me, and to none else. And now, sire,
take her thyself, question her, examine her, as thou wilt; but I have
a right to free and final quittance of this trouble.

CREON And thy prisoner here-how and whence hast thou taken her?

GUARD She was burying the man; thou knowest all.

CREON Dost thou mean what thou sayest? Dost thou speak aright?

GUARD I saw her burying the corpse that thou hadst forbidden to bury.
Is that plain and clear?

CREON And how was she seen? how taken in the act?

GUARD It befell on this wise. When we had come to the place,-with
those dread menaces of thine upon us,-we swept away all the dust that
covered the corpse, and bared the dank body well; and then sat us
down on the brow of the hill, to windward, heedful that the smell
from him should not strike us; every man was wide awake, and kept
his neighbour alert with torrents of threats, if anyone should be
careless of this task.

So went it, until the sun's bright orb stood in mid heaven, and the
heat began to burn: and then suddenly a whirlwind lifted from the
earth storm of dust, a trouble in the sky the plain, marring all the
leafage of its woods; and the wide air was choked therewith: we closed
our eyes, and bore the plague from the gods.

And when, after a long while, this storm had passed, the maid was
seen; and she cried aloud with the sharp cry of a bird in its bitterness,-even
as when, within the empty nest, it sees the bed stripped of its nestlings.
So she also, when she saw the corpse bare, lifted up a voice of wailing,
and called down curses on the doers of that deed. And straightway
she brought thirsty dust in her hands; and from a shapely ewer of
bronze, held high, with thrice-poured drink-offering she crowned the
dead.

We rushed forward when we saw it, and at once dosed upon our quarry,
who was in no wise dismayed. Then we taxed her with her past and present
doings; and she stood not on denial of aught,-at once to my joy and
to my pain. To have escaped from ills one's self is a great joy; but
'tis painful to bring friends to ill. Howbeit, all such things are
of less account to me than mine own safety.

CREON Thou-thou whose face is bent to earth-dost thou avow, or disavow,
this deed?

ANTIGONE I avow it; I make no denial.

CREON (to GUARD) Thou canst betake thee whither thou wilt, free
and clear of a grave charge. (Exit GUARD, To ANTIGONE) Now, tell
me thou-not in many words, but briefly-knewest thou that an edict
had forbidden this?

ANTIGONE I knew it: could I help it? It was public.

CREON And thou didst indeed dare to transgress that law?

ANTIGONE Yes; for it was not Zeus that had published me that edict;
not such are the laws set among men by the justice who dwells with
the gods below; nor deemed I that thy decrees were of such force,
that a mortal could override the unwritten and unfailing statutes
of heaven. For their life is not of to-day or yesterday, but from
all time, and no man knows when they were first put forth.

Not through dread of any human pride could I answer to the gods for
breaking these. Die I must,-I knew that well (how should I not?)-even
without thy edicts. But if I am to die before my time, I count that
a gain: for when any one lives, as I do, compassed about with evils,
can such an one find aught but gain in death?

So for me to meet this doom is trifling grief; but if I had suffered
my mother's son to lie in death an unburied corpse, that would have
grieved me; for this, I am not grieved. And if my present deeds are
foolish in thy sight, it may be that a foolish judge arraigns my folly.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS The maid shows herself passionate child of passionate
sire, and knows not how to bend before troubles.

CREON Yet I would have thee know that o'er-stubborn spirits are most
often humbled; 'tis the stiffest iron, baked to hardness in the fire,
that thou shalt oftenest see snapped and shivered; and I have known
horses that show temper brought to order by a little curb; there is
no room for pride when thou art thy neighbour's slave.-This girl was
already versed in insolence when she transgressed the laws that had
been set forth; and, that done, lo, a second insult,-to vaunt of this,
and exult in her deed.

Now verily I am no man, she is the man, if this victory shall rest
with her, and bring no penalty. No! be she sister's child, or nearer
to me in blood than any that worships Zeus at the altar of our house,-she
and her kinsfolk shall not avoid a doom most dire; for indeed I charge
that other with a like share in the plotting of this burial.

And summon her-for I saw her e'en now within,-raving, and not mistress
of her wits. So oft, before the deed, the mind stands self-convicted
in its treason, when folks are plotting mischief in the dark. But
verily this, too, is hateful,-when one who hath been caught in wickednes
then seeks to make the crime a glory.

ANTIGONE Wouldst thou do more than take and slay me?

CREON No more, indeed; having that, I have all.

ANTIGONE Why then dost thou delay? In thy discourse there is nought
that pleases me,-never may there be!-and so my words must needs be
unpleasing to thee. And yet, for glory-whence could I have won a nobler,
than by giving burial to mine own brother? All here would own that
they thought it well, were not their lips sealed by fear. But royalty,
blest in so much besides, hath the power to do and say what it will.

CREON Thou differest from all these Thebans in that view.

ANTIGONE These also share it; but they curb their tongues for thee.

CREON And art thou not ashamed to act apart from them?

ANTIGONE No; there is nothing shameful in piety to a brother.

CREON Was it not a brother, too, that died in the opposite cause?

ANTIGONE Brother by the same mother and the same sire.

CREON Why, then, dost thou render a grace that is impious in his
sight?

ANTIGONE The dead man will not say that he so deems it.

CREON Yea, if thou makest him but equal in honour with the wicked.

ANTIGONE It was his brother, not his slave, that perished.

CREON Wasting this land; while he fell as its champion.

ANTIGONE Nevertheless, Hades desires these rites.

CREON But the good desires not a like portion with the evil.

ANTIGONE Who knows but this seems blameless in the world below?

CREON A foe is never a friend-not even in death.

ANTIGONE Tis not my nature to join in hating, but in loving.

CREON Pass, then, to the world of the dead, and, it thou must needs
love, love them. While I live, no woman shall rule me. (Enter ISMENE
from the house, led in by two attendants.)

CHORUS (chanting) Lo, yonder Ismene comes forth, shedding such tears
as fond sisters weep; a cloud upon her brow casts its shadow over
her darkly-flushing face, and breaks in rain on her fair cheek.

CREON And thou, who, lurking like a viper in my house, wast secretly
draining my life-blood, while I knew not that I was nurturing two
pests, to rise against my throne-come, tell me now, wilt thou also
confess thy part in this burial, or wilt thou forswear all knowledge
of it?

ISMENE I have done the deed,-if she allows my claim,-and share the
burden of the charge.

ANTIGONE Nay, justice will not suffer thee to do that: thou didst
not consent to the deed, nor did I give thee part in it.

ISMENE But, now that ills beset thee, I am not ashamed to sail the
sea of trouble at thy side.

ANTIGONE Whose was the deed, Hades and the dead are witnesses: a
friend in words is not the friend that I love.

ISMENE Nay, sister, reject me not, but let me die with thee, and
duly honour the dead.

ANTIGONE Share not thou my death, nor claim deeds to which thou hast
not put thy hand: my death will suffice.

ISMENE And what life is dear to me, bereft of thee?

ANTIGONE Ask Creon; all thy care is for him.

ISMENE Why vex me thus, when it avails thee nought?

ANTIGONE Indeed, if I mock, 'tis with pain that I mock thee.

ISMENE Tell me,-how can I serve thee, even now?

ANTIGONE Save thyself: I grudge not thy escape.

ISMENE Ah, woe is me! And shall I have no share in thy fate?

ANTIGONE Thy choice was to live; mine, to die.

ISMENE At least thy choice was not made without my protest.

ANTIGONE One world approved thy wisdom; another, mine.

ISMENE Howbeit, the offence is the same for both of us.

ANTIGONE Be of good cheer; thou livest; but my life hath long been
given to death, that so I might serve the dead.

CREON Lo, one of these maidens hath newly shown herself foolish,
as the other hath been since her life began.

ISMENE Yea, O king, such reason as nature may have given abides not
with the unfortunate, but goes astray.

CREON Thine did, when thou chosest vile deeds with the vile.

ISMENE What life could I endure, without her presence?

CREON Nay, speak not of her 'presence'; she lives no more.

ISMENE But wilt thou slay the betrothed of thine own son?

CREON Nay, there are other fields for him to plough.

ISMENE But there can never be such love as bound him to her.

CREON I like not an evil wife for my son.

ANTIGONE Haemon, beloved! How thy father wrongs thee!

CREON Enough, enough of thee and of thy marriage!

LEADER OF THE CHORUS Wilt thou indeed rob thy son of this maiden?

CREON 'Tis Death that shall stay these bridals for me.

LEADER 'Tis determined, it seems, that she shall die.

CREON Determined, yes, for thee and for me.- (To the two attendants)
No more delay-servants, take them within! Henceforth they must be
women, and not range at large; for verily even the bold seek to fly,
when they see Death now closing on their life. (Exeunt attendants,
guarding ANTIGONE and ISMENE.-CREON remains.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

Blest are they whose days have not tasted of evil. For when a house
hath once been shaken from heaven, there the curse fails nevermore,
passing from life to life of the race; even as, when the surge is
driven over the darkness of the deep by the fierce breath of Thracian
sea-winds, it rolls up the black sand from the depths, and there is
sullen roar from wind-vexed headlands that front the blows of the
storm.

(antistrophe 1)

I see that from olden time the sorrows in the house of the Labdacidae
are heaped upon the sorrows of the dead; and generation is not freed
by generation, but some god strikes them down, and the race hath no
deliverance.

For now that hope of which the light had been spread above the last
root of the house of Oedipus-that hope, in turn, is brought low--by
the blood-stained dust due to the gods infernal, and by folly in speech,
and frenzy at the heart.

(strophe 2)

Thy power, O Zeus, what human trespass can limit? That power which
neither Sleep, the all-ensnaring, nor the untiring months of the gods
can master; but thou, a ruler to whom time brings not old age, dwellest
in the dazzling splendour of Olympus.

And through the future, near and far, as through the past, shall this
law hold good: Nothing that is vast enters into the life of mortals
without a curse.

(antistrophe 2)

For that hope whose wanderings are so wide is to many men a comfort,
but to many a false lure of giddy desires; and the disappointment
comes on one who knoweth nought till he burn his foot against the
hot fire.

For with wisdom hath some one given forth the famous saying, that
evil seems good, soon or late, to him whose mind the god draws to
mischief; and but for the briefest space doth he fare free of woe.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS But lo, Haemon, the last of thy sons;-Comes
he grieving for the doom of his promised bride, Antigone, and bitter
for the baffled hope of his marriage? (Enter HAEMON)

CREON We shall know soon, better than seers could tell us.-My son,
hearing the fixed doom of thy betrothed, art thou come in rage against
thy father? Or have I thy good will, act how I may?

HAEMON Father, I am thine; and thou, in thy wisdom, tracest for me
rules which I shall follow. No marriage shall be deemed by me a greater
gain than thy good guidance.

CREON Yea, this, my son, should be thy heart's fixed law,-in all
things to obey thy father's will. 'Tis for this that men pray to see
dutiful children grow up around them in their homes,-that such may
requite their father's foe with evil, and honour, as their father
doth, his friend. But he who begets unprofitable children-what shall
we say that he hath sown, but troubles for himself, and much triumph
for his foes? Then do not thou, my son, at pleasure's beck, dethrone
thy reason for a woman's sake; knowing that this is a joy that soon
grows cold in clasping arms,-an evil woman to share thy bed and thy
home. For what wound could strike deeper than a false friend? Nay,
with loathing, and as if she were thine enemy, let this girl go to
find a husband in the house of Hades. For since I have taken her,
alone of all the city, in open disobedience, I will not make myself
a liar to my people-I will slay her.

So let her appeal as she will to the majesty of kindred blood. If
I am to nurture mine own kindred in naughtiness, needs must I bear
with it in aliens. He who does his duty in his own household will
be found righteous in the State also. But if any one transgresses,
and does violence to the laws, or thinks to dictate to his rulers,
such an one can win no praise from me. No, whomsoever the city may
appoint, that man must be obeyed, in little things and great, in just
things and unjust; and I should feel sure that one who thus obeys
would be a good ruler no less than a good subject, and in the storm
of spears would stand his ground where he was set, loyal and dauntless
at his comrade's side.

But disobedience is the worst of evils. This it is that ruins cities;
this makes homes desolate; by this, the ranks of allies are broken
into head-long rout; but, of the lives whose course is fair, the greater
part owes safety to obedience. Therefore we must support the cause
of order, and in no wise suffer a woman to worst us. Better to fall
from power, if we must, by a man's hand; then we should not be called
weaker than a woman.

LEADER To us, unless our years have stolen our wit, thou seemest
to say wisely what thou sayest.

HAEMON Father, the gods implant reason in men, the highest of all
things that we call our own. Not mine the skill-far from me be the
quest!-to say wherein thou speakest not aright; and yet another man,
too, might have some useful thought. At least, it is my natural office
to watch, on thy behalf, all that men say, or do, or find to blame.
For the dread of thy frown forbids the citizen to speak such words
as would offend thine ear; but can hear these murmurs in the dark,
these moanings of the city for this maiden; 'no woman,' they say,
'ever merited her doom less,-none ever was to die so shamefully for
deeds so glorious as hers; who, when her own brother had fallen in
bloody strife, would not leave him unburied, to be devoured by carrion
dogs, or by any bird:-deserves not she the meed of golden honour?'

Such is the darkling rumour that spreads in secret. For me, my father,
no treasure is so precious as thy welfare. What, indeed, is a nobler
ornament for children than a prospering sire's fair fame, or for sire
than son's? Wear not, then, one mood only in thyself; think not that
thy word, and thine alone, must be right. For if any man thinks that
he alone is wise,-that in speech, or in mind, he hath no peer,-such
a soul, when laid open, is ever found empty.

No, though a man be wise, 'tis no shame for him to learn many things,
and to bend in season. Seest thou, beside the wintry torrent's course,
how the trees that yield to it save every twig, while the stiff-necked
perish root and branch? And even thus he who keeps the sheet of his
sail taut, and never slackens it, upsets his boat, and finishes his
voyage with keel uppermost.

Nay, forego thy wrath; permit thyself to change. For if I, a younger
man, may offer my thought, it were far best, I ween, that men should
be all-wise by nature; but, otherwise-and oft the scale inclines not
so-'tis good also to learn from those who speak aright.

LEADER Sire, 'tis meet that thou shouldest profit by his words, if
he speaks aught in season, and thou, Haemon, by thy father's; for
on both parts there hath been wise speech.

CREON Men of my age are we indeed to be schooled, then, by men of
his?

HAEMON In nothing that is not right; but if I am young, thou shouldest
look to my merits, not to my years.

CREON Is it a merit to honour the unruly?

HAEMON I could wish no one to show respect for evil-doers.

CREON Then is not she tainted with that malady?

HAEMON Our Theban folk, with one voice, denies it.

CREON Shall Thebes prescribe to me how I must rule?

HAEMON See, there thou hast spoken like a youth indeed.

CREON Am I to rule this land by other judgment than mine own?

HAEMON That is no city which belongs to one man.

CREON Is not the city held to be the ruler's?

HAEMON Thou wouldst make a good monarch of a desert.

CREON This boy, it seems, is the woman's champion.

HAEMON If thou art a woman; indeed, my care is for thee.

CREON Shameless, at open feud with thy father!

HAEMON Nay, I see thee offending against justice.

CREON Do I offend, when I respect mine own prerogatives?

HAEMON Thou dost not respect them, when thou tramplest on the gods'
honours,

CREON O dastard nature, yielding place to woman!

HAEMON Thou wilt never find me yield to baseness.

CREON All thy words, at least, plead for that girl.

HAEMON And for thee, and for me, and for the gods below.

CREON Thou canst never marry her, on this side the grave.

HAEMON Then she must die, and in death destroy another.

CREON How! doth thy boldness run to open threats?

HAEMON What threat is it, to combat vain resolves?

CREON Thou shalt rue thy witless teaching of wisdom.

HAEMON Wert thou not my father, I would have called thee unwise.

CREON Thou woman's slave, use not wheedling speech with me.

HAEMON Thou wouldest speak, and then hear no reply?

CREON Sayest thou so? Now, by the heaven above us-be sure of it-thou
shalt smart for taunting me in this opprobrious strain. Bring forth
that hated thing, that she may die forthwith in his presence-before
his eyes-at her bridegroom's side!

HAEMON No, not at my side-never think it-shall she perish; nor shalt
thou ever set eyes more upon my face:-rave, then, with such friends
as can endure thee. (Exit HAEMON)

LEADER The man is gone, O king, in angry haste; a youthful mind,
when stung, is fierce.

CREON Let him do, or dream, more than man-good speed to him!-But
he shall not save these two girls from their doom.

LEADER Dost thou indeed purpose to slay both?

CREON Not her whose hands are pure: thou sayest well.

LEADER And by what doom mean'st thou to slay the other?

CREON I will take her where the path is loneliest, and hide her,
living, in rocky vault, with so much food set forth as piety prescribes,
that the city may avoid a public stain. And there, praying to Hades,
the only god whom she worships, perchance she will obtain release
from death; or else will learn, at last, though late, that it is lost
labour to revere the dead. (CREON goes into the palace.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe)

Love, unconquered in the fight, Love, who makest havoc of wealth,
who keepest thy vigil on the soft cheek of a maiden; thou roamest
over the sea, and among the homes of dwellers in the wilds; no immortal
can escape thee, nor any among men whose life is for a day; and he
to whom thou hast come is mad.

(antistrophe)

The just themselves have their minds warped by thee to wrong, for
their ruin: 'tis thou that hast stirred up this present strife of
kinsmen; victorious is the love-kindling light from the eyes of the
fair bride; it is a power enthroned in sway beside the eternal laws;
for there the goddess Aphrodite is working her unconquerable will.
(ANTIGONE is led out of the palace by two Of CREON'S attendants who
are about to conduct her to her doom.) But now I also am carried
beyond the bounds of loyalty, and can no more keep back the streaming
tears, when I see Antigone thus passing to the bridal chamber where
all are laid to rest. (The following lines between ANTIGONE and the
CHORUS are chanted responsively.)

ANTIGONE (strophe 1)

See me, citizens of my fatherland, setting forth on my last way,
looking my last on the sunlight that is for me no more; no, Hades
who gives sleep to all leads me living to Acheron's shore; who have
had no portion in the chant that brings the bride, nor hath any song
been mine for the crowning of bridals; whom the lord of the Dark Lake
shall wed.

CHORUS (systema 1)

Glorious, therefore, and with praise, thou departest to that deep
place of the dead: wasting sickness hath not smitten thee; thou hast
not found the wages of the sword; no, mistress of thine own fate,
and still alive, thou shalt pass to Hades, as no other of mortal kind
hath passed.

ANTIGONE (antistrophe 1)

I have heard in other days how dread a doom befell our Phrygian guest,
the daughter of Tantalus, on the Sipylian heights; I how, like clinging
ivy, the growth of stone subdued her; and the rains fail not, as men
tell, from her wasting form, nor fails the snow, while beneath her
weeping lids the tears bedew her bosom; and most like to hers is the
fate that brings me to my rest.

CHORUS (systema 2)

Yet she was a goddess, thou knowest, and born of gods; we are mortals,
and of mortal race. But 'tis great renown for a woman who hath perished
that she should have shared the doom of the godlike, in her life,
and afterward in death.

ANTIGONE (strophe 2)

Ah, I am mocked! In the name of our fathers' gods, can ye not wait
till I am gone,-must ye taunt me to my face, O my city, and ye, her
wealthy sons? Ah, fount of Dirce, and thou holy ground of Thebe whose
chariots are many; ye, at least, will bear me witness, in what sort,
unwept of friends, and by what laws I pass to the rock-closed prison
of my strange tomb, ah me unhappy! who have no home on the earth or
in the shades, no home with the living or with the dead.

CHORUS (strophe 3)

Thou hast rushed forward to the utmost verge of daring; and against
that throne where justice sits on high thou hast fallen, my daughter,
with a grievous fall. But in this ordeal thou art paying, haply, for
thy father's sin.

ANTIGONE (antistrophe 2)

Thou hast touched on my bitterest thought,-awaking the ever-new lament
for my sire and for all the doom given to us, the famed house of Labdacus.
Alas for the horrors of the mother's bed! alas for the wretched mother's
slumber at the side of her own son,-and my sire! From what manner
of parents did I take my miserable being! And to them I go thus, accursed,
unwed, to share their home. Alas, my brother, ill-starred in thy marriage,
in thy death thou hast undone my life!

CHORUS (antistrophe 3)

Reverent action claims a certain praise for reverence; but an offence
against power cannot be brooked by him who hath power in his keeping.
Thy self-willed temper hath wrought thy ruin.

ANTIGONE (epode)

Unwept, unfriended, without marriage-song, I am led forth in my sorrow
on this journey that can be delayed no more. No longer, hapless one,
may I behold yon day-star's sacred eye; but for my fate no tear is
shed, no friend makes moan. (CREON enters from the palace.)

CREON Know ye not that songs and wailings before death would never
cease, if it profited to utter them? Away with her-away! And when
ye have enclosed her, according to my word, in her vaulted grave,
leave her alone, forlorn-whether she wishes to die, or to live a buried
life in such a home. Our hands are clean as touching this maiden.
But this is certain-she shall be deprived of her sojourn in the light.

ANTIGONE Tomb, bridal-chamber, eternal prison in the caverned rock,
whither go to find mine own, those many who have perished, and whom
Persephone hath received among the dead! Last of all shall I pass
thither, and far most miserably of all, before the term of my life
is spent. But I cherish good hope that my coming will be welcome to
my father, and pleasant to thee, my mother, and welcome, brother,
to thee; for, when ye died, with mine own hands I washed and dressed
you, and poured drink-offerings at your graves; and now, Polyneices,
'tis for tending thy corpse that I win such recompense as this.

And yet I honoured thee, as the wise will deem, rightly. Never, had
been a mother of children, or if a husband had been mouldering in
death, would I have taken this task upon me in the city's despite.
What law, ye ask, is my warrant for that word? The husband lost, another
might have been found, and child from another, to replace the first-born:
but, father and mother hidden with Hades, no brother's life could
ever bloom for me again. Such was the law whereby I held thee first
in honour; but Creon deemed me guilty of error therein, and of outrage,
ah brother mine! And now he leads me thus, a captive in his hands;
no bridal bed, no bridal song hath been mine, no joy of marriage,
no portion in the nurture of children; but thus, forlorn of friends,
unhappy one, I go living to the vaults of death.

And what law of heaven have I transgressed? Why, hapless one, should
I look to the gods any more,-what ally should I invoke,-when by piety
I have earned the name of impious? Nay, then, if these things are
pleasing to the gods, when I have suffered my doom, I shall come to
know my sin; but if the sin is with my judges, I could wish them no
fuller measure of evil than they, on their part, mete wrongfully to
me.

CHORUS Still the same tempest of the soul vexes this maiden with
the same fierce gusts.

CREON Then for this shall her guards have cause to rue their slowness.

ANTIGONE Ah me! that word hath come very near to death.

CREON I can cheer thee with no hope that this doom is not thus to
be fulfilled.

ANTIGONE O city of my fathers in the land of Thebe! O ye gods, eldest
of our race!-they lead me henc--now, now-they tarry not! Behold me,
princes of Thebes, the last daughter of the house of your kings,-see
what I suffer, and from whom, because I feared to cast away the fear
of Heaven! (ANTIGONE is led away by the guards.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

Even thus endured Danae in her beauty to change the light of day
for brass-bound walls; and in that chamber, secret as the grave, she
was held close prisoner; yet was she of a proud lineage, O my daughter,
and charged with the keeping of the seed of Zeus, that fell in the
golden rain.

But dreadful is the mysterious power of fate: there is no deliverance
from it by wealth or by war, by fenced city, or dark, sea-beaten ships.

(antistrophe 1)

And bonds tamed the son of Dryas, swift to wrath, that king of the
Edonians; so paid he for his frenzied taunts, when, by the will of
Dionysus, he was pent in a rocky prison. There the fierce exuberance
of his madness slowly passed away. That man learned to know the god,
whom in his frenzy he had provoked with mockeries; for he had sought
to quell the god-possessed women, and the Bacchanalian fire; and he
angered the Muses that love the flute.

(strophe 2)

And by the waters of the Dark Rocks, the waters of the twofold sea,
are the shores of Bosporus, and Thracian Salmydessus; where Ares,
neighbour to the city, saw the accurst, blinding wound dealt to the
two sons of Phineus by his fierce wife,-the wound that brought darkness
to those vengeance-craving orbs, smitten with her bloody hands, smitten
with her shuttle for a dagger.

(antistrophe 2)

Pining in their misery, they bewailed their cruel doom, those sons
of a mother hapless in her marriage; but she traced her descent from
the ancient line of the Erechtheidae; and in far-distant caves she
was nursed amid her father's storms, that child of Boreas, swift as
a steed over the steep hills, a daughter of gods; yet upon her also
the gray Fates bore hard, my daughter. (Enter TEIRESIAS, led by a
Boy, on the spectators' right.)

TEIRESIAS Princes of Thebes, we have come with linked steps, both
served by the eyes of one; for thus, by a guide's help, the blind
must walk.

CREON And what, aged Teiresias, are thy tidings?

TEIRESIAS I will tell thee; and do thou hearken to the seer.

CREON Indeed, it has not been my wont to slight thy counsel.

TEIRESIAS Therefore didst thou steer our city's course aright.

CREON I have felt, and can attest, thy benefits.

TEIRESIAS Mark that now, once more, thou standest on fate's fine
edge.

CREON What means this? How I shudder at thy message!

TEIRESIAS Thou wilt learn, when thou hearest the warnings of mine
art. As I took my place on mine old seat of augury, where all birds
have been wont to gather within my ken, I heard a strange voice among
them; they were screaming with dire, feverish rage, that drowned their
language in jargon; and I knew that they were rending each other with
their talons, murderously; the whirr of wings told no doubtful tale.

Forthwith, in fear, I essayed burnt-sacrifice on a duly kindled altar:
but from my offerings the Fire-god showed no flame; a dank moisture,
oozing from the thigh-flesh, trickled forth upon the embers, and smoked,
and sputtered; the gall was scattered to the air; and the streaming
thighs lay bared of the fat that had been wrapped round them.

Such was the failure of the rites by which I vainly asked a sign,
as from this boy I learned; for he is my guide, as I am guide to others.
And 'tis thy counsel that hath brought this sickness on our State.
For the altars of our city and of our hearths have been tainted, one
and all, by birds and dogs, with carrion from the hapless corpse,
the son of Oedipus: and therefore the gods no more accept prayer and
sacrifice at our hands, or the flame of meat-offering; nor doth any
bird give a clear sign by its shrill cry, for they have tasted the
fatness of a slain man's blood.

Think, then, on these things, my son. All men are liable to err; but
when an error hath been made, that man is no longer witless or unblest
who heals the ill into which he hath fallen, and remains not stubborn.

Self-will, we know, incurs the charge of folly. Nay, allow the claim
of the dead; stab not the fallen; what prowess is it to slay the slain
anew? I have sought thy good, and for thy good I speak: and never
is it sweeter to learn from a good counsellor than when he counsels
for thine own gain.

CREON Old man, ye all shoot your shafts at me, as archers at the
butts;-Ye must needs practise on me with seer-craft also;-aye, the
seer-tribe hath long trafficked in me, and made me their merchandise.
Gain your gains, drive your trade, if ye list, in the silver-gold
of Sardis and the gold of India; but ye shall not hide that man in
the grave,-no, though the eagles of Zeus should bear the carrion morsels
to their Master's throne-no, not for dread of that defilement will
I suffer his burial:-for well I know that no mortal can defile the
gods.-But, aged Teiresias, the wisest fall with shameful fall, when
they clothe shameful thoughts in fair words, for lucre's sake.

TEIRESIAS Alas! Doth any man know, doth any consider...

CREON Whereof? What general truth dost thou announce?

TEIRESIAS How precious, above all wealth, is good counsel.

CREON As folly, I think, is the worst mischief.

TEIRESIAS Yet thou art tainted with that distemper.

CREON I would not answer the seer with a taunt.

TEIRESIAS But thou dost, in saying that I prophesy falsely.

CREON Well, the prophet-tribe was ever fond of money.

TEIRESIAS And the race bred of tyrants loves base gain.

CREON Knowest thou that thy speech is spoken of thy king?

TEIRESIAS I know it; for through me thou hast saved Thebes.

CREON Thou art a wise seer; but thou lovest evil deeds.

TEIRESIAS Thou wilt rouse me to utter the dread secret in my soul.

CREON Out with it!-Only speak it not for gain.

TEIRESIAS Indeed, methinks, I shall not,-as touching thee.

CREON Know that thou shalt not trade on my resolve.

TEIRESIAS Then know thou-aye, know it well-that thou shalt not live
through many more courses of the sun's swift chariot, ere one begotten
of thine own loins shall have been given by thee, a corpse for corpses;
because thou hast thrust children of the sunlight to the shades, and
ruthlessly lodged a living soul in the grave; but keepest in this
world one who belongs to the gods infernal, a corpse unburied, unhonoured,
all unhallowed. In such thou hast no part, nor have the gods above,
but this is a violence done to them by thee. Therefore the avenging
destroyers lie in wait for thee, the Furies of Hades and of the gods,
that thou mayest be taken in these same ills.

And mark well if I speak these things as a hireling. A time not long
to be delayed shall awaken the wailing of men and of women in thy
house. And a tumult of hatred against thee stirs all the cities whose
mangled sons had the burial-rite from dogs, or from wild beasts, or
from some winged bird that bore a polluting breath to each city that
contains the hearths of the dead.

Such arrows for thy heart-since thou provokest me-have I launched
at thee, archer-like, in my anger,-sure arrows, of which thou shalt
not escape the smart.-Boy, lead me home, that he may spend his rage
on younger men, and learn to keep a tongue more temperate, and to
bear within his breast a better mind than now he bears. (The Boy
leads TEIRESIAS Out.)

LEADER OF THE CHORUS The man hath gone, O King, with dread prophecies.
And, since the hair on this head, once dark, hath been white, I know
that he hath never been a false prophet to our city.

CREON I, too, know it well, and am troubled in soul. 'Tis dire to
yield; but, by resistance, to smite my pride with ruin-this, too,
is a dire choice.

LEADER Son of Menoeceus, it behoves thee to take wise counsel.

CREON What should I do then? Speak and I will obey.

LEADER Go thou, and free the maiden from her rocky chamber, and make
a tomb for the unburied dead.

CREON And this is thy counsel? Thou wouldst have me yield?

LEADER Yea, King, and with all speed; for swift harms from the gods
cut short the folly of men.

CREON Ah me, 'tis hard, but I resign my cherished resolve,-I obey.
We must not wage a vain war with destiny.

LEADER Go, thou, and do these things; leave them not to others.

CREON Even as I am I'll go:-on, on, my servants, each and all of
you,-take axes in your hands, and hasten to the ground that ye see
yonder! Since our judgment hath taken this turn, I will be present
to unloose her, as myself bound her. My heart misgives me, 'tis best
to keep the established laws, even to life's end. (CREON and his
servants hasten out on the spectators' left.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

O thou of many names, glory of the Cadmeian bride, offspring of loud-thundering
Zeus! thou who watchest over famed Italia, and reignest, where all
guests are welcomed, in the sheltered plain of Eleusinian Deo! O Bacchus,
dweller in Thebe, mother-city of Bacchants, by the softly-gliding
stream of Ismenus, on the soil where the fierce dragon's teeth were
sown!

(antistrophe 1)

Thou hast been seen where torch-flames glare through smoke, above
the crests of the twin peaks, where move the Corycian nymphs, thy
votaries, hard by Castalia's stream.

Thou comest from the ivy-mantled slopes of Nysa's hills, and from
the shore green with many-clustered vines, while thy name is lifted
up on strains of more than mortal power, as thou visitest the ways
of Thebe:

(strophe 2)

Thebe, of all cities, thou holdest first in honour, thou and thy
mother whom the lightning smote; and now, when all our people is captive
to a violent plague, come thou with healing feet over the Parnassian
height, or over the moaning strait!

(antistrophe 2)

O thou with whom the stars rejoice as they move, the stars whose
breath is fire; O master of the voices of the night; son begotten
of Zeus; appear, O king, with thine attendant Thyiads, who in night-long
frenzy dance before thee, the giver of good gifts, Iacchus! (Enter
MESSENGER, on the spectators' left.)

MESSENGER Dwellers by the house of Cadmus and of Amphion, there is
no estate of mortal life that I would ever praise or blame as settled.
Fortune raises and Fortune humbles the lucky or unlucky from day to
day, and no one can prophesy to men concerning those things which
are established. For

CREON was blest once, as I count bliss; he had saved this land of
Cadmus from its foes; he was clothed with sole dominion in the land;
he reigned, the glorious sire of princely children. And now all hath
been lost. For when a man hath forfeited his pleasures, I count him
not as living,-I hold him but a breathing corpse. Heap up riches in
thy house, if thou wilt; live in kingly state; yet, if there be no
gladness therewith, I would not give the shadow of a vapour for all
the rest, compared with joy.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS And what is this new grief that thou hast to
tell for our princes?

MESSENGER Death; and the living are guilty for the dead.

LEADER And who is the slayer? Who the stricken? Speak.

MESSENGER Haemon hath perished; his blood hath been shed by no stranger.

LEADER By his father's hand, or by his own?

MESSENGER By his own, in wrath with his sire for the murder.

LEADER O prophet, how true, then, hast thou proved thy word!

MESSENGER These things stand thus; ye must consider of the rest.

LEADER Lo, I see the hapless Eurydice, Creon's wife, approaching;
she comes from the house by chance, haply,-or because she knows the
tidings of her son. (Enter EURYDICE from the palace.)

EURYDICE People of Thebes, I heard your words as I was going forth,
to salute the goddess Pallas with my prayers. Even as I was loosing
the fastenings of the gate, to open it, the message of a household
woe smote on mine ear: I sank back, terror-stricken, into the arms
of my handmaids, and my senses fled. But say again what the tidings
were; I shall hear them as one who is no stranger to sorrow.

MESSENGER Dear lady, I will witness of what I saw, and will leave
no word of the truth untold. Why, indeed, should I soothe thee with
words in which must presently be found false? Truth is ever best.-I
attended thy lord as his guide to the furthest part of the plain,
where the body of Polyneices, torn by dogs, still lay unpitied. We
prayed the goddess of the roads, and Pluto, in mercy to restrain their
wrath; we washed the dead with holy washing; and with freshly-plucked
boughs we solemnly burned such relics as there were. We raised a high
mound of his native earth; and then we turned away to enter the maiden's
nuptial chamber with rocky couch, the caverned mansion of the bride
of Death. And, from afar off, one of us heard a voice of loud wailing
at that bride's unhallowed bower; and came to tell our master Creon.

And as the king drew nearer, doubtful sounds of a bitter cry floated
around him; he groaned, and said in accents of anguish, 'Wretched
that I am, can my foreboding be true? Am I going on the wofullest
way that ever I went? My son's voice greets me.-Go, my servants,-haste
ye nearer, and when ye have reached the tomb, pass through the gap,
where the stones have been wrenched away, to the cell's very mouth,-and
look. and see if 'tis Haemon's voice that I know, or if mine ear is
cheated by the gods.'

This search, at our despairing master's word, we went to make; and
in the furthest part of the tomb we descried her hanging by the neck,
slung by a thread-wrought halter of fine linen: while he was embracing
her with arms thrown around her waist, bewailing the loss of his bride
who is with the dead, and his father's deeds, and his own ill-starred
love.

But his father, when he saw him, cried aloud with a dread cry and
went in, and called to him with a voice of wailing:-'Unhappy, what
deed hast thou done! What thought hath come to thee? What manner of
mischance hath marred thy reason? Come forth, my child! I pray thee-I
implore!' But the boy glared at him with fierce eyes, spat in his
face, and, without a word of answer, drew his cross-hilted sword:-as
his father rushed forth in flight, he missed his aim;-then, hapless
one, wroth with himself, he straightway leaned with all his weight
against his sword, and drove it, half its length, into his side; and,
while sense lingered, he clasped the maiden to his faint embrace,
and, as he gasped, sent forth on her pale cheek the swift stream of
the oozing blood.

Corpse enfolding corpse he lies; he hath won his nuptial rites, poor
youth, not here, yet in the halls of Death; and he hath witnessed
to mankind that, of all curses which cleave to man, ill counsel is
the sovereign curse. (EURYDICE retires into the house.)

LEADER What wouldst thou augur from this? The lady hath turned back,
and is gone, without a word, good or evil.

MESSENGER I, too, am startled; yet I nourish the hope that, at these
sore tidings of her son, she cannot deign to give her sorrow public
vent, but in the privacy of the house will set her handmaids to mourn
the household grief. For she is not untaught of discretion, that she
should err.

LEADER I know not; but to me, at least, a strained silence seems
to portend peril, no less than vain abundance of lament.

MESSENGER Well, I will enter the house, and learn whether indeed
she is not hiding some repressed purpose in the depths of a passionate
heart. Yea, thou sayest well: excess of silence, too, may have a perilous
meaning. (The MESSENGER goes into the palace. Enter CREON, on the
spectators' left, with attendants, carrying the shrouded body of HAEMON
on bier. The following lines between CREON and the CHORUS are chanted
responsively.)

CHORUS Lo, yonder the king himself draws near, bearing that which
tells too clear a tale,-the work of no stranger's madness,-if we may
say it,-but of his own misdeeds.

CREON (strophe 1)

Woe for the sins of a darkened soul, stubborn sins, fraught with
death! Ah, ye behold us, the sire who hath slain, the son who hath
perished! Woe is me, for the wretched blindness of my counsels! Alas,
my son, thou hast died in thy youth, by a timeless doom, woe is me!-thy
spirit hath fled,-not by thy folly, but by mine own!

CHORUS (strophe 2)

Ah me, how all too late thou seemest to see the right!
CREON Ah me, I have learned the bitter lesson! But then, methinks,
oh then, some god smote me from above with crushing weight, and hurled
me into ways of cruelty, woe is me,-overthrowing and trampling on
my joy! Woe, woe, for the troublous toils of men! (Enter MESSENGER
from the house.)

MESSENGER Sire, thou hast come, methinks, as one whose hands are
not empty, but who hath store laid up besides; thou bearest yonder
burden with thee-and thou art soon to look upon the woes within thy
house.

CREON And what worse ill is yet to follow upon ills?

MESSENGER Thy queen hath died, true mother of yon corpse-ah, hapless
lady by blows newly dealt.

CREON (antistrophe 1)

Oh Hades, all-receiving whom no sacrifice can appease! Hast thou,
then, no mercy for me? O thou herald of evil, bitter tidings, what
word dost thou utter? Alas, I was already as dead, and thou hast smitten
me anew! What sayest thou, my son? What is this new message that thou
bringest-woe, woe is me!-Of a wife's doom-of slaughter headed on slaughter?

CHORUS Thou canst behold: 'tis no longer hidden within. (The doors
of the palace are opened, and the corpse of EURYDICE is disclosed.)

CREON (antistrophe 2)

Ah me,-yonder I behold a new, a second woe! What destiny, ah what,
can yet await me? I have but now raised my son in my arms,-and there,
again, I see a corpse before me! Alas, alas, unhappy mother! Alas,
my child!

MESSENGER There, at the altar, self-stabbed with a keen knife, she
suffered her darkening eyes to close, when she had wailed for the
noble fate of Megareus who died before, and then for his fate who
lies there,-and when, with her last breath, she had invoked evil fortunes
upon thee, the slayer of thy sons.

CREON (strophe 3)

Woe, woe! I thrill with dread. Is there none to strike me to the
heart with two-edged sword?-O miserable that I am, and steeped in
miserable anguish!

MESSENGER Yea, both this son's doom, and that other's, were laid
to thy charge by her whose corpse thou seest.

CREON And what was the manner of the violent deed by which she passed
away?

MESSENGER Her own hand struck her to the heart, when she had learned
her son's sorely lamented fate.

CREON (strophe 4)

Ah me, this guilt can never be fixed on any other of mortal kind,
for my acquittal! I, even I, was thy slayer, wretched that I am-I
own the truth. Lead me away, O my servants, lead me hence with all
speed, whose life is but as death!

CHORUS Thy counsels are good, if there can be good with ills; briefest
is best, when trouble is in our path.

CREON (antistrophe 3)

Oh, let it come, let it appear, that fairest of fates for me, that
brings my last day,-aye, best fate of all! Oh, let it come, that I
may never look upon to-morrow's light.

CHORUS These things are in the future; present tasks claim our care:
the ordering of the future rests where it should rest.

CREON All my desires, at least, were summed in that prayer.

CHORUS Pray thou no more; for mortals have no escape from destined
woe.

CREON (antistrophe 4)

Lead me away, I pray you; a rash, foolish man; who have slain thee,
ah my son, unwittingly, and thee, too, my wife-unhappy that I am!
I know not which way I should bend my gaze, or where I should seek
support; for all is amiss with that which is in my hands,-and yonder,
again, a crushing fate hath leapt upon my head. (As CREON is being
conducted into the palace, the LEADER OF THE CHORUS speaks the closing
verses.)

LEADER Wisdom is the supreme part of happiness; and reverence towards
the gods must be inviolate. Great words of prideful men are ever punished
with great blows, and, in old age, teach the chastened to be wise.

THE END

Oedipus at Colonus

By Sophocles — Translated by F. Storr — London, Heinemann; New York, Macmillan [1912-13]

Dramatis Personae

OEDIPUS, banished King of Thebes
ANTIGONE, his daughter
ISMENE, his daughter
THESEUS, King of Athens
CREON, brother of Jocasta, now reigning at Thebes
POLYNEICES, elder son of Oedipus
STRANGER, a native of Colonus
MESSENGER, an attendant of Theseus

In front of the grove of the Eumenides.

(Enter the blind OEDIPUS led by his daughter, ANTIGONE.)

OEDIPUS Child of an old blind sire, Antigone,
What region, say, whose city have we reached?
Who will provide today with scanted dole
This wanderer? 'Tis little that he craves,
And less obtains--that less enough for me;
For I am taught by suffering to endure,
And the long years that have grown old with me,
And last not least, by true nobility.
My daughter, if thou seest a resting place
On common ground or by some sacred grove,
Stay me and set me down. Let us discover
Where we have come, for strangers must inquire
Of denizens, and do as they are bid.

ANTIGONE Long-suffering father, Oedipus, the towers
That fence the city still are faint and far;
But where we stand is surely holy ground;
A wilderness of laurel, olive, vine;
Within a choir or songster nightingales
Are warbling. On this native seat of rock
Rest; for an old man thou hast traveled far.

OEDIPUS Guide these dark steps and seat me there secure.

ANTIGONE If time can teach, I need not to be told.

OEDIPUS Say, prithee, if thou knowest, where we are.

ANTIGONE Athens I recognize, but not the spot.

OEDIPUS That much we heard from every wayfarer.

ANTIGONE Shall I go on and ask about the place?

OEDIPUS Yes, daughter, if it be inhabited.

ANTIGONE Sure there are habitations; but no need
To leave thee; yonder is a man hard by.

OEDIPUS What, moving hitherward and on his way?

ANTIGONE Say rather, here already. Ask him straight
The needful questions, for the man is here. (Enter STRANGER)

OEDIPUS O stranger, as I learn from her whose eyes
Must serve both her and me, that thou art here
Sent by some happy chance to serve our doubts--

STRANGER First quit that seat, then question me at large:

The spot thou treadest on is holy ground.

OEDIPUS What is the site, to what god dedicate?

STRANGER Inviolable, untrod; goddesses,
Dread brood of Earth and Darkness, here abide.

OEDIPUS Tell me the awful name I should invoke?

STRANGER The Gracious Ones, All-seeing, so our folk
Call them, but elsewhere other names are rife.

OEDIPUS Then may they show their suppliant grace, for I

From this your sanctuary will ne'er depart.

STRANGER What word is this?

OEDIPUS The watchword of my fate.

STRANGER Nay, 'tis not mine to bid thee hence without
Due warrant and instruction from the State.

OEDIPUS Now in God's name, O stranger, scorn me not
As a wayfarer; tell me what I crave.

STRANGER Ask; your request shall not be scorned by me.

OEDIPUS How call you then the place wherein we bide?

STRANGER Whate'er I know thou too shalt know; the place

Is all to great Poseidon consecrate.
Hard by, the Titan, he who bears the torch,
Prometheus, has his worship; but the spot
Thou treadest, the Brass-footed Threshold named,
Is Athens' bastion, and the neighboring lands
Claim as their chief and patron yonder knight
Colonus, and in common bear his name.
Such, stranger, is the spot, to fame unknown,
But dear to us its native worshipers.

OEDIPUS Thou sayest there are dwellers in these parts?

STRANGER Surely; they bear the name of yonder god.

OEDIPUS Ruled by a king or by the general voice?

STRANGER The lord of Athens is our over-lord.

OEDIPUS Who is this monarch, great in word and might?

STRANGER Theseus, the son of Aegeus our late king.

OEDIPUS Might one be sent from you to summon him?

STRANGER Wherefore? To tell him aught or urge his coming?

OEDIPUS Say a slight service may avail him much.

STRANGER How can he profit from a sightless man?

OEDIPUS The blind man's words will be instinct with sight.

STRANGER Heed then; I fain would see thee out of harm;
For by the looks, marred though they be by fate,
I judge thee noble; tarry where thou art,
While I go seek the burghers--those at hand,
Not in the city. They will soon decide
Whether thou art to rest or go thy way. (Exit STRANGER)

OEDIPUS Tell me, my daughter, has the stranger gone?

ANTIGONE Yes, he has gone; now we are all alone,
And thou may'st speak, dear father, without fear.

OEDIPUS Stern-visaged queens, since coming to this land

First in your sanctuary I bent the knee,
Frown not on me or Phoebus, who, when erst
He told me all my miseries to come,
Spake of this respite after many years,
Some haven in a far-off land, a rest
Vouchsafed at last by dread divinities.
"There," said he, "shalt thou round thy weary life,
A blessing to the land wherein thou dwell'st,
But to the land that cast thee forth, a curse."
And of my weird he promised signs should come,
Earthquake, or thunderclap, or lightning flash.
And now I recognize as yours the sign
That led my wanderings to this your grove;
Else had I never lighted on you first,
A wineless man on your seat of native rock.
O goddesses, fulfill Apollo's word,
Grant me some consummation of my life,
If haply I appear not all too vile,
A thrall to sorrow worse than any slave.
Hear, gentle daughters of primeval Night,
Hear, namesake of great Pallas; Athens, first
Of cities, pity this dishonored shade,
The ghost of him who once was Oedipus.

ANTIGONE Hush! for I see some grey-beards on their way,

Their errand to spy out our resting-place.

OEDIPUS I will be mute, and thou shalt guide my steps
Into the covert from the public road,
Till I have learned their drift. A prudent man
Will ever shape his course by what he learns. (Enter CHORUS)

CHORUS (strophe 1)

Ha! Where is he? Look around!
Every nook and corner scan!
He the all-presumptuous man,
Whither vanished? search the ground!
A wayfarer, I ween,
A wayfarer, no countryman of ours,
That old man must have been;
Never had native dared to tempt the Powers,
Or enter their demesne,
The Maids in awe of whom each mortal cowers,
Whose name no voice betrays nor cry,
And as we pass them with averted eye,
We move hushed lips in reverent piety.
But now some godless man,
'Tis rumored, here abides;
The precincts through I scan,
Yet wot not where he hides,
The wretch profane!
I search and search in vain.

OEDIPUS I am that man; I know you near
Ears to the blind, they say, are eyes.

CHORUS O dread to see and dread to hear!

OEDIPUS Oh sirs, I am no outlaw under ban.

CHORUS Who can he be--Zeus save us!--this old man?

OEDIPUS No favorite of fate,
That ye should envy his estate,
O, Sirs, would any happy mortal, say,
Grope by the light of other eyes his way,
Or face the storm upon so frail a stay?

CHORUS (antistrophe 1)

Wast thou then sightless from thy birth?
Evil, methinks, and long
Thy pilgrimage on earth.
Yet add not curse to curse and wrong to wrong.
I warn thee, trespass not
Within this hallowed spot,
Lest thou shouldst find the silent grassy glade
Where offerings are laid,
Bowls of spring water mingled with sweet mead.
Thou must not stay,
Come, come away,
Tired wanderer, dost thou heed?
(We are far off, but sure our voice can reach.)
If aught thou wouldst beseech,
Speak where 'tis right; till then refrain from speech.

OEDIPUS Daughter, what counsel should we now pursue?

ANTIGONE We must obey and do as here they do.

OEDIPUS Thy hand then!

ANTIGONE Here, O father, is my hand,

OEDIPUS O Sirs, if I come forth at your command,
Let me not suffer for my confidence.

CHORUS (strophe 2)

Against thy will no man shall drive thee hence.

OEDIPUS Shall I go further?

CHORUS Aye.

OEDIPUS What further still?

CHORUS Lead maiden, thou canst guide him where we will.

ANTIGONE Follow with blind steps, father, as I lead.

CHORUS In a strange land strange thou art;
To her will incline thy heart;
Honor whatso'er the State
Honors, all she frowns on hate.

OEDIPUS Guide me child, where we may range
Safe within the paths of right;
Counsel freely may exchange
Nor with fate and fortune fight.

CHORUS (antistrophe 2)

Halt! Go no further than that rocky floor.

OEDIPUS Stay where I now am?

CHORUS Yes, advance no more.

OEDIPUS May I sit down?

CHORUS Move sideways towards the ledge,
And sit thee crouching on the scarped edge.

ANTIGONE This is my office, father, O incline--

OEDIPUS Ah me! ah me!

ANTIGONE Thy steps to my steps, lean thine aged frame on mine.

OEDIPUS Woe on my fate unblest!

CHORUS Wanderer, now thou art at rest,
Tell me of thy birth and home,
From what far country art thou come,
Led on thy weary way, declare!

OEDIPUS Strangers, I have no country. O forbear--

CHORUS What is it, old man, that thou wouldst conceal?

OEDIPUS Forbear, nor urge me further to reveal--

CHORUS Why this reluctance?

OEDIPUS Dread my lineage.

CHORUS Say!

OEDIPUS What must I answer, child, ah welladay!

CHORUS Say of what stock thou comest, what man's son--

OEDIPUS Ah me, my daughter, now we are undone!

ANTIGONE Speak, for thou standest on the slippery verge.

OEDIPUS I will; no plea for silence can I urge.

CHORUS Will neither speak? Come, Sir, why dally thus!

OEDIPUS Know'st one of Laius'--

CHORUS Ha? Who!

OEDIPUS Seed of Labdacus--

CHORUS Oh Zeus!

OEDIPUS The hapless Oedipus.

CHORUS Art he?

OEDIPUS Whate'er I utter, have no fear of me.

CHORUS Begone!

OEDIPUS O wretched me!

CHORUS Begone!

OEDIPUS O daughter, what will hap anon?

CHORUS Forth from our borders speed ye both!

OEDIPUS How keep you then your troth?

CHORUS Heaven's justice never smites
Him who ill with ill requites.
But if guile with guile contend,
Bane, not blessing, is the end.
Arise, begone and take thee hence straightway,
Lest on our land a heavier curse thou lay.

ANTIGONE O sirs! ye suffered not my father blind,
Albeit gracious and to ruth inclined,
Knowing the deeds he wrought, not innocent,
But with no ill intent;
Yet heed a maiden's moan
Who pleads for him alone;

My eyes, not reft of sight,
Plead with you as a daughter's might
You are our providence,
O make us not go hence!
O with a gracious nod
Grant us the nigh despaired-of boon we crave?

Hear us, O hear,
But all that ye hold dear,
Wife, children, homestead, hearth and God!
Where will you find one, search ye ne'er so well.
Who 'scapes perdition if a god impel!

CHORUS Surely we pity thee and him alike
Daughter of Oedipus, for your distress;
But as we reverence the decrees of Heaven
We cannot say aught other than we said.

OEDIPUS O what avails renown or fair repute?
Are they not vanity? For, look you, now
Athens is held of States the most devout,
Athens alone gives hospitality
And shelters the vexed stranger, so men say.
Have I found so? I whom ye dislodged
First from my seat of rock and now would drive
Forth from your land, dreading my name alone;
For me you surely dread not, nor my deeds,
Deeds of a man more sinned against than sinning,
As I might well convince you, were it meet
To tell my mother's story and my sire's,
The cause of this your fear. Yet am I then
A villain born because in self-defense,
Striken, I struck the striker back again?
E'en had I known, no villainy 'twould prove:
But all unwitting whither I went, I went--
To ruin; my destroyers knew it well,
Wherefore, I pray you, sirs, in Heaven's name,
Even as ye bade me quit my seat, defend me.
O pay not a lip service to the gods
And wrong them of their dues. Bethink ye well,
The eye of Heaven beholds the just of men,
And the unjust, nor ever in this world
Has one sole godless sinner found escape.
Stand then on Heaven's side and never blot
Athens' fair scutcheon by abetting wrong.
I came to you a suppliant, and you pledged
Your honor; O preserve me to the end,
O let not this marred visage do me wrong!
A holy and god-fearing man is here
Whose coming purports comfort for your folk.
And when your chief arrives, whoe'er he be,
Then shall ye have my story and know all.
Meanwhile I pray you do me no despite.

CHORUS The plea thou urgest, needs must give us pause,
Set forth in weighty argument, but we
Must leave the issue with the ruling powers.

OEDIPUS Where is he, strangers, he who sways the realm?

CHORUS In his ancestral seat; a messenger,
The same who sent us here, is gone for him.

OEDIPUS And think you he will have such care or thought

For the blind stranger as to come himself?

CHORUS Aye, that he will, when once he learns thy name.

OEDIPUS But who will bear him word!

CHORUS The way is long,
And many travelers pass to speed the news.
Be sure he'll hear and hasten, never fear;
So wide and far thy name is noised abroad,
That, were he ne'er so spent and loth to move,
He would bestir him when he hears of thee.

OEDIPUS Well, may he come with blessing to his State
And me! Who serves his neighbor serves himself.

ANTIGONE Zeus! What is this? What can I say or think?

OEDIPUS What now, Antigone?

ANTIGONE I see a woman
Riding upon a colt of Aetna's breed;
She wears for headgear a Thessalian hat
To shade her from the sun. Who can it be?
She or a stranger? Do I wake or dream?
'This she; 'tis not--I cannot tell, alack;
It is no other! Now her bright'ning glance
Greets me with recognition, yes, 'tis she,
Herself, Ismene!

OEDIPUS Ha! what say ye, child?

ANTIGONE That I behold thy daughter and my sister,
And thou wilt know her straightway by her voice. (Enter ISMENE)

ISMENE Father and sister, names to me most sweet,
How hardly have I found you, hardly now
When found at last can see you through my tears!

OEDIPUS Art come, my child?

ISMENE O father, sad thy plight!

OEDIPUS Child, thou art here?

ISMENE Yes, 'twas a weary way.

OEDIPUS Touch me, my child.

ISMENE I give a hand to both.

OEDIPUS O children--sisters!

ISMENE O disastrous plight!

OEDIPUS Her plight and mine?

ISMENE Aye, and my own no less.

OEDIPUS What brought thee, daughter?

ISMENE Father, care for thee.

OEDIPUS A daughter's yearning?

ISMENE Yes, and I had news
I would myself deliver, so I came
With the one thrall who yet is true to me.

OEDIPUS Thy valiant brothers, where are they at need?

ISMENE They are--enough, 'tis now their darkest hour.

OEDIPUS Out on the twain! The thoughts and actions all
Are framed and modeled on Egyptian ways.
For there the men sit at the loom indoors
While the wives slave abroad for daily bread.
So you, my children--those whom I behooved
To bear the burden, stay at home like girls,
While in their stead my daughters moil and drudge,
Lightening their father's misery. The one
Since first she grew from girlish feebleness
To womanhood has been the old man's guide
And shared my weary wandering, roaming oft
Hungry and footsore through wild forest ways,
In drenching rains and under scorching suns,
Careless herself of home and ease, if so
Her sire might have her tender ministry.
And thou, my child, whilom thou wentest forth,
Eluding the Cadmeians' vigilance,
To bring thy father all the oracles
Concerning Oedipus, and didst make thyself
My faithful lieger, when they banished me.
And now what mission summons thee from home,
What news, Ismene, hast thou for thy father?
This much I know, thou com'st not empty-handed,
Without a warning of some new alarm.

ISMENE The toil and trouble, father, that I bore
To find thy lodging-place and how thou faredst,
I spare thee; surely 'twere a double pain
To suffer, first in act and then in telling;
'Tis the misfortune of thine ill-starred sons
I come to tell thee. At the first they willed
To leave the throne to Creon, minded well
Thus to remove the inveterate curse of old,
A canker that infected all thy race.
But now some god and an infatuate soul
Have stirred betwixt them a mad rivalry
To grasp at sovereignty and kingly power.
Today the hot-branded youth, the younger born,
Is keeping Polyneices from the throne,
His elder, and has thrust him from the land.
The banished brother (so all Thebes reports)
Fled to the vale of Argos, and by help
Of new alliance there and friends in arms,
Swears he will stablish Argos straight as lord
Of the Cadmeian land, or, if he fail,
Exalt the victor to the stars of heaven.
This is no empty tale, but deadly truth,
My father; and how long thy agony,
Ere the gods pity thee, I cannot tell.

OEDIPUS Hast thou indeed then entertained a hope
The gods at last will turn and rescue me?

ISMENE Yea, so I read these latest oracles.

OEDIPUS What oracles? What hath been uttered, child?

ISMENE Thy country (so it runs) shall yearn in time
To have thee for their weal alive or dead.

OEDIPUS And who could gain by such a one as I?

ISMENE On thee, 'tis said, their sovereignty depends.

OEDIPUS So, when I cease to be, my worth begins.

ISMENE The gods, who once abased, uplift thee now.

OEDIPUS Poor help to raise an old man fallen in youth.

ISMENE Howe'er that be, 'tis for this cause alone
That Creon comes to thee--and comes anon.

OEDIPUS With what intent, my daughter? Tell me plainly.

ISMENE To plant thee near the Theban land, and so
Keep thee within their grasp, yet now allow
Thy foot to pass beyond their boundaries.

OEDIPUS What gain they, if I lay outside?

OEDIPUS Thy tomb, If disappointed, brings on them a curse.

OEDIPUS It needs no god to tell what's plain to sense.

ISMENE Therefore they fain would have thee close at hand,

Not where thou wouldst be master of thyself.

OEDIPUS Mean they to shroud my bones in Theban dust?

ISMENE Nay, father, guilt of kinsman's blood forbids.

OEDIPUS Then never shall they be my masters, never!

ISMENE Thebes, thou shalt rue this bitterly some day!

OEDIPUS When what conjunction comes to pass, my child?

ISMENE Thy angry wraith, when at thy tomb they stand.

OEDIPUS And who hath told thee what thou tell'st me, child?

ISMENE Envoys who visited the Delphic hearth.

OEDIPUS Hath Phoebus spoken thus concerning me?

ISMENE So say the envoys who returned to Thebes.

OEDIPUS And can a son of mine have heard of this?

ISMENE Yea, both alike, and know its import well.

OEDIPUS They knew it, yet the ignoble greed of rule
Outweighed all longing for their sire's return.

ISMENE Grievous thy words, yet I must own them true.

OEDIPUS Then may the gods ne'er quench their fatal feud,

And mine be the arbitrament of the fight,
For which they now are arming, spear to spear;
That neither he who holds the scepter now
May keep this throne, nor he who fled the realm
Return again. They never raised a hand,
When I their sire was thrust from hearth and home,
When I was banned and banished, what recked they?
Say you 'twas done at my desire, a grace
Which the state, yielding to my wish, allowed?
Not so; for, mark you, on that very day
When in the tempest of my soul I craved
Death, even death by stoning, none appeared
To further that wild longing, but anon,
When time had numbed my anguish and I felt
My wrath had all outrun those errors past,
Then, then it was the city went about
By force to oust me, respited for years;
And then my sons, who should as sons have helped,
Did nothing: and, one little word from them
Was all I needed, and they spoke no word,
But let me wander on for evermore,
A banished man, a beggar. These two maids
Their sisters, girls, gave all their sex could give,
Food and safe harborage and filial care;
While their two brethren sacrificed their sire
For lust of power and sceptred sovereignty.
No! me they ne'er shall win for an ally,
Nor will this Theban kingship bring them gain;
That know I from this maiden's oracles,
And those old prophecies concerning me,
Which Phoebus now at length has brought to pass.
Come Creon then, come all the mightiest
In Thebes to seek me; for if ye my friends,
Championed by those dread Powers indigenous,
Espouse my cause; then for the State ye gain
A great deliverer, for my foemen bane.

CHORUS Our pity, Oedipus, thou needs must move,
Thou and these maidens; and the stronger plea
Thou urgest, as the savior of our land,
Disposes me to counsel for thy weal.

OEDIPUS Aid me, kind sirs; I will do all you bid.

CHORUS First make atonement to the deities,
Whose grove by trespass thou didst first profane.

OEDIPUS After what manner, stranger? Teach me, pray.

CHORUS Make a libation first of water fetched
With undefiled hands from living spring.

OEDIPUS And after I have gotten this pure draught?

CHORUS Bowls thou wilt find, the carver's handiwork;
Crown thou the rims and both the handles crown--

OEDIPUS With olive shoots or blocks of wool, or how?

CHORUS With wool from fleece of yearling freshly shorn.

OEDIPUS What next? how must I end the ritual?

CHORUS Pour thy libation, turning to the dawn.

OEDIPUS Pouring it from the urns whereof ye spake?

CHORUS Yea, in three streams; and be the last bowl drained

To the last drop.

OEDIPUS And wherewith shall I fill it,
Ere in its place I set it? This too tell.

CHORUS With water and with honey; add no wine.

OEDIPUS And when the embowered earth hath drunk thereof?

CHORUS Then lay upon it thrice nine olive sprays
With both thy hands, and offer up this prayer.

OEDIPUS I fain would hear it; that imports the most.

CHORUS That, as we call them Gracious, they would deign

To grant the suppliant their saving grace.
So pray thyself or whoso pray for thee,
In whispered accents, not with lifted voice;
Then go and look back. Do as I bid,
And I shall then be bold to stand thy friend;
Else, stranger, I should have my fears for thee.

OEDIPUS Hear ye, my daughters, what these strangers say?

ANTIGONE We listened, and attend thy bidding, father.

OEDIPUS I cannot go, disabled as I am
Doubly, by lack of strength and lack of sight;
But one of you may do it in my stead;
For one, I trow, may pay the sacrifice
Of thousands, if his heart be leal and true.
So to your work with speed, but leave me not
Untended; for this frame is all too week
To move without the help of guiding hand.

ISMENE Then I will go perform these rites, but where
To find the spot, this have I yet to learn.

CHORUS Beyond this grove; if thou hast need of aught,
The guardian of the close will lend his aid.

ISMENE I go, and thou, Antigone, meanwhile
Must guard our father. In a parent's cause
Toil, if there be toil, is of no account. (Exit ISMENE)

CHORUS (strophe 1)

Ill it is, stranger, to awake
Pain that long since has ceased to ache,
And yet I fain would hear--

OEDIPUS What thing?

CHORUS Thy tale of cruel suffering
For which no cure was found,
The fate that held thee bound.

OEDIPUS O bid me not (as guest I claim
This grace) expose my shame.

CHORUS The tale is bruited far and near,
And echoes still from ear to ear.
The truth, I fain would hear.

OEDIPUS Ah me!

CHORUS I prithee yield.

OEDIPUS Ah me!

CHORUS Grant my request, I granted all to thee.

OEDIPUS (antistrophe 1)

Know then I suffered ills most vile, but none
(So help me Heaven!) from acts in malice done.

CHORUS Say how.

OEDIPUS The State around
An all unwitting bridegroom bound
An impious marriage chain;
That was my bane.

CHORUS Didst thou in sooth then share
A bed incestuous with her that bare--

OEDIPUS It stabs me like a sword,
That two-edged word,
O stranger, but these maids--my own--

CHORUS Say on.

OEDIPUS Two daughters, curses twain.

CHORUS Oh God!

OEDIPUS Sprang from the wife and mother's travail-pain.

CHORUS (strophe 2)

What, then thy offspring are at once--

OEDIPUS Too true. Their father's very sister's too.

CHORUS Oh horror!

OEDIPUS Horrors from the boundless deep
Back on my soul in refluent surges sweep.

CHORUS Thou hast endured--

OEDIPUS Intolerable woe.

CHORUS And sinned--

OEDIPUS I sinned not.

CHORUS How so?

OEDIPUS I served the State; would I had never won
That graceless grace by which I was undone.

CHORUS (antistrophe 2)

And next, unhappy man, thou hast shed blood?

OEDIPUS Must ye hear more?

CHORUS A father's?

OEDIPUS Flood on flood
Whelms me; that word's a second mortal blow.

CHORUS Murderer!

OEDIPUS Yes, a murderer, but know--

CHORUS What canst thou plead?

OEDIPUS A plea of justice.

CHORUS How?

OEDIPUS I slew who else would me have slain;
I slew without intent,
A wretch, but innocent
In the law's eye, I stand, without a stain.

CHORUS Behold our sovereign, Theseus, Aegeus' son,
Comes at thy summons to perform his part. (Enter THESEUS)

THESEUS Oft had I heard of thee in times gone by--
The bloody mutilation of thine eyes--
And therefore know thee, son of Laius.
All that I lately gathered on the way
Made my conjecture doubly sure; and now
Thy garb and that marred visage prove to me
That thou art he. So pitying thine estate,
Most ill-starred Oedipus, I fain would know
What is the suit ye urge on me and Athens,
Thou and the helpless maiden at thy side.
Declare it; dire indeed must be the tale
Whereat I should recoil. I too was reared,
Like thee, in exile, and in foreign lands
Wrestled with many perils, no man more.
Wherefore no alien in adversity
Shall seek in vain my succor, nor shalt thou;
I know myself a mortal, and my share
In what the morrow brings no more than thine.

OEDIPUS Theseus, thy words so apt, so generous
So comfortable, need no long reply
Both who I am and of what lineage sprung,
And from what land I came, thou hast declared.
So without prologue I may utter now
My brief petition, and the tale is told.

THESEUS Say on, and tell me what I fain would learn.

OEDIPUS I come to offer thee this woe-worn frame,
A gift not fair to look on; yet its worth
More precious far than any outward show.

THESEUS What profit dost thou proffer to have brought?

OEDIPUS Hereafter thou shalt learn, not yet, methinks.

THESEUS When may we hope to reap the benefit?

OEDIPUS When I am dead and thou hast buried me.

THESEUS Thou cravest life's last service; all before--
Is it forgotten or of no account?

OEDIPUS Yea, the last boon is warrant for the rest.

THESEUS The grace thou cravest then is small indeed.

OEDIPUS Nay, weigh it well; the issue is not slight.

THESEUS Thou meanest that betwixt thy sons and me?

OEDIPUS Prince, they would fain convey me back to Thebes.

THESEUS If there be no compulsion, then methinks
To rest in banishment befits not thee.

OEDIPUS Nay, when I wished it they would not consent.

THESEUS For shame! such temper misbecomes the faller.

OEDIPUS Chide if thou wilt, but first attend my plea.

THESEUS Say on, I wait full knowledge ere I judge.

OEDIPUS O Theseus, I have suffered wrongs on wrongs.

THESEUS Wouldst tell the old misfortune of thy race?

OEDIPUS No, that has grown a byword throughout Greece.

THESEUS What then can be this more than mortal grief?

OEDIPUS My case stands thus; by my own flesh and blood
I was expelled my country, and can ne'er
Thither return again, a parricide.

THESEUS Why fetch thee home if thou must needs obey.

THESEUS What are they threatened by the oracle?

OEDIPUS Destruction that awaits them in this land.

THESEUS What can beget ill blood 'twixt them and me?

OEDIPUS Dear son of Aegeus, to the gods alone
Is given immunity from eld and death;
But nothing else escapes all-ruinous time.
Earth's might decays, the might of men decays,
Honor grows cold, dishonor flourishes,
There is no constancy 'twixt friend and friend,
Or city and city; be it soon or late,
Sweet turns to bitter, hate once more to love.
If now 'tis sunshine betwixt Thebes and thee
And not a cloud, Time in his endless course
Gives birth to endless days and nights, wherein
The merest nothing shall suffice to cut
With serried spears your bonds of amity.
Then shall my slumbering and buried corpse
In its cold grave drink their warm life-blood up,
If Zeus be Zeus and Phoebus still speak true.
No more: 'tis ill to tear aside the veil
Of mysteries; let me cease as I began:
Enough if thou wilt keep thy plighted troth,
Then shall thou ne'er complain that Oedipus
Proved an unprofitable and thankless guest,
Except the gods themselves shall play me false.

CHORUS The man, my lord, has from the very first
Declared his power to offer to our land
These and like benefits.

THESEUS Who could reject
The proffered amity of such a friend?
First, he can claim the hospitality
To which by mutual contract we stand pledged:
Next, coming here, a suppliant to the gods,
He pays full tribute to the State and me;
His favors therefore never will I spurn,
But grant him the full rights of citizen;
And, if it suits the stranger here to bide,
I place him in your charge, or if he please
Rather to come with me--choose, Oedipus,
Which of the two thou wilt. Thy choice is mine.

OEDIPUS Zeus, may the blessing fall on men like these!

THESEUS What dost thou then decide--to come with me?

OEDIPUS Yea, were it lawful--but 'tis rather here--

THESEUS What wouldst thou here? I shall not thwart thy wish.

OEDIPUS Here shall I vanquish those who cast me forth.

THESEUS Then were thy presence here a boon indeed.

OEDIPUS Such shall it prove, if thou fulfill'st thy pledge.

THESEUS Fear not for me; I shall not play thee false.

OEDIPUS No need to back thy promise with an oath.

THESEUS An oath would be no surer than my word.

OEDIPUS How wilt thou act then?

THESEUS What is it thou fear'st?

OEDIPUS My foes will come--

THESEUS Our friends will look to that.

OEDIPUS But if thou leave me?

THESEUS Teach me not my duty.

OEDIPUS 'Tis fear constrains me.

THESEUS My soul knows no fear!

OEDIPUS Thou knowest not what threats--

THESEUS I know that none
Shall hale thee hence in my despite. Such threats
Vented in anger oft, are blusterers,
An idle breath, forgot when sense returns.
And for thy foemen, though their words were brave,
Boasting to bring thee back, they are like to find
The seas between us wide and hard to sail.
Such my firm purpose, but in any case
Take heart, since Phoebus sent thee here. My name,
Though I be distant, warrants thee from harm.

CHORUS (strophe 1)

Thou hast come to a steed-famed land for rest,
O stranger worn with toil,
To a land of all lands the goodliest
Colonus' glistening soil.
'Tis the haunt of the clear-voiced nightingale,
Who hid in her bower, among
The wine-dark ivy that wreathes the vale,
Trilleth her ceaseless song;
And she loves, where the clustering berries nod
O'er a sunless, windless glade,
The spot by no mortal footstep trod,
The pleasance kept for the Bacchic god,
Where he holds each night his revels wild
With the nymphs who fostered the lusty child.

(antistrophe 1)

And fed each morn by the pearly dew
The starred narcissi shine,
And a wreath with the crocus' golden hue
For the Mother and Daughter twine.
And never the sleepless fountains cease
That feed Cephisus' stream,
But they swell earth's bosom with quick increase,
And their wave hath a crystal gleam.
And the Muses' quire will never disdain
To visit this heaven-favored plain,
Nor the Cyprian queen of the golden rein.

(strophe 2)

And here there grows, unpruned, untamed,
Terror to foemen's spear,
A tree in Asian soil unnamed,
By Pelops' Dorian isle unclaimed,
Self-nurtured year by year;
'Tis the grey-leaved olive that feeds our boys;
Nor youth nor withering age destroys
The plant that the Olive Planter tends
And the Grey-eyed Goddess herself defends.

(antistrophe 2)

Yet another gift, of all gifts the most
Prized by our fatherland, we boast--
The might of the horse, the might of the sea;
Our fame, Poseidon, we owe to thee,
Son of Kronos, our king divine,
Who in these highways first didst fit
For the mouth of horses the iron bit;
Thou too hast taught us to fashion meet
For the arm of the rower the oar-blade fleet,
Swift as the Nereids' hundred feet
As they dance along the brine.

ANTIGONE Oh land extolled above all lands, 'tis now
For thee to make these glorious titles good.

OEDIPUS Why this appeal, my daughter?

ANTIGONE Father, lo! Creon approaches with his company.

OEDIPUS Fear not, it shall be so; if we are old,
This country's vigor has no touch of age. (Enter CREON with attendants)

CREON Burghers, my noble friends, ye take alarm
At my approach (I read it in your eyes),
Fear nothing and refrain from angry words.
I come with no ill purpose; I am old,
And know the city whither I am come,
Without a peer amongst the powers of Greece.
It was by reason of my years that I
Was chosen to persuade your guest and bring
Him back to Thebes; not the delegate
Of one man, but commissioned by the State,
Since of all Thebans I have most bewailed,
Being his kinsman, his most grievous woes.
O listen to me, luckless Oedipus,
Come home! The whole Cadmeian people claim
With right to have thee back, I most of all,
For most of all (else were I vile indeed)
I mourn for thy misfortunes, seeing thee
An aged outcast, wandering on and on,
A beggar with one handmaid for thy stay.
Ah! who had e'er imagined she could fall
To such a depth of misery as this,
To tend in penury thy stricken frame,
A virgin ripe for wedlock, but unwed,
A prey for any wanton ravisher?
Seems it not cruel this reproach I cast
On thee and on myself and all the race?
Aye, but an open shame cannot be hid.
Hide it, O hide it, Oedipus, thou canst.
O, by our fathers' gods, consent I pray;
Come back to Thebes, come to thy father's home,
Bid Athens, as is meet, a fond farewell;
Thebes thy old foster-mother claims thee first.

OEDIPUS O front of brass, thy subtle tongue would twist

To thy advantage every plea of right
Why try thy arts on me, why spread again
Toils where 'twould gall me sorest to be snared?
In old days when by self-wrought woes distraught,
I yearned for exile as a glad release,
Thy will refused the favor then I craved.
But when my frenzied grief had spent its force,
And I was fain to taste the sweets of home,
Then thou wouldst thrust me from my country, then
These ties of kindred were by thee ignored;
And now again when thou behold'st this State
And all its kindly people welcome me,
Thou seek'st to part us, wrapping in soft words
Hard thoughts. And yet what pleasure canst thou find
In forcing friendship on unwilling foes?
Suppose a man refused to grant some boon
When you importuned him, and afterwards
When you had got your heart's desire, consented,
Granting a grace from which all grace had fled,
Would not such favor seem an empty boon?
Yet such the boon thou profferest now to me,
Fair in appearance, but when tested false.
Yea, I will proved thee false, that these may hear;
Thou art come to take me, not to take me home,
But plant me on thy borders, that thy State
May so escape annoyance from this land.
That thou shalt never gain, but this instead--
My ghost to haunt thy country without end;
And for my sons, this heritage--no more--
Just room to die in. Have not I more skill
Than thou to draw the horoscope of Thebes?
Are not my teachers surer guides than thine--
Great Phoebus and the sire of Phoebus, Zeus?
Thou art a messenger suborned, thy tongue
Is sharper than a sword's edge, yet thy speech
Will bring thee more defeats than victories.
Howbeit, I know I waste my words--begone,
And leave me here; whate'er may be my lot,
He lives not ill who lives withal content.

CREON Which loses in this parley, I o'erthrown
By thee, or thou who overthrow'st thyself?

OEDIPUS I shall be well contented if thy suit
Fails with these strangers, as it has with me.

CREON Unhappy man, will years ne'er make thee wise?
Must thou live on to cast a slur on age?

OEDIPUS Thou hast a glib tongue, but no honest man,
Methinks, can argue well on any side.

CREON 'Tis one thing to speak much, another well.

OEDIPUS Thy words, forsooth, are few and all well aimed!

CREON Not for a man indeed with wits like thine.

OEDIPUS Depart! I bid thee in these burghers' name,
And prowl no longer round me to blockade
My destined harbor.

CREON I protest to these,
Not thee, and for thine answer to thy kin,
If e'er I take thee--

OEDIPUS Who against their will Could take me?

CREON Though untaken thou shalt smart.

OEDIPUS What power hast thou to execute this threat?

CREON One of thy daughters is already seized,
The other I will carry off anon.

OEDIPUS Woe, woe!

CREON This is but prelude to thy woes.

OEDIPUS Hast thou my child?

CREON And soon shall have the other.

OEDIPUS Ho, friends! ye will not surely play me false?
Chase this ungodly villain from your land.

CHORUS Hence, stranger, hence avaunt! Thou doest wrong
In this, and wrong in all that thou hast done.

CREON (to his guards) 'Tis time by force to carry off the girl,

If she refuse of her free will to go.

ANTIGONE Ah, woe is me! where shall I fly, where find
Succor from gods or men?

CHORUS What would'st thou, stranger?

CREON I meddle not with him, but her who is mine.

OEDIPUS O princes of the land!

CHORUS Sir, thou dost wrong.

CREON Nay, right.

CHORUS How right?

CREON I take but what is mine.

OEDIPUS Help, Athens!

CHORUS What means this, sirrah? quick unhand her, or
We'll fight it out.

CREON Back!

CHORUS Not till thou forbear.

CREON 'Tis war with Thebes if I am touched or harmed.

OEDIPUS Did I not warn thee?

CHORUS Quick, unhand the maid!

CREON Command your minions; I am not your slave.

CHORUS Desist, I bid thee.

CREON (to the guard) And O bid thee march!

CHORUS To the rescue, one and all!
Rally, neighbors to my call!
See, the foe is at the gate!
Rally to defend the State.

ANTIGONE Ah, woe is me, they drag me hence, O friends.

OEDIPUS Where art thou, daughter?

ANTIGONE Haled along by force.

OEDIPUS Thy hands, my child!

ANTIGONE They will not let me, father.

CREON Away with her!

OEDIPUS Ah, woe is me, ah woe!

CREON So those two crutches shall no longer serve thee
For further roaming. Since it pleaseth thee
To triumph o'er thy country and thy friends
Who mandate, though a prince, I here discharge,
Enjoy thy triumph; soon or late thou'lt find
Thou art an enemy to thyself, both now
And in time past, when in despite of friends
Thou gav'st the rein to passion, still thy bane.

CHORUS Hold there, sir stranger!

CREON Hands off, have a care.

CHORUS Restore the maidens, else thou goest not.

CREON Then Thebes will take a dearer surety soon;
I will lay hands on more than these two maids.

CHORUS What canst thou further?

CREON Carry off this man.

CHORUS Brave words!

CREON And deeds forthwith shall make them good.

CHORUS Unless perchance our sovereign intervene.

OEDIPUS O shameless voice! Would'st lay an hand on me?

CREON Silence, I bid thee!

OEDIPUS Goddesses, allow
Thy suppliant to utter yet one curse!
Wretch, now my eyes are gone thou hast torn away
The helpless maiden who was eyes to me;
For these to thee and all thy cursed race
May the great Sun, whose eye is everywhere,
Grant length of days and old age like to mine.

CREON Listen, O men of Athens, mark ye this?

OEDIPUS They mark us both and understand that I
Wronged by the deeds defend myself with words.

CREON Nothing shall curb my will; though I be old
And single-handed, I will have this man.

OEDIPUS O woe is me!

CHORUS Thou art a bold man, stranger, if thou think'st
To execute thy purpose.

CREON So I do.

CHORUS Then shall I deem this State no more a State.

CREON With a just quarrel weakness conquers might.

OEDIPUS Ye hear his words?

CHORUS Aye words, but not yet deeds,
Zeus knoweth!

CREON Zeus may haply know, not thou.

CHORUS Insolence!

CREON Insolence that thou must bear.

CHORUS Haste ye princes, sound the alarm!
Men of Athens, arm ye, arm!
Quickly to the rescue come
Ere the robbers get them home. (Enter THESEUS)

THESEUS Why this outcry? What is forward? wherefore was I called
away
From the altar of Poseidon, lord of your Colonus? Say!
On what errand have I hurried hither without stop or stay.

OEDIPUS Dear friend--those accents tell me who thou art--

Yon man but now hath done me a foul wrong.

THESEUS What is this wrong and who hath wrought it? Speak.

OEDIPUS Creon who stands before thee. He it is
Hath robbed me of my all, my daughters twain.

THESEUS What means this?

OEDIPUS Thou hast heard my tale of wrongs.

THESEUS Ho! hasten to the altars, one of you.
Command my liegemen leave the sacrifice
And hurry, foot and horse, with rein unchecked,
To where the paths that packmen use diverge,
Lest the two maidens slip away, and I
Become a mockery to this my guest,
As one despoiled by force. Quick, as I bid.
As for this stranger, had I let my rage,
Justly provoked, have play, he had not 'scaped
Scathless and uncorrected at my hands.
But now the laws to which himself appealed,
These and none others shall adjudicate.
Thou shalt not quit this land, till thou hast fetched
The maidens and produced them in my sight.
Thou hast offended both against myself
And thine own race and country. Having come
Unto a State that champions right and asks
For every action warranty of law,
Thou hast set aside the custom of the land,
And like some freebooter art carrying off
What plunder pleases thee, as if forsooth
Thou thoughtest this a city without men,
Or manned by slaves, and me a thing of naught.
Yet not from Thebes this villainy was learnt;
Thebes is not wont to breed unrighteous sons,
Nor would she praise thee, if she learnt that thou
Wert robbing me--aye and the gods to boot,
Haling by force their suppliants, poor maids.
Were I on Theban soil, to prosecute
The justest claim imaginable, I
Would never wrest by violence my own
Without sanction of your State or King;
I should behave as fits an outlander
Living amongst a foreign folk, but thou
Shamest a city that deserves it not,
Even thine own, and plentitude of years
Have made of thee an old man and a fool.
Therefore again I charge thee as before,
See that the maidens are restored at once,
Unless thou would'st continue here by force
And not by choice a sojourner; so much
I tell thee home and what I say, I mean.

CHORUS Thy case is perilous; though by birth and race
Thou should'st be just, thou plainly doest wrong.

CREON Not deeming this city void of men
Or counsel, son of Aegeus, as thou say'st
I did what I have done; rather I thought
Your people were not like to set such store by kin of mine and keep
them 'gainst my will.
Nor would they harbor, so I stood assured,
A godless parricide, a reprobate
Convicted of incestuous marriage ties.
For on her native hill of Ares here
(I knew your far-famed Areopagus)
Sits Justice, and permits not vagrant folk
To stay within your borders. In that faith
I hunted down my quarry; and e'en then i had refrained but for the
curses dire
Wherewith he banned my kinsfolk and myself:
Such wrong, methought, had warrant for my act.
Anger has no old age but only death;
The dead alone can feel no touch of spite.
So thou must work thy will; my cause is just
But weak without allies; yet will I try,
Old as I am, to answer deeds with deeds.

OEDIPUS O shameless railer, think'st thou this abuse
Defames my grey hairs rather than thine own?
Murder and incest, deeds of horror, all
Thou blurtest forth against me, all I have borne,
No willing sinner; so it pleased the gods
Wrath haply with my sinful race of old,
Since thou could'st find no sin in me myself
For which in retribution I was doomed
To trespass thus against myself and mine.
Answer me now, if by some oracle
My sire was destined to a bloody end
By a son's hand, can this reflect on me,
Me then unborn, begotten by no sire,
Conceived in no mother's womb? And if
When born to misery, as born I was,
I met my sire, not knowing whom I met or what I did, and slew him,
how canst thou
With justice blame the all-unconscious hand?
And for my mother, wretch, art not ashamed,
Seeing she was thy sister, to extort
From me the story of her marriage, such
A marriage as I straightway will proclaim.
For I will speak; thy lewd and impious speech
Has broken all the bonds of reticence.
She was, ah woe is me! she was my mother;
I knew it not, nor she; and she my mother
Bare children to the son whom she had borne,
A birth of shame. But this at least I know
Wittingly thou aspersest her and me;
But I unwitting wed, unwilling speak.
Nay neither in this marriage or this deed
Which thou art ever casting in my teeth--
A murdered sire--shall I be held to blame.
Come, answer me one question, if thou canst:
If one should presently attempt thy life,
Would'st thou, O man of justice, first inquire
If the assassin was perchance thy sire,
Or turn upon him? As thou lov'st thy life,
On thy aggressor thou would'st turn, no stay
Debating, if the law would bear thee out.
Such was my case, and such the pass whereto
The gods reduced me; and methinks my sire,
Could he come back to life, would not dissent.
Yet thou, for just thou art not, but a man
Who sticks at nothing, if it serve his plea,
Reproachest me with this before these men.
It serves thy turn to laud great Theseus' name,
And Athens as a wisely governed State;
Yet in thy flatteries one thing is to seek:
If any land knows how to pay the gods
Their proper rites, 'tis Athens most of all.
This is the land whence thou wast fain to steal
Their aged suppliant and hast carried off
My daughters. Therefore to yon goddesses,
I turn, adjure them and invoke their aid
To champion my cause, that thou mayest learn
What is the breed of men who guard this State.

CHORUS An honest man, my liege, one sore bestead
By fortune, and so worthy our support.

THESEUS Enough of words; the captors speed amain,
While we the victims stand debating here.

CREON What would'st thou? What can I, a feeble man?

THESEUS Show us the trail, and I'll attend thee too,
That, if thou hast the maidens hereabouts,
Thou mayest thyself discover them to me;
But if thy guards outstrip us with their spoil,
We may draw rein; for others speed, from whom
They will not 'scape to thank the gods at home.
Lead on, I say, the captor's caught, and fate
Hath ta'en the fowler in the toils he spread;
So soon are lost gains gotten by deceit.
And look not for allies; I know indeed
Such height of insolence was never reached
Without abettors or accomplices;
Thou hast some backer in thy bold essay,
But I will search this matter home and see
One man doth not prevail against the State.
Dost take my drift, or seem these words as vain
As seemed our warnings when the plot was hatched?

CREON Nothing thou sayest can I here dispute,
But once at home I too shall act my part.

THESEUS Threaten us and--begone! Thou, Oedipus,
Stay here assured that nothing save my death
Will stay my purpose to restore the maids.

OEDIPUS Heaven bless thee, Theseus, for thy nobleness
And all thy loving care in my behalf. (Exeunt THESEUS and CREON)

CHORUS (strophe 1)

O when the flying foe,
Turning at last to bay,
Soon will give blow for blow,
Might I behold the fray;
Hear the loud battle roar
Swell, on the Pythian shore,
Or by the torch-lit bay,
Where the dread Queen and Maid
Cherish the mystic rites,
Rites they to none betray,
Ere on his lips is laid
Secrecy's golden key
By their own acolytes,
Priestly Eumolpidae.

There I might chance behold
Theseus our captain bold
Meet with the robber band,
Ere they have fled the land,
Rescue by might and main
Maidens, the captives twain.

(antistrophe 1)

Haply on swiftest steed,
Or in the flying car,
Now they approach the glen,
West of white Oea's scaur.
They will be vanquished:
Dread are our warriors, dread
Theseus our chieftain's men.
Flashes each bridle bright,
Charges each gallant knight,
All that our Queen adore,
Pallas their patron, or
Him whose wide floods enring
Earth, the great Ocean-king
Whom Rhea bore.

(strophe 2)

Fight they or now prepare
To fight? a vision rare
Tells me that soon again
I shall behold the twain
Maidens so ill bestead,
By their kin buffeted.
Today, today Zeus worketh some great thing
This day shall victory bring.
O for the wings, the wings of a dove,
To be borne with the speed of the gale,
Up and still upwards to sail
And gaze on the fray from the clouds above.

(antistrophe 2)

All-seeing Zeus, O lord of heaven,
To our guardian host be given
Might triumphant to surprise
Flying foes and win their prize.
Hear us, Zeus, and hear us, child
Of Zeus, Athene undefiled,
Hear, Apollo, hunter, hear,
Huntress, sister of Apollo,
Who the dappled swift-foot deer
O'er the wooded glade dost follow;
Help with your two-fold power
Athens in danger's hour!
O wayfarer, thou wilt not have to tax
The friends who watch for thee with false presage,
For lo, an escort with the maids draws near. (Enter ANTIGONE and
ISMENE with THESEUS)

OEDIPUS Where, where? what sayest thou?

ANTIGONE O father, father,
Would that some god might grant thee eyes to see
This best of men who brings us back again.

OEDIPUS My child! and are ye back indeed!

ANTIGONE Yes, saved By Theseus and his gallant followers.

OEDIPUS Come to your father's arms, O let me feel
A child's embrace I never hoped for more.

ANTIGONE Thou askest what is doubly sweet to give.

OEDIPUS Where are ye then?

ANTIGONE We come together both.

OEDIPUS My precious nurslings!

ANTIGONE Fathers aye were fond.

OEDIPUS Props of my age!

ANTIGONE So sorrow sorrow props.

OEDIPUS I have my darlings, and if death should come,
Death were not wholly bitter with you near.
Cling to me, press me close on either side,
There rest ye from your dreary wayfaring.
Now tell me of your ventures, but in brief;
Brief speech suffices for young maids like you.

ANTIGONE Here is our savior; thou should'st hear the tale

From his own lips; so shall my part be brief.

OEDIPUS I pray thee do not wonder if the sight
Of children, given o'er for lost, has made
My converse somewhat long and tedious.
Full well I know the joy I have of them
Is due to thee, to thee and no man else;
Thou wast their sole deliverer, none else.
The gods deal with thee after my desire,
With thee and with this land! for fear of heaven
I found above all peoples most with you,
And righteousness and lips that cannot lie.
I speak in gratitude of what I know,
For all I have I owe to thee alone.
Give me thy hand, O Prince, that I may touch it,
And if thou wilt permit me, kiss thy cheek.
What say I? Can I wish that thou should'st touch
One fallen like me to utter wretchedness,
Corrupt and tainted with a thousand ills?
Oh no, I would not let thee if thou would'st.
They only who have known calamity
Can share it. Let me greet thee where thou art,
And still befriend me as thou hast till now.

THESEUS I marvel not if thou hast dallied long
In converse with thy children and preferred
Their speech to mine; I feel no jealousy,
I would be famous more by deeds than words.
Of this, old friend, thou hast had proof; my oath
I have fulfilled and brought thee back the maids
Alive and nothing harmed for all those threats.
And how the fight was won, 'twere waste of words
To boast--thy daughters here will tell thee all.
But of a matter that has lately chanced
On my way hitherward, I fain would have
Thy counsel--slight 'twould seem, yet worthy thought.
A wise man heeds all matters great or small.

OEDIPUS What is it, son of Aegeus? Let me hear.
Of what thou askest I myself know naught.

THESEUS 'Tis said a man, no countryman of thine,
But of thy kin, hath taken sanctuary
Beside the altar of Poseidon, where
I was at sacrifice when called away.

OEDIPUS What is his country? what the suitor's prayer?

THESEUS I know but one thing; he implores, I am told,
A word with thee--he will not trouble thee.

OEDIPUS What seeks he? If a suppliant, something grave.

THESEUS He only waits, they say, to speak with thee,
And then unharmed to go upon his way.

OEDIPUS I marvel who is this petitioner.

THESEUS Think if there be not any of thy kin
At Argos who might claim this boon of thee.

OEDIPUS Dear friend, forbear, I pray.

THESEUS What ails thee now?

OEDIPUS Ask it not of me.

THESEUS Ask not what? explain.

OEDIPUS Thy words have told me who the suppliant is.

THESEUS Who can he be that I should frown on him?

OEDIPUS My son, O king, my hateful son, whose words
Of all men's most would jar upon my ears.

THESEUS Thou sure mightest listen. If his suit offend,
No need to grant it. Why so loth to hear him?

OEDIPUS That voice, O king, grates on a father's ears;
I have come to loathe it. Force me not to yield.

THESEUS But he hath found asylum. O beware,
And fail not in due reverence to the god.

ANTIGONE O heed me, father, though I am young in years.

Let the prince have his will and pay withal
What in his eyes is service to the god;
For our sake also let our brother come.
If what he urges tend not to thy good
He cannot surely wrest perforce thy will.
To hear him then, what harm? By open words
A scheme of villainy is soon bewrayed.
Thou art his father, therefore canst not pay
In kind a son's most impious outrages.
O listen to him; other men like thee
Have thankless children and are choleric,
But yielding to persuasion's gentle spell
They let their savage mood be exorcised.
Look thou to the past, forget the present, think
On all the woe thy sire and mother brought thee;
Thence wilt thou draw this lesson without fail,
Of evil passion evil is the end.
Thou hast, alas, to prick thy memory,
Stern monitors, these ever-sightless orbs.
O yield to us; just suitors should not need
To be importunate, nor he that takes
A favor lack the grace to make return.

OEDIPUS Grievous to me, my child, the boon ye win
By pleading. Let it be then; have your way
Only if come he must, I beg thee, friend,
Let none have power to dispose of me.

THESEUS No need, Sir, to appeal a second time.
It likes me not to boast, but be assured
Thy life is safe while any god saves mine. (Exit THESEUS)

CHORUS (strophe)

Who craves excess of days,
Scorning the common span
Of life, I judge that man
A giddy wight who walks in folly's ways.
For the long years heap up a grievous load,
Scant pleasures, heavier pains,
Till not one joy remains
For him who lingers on life's weary road
And come it slow or fast,
One doom of fate
Doth all await,
For dance and marriage bell,
The dirge and funeral knell.
Death the deliverer freeth all at last.

(antistrophe)

Not to be born at all
Is best, far best that can befall,
Next best, when born, with least delay
To trace the backward way.
For when youth passes with its giddy train,
Troubles on troubles follow, toils on toils,
Pain, pain for ever pain;
And none escapes life's coils.
Envy, sedition, strife,
Carnage and war, make up the tale of life.
Last comes the worst and most abhorred stage
Of unregarded age,
Joyless, companionless and slow,
Of woes the crowning woe.

(epode)

Such ills not I alone,
He too our guest hath known,
E'en as some headland on an iron-bound shore,
Lashed by the wintry blasts and surge's roar,
So is he buffeted on every side
By drear misfortune's whelming tide,
By every wind of heaven o'erborne
Some from the sunset, some from orient morn,
Some from the noonday glow.
Some from Rhipean gloom of everlasting snow.

ANTIGONE Father, methinks I see the stranger coming, Alone he comes
and weeping plenteous tears.

OEDIPUS Who may he be?

ANTIGONE The same that we surmised.
From the outset--Polyneices. He is here. (Enter POLYNEICES)

POLYNEICES Ah me, my sisters, shall I first lament
My own afflictions, or my aged sire's,
Whom here I find a castaway, with you,
In a strange land, an ancient beggar clad
In antic tatters, marring all his frame,
While o'er the sightless orbs his unkept locks
Float in the breeze; and, as it were to match,
He bears a wallet against hunger's pinch.
All this too late I learn, wretch that I am,
Alas! I own it, and am proved most vile
In my neglect of thee: I scorn myself.
But as almighty Zeus in all he doth
Hath Mercy for co-partner of this throne,
Let Mercy, father, also sit enthroned
In thy heart likewise. For transgressions past
May be amended, cannot be made worse.

Why silent? Father, speak, nor turn away,
Hast thou no word, wilt thou dismiss me then
In mute disdain, nor tell me why thou art wrath?
O ye his daughters, sisters mine, do ye
This sullen, obstinate silence try to move.
Let him not spurn, without a single word
Of answer, me the suppliant of the god.

ANTIGONE Tell him thyself, unhappy one, thine errand;
For large discourse may send a thrill of joy,
Or stir a chord of wrath or tenderness,
And to the tongue-tied somehow give a tongue.

POLYNEICES Well dost thou counsel, and I will speak out.

First will I call in aid the god himself,
Poseidon, from whose altar I was raised,
With warrant from the monarch of this land,
To parley with you, and depart unscathed.
These pledges, strangers, I would see observed
By you and by my sisters and my sire.
Now, father, let me tell thee why I came.
I have been banished from my native land
Because by right of primogeniture
I claimed possession of thy sovereign throne
Wherefrom Etocles, my younger brother,
Ousted me, not by weight of precedent,
Nor by the last arbitrament of war,
But by his popular acts; and the prime cause
Of this I deem the curse that rests on thee.
So likewise hold the soothsayers, for when
I came to Argos in the Dorian land
And took the king Adrastus' child to wife,
Under my standard I enlisted all
The foremost captains of the Apian isle,
To levy with their aid that sevenfold host
Of spearmen against Thebes, determining
To oust my foes or die in a just cause.
Why then, thou askest, am I here today?
Father, I come a suppliant to thee
Both for myself and my allies who now
With squadrons seven beneath their seven spears
Beleaguer all the plain that circles Thebes.
Foremost the peerless warrior, peerless seer,
Amphiaraiis with his lightning lance;
Next an Aetolian, Tydeus, Oeneus' son;
Eteoclus of Argive birth the third;
The fourth Hippomedon, sent to the war
By his sire Talaos; Capaneus, the fifth,
Vaunts he will fire and raze the town; the sixth
Parthenopaeus, an Arcadian born
Named of that maid, longtime a maid and late
Espoused, Atalanta's true-born child;
Last I thy son, or thine at least in name,
If but the bastard of an evil fate,
Lead against Thebes the fearless Argive host.
Thus by thy children and thy life, my sire,
We all adjure thee to remit thy wrath
And favor one who seeks a just revenge
Against a brother who has banned and robbed him.
For victory, if oracles speak true,
Will fall to those who have thee for ally.
So, by our fountains and familiar gods
I pray thee, yield and hear; a beggar I
And exile, thou an exile likewise; both
Involved in one misfortune find a home
As pensioners, while he, the lord of Thebes,
O agony! makes a mock of thee and me.
I'll scatter with a breath the upstart's might,
And bring thee home again and stablish thee,
And stablish, having cast him out, myself.
This will thy goodwill I will undertake,
Without it I can scare return alive.

CHORUS For the king's sake who sent him, Oedipus,
Dismiss him not without a meet reply.

OEDIPUS Nay, worthy seniors, but for Theseus' sake
Who sent him hither to have word of me.
Never again would he have heard my voice;
But now he shall obtain this parting grace,
An answer that will bring him little joy.
O villain, when thou hadst the sovereignty
That now thy brother holdeth in thy stead,
Didst thou not drive me, thine own father, out,
An exile, cityless, and make we wear
This beggar's garb thou weepest to behold,
Now thou art come thyself to my sad plight?
Nothing is here for tears; it must be borne
By me till death, and I shall think of thee
As of my murderer; thou didst thrust me out;
'Tis thou hast made me conversant with woe,
Through thee I beg my bread in a strange land;
And had not these my daughters tended me
I had been dead for aught of aid from thee.
They tend me, they preserve me, they are men
Not women in true service to their sire;
But ye are bastards, and no sons of mine.
Therefore just Heaven hath an eye on thee;
Howbeit not yet with aspect so austere
As thou shalt soon experience, if indeed
These banded hosts are moving against Thebes.
That city thou canst never storm, but first
Shall fall, thou and thy brother, blood-imbrued.
Such curse I lately launched against you twain,
Such curse I now invoke to fight for me,
That ye may learn to honor those who bear thee
Nor flout a sightless father who begat
Degenerate sons--these maidens did not so.
Therefore my curse is stronger than thy "throne,"
Thy "suppliance," if by right of laws eterne
Primeval Justice sits enthroned with Zeus.
Begone, abhorred, disowned, no son of mine,
Thou vilest of the vile! and take with thee
This curse I leave thee as my last bequest:--
Never to win by arms thy native land,
No, nor return to Argos in the Vale,
But by a kinsman's hand to die and slay
Him who expelled thee. So I pray and call
On the ancestral gloom of Tartarus
To snatch thee hence, on these dread goddesses
I call, and Ares who incensed you both
To mortal enmity. Go now proclaim
What thou hast heard to the Cadmeians all,
Thy staunch confederates--this the heritage that Oedipus divideth
to his sons.

CHORUS Thy errand, Polyneices, liked me not
From the beginning; now go back with speed.

POLYNEICES Woe worth my journey and my baffled hopes!
Woe worth my comrades! What a desperate end
To that glad march from Argos! Woe is me!
I dare not whisper it to my allies
Or turn them back, but mute must meet my doom.
My sisters, ye his daughters, ye have heard
The prayers of our stern father, if his curse
Should come to pass and ye some day return
To Thebes, O then disown me not, I pray,
But grant me burial and due funeral rites.
So shall the praise your filial care now wins
Be doubled for the service wrought for me.

ANTIGONE One boon, O Polyneices, let me crave.

POLYNEICES What would'st thou, sweet Antigone? Say on.

ANTIGONE Turn back thy host to Argos with all speed,
And ruin not thyself and Thebes as well.

POLYNEICES That cannot be. How could I lead again
An army that had seen their leader quail?

ANTIGONE But, brother, why shouldst thou be wroth again?

What profit from thy country's ruin comes?

POLYNEICES 'Tis shame to live in exile, and shall I
The elder bear a younger brother's flouts?

ANTIGONE Wilt thou then bring to pass his prophecies
Who threatens mutual slaughter to you both?

POLYNEICES Aye, so he wishes:--but I must not yield.

ANTIGONE O woe is me! but say, will any dare,
Hearing his prophecy, to follow thee?

POLYNEICES I shall not tell it; a good general
Reports successes and conceals mishaps.

ANTIGONE Misguided youth, thy purpose then stands fast!

POLYNEICES 'Tis so, and stay me not. The road I choose,

Dogged by my sire and his avenging spirit,
Leads me to ruin; but for you may Zeus
Make your path bright if ye fulfill my hest
When dead; in life ye cannot serve me more.
Now let me go, farewell, a long farewell!
Ye ne'er shall see my living face again.

ANTIGONE Ah me!

POLYNEICES Bewail me not.

ANTIGONE Who would not mourn
Thee, brother, hurrying to an open pit!

POLYNEICES If I must die, I must.

ANTIGONE Nay, hear me plead.

POLYNEICES It may not be; forbear.

ANTIGONE Then woe is me, If I must lose thee.

POLYNEICES Nay, that rests with fate,
Whether I live or die; but for you both
I pray to heaven ye may escape all ill;
For ye are blameless in the eyes of all. (Exit POLYNEICES)

CHORUS (strophe 1)

Ills on ills! no pause or rest!
Come they from our sightless guest?
Or haply now we see fulfilled
What fate long time hath willed?
For ne'er have I proved vain
Aught that the heavenly powers ordain.
Time with never sleeping eye
Watches what is writ on high,
Overthrowing now the great,
Raising now from low estate.
Hark! How the thunder rumbles! Zeus defend us!

OEDIPUS Children, my children! will no messenger
Go summon hither Theseus my best friend?

ANTIGONE And wherefore, father, dost thou summon him?

OEDIPUS This winged thunder of the god must bear me
Anon to Hades. Send and tarry not.

CHORUS (antistrophe 1)

Hark! with louder, nearer roar
The bolt of Zeus descends once more.
My spirit quails and cowers: my hair
Bristles for fear. Again that flare!
What doth the lightning-flash portend?
Ever it points to issues grave.
Dread powers of air! Save, Zeus, O save!

OEDIPUS Daughters, upon me the predestined end
Has come; no turning from it any more.

ANTIGONE How knowest thou? What sign convinces thee?

OEDIPUS I know full well. Let some one with all speed
Go summon hither the Athenian prince.

CHORUS (strophe 2)

Ha! once more the deafening sound
Peals yet louder all around
If thou darkenest our land,
Lightly, lightly lay thy hand;
Grace, not anger, let me win,
If upon a man of sin
I have looked with pitying eye,
Zeus, our king, to thee I cry!

OEDIPUS Is the prince coming? Will he when he comes
Find me yet living and my senses clear!

ANTIGONE What solemn charge would'st thou impress on him?

OEDIPUS For all his benefits I would perform
The promise made when I received them first.

CHORUS (antistrophe 2)

Hither haste, my son, arise,
Altar leave and sacrifice,
If haply to Poseidon now
In the far glade thou pay'st thy vow.
For our guest to thee would bring
And thy folk and offering,
Thy due guerdon. Haste, O King! (Enter THESEUS)

THESEUS Wherefore again this general din? at once
My people call me and the stranger calls.
Is it a thunderbolt of Zeus or sleet
Of arrowy hail? a storm so fierce as this
Would warrant all surmises of mischance.

OEDIPUS Thou com'st much wished for, Prince, and sure some god

Hath bid good luck attend thee on thy way.

THESEUS What, son of Laius, hath chanced of new?

OEDIPUS My life hath turned the scale. I would do all
I promised thee and thine before I die.

THESEUS What sign assures thee that thine end is near?

OEDIPUS The gods themselves are heralds of my fate;
Of their appointed warnings nothing fails.

THESEUS How sayest thou they signify their will?

OEDIPUS This thunder, peal on peal, this lightning hurled

Flash upon flash, from the unconquered hand.

THESEUS I must believe thee, having found thee oft
A prophet true; then speak what must be done.

OEDIPUS O son of Aegeus, for this state will I
Unfold a treasure age cannot corrupt.
Myself anon without a guiding hand
Will take thee to the spot where I must end.
This secret ne'er reveal to mortal man,
Neither the spot nor whereabouts it lies,
So shall it ever serve thee for defense
Better than native shields and near allies.
But those dread mysteries speech may not profane
Thyself shalt gather coming there alone;
Since not to any of thy subjects, nor
To my own children, though I love them dearly,
Can I reveal what thou must guard alone,
And whisper to thy chosen heir alone,
So to be handed down from heir to heir.
Thus shalt thou hold this land inviolate
From the dread Dragon's brood. The justest State
By countless wanton neighbors may be wronged,
For the gods, though they tarry, mark for doom
The godless sinner in his mad career.
Far from thee, son of Aegeus, be such fate!
But to the spot--the god within me goads--
Let us set forth no longer hesitate.
Follow me, daughters, this way. Strange that I
Whom you have led so long should lead you now.
Oh, touch me not, but let me all alone
Find out the sepulcher that destiny
Appoints me in this land. Hither, this way,
For this way Hermes leads, the spirit guide,
And Persephassa, empress of the dead.
O light, no light to me, but mine erewhile,
Now the last time I feel thee palpable,
For I am drawing near the final gloom
Of Hades. Blessing on thee, dearest friend,
On thee and on thy land and followers!
Live prosperous and in your happy state
Still for your welfare think on me, the dead. (Exit THESEUS followed
by ANTIGONE and ISMENE)

CHORUS (strophe)

If mortal prayers are heard in hell,
Hear, Goddess dread, invisible!
Monarch of the regions drear,
Aidoneus, hear, O hear!
By a gentle, tearless doom
Speed this stranger to the gloom, (Let him enter without pain) The
all-shrouding Stygian plain.
Wrongfully in life oppressed,
Be he now by Justice blessed.

(antistrophe)

Queen infernal, and thou fell
Watch-dog of the gates of hell,
Who, as legends tell, dost glare,
Gnarling in thy cavernous lair
At all comers, let him go
Scathless to the fields below.
For thy master orders thus,
The son of earth and Tartarus;
In his den the monster keep,
Giver of eternal sleep. (Enter MESSENGER)

MESSENGER Friends, countrymen, my tidings are in sum
That Oedipus is gone, but the event
Was not so brief, nor can the tale be brief.

CHORUS What, has he gone, the unhappy man?

MESSENGER Know well That he has passed away from life to death.

CHORUS How? By a god-sent, painless doom, poor soul?

MESSENGER Thy question hits the marvel of the tale.
How he moved hence, you saw him and must know;
Without a friend to lead the way, himself
Guiding us all. So having reached the abrupt
Earth-rooted Threshold with its brazen stairs,
He paused at one of the converging paths,
Hard by the rocky basin which records
The pact of Theseus and Peirithous.
Betwixt that rift and the Thorician rock,
The hollow pear-tree and the marble tomb,
Midway he sat and loosed his beggar's weeds;
Then calling to his daughters bade them fetch
Of running water, both to wash withal
And make libation; so they clomb the steep;
And in brief space brought what their father bade,
Then laved and dressed him with observance due.
But when he had his will in everything,
And no desire was left unsatisfied,
It thundered from the netherworld; the maids
Shivered, and crouching at their father's knees
Wept, beat their breast and uttered a long wail.
He, as he heard their sudden bitter cry,
Folded his arms about them both and said,
"My children, ye will lose your sire today,
For all of me has perished, and no more
Have ye to bear your long, long ministry;
A heavy load, I know, and yet one word
Wipes out all score of tribulations--love.
And love from me ye had--from no man more;
But now must live without me all your days."
So clinging to each other sobbed and wept
Father and daughters both, but when at last
Their mourning had an end and no wail rose,
A moment there was silence; suddenly
A voice that summoned him; with sudden dread
The hair of all stood up and all were 'mazed;
For the call came, now loud, now low, and oft.
"Oedipus, Oedipus, why tarry we?
Too long, too long thy passing is delayed."
But when he heard the summons of the god,
He prayed that Theseus might be brought, and when
The Prince came nearer: "O my friend," he cried,
"Pledge ye my daughters, giving thy right hand--
And, daughters, give him yours--and promise me
Thou never wilt forsake them, but do all
That time and friendship prompt in their behoof."
And he of his nobility repressed
His tears and swore to be their constant friend.
This promise given, Oedipus put forth
Blind hands and laid them on his children, saying,
"O children, prove your true nobility
And hence depart nor seek to witness sights
Unlawful or to hear unlawful words.
Nay, go with speed; let none but Theseus stay,
Our ruler, to behold what next shall hap."
So we all heard him speak, and weeping sore
We companied the maidens on their way.
After brief space we looked again, and lo
The man was gone, evanished from our eyes;
Only the king we saw with upraised hand
Shading his eyes as from some awful sight,
That no man might endure to look upon.
A moment later, and we saw him bend
In prayer to Earth and prayer to Heaven at once.
But by what doom the stranger met his end
No man save Theseus knoweth. For there fell
No fiery bold that reft him in that hour,
Nor whirlwind from the sea, but he was taken.
It was a messenger from heaven, or else
Some gentle, painless cleaving of earth's base;
For without wailing or disease or pain
He passed away--and end most marvelous.
And if to some my tale seems foolishness
I am content that such could count me fool.

CHORUS Where are the maids and their attendant friends?

MESSENGER They cannot be far off; the approaching sound

Of lamentation tells they come this way. (Enter ANTIGONE and ISMENE)

ANTIGONE (strophe 1)

Woe, woe! on this sad day
We sisters of one blasted stock must bow beneath the shock,

Must weep and weep the curse that lay
On him our sire, for whom
In life, a life-long world of care
'Twas ours to bear,
In death must face the gloom
That wraps his tomb.
What tongue can tell
That sight ineffable?

CHORUS What mean ye, maidens?

ANTIGONE All is but surmise.

CHORUS Is he then gone?

ANTIGONE Gone as ye most might wish.
Not in battle or sea storm,
But reft from sight,
By hands invisible borne
To viewless fields of night.
Ah me! on us too night has come,
The night of mourning. Wither roam
O'er land or sea in our distress
Eating the bread of bitterness?

ISMENE I know not. O that Death
Might nip my breath,
And let me share my aged father's fate.
I cannot live a life thus desolate.

CHORUS Best of daughters, worthy pair,
What heaven brings ye needs must bear,
Fret no more 'gainst Heaven's will;
Fate hath dealt with you not ill.

ANTIGONE (antistrophe 1)

Love can turn past pain to bliss,
What seemed bitter now is sweet.
Ah me! that happy toil is sweet.
The guidance of those dear blind feet.
Dear father, wrapt for aye in nether gloom,
E'en in the tomb
Never shalt thou lack of love repine,
Her love and mine.

CHORUS His fate--

ANTIGONE Is even as he planned.

CHORUS How so?

ANTIGONE He died, so willed he, in a foreign land.
Lapped in kind earth he sleeps his long last sleep,
And o'er his grave friends weep.
How great our lost these streaming eyes can tell,
This sorrow naught can quell.
Thou hadst thy wish 'mid strangers thus to die,
But I, ah me, not by.

ISMENE Alas, my sister, what new fate
Befalls us orphans desolate?

CHORUS His end was blessed; therefore, children, stay
Your sorrow. Man is born to fate a prey.

ANTIGONE (strophe 2)

Sister, let us back again.

ISMENE Why return?

ANTIGONE My soul is fain--

ISMENE Is fain?

ANTIGONE To see the earthy bed.

ISMENE Sayest thou?

ANTIGONE Where our sire is laid.

ISMENE Nay, thou can'st not, dost not see--

ANTIGONE Sister, wherefore wroth with me?

ISMENE Know'st not--beside--

ANTIGONE More must I hear?

ISMENE Tombless he died, none near.

ANTIGONE Lead me thither; slay me there.

ISMENE How shall I unhappy fare,
Friendless, helpless, how drag on
A life of misery alone?

CHORUS (antistrophe 2)

Fear not, maids--

ANTIGONE Ah, whither flee?

CHORUS Refuge hath been found.

ANTIGONE For me?

CHORUS Where thou shalt be safe from harm.

ANTIGONE I know it.

CHORUS Why then this alarm?

ANTIGONE How again to get us home
I know not.

CHORUS Why then this roam?

ANTIGONE Troubles whelm us--

CHORUS As of yore.

ANTIGONE Worse than what was worse before.

CHORUS Sure ye are driven on the breakers' surge.

ANTIGONE Alas! we are.

CHORUS Alas! 'tis so.

ANTIGONE Ah whither turn, O Zeus? No ray
Of hope to cheer the way
Whereon the fates our desperate voyage urge. (Enter THESEUS)

THESEUS Dry your tears; when grace is shed
On the quick and on the dead
By dark Powers beneficent,
Over-grief they would resent.

ANTIGONE Aegeus' child, to thee we pray.

THESEUS What the boon, my children, say.

ANTIGONE With our own eyes we fain would see
Our father's tomb.

THESEUS That may not be.

ANTIGONE What say'st thou, King?

THESEUS My children, he
Charged me straitly that no moral
Should approach the sacred portal,
Or greet with funeral litanies
The hidden tomb wherein he lies;
Saying, "If thou keep'st my hest
Thou shalt hold thy realm at rest."
The God of Oaths this promise heard,
And to Zeus I pledged my word.

ANTIGONE Well, if he would have it so,
We must yield. Then let us go
Back to Thebes, if yet we may
Heal this mortal feud and stay
The self-wrought doom
That drives our brothers to their tomb.

THESEUS Go in peace; nor will I spare
Ought of toil and zealous care,
But on all your needs attend,
Gladdening in his grave my friend.

CHORUS Wail no more, let sorrow rest,
All is ordered for the best.

THE END

Electra

By Sophocles — Translated by R. C. Jebb — Boston, J. Allyn [1873]

Dramatis Personae

ORESTES, son of Agamemnon and CLYTEMNESTRA
ELECTRA, sister of ORESTES
CHRYSOTHEMIS, sister of ORESTES
AN OLD MAN, formerly the PAEDAGOGUS or Attendant Of ORESTES
CLYTEMNESTRA
AEGISTHUS
CHORUS OF WOMEN OF MYCENAE
Mute Persons
PYLADES, son of Strophius, King of Crisa, the friend Of
ORESTES.
A handmaid of CLYTEMNESTRA. Two attendants of ORESTES

At Mycenae, before the palace of the Pelopidae. It is morning and
the new-risen sun is bright. The PAEDAGOGUS enters on the left of
the spectators, accompanied by the two youths, ORESTES and
PYLADES.

PAEDAGOGUS Son of him who led our hosts at Troy of old, son of Agamemnon!-
now thou mayest behold with thine eyes all that thy soul hath desired
so long. There is the ancient Argos of thy yearning,- that hallowed
scene whence the gadfly drove the daughter of Inachus; and there,
Orestes, is the Lycean Agora, named from the wolf-slaying god; there,
on the left, Hera's famous temple; and in this place to which we have
come, deem that thou seest Mycenae rich in gold, with the house of
the Pelopidae there, so often stained with bloodshed; whence I carried
thee of yore, from the slaying of thy father, as thy kinswoman, thy
sister, charged me; and saved thee, and reared thee up to manhood,
to be the avenger of thy murdered sire.

Now, therefore, Orestes, and thou, best of friends, Pylades, our plans
must be laid quickly; for lo, already the sun's bright ray is waking
the songs of the birds into clearness, and the dark night of stars
is spent. Before, then, anyone comes forth from the house, take counsel;
seeing that the time allows not of delay, but is full ripe for deeds.

ORESTES True friend and follower, how well dost thou prove thy loyalty
to our house! As a steed of generous race, though old, loses not courage
in danger, but pricks his ear, even so thou urgest us forward, and
art foremost in our support. I will tell thee, then, what I have determined;
listen closely to my words, and correct me, if I miss the mark in
aught.

When I went to the Pythian oracle, to learn how I might avenge my
father on his murderers, Phoebus gave me the response which thou art
now to hear:- that alone, and by stealth, without aid of arms or numbers,
I should snatch the righteous vengeance of my hand. Since, then, the
god spake to us on this wise, thou must go into yonder house, when
opportunity gives thee entrance, and learn all that is passing there,
so that thou mayest report to us from sure knowledge. Thine age, and
the lapse of time, will prevent them from recognising thee; they will
never suspect who thou art, with that silvered hair. Let thy tale
be that thou art a Phocian stranger, sent by Phanoteus; for he is
the greatest of their allies. Tell them, and confirm it with thine
oath, that Orestes hath perished by a fatal chance,- hurled at the
Pythian games from his rapid chariot; be that the substance of thy
story.

We, meanwhile, will first crown my father's tomb, as the god enjoined,
with drink-offerings and the luxuriant tribute of severed hair; then
come back, bearing in our hands an urn of shapely bronze,-now hidden
in the brushwood, as I think thou knowest,- so to gladden them with
the false tidings that this my body is no more, but has been consumed
with fire and turned to ashes. Why should the omen trouble me, when
by a feigned death I find life indeed, and win renown? I trow, no
word is ill-omened, if fraught with gain. Often ere now have I seen
wise men die in vain report; then, when they return home, they are
held in more abiding honour: as I trust that from this rumour I also
shall emerge in radiant life, and yet shine like a star upon my foes.

O my fatherland, and ye gods of the land, receive me with good fortune
in this journey,- and ye also, halls of my fathers, for I come with
divine mandate to cleanse you righteously; send me not dishonoured
from the land, but grant that I may rule over my possessions, and
restore my house!

Enough;- be it now thy care, old man, to go and heed thy task; and
we twain will go forth; for so occasion bids, chief ruler of every
enterprise for men.

ELECTRA (within) Ah me, ah me!

PAEDAGOGUS Hark, my son,- from the doors, methought, came the sound
of some handmaid moaning within.

ORESTES Can it be the hapless Electra? Shall we stay here, and listen
to her laments?

PAEDAGOGUS No, no: before all else, let us seek to obey the command
of Loxias, and thence make a fair beginning, by pouring libations
to thy sire; that brings victory within our grasp, and gives us the
mastery in all that we do. (Exeunt PAEDAGOGUS on the spectators'
left, ORESTES and PYLADES the right.- Enter ELECTRA, from the house.
She is meanly clad.)

ELECTRA (chanting, systema)

O thou pure sunlight, and thou air, earth's canopy, how often have
ye heard the strains of my lament, the wild blows dealt against this
bleeding breast, when dark night fails! And my wretched couch in yonder
house of woe knows well, ere now, how I keep the watches of the night,-
how often I bewail my hapless sire; to whom deadly Ares gave not of
his gifts in a strange land, but my mother, and her mate Aegisthus,
cleft his head with murderous axe, as woodmen fell an oak. And for
this no plaint bursts from any lip save mine, when thou, my father,
hath died a death so cruel and so piteous!

(antisystema)

But never will I cease from dirge and sore lament, while I look on
the trembling rays of the bright stars, or on this light of day; but
like the nightingale, slayer of her offspring, I will wail without
ceasing, and cry aloud to all, here, at the doors of my father.

O home of Hades and Persephone! O Hermes of the shades! potent Curse,
and ye, dread daughters of the gods, Erinyes,- Ye who behold when
a life is reft by violence, when a bed is dishonoured by stealth,-
come, help me, avenge the murder of my sire,- and send to me my brother;
for I have no more the strength to bear up alone against the load
of grief that weighs me down. (As ELECTRA finishes her lament, (the
CHORUS OF WOMEN OF MYCENAE enter. The following) lines between ELECTRA
and the CHORUS are chanted responsively.)

CHORUS (strophe 1)

Ah, Electra, child of a wretched mother, why art thou ever pining
thus in ceaseless lament for Agamemnon, who long ago was wickedly
ensnared by thy false mother's wiles, and betrayed to death by dastardly
hand? Perish the author of that deed, if I may utter such prayer!

ELECTRA Ah, noble-hearted maidens, ye have come to soothe my woes.
I know and feel it, it escapes me not; but I cannot leave this task
undone, or cease from mourning for my hapless sire. Ah, friends whose
love responds to mine in every mood, leave me to rave thus,- Oh leave
me, I entreat you!

CHORUS (antistrophe 1)

But never by laments or prayers shalt thou recall thy sire from that
lake of Hades to which all must pass. Nay, thine is a fatal course
of grief, passing ever from due bounds into a cureless sorrow; wherein
there is no deliverance from evils. Say, wherefore art thou enamoured
of misery?

ELECTRA Foolish is the child who forgets a parent's piteous death.
No, dearer to my soul is the mourner that laments for Itys, Itys,
evermore, that bird distraught with grief, the messenger of Zeus.
Ah, queen of sorrow, Niobe, thee I deem divine,- thee, who evermore
weepest in thy rocky tomb!

CHORUS (strophe 2)

Not to thee alone of mortals, my daughter, hath come any sorrow which
thou bearest less calmly than those within, thy kinswomen and sisters,
Chrysothemis and Iphianassa,I who still live,- as he, too, lives,
sorrowing in a secluded youth, yet happy in that this famous realm
of Mycenae shall one day welcome him to his heritage, when the kindly
guidance of Zeus shall have brought him to this land, Orestes.

ELECTRA Yes, I wait for him with unwearied longing, as I move on
my sad path from day to day, unwed and childless, bathed in tears,
bearing that endless doom of woe; but he forgets all that he has suffered
and heard. What message comes to me, that is not belied? He is ever
yearning to be with us, but, though he yearns, he never resolves.

CHORUS (antistrophe 2)

Courage, my daughter, courage; great still in heaven is Zeus, who
sees and governs all: leave thy bitter quarrel to him; forget not
thy foes, but refrain from excess of wrath against them; for Time
is god who makes rough ways smooth. Not heedless is the son of Agamemnon,
who dwells by Crisa's pastoral shore; not heedless is the god who
reigns by Acheron.

ELECTRA Nay, the best part of life hath passed away from me in hopelessness,
and I have no strength left; I, who am pining away without children,-
whom no loving champion shields,- but, like some despised alien, I
serve in the halls of my father, clad in this mean garb, and standing
at a meagre board.

CHORUS (strophe 3)

Piteous was the voice heard at his return, and piteous, as thy sire
lay on the festal couch, when the straight, swift blow was dealt him
with the blade of bronze. Guile was the plotter, Lust the slayer,
dread parents of a dreadful shape; whether it was mortal that wrought
therein, or god.

ELECTRA O that bitter day, bitter beyond all that have come to me;
O that night, O the horrors of that unutterable feast, the ruthless
deathstrokes that my father saw from the hands of twain, who took
my life captive by treachery, who doomed me to woe! May the great
god of Olympus give them sufferings in requital, and never may their
splendour bring them joy, who have done such deeds!

CHORUS (antistrophe 3)

Be advised to say no more; canst thou not see what conduct it is
which already plunges thee so cruelly in self-made miseries? Thou
hast greatly aggravated thy troubles, ever breeding wars with thy
sullen soul; but such strife should not be pushed to a conflict with
the strong.

ELECTRA I have been forced to it,- forced by dread causes; I know
my own passion, it escapes me not; but, seeing that the causes are
so dire, will never curb these frenzied plaints, while life is in
me. Who indeed, ye kindly sisterhood, who that thinks aright, would
deem that any word of solace could avail me? Forbear, forbear, my
comforters! Such ills must be numbered with those which have no cure;
I can never know a respite from my sorrows, or a limit to this wailing.

CHORUS (epode)

At least it is in love, like a true-hearted mother, that I dissuade
thee from adding misery to miseries.

ELECTRA But what measure is there in my wretchedness? Say, how can
it be right to neglect the dead? Was that impiety ever born in mortal?
Never may I have praise of such; never when my lot is cast in pleasant
places, may I cling to selfish ease, or dishonour my sire by restraining
the wings of shrill lamentation!

For if the hapless dead is to lie in dust and nothingness, while the
slayers pay not with blood for blood, all regard for man, all fear
of heaven, will vanish from the earth.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS I came, my child, in zeal for thy welfare no
less than for mine own; but if I speak not well, then be it as thou
wilt; for we will follow thee.

ELECTRA I am ashamed, my friends, if ye deem me too impatient for
my oft complaining; but, since a hard constraint forces me to this,
bear with me. How indeed could any woman of noble nature refrain,
who saw the calamities of a father's house, as I see them by day and
night continually, not fading, but in the summer of their strength?
I, who, first, from the mother that bore me have found bitter enmity;
next, in mine own home I dwell with my father's murderers; they rule
over me, and with them it rests to give or to withhold what I need.

And then think what manner of days I pass, when I see Aegisthus sitting
on my father's throne, wearing the robes which he wore, and pouring
libations at the hearth where he slew my sire; and when I see the
outrage that crowns all, the murderer in our father's bed at our wretched
mother's side, if mother she should be called, who is his wife; but
so hardened is she that she lives with that accursed one, fearing
no Erinys; nay, as if exulting in her deeds, having found the day
on which she treacherously slew my father of old, she keeps it with
dance and song, and month by month sacrifices sheep to the gods who
have wrought her deliverance.

But I, hapless one, beholding it, weep and pine in the house, and
bewail the unholy feast named after my sire,- weep to myself alone;
since I may not even indulge my grief to the full measure of my yearning.
For this woman, in professions so noble, loudly upbraids me with such
taunts as these: 'Impious and hateful girl, hast thou alone lost a
father, and is there no other mourner in the world? An evil doom be
thine, and may the gods infernal give thee no riddance from thy present
laments.'

Thus she insults; save when any one brings her word that Orestes is
coming: then, infuriated, she comes up to me, and cries;- 'Hast not
thou brought this upon me? Is not this deed thine, who didst steal
Orestes from my hands, and privily convey him forth? Yet be sure that
thou shalt have thy due reward.' So she shrieks; and, aiding her,
the renowned spouse at her side is vehement in the same strain,- that
abject dastard, that utter pest, who fights his battles with the help
of women. But I, looking ever for Orestes to come and end these woes,
languish in my misery. Always intending to strike a blow, he has worn
out every hope that I could conceive. In such a case, then, friends,
there is no room for moderation or for reverence; in sooth, the stress
of ills leaves no choice but to follow evil ways.

LEADER Say, is Aegisthus near while thou speakest thus, or absent
from home?

ELECTRA Absent, certainly; do not think that I should have come to
the doors, if he had been near; but just now he is afield.

LEADER Might I converse with thee more freely, if this is so?

ELECTRA He is not here, so put thy question; what wouldst thou?

LEADER I ask thee, then, what sayest thou of thy brother? Will he
come soon, or is he delaying? I fain would know.

ELECTRA He promises to come; but he never fulfils the promise.

LEADER Yea, a man will pause on the verge of a great work.

ELECTRA And yet I saved him without pausing.

LEADER Courage; he is too noble to fail his friends.

ELECTRA I believe it; or I should not have lived so long.

LEADER Say no more now; for I see thy sister coming from the house,
Chrysothemis, daughter of the same sire and mother, with sepulchral
gifts in her hands, such as are given to those in the world below.
(CHRYSOTHEMIS enters from the palace. She is richly dressed.)

CHRYSOTHEMIS Why, sister, hast thou come forth once more to declaim
thus at the public doors? Why wilt thou not learn with any lapse of
time to desist from vain indulgence of idle wrath? Yet this I know,-
that I myself am- grieved at our plight; indeed, could I find the
strength, I would show what love I bear them. But now, in these troubled
waters, 'tis best, methinks, to shorten sail; I care not to seem active,
without the power to hurt. And would that thine own conduct were the
same! Nevertheless, right is on the side of thy choice, not of that
which I advise; but if I am to live in freedom, our rulers must be
obeyed in all things.

ELECTRA Strange indeed, that thou, the daughter of such a sire as
thine, shouldst forget him, and think only of thy mother! All thy
admonitions to me have been taught by her; no word is thine own. Then
take thy choice,- to be imprudent; or prudent, but forgetful of thy
friends: thou, who hast just said that, couldst thou find the strength,
thou wouldst show thy hatred of them; yet, when I am doing my utmost
to avenge my sire, thou givest no aid, but seekest to turn thy sister
from her deed.

Does not this crown our miseries with cowardice? For tell me,- Or
let me tell thee,- what I should gain by ceasing from these laments?
Do not live?- miserably, I know, yet well enough for me. And I vex
them, thus rendering honour to the dead, if pleasure can be felt in
that world. But thou, who tellest me of thy hatred, hatest in word
alone, while in deeds thou art with the slayers of thy sire. I, then,
would never yield to them, though I were promised the gifts which
now make thee proud; thine be the richly-spread table and the life
of luxury. For me, be it food enough that I do not wound mine own
conscience; I covet not such privilege as thine,- nor wouldst thou,
wert thou wise. But now, when thou mightest be called daughter of
the noblest father among men, be called the child of thy mother; so
shall thy baseness be most widely seen, in betrayal of thy dead sire
and of thy kindred.

LEADER No angry word, I entreat! For both of you there is good in
what is urged,- if thou, Electra, wouldst learn to profit by her counsel,
and she, again, by thine.

CHRYSOTHEMIS For my part, friends, I am not wholly unused to her
discourse; nor should I have touched upon this theme, had I not heard
that she was threatened with a dread doom, which shall restrain her
from her long-drawn laments.

ELECTRA Come, declare it then, this terror! If thou canst tell me
of aught worse than my present lot, I will resist no more.

CHRYSOTHEMIS Indeed, I will tell thee all that I know. They purpose,
if thou wilt not cease from these laments, to send thee where thou
shalt never look upon the sunlight, but pass thy days in a dungeon
beyond the borders of this land, there to chant thy dreary strain.
Bethink thee, then, and do not blame me hereafter, when the blow hath
fallen; now is the time to be wise.

ELECTRA Have they indeed resolved to treat me thus?

CHRYSOTHEMIS Assuredly, whenever Aegisthus comes home.

ELECTRA If that be all, then may he arrive with speed!

CHRYSOTHEMIS Misguided one! what dire prayer is this?

ELECTRA That he may come, if he hath any such intent.

CHRYSOTHEMIS That thou mayst suffer- what? Where are thy wits?

ELECTRA That I may fly as far as may be from you all.

CHRYSOTHEMIS But hast thou no care for thy present life?

ELECTRA Aye, my life is marvellously fair.

CHRYSOTHEMIS It might be, couldst thou only learn prudence.

ELECTRA Do not teach me to betray my friends.

CHRYSOTHEMIS I do not,- but to bend before the strong.

ELECTRA Thine be such flattery: those are not my ways.

CHRYSOTHEMIS Tis well, however, not to fall by folly.

ELECTRA I will fall, if need be, in the cause of my sire.

CHRYSOTHEMIS But our father, I know, pardons me for this.

ELECTRA It is for cowards to find peace in such maxims.

CHRYSOTHEMIS So thou wilt not hearken, and take my counsel?

ELECTRA No, verily; long may be it before I am so foolish.

CHRYSOTHEMIS Then I will go forth upon mine errand.

ELECTRA And whither goest thou? To whom bearest thou these offerings?

CHRYSOTHEMIS Our mother sends me with funeral libations for our sire.

ELECTRA How sayest thou? For her deadliest foe?

CHRYSOTHEMIS Slain by her own hand- so thou wouldest say.

ELECTRA What friend hath persuaded her? Whose wish was this?

CHRYSOTHEMIS The cause, I think, was some dread vision of the night.

ELECTRA Gods of our house! be ye with me- now at last!

CHRYSOTHEMIS Dost thou find any encouragement in this terror?

ELECTRA If thou wouldst tell me the vision, then I could answer.

CHRYSOTHEMIS Nay, I can tell but little of the story.

ELECTRA Tell what thou canst; a little word hath often marred, or
made, men's fortunes.

CHRYSOTHEMIS 'Tis said that she beheld our sire, restored to the
sunlight, at her side once more; then he took the sceptre,- Once his
own, but now borne by Aegisthus,- and planted it at the hearth; and
thence a fruitful bough sprang upward, wherewith the whole land of
Mycenae was overshadowed. Such was the tale that I heard told by one
who was present when she declared her dream to the Sun-god. More than
this I know not,- save that she sent me by reason of that fear. So
by the- gods of our house I beseech thee, hearken to me, and be not
ruined by folly! For if thou repel me now, thou wilt come back to
seek me in thy trouble.

ELECTRA Nay, dear sister, let none of these things in thy hands touch
the tomb; for neither custom nor piety allows thee to dedicate gifts
or bring libations to our sire from a hateful wife. No- to the winds
with them or bury them deep in the earth, where none of them shall
ever come near his place of rest; but, when she dies, let her find
these treasures laid up for her below.

And were she not the most hardened of all women, she would never have
sought to pour these offerings of enmity on the grave of him whom
she slew. Think now if it is likely that the dead in the tomb should
take these honours kindly at her hand, who ruthlessly slew him, like
a foeman, and mangled him, and, for ablution, wiped off the blood-stains
on his head? Canst thou believe that these things which thou bringest
will absolve her of the murder?

It is not possible. No, cast these things aside; give him rather a
lock cut from thine own tresses, and on my part, hapless that I am,-scant
gifts these, but my best,- this hair, not glossy with unguents, and
this girdle, decked with no rich ornament. Then fall down and pray
that he himself may come in kindness from the world below, to aid
us against our foes; and that the young Orestes may live to set his
foot upon his foes in victorious might, that henceforth we may crown
our father's tomb with wealthier hands than those which grace it now.

I think, indeed, I think that he also had some part in sending her
these appalling dreams; still, sister, do this service, to help thyself,
and me, and him, that most beloved of all men, who rests in the realm
of Hades, thy sire and mine.

LEADER The maiden counsels piously; and thou, friend, wilt do her
bidding, if- thou art wise.

CHRYSOTHEMIS I will. When a duty is clear, reason forbids that two
voices should contend, and claims the hastening of the deed. Only,
when I attempt this task, aid me with your silence, I entreat you,
my friends; for, should my mother hear of it, methinks I shall yet
have cause to rue my venture. (CHRYSOTHEMIS departs, to take the
offerings to Agamemnon's grave.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe)

If I am not an erring seer and one who fails in wisdom, justice,
that hath sent the presage, will come, triumphant in her righteous
strength,- will come ere long, my child, to avenge. There is courage
in my heart, through those new tidings of the dream that breathes
comfort. Not forgetful is thy sire, the lord of Hellas; not forgetful
is the two-edged axe of bronze that struck the blow of old, and slew
him with foul cruelty.

(antistrophe)

The Erinys of untiring feet, who is lurking in her dread ambush,
will come, as with the march and with the might of a great host. For
wicked ones have been fired with passion that hurried them to a forbidden
bed, to accursed bridals, to a marriage stained with guilt of blood.
Therefore am I sure that the portent will not fail to bring woe upon
the partners in crime. Verily mortals cannot read the future in fearful
dreams or oracles, if this vision of the night find not due fulfilment.

(epode)

O chariot-race of Pelops long ago, source of many a sorrow, what
weary troubles hast thou brought upon this land! For since Myrtilus
sank to rest beneath the waves, when a fatal and cruel hand hurled
him to destruction out of the golden car, this house was never yet
free from misery and violence. (CLYTEMNESTRA enters from the palace.)

CLYTEMNESTRA At large once more, it seems, thou rangest,- for Aegisthus
is not here, who always kept thee at least from passing the gates,
to shame thy friends. But now, since he is absent, thou takest no
heed of me, though thou hast said of me oft-times, and to many, that
I am a bold and lawless tyrant, who insults thee and thine. I am guilty
of no insolence; I do but return the taunts that I often hear from
thee.

Thy father- this is thy constant pretext- was slain by me. Yes, by
me- I know it well; it admits of no denial; for justice slew him,
and not I alone,- justice, whom it became thee to support, hadst thou
been right-minded; seeing that this father of thine, whom thou art
ever lamenting, was the one man of the Greeks who had the heart to
sacrifice thy sister to the gods- he, the father, who had not shared
the mother's pangs.

Come, tell me now, wherefore, or to please whom, did he sacrifice
her? To please the Argives, thou wilt say? Nay, they had no right
to slay my daughter. Or if, forsooth, it was to screen his brother
Menelaus that he slew my child, was he not to pay me the penalty for
that? Had not Menelaus two children, who should in fairness have been
taken before my daughter, as sprung from the sire and mother who had
caused that voyage? Or had Hades some strange desire to feast on my
offspring, rather than on hers? Or had that accursed father lost all
tenderness for the children of my womb, while he was tender to the
children of Menelaus? Was not that the part of a callous and perverse
parent? I think so, though differ from thy judgment; and so would
say the dead, if she could speak. For myself, then, I view the past
without dismay; but if thou deemest me perverse, see that thine own
judgment is just, before thou blame thy neighbour.

ELECTRA This time thou canst not say that I have done anything to
provoke such words from thee. But, if thou wilt give me leave, I fain
would declare the truth, in the cause alike of my dead sire and of
my sister.

CLYTEMNESTRA Indeed, thou hast my leave; and didst thou always address
me in such a tone, thou wouldst be heard without pain.

ELECTRA Then I will speak. Thou sayest that thou hast slain my father.
What word could bring thee deeper shame than that, whether the deed
was just or not? But I must tell thee that thy deed was not just;
no, thou wert drawn on to it by the wooing of the base man who is
now thy spouse.

Ask the huntress Artemis what sin she punished when she stayed the
frequent winds at Aulis; or I will tell thee; for we may not learn
from her. My father- so I have heard- was once disporting himself
in the grove of the goddess, when his footfall startled a dappled
and antlered stag; he shot it, and chanced to utter a certain boast
concerning its slaughter. Wroth thereat, the daughter of Leto detained
the Greeks, that, in quittance for the wild creature's life, my father
should yield up the life of his own child. Thus it befell that she
was sacrificed; since the fleet had no other release, homeward or
to Troy; and for that cause, under sore constraint and with sore reluctance,
at last he slew her- not for the sake of Menelaus.

But grant- for I will take thine own plea- grant that the motive of
his deed was to benefit his brother;- was that a reason for his dying
by thy hand? Under what law? See that, in making such a law for men,
thou make not trouble and remorse for thyself; for, if we are to take
blood for blood, thou wouldst be the first to die, didst thou meet
with thy desert.

But look if thy pretext is not false. For tell me, if thou wilt, wherefore
thou art now doing the most shameless deeds of all,- dwelling as wife
with that blood-guilty one, who first helped thee to slay my sire,
and bearing children to him, while thou hast cast out the earlier-born,
the stainless offspring of a stainless marriage. How can I praise
these things? Or wilt thou say that this, too, is thy vengeance for
thy daughter? Nay, shameful plea, if so thou plead; 'tis not well
to wed an enemy for a daughter's sake.

But indeed I may not even counsel thee,- who shriekest that I revile
my mother; and truly I think that to me thou art less a mother than
mistress; so wretched is the life that I live, ever beset with miseries
by thee and by thy partner. And that other, who scarce escaped thy
hand, the hapless Orestes, is wearing out his ill-starred days in
exile. Often hast thou charged me with rearing him to punish thy crime;
and I would have done so, if I could, thou mayst be sure:-for that
matter, denounce me to all, as disloyal, if thou wilt, or petulant,
or impudent; for if I am accomplished in such ways, methinks I am
no unworthy child of thee.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS I see that she breathes forth anger; but whether
justice be with her, for this she seems to care no longer.

CLYTEMNESTRA (to the CHORUS) And what manner of care do I need to
use against her, who hath thus insulted a mother, and this at her
ripe age? Thinkest thou not that she would go forward to any deed,
without shame?

ELECTRA Now be assured that I do feel shame for this, though thou
believe it not; I know that my behaviour is unseemly, and becomes
me ill. But then the enmity on thy part, and thy treatment, compel
me in mine own despite to do thus; for base deeds are taught by base.

CLYTEMNESTRA Thou brazen one! Truly I and my sayings and my deeds
give thee too much matter for words.

ELECTRA The words are thine, not mine; for thine is the action; and
the acts find the utterance.

CLYTEMNESTRA Now by our lady Artemis, thou shalt not fail to pay
for this boldness, so soon as Aegisthus returns.

ELECTRA Lo, thou art transported by anger, after granting me free
speech, aid hast no patience to listen.

CLYTEMNESTRA Now wilt thou not hush thy clamour, or even suffer me
to sacrifice, when I have permitted thee to speak unchecked?

ELECTRA I hinder not,- begin thy rites, I pray thee; and blame not
my voice, for I shall say no more.

CLYTEMNESTRA Raise then, my handmaid, the offerings of many fruits,
that I may uplift my prayers to this our king, for deliverance from
my present fears. Lend now a gracious ear, O Phoebus our defender,
to my words, though they be dark; for I speak not among friends, nor
is it meet to unfold my whole thought to the light, while she stands
near me, lest with her malice and her garrulous cry she spread some
rash rumour throughout the town: but hear me thus, since on this wise
I must speak.

That vision which I saw last night in doubtful dreams- if it hath
come for my good, grant, Lycean king, that it be fulfilled; but if
for harm, then let it recoil upon my foes. And if any are plotting
to hurl me by treachery from the high estate which now is mine, permit
them not; rather vouch. safe that, still living thus unscathed, I
may bear sway over the house of the Atreidae and this realm, sharing
prosperous days with the friends who share them now, and with those
of my children from whom no enmity or bitterness pursues me.

O Lycean Apollo, graciously hear these prayers, and grant them to
us all, even as we ask! For the rest, though I be silent, I deem that
thou, a god, must know it; all things, surely, are seen by the sons
of Zeus. (The PAEDAGOGUS enters.)

PAEDAGOGUS Ladies, might a stranger crave to know if this be the
palace of the king Aegisthus?

LEADER It is, sir; thou thyself hast guessed aright.

PAEDAGOGUS And am I right in surmising that this lady is his consort?
She is of queenly aspect.

LEADER Assuredly; thou art in the presence of the queen.

PAEDAGOGUS Hail, royal lady! I bring glad tidings to thee and to
Aegisthus, from friend.

CLYTEMNESTRA I welcome the omen; but I would fain know from thee,
first, who may have sent thee.

PAEDAGOGUS Phanoteus the Phocian, on a weighty mission.

CLYTEMNESTRA What is it, sir? Tell me: coming from a friend, thou
wilt bring, I know; a kindly message.

PAEDAGOGUS Orestes is dead; that is the sum.

ELECTRA Oh, miserable that I am! I am lost this day!

CLYTEMNESTRA What sayest thou, friend, what sayest thou?- listen
not to her!

PAEDAGOGUS I said, and say again- Orestes is dead.

ELECTRA I am lost, hapless one, I am undone!

CLYTEMNESTRA (to ELECTRA) See thou to thine own concerns.- But do
thou, sir, tell me exactly,-how did he perish?

PAEDAGOGUS I was sent for that purpose, and will tell thee all. Having
gone to the renowned festival, the pride of Greece, for the Delphian
games, when he heard the loud summons to the foot-race which was first
to be decided, he entered the lists, a brilliant form, a wonder in
the eyes of all there; and, having finished his course at the point
where it began, he went out with the glorious meed of victory. To
speak briefly, where there is much to tell, I know not the man whose
deeds and triumphs have matched his; but one thing thou must know;
in all the contests that the judges announced, he bore away the prize;
and men deemed him happy, as oft as the herald proclaimed him an Argive,
by name Orestes, son of Agamemnon, who once gathered the famous armament
of Greece.

Thus far, 'twas well; but, when a god sends harm, not even the strong
man can escape. For, on another day, when chariots were to try their
speed at sunrise, he entered, with many charioteers. One was an Achaean,
one from Sparta, two masters of yoked cars were Libyans; Orestes,
driving Thessalian mares, came fifth among them; the sixth from Aetolia,
with chestnut colts; a Magnesian was the seventh; the eighth, with
white horses, was of Aenian stock; the ninth, from Athens, built of
gods; there was a Boeotian too, making the tenth chariot.

They took their stations where the appointed umpires placed them by
lot and ranged the cars; then, at the sound of the brazen trump, they
started. All shouted to their horses, and shook the reins in their
hands; the whole course was filled with the noise of rattling chariots;
the dust flew upward; and all, in a confused throng, plied their goads
unsparingly, each of them striving to pass the wheels and the snorting
steeds of his rivals; for alike at their backs and at their rolling
wheels the breath of the horses foamed and smote.

Orestes, driving close to the pillar at either end of the course,
almost grazed it with his wheel each time, and, giving rein to the
trace-horse on the right, checked the horse on the inner side. Hitherto,
all the chariots had escaped overthrow; but presently the Aenian's
hard-mouthed colts ran away, and, swerving, as they passed from the
sixth into the seventh round, dashed their foreheads against the team
of the Barcaean. Other mishaps followed the first, shock on shock
and crash on crash, till the whole race-ground of Crisa was strewn
with the wreck of the chariots.

Seeing this, the wary charioteer from Athens drew aside and paused,
allowing the billow of chariots, surging in mid course, to go by.
Orestes was driving last, keeping his horses behind,- for his trust
was in the end; but when he saw that the Athenian was alone left in,
he sent a shrill cry ringing through the ears of his swift colts,
and gave chase. Team was brought level with team, and so they raced,-first
one man, then the other. showing his head in front of the chariots.

Hitherto the ill-fated Orestes had passed safely through every round,
steadfast in his steadfast car; at last, slackening his left rein
while the horse was turning, unawares he struck the edge of the pillar;
he broke the axle-box in twain; he was thrown over the chariot-rail;
he was caught in the shapely reins; and, as he fell on the ground,
his colts were scattered into the middle of the course.

But when the people saw him fallen from the car, a cry of pity went
up for the youth, who had done such deeds and was meeting such a doom,-
now dashed to earth, now tossed feet uppermost to the sky,- till the
charioteers, with difficulty checking the career of his horses, loosed
him, so covered with blood that no friend who saw it would have known
the hapless corpse. Straightway they burned it on a pyre; and chosen
men of Phocis are bringing in a small urn of bronze the sad dust of
that mighty form, to find due burial in his fatherland.

Such is my story,- grievous to hear, if words can grieve; but for
us, who beheld, the greatest of sorrows that these eyes have seen.

LEADER Alas, alas Now, methinks, the stock of our ancient masters
hath utterly perished, root and branch.

CLYTEMNESTRA O Zeus, what shall I call these tidings,- glad tidings?
Or dire, but gainful? 'Tis a bitter lot, when mine own calamities
make the safety of my life.

PAEDAGOGUS Why art thou so downcast, lady, at this news?

CLYTEMNESTRA There is a strange power in motherhood; a mother may
be wronged, but she never learns to hate her child.

PAEDAGOGUS Then it seems that we have come in vain.

CLYTEMNESTRA Nay, not in vain; how canst thou say 'in vain,' when
thou hast brought an sure proofs of his death?- His, who sprang from
mine own life, yet, forsaking me who had suckled and reared him, became
an exile and an alien; and, after he went out of this land, he saw
me no more; but, charging me with the murder of his sire, he uttered
dread threats against me; so that neither by night nor by day could
sweet sleep cover mine eyes, but from moment to moment I lived in
fear of death. Now, however-since this day I am rid of terror from
him, and from this girl,- that worse plague who shared my home, while
still she drained my very life-blood,-now, methinks, for aught that
she can threaten, I shall pass my days in peace.

ELECTRA Ah, woe is me! Now, indeed, Orestes, thy fortune may be lamented,
when it is thus with thee, and thou art mocked by this thy mother!
Is it not well?

CLYTEMNESTRA Not with thee; but his state is well.

ELECTRA Hear, Nemesis of him who hath lately died!

CLYTEMNESTRA She hath heard who should be heard, and hath ordained
well.

ELECTRA Insult us, for this is the time of thy triumph.

CLYTEMNESTRA Then will not Orestes and thou silence me?

ELECTRA We are silenced; much less should we silence thee.

CLYTEMNESTRA Thy coming, sir, would deserve large recompense, if
thou hast hushed her clamorous tongue.

PAEDAGOGUS Then I may take my leave, if all is well.

CLYTEMNESTRA Not so; thy welcome would then be unworthy of me, and
of the ally who sent thee. Nay, come thou in; and leave her without,
to make loud lament for herself and for her friends. (CLYTEMNESTRA
and the PAEDAGOGUS enter the palace.)

ELECTRA How think ye? Was there not grief and anguish there, wondrous
weeping and wailing of that miserable mother, for the son who perished
by such a fate? Nay, she left us with a laugh! Ah, woe is me! Dearest
Orestes, how is my life quenched by thy death! Thou hast torn away
with the from my heart the only hopes which still were mine,- that
thou wouldst live to return some day, an avenger of thy sire, and
of me unhappy. But now- whither shall I turn? I am alone, bereft of
thee, as of my father.

Henceforth I must be a slave again among those whom most I hate, my
father's murderers. Is it not well with me? But never, at least, henceforward,
will I enter the house to dwell with them; nay, at these gates I will
lay me down, and here, without a friend, my days shall wither. Therefore,
if any in the house be wroth, let them slay me; for 'tis a grace,
if I die, but if I live, a pain; I desire life no more. (The following
lines between ELECTRA and the CHORUS are chanted responsively.)

CHORUS (strophe 1)

Where are the thunderbolts of Zeus, or where is the bright Sun, if
they look upon these things, and brand them not, but rest?

ELECTRA Woe, woe, ah me, ah me!

CHORUS O daughter, why weepest thou?

ELECTRA (with hands outstretched to heaven) Alas!

CHORUS Utter no rash cry!

ELECTRA Thou wilt break my heart!

CHORUS How meanest thou?

ELECTRA If thou suggest a hope concerning those who have surely passed
to the realm below, thou wilt trample yet more upon my misery.

CHORUS (antistrophe 1)

Nay, I know how, ensnared by a woman for a chain of gold, the prince
Amphiaraus found a grave; and now beneath the earth-

ELECTRA Ah me, ah me!

CHORUS -he reigns in fulness of force.

ELECTRA Alas!

CHORUS Alas indeed! for the murderess-

ELECTRA Was slain.

CHORUS Yea.

ELECTRA I know it, I know it; for a champion arose to avenge the
mourning dead; but to me no champion remains; for he who yet was left
hath been snatched away.

CHORUS (strophe 2)

Hapless art thou, and hapless is thy lot!

ELECTRA Well know I that, too well,- I, whose life is a torrent of
woes dread and dark, a torrent that surges through all the months!

CHORUS We have seen the course of thy sorrow.

ELECTRA Cease, then, to divert me from it, when no more-

CHORUS How sayest thou?

ELECTRA -when no more can I have the comfort of hope from a brother,
the seed of the same noble sire.

CHORUS (antistrophe 2)

For all men it is appointed to die.

ELECTRA What, to die as that ill-starred one died, amid the tramp
of racing steeds, entangled in the reins that dragged him?

CHORUS Cruel was his doom, beyond thought!

ELECTRA Yea, surely; when in foreign soil, without ministry of my
hands,-

CHORUS Alas!

ELECTRA -he is buried, ungraced by me with sepulture or with tears.
(CHRYSOTHEMIS enters in excitement.)

CHRYSOTHEMIS Joy wings my feet, dear sister, not careful of seemliness,
if I come with speed; for I bring joyful news, to relieve thy long
sufferings and sorrows.

ELECTRA And whence couldst thou find help for my woes, whereof no
cure can be imagined?

CHRYSOTHEMIS Orestes is with us,- know this from my lips, in living
presence, as surely as thou seest me here.

ELECTRA What, art thou mad, poor girl? Art thou laughing at my sorrows,
and thine own?

CHRYSOTHEMIS Nay, by our father's hearth, I speak not in mockery;
I tell thee that he is with us indeed.

ELECTRA Ah, woe is me! And from whom hast thou heard this tale, which
thou believest so lightly?

CHRYSOTHEMIS I believe it on mine own knowledge, not on hearsay;
I have seen clear proofs.

ELECTRA What hast thou seen, poor girl, to warrant thy belief? Whither,
wonder hast thou turned thine eyes, that thou art fevered with this
baneful fire?

CHRYSOTHEMIS Then, for the gods' love, listen, that thou mayest know
my story, before deciding whether I am sane or foolish.

ELECTRA Speak on, then, if thou findest pleasure in speaking.

CHRYSOTHEMIS Well, thou shalt hear all that I have seen. When I came
to our father's ancient tomb, I saw that streams of milk had lately
flowed from the top of the mound, and that his sepulchre was encircled
with garlands of all flowers that blow. I was astonished at the sight,
and peered about, lest haply some one should be close to my side.
But when I perceived that all the place was in stillness, I crept
nearer to the tomb; and on the mound's edge I saw a lock of hair,
freshly severed.

And the moment that I saw it, ah me, a familiar image rushed upon
my soul, telling me that there I beheld a token of him whom most I
love, Orestes. Then I took it in my hands, and uttered no ill-omened
word, but the tears of joy straightway filled mine eyes. And I know
well, as knew then, that this fair tribute has come from none but
him. Whose part else was that, save mine and thine? And I did it not,
I know,- nor thou; how shouldst thou?- when thou canst not leave this
house, even to worship the gods, but at thy peril. Nor, again, does
our mother's heart incline to do such deeds, nor could she have so
done without our knowledge.

No, these offerings are from Orestes! Come, dear sister, courage!
No mortal life is attended by a changeless fortune. Ours was once
gloomy; but this day, perchance, will seal the promise of much good.

ELECTRA Alas for thy folly! How I have been pitying thee!

CHRYSOTHEMIS What, are not my tidings welcome?

ELECTRA Thou knowest not whither or into what dreams thou wanderest.

CHRYSOTHEMIS Should I not know what mine own eyes have seen?

ELECTRA He is dead, poor girl; and thy hopes in that deliverer are
gone: look not to him.

CHRYSOTHEMIS Woe, woe is me! From whom hast thou heard this?

ELECTRA From the man who was present when he perished.

CHRYSOTHEMIS And where is he? Wonder steals over my mind.

ELECTRA He is within, a guest not unpleasing to our mother.

CHRYSOTHEMIS Ah, woe is me! Whose, then, can have been those ample
offerings to our father's tomb?

ELECTRA Most likely, I think, some one brought those gifts in memory
of the dead Orestes.

CHRYSOTHEMIS Oh, hapless that I am! And I was bringing such news
in joyous haste, ignorant, it seems, how dire was our plight; but
now that I have come, I find fresh sorrows added to the old!

ELECTRA So stands thy case; yet, if thou wilt hearken to me, thou
wilt lighten the load of our present trouble.

CHRYSOTHEMIS Can I ever raise the dead to life?

ELECTRA I meant not that; I am not so foolish.

CHRYSOTHEMIS What biddest thou, then, for which my strength avails?

ELECTRA That thou be brave in doing what I enjoin.

CHRYSOTHEMIS Nay, if any good can be done, I will not refuse,

ELECTRA Remember, nothing succeeds without toil.

CHRYSOTHEMIS I know it, and will share thy burden with all my power.

ELECTRA Hear, then, how I am resolved to act. As for the support
of friends, thou thyself must know that we have none; Hades hath taken
our friends away. and we two are left alone. I, so long as I heard
that my brother still lived and prospered, had hopes that he would
yet come to avenge the murder of our sire. But now that he is no more,
I look next to thee, not to flinch from aiding me thy sister to slay
our father's murderer, Aegisthus:- I must have no secret from thee
more.

How long art thou to wait inactive? What hope is left standing, to
which thine eyes can turn? Thou hast to complain that thou art robbed
of thy father's heritage; thou hast to mourn that thus far thy life
is fading without nuptial song or wedded love. Nay, and do not hope
that such joys will ever be thine; Aegisthus is not so ill-advised
as ever to permit that children should spring from thee or me for
his own sure destruction. But if thou wilt follow my counsels, first
thou wilt win praise of piety from our dead sire below, and from our
brother too; next, thou shalt be called free henceforth, as thou wert
born, and shalt find worthy bridals; for noble natures draw the gaze
of all.

Then seest thou not what fair fame thou wilt win for thyself and for
me, by hearkening to my word? What citizen or stranger, when he sees
us, will not greet us with praises such as these?- 'Behold these two
sisters, my friends, who saved their father's house; who, when their
foes were firmly planted of yore, took their lives in their hands
and stood forth as avengers of blood! Worthy of love are these twain,
worthy of reverence from all; at festivals, and wherever the folk
are assembled, let these be honoured of all men for their prowess.'
Thus will every one speak of us, so that in life and in death our
glory shall not fail.

Come, dear sister, hearken! Work with thy sire, share the burden of
thy brother, win rest from woes for me and for thyself,- mindful of
this, that an ignoble life brings shame upon the noble.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS In such case as this, forethought is helpful
for those who speak and those who hear.

CHRYSOTHEMIS Yea, and before she spake, my friends, were she blest
with a sound mind, she would have remembered caution, as she doth
not remember it.

Now whither canst thou have turned thine eyes, that thou art arming
thyself with such rashness, and calling me to aid thee? Seest thou
not, thou art a woman, not a man, and no match for thine adversaries
in strength? And their fortune prospers day by day, while ours is
ebbing and coming to nought. Who, then, plotting to vanquish a foe
so strong, shall escape without suffering deadly scathe? See that
we change not our evil plight to worse, if any one hears these words.
It brings us no relief or benefit, if, after winning fair fame, we
die an ignominious death; for mere death is not the bitterest, but
rather when one who wants to die cannot obtain even that boon.

Nay, I beseech thee, before we are utterly destroyed, and leave our
house desolate, restrain thy rage! I will take care that thy words
remain secret and harmless; and learn thou the prudence, at last though
late, of yielding, when so helpless, to thy rulers.

LEADER Hearken; there is no better gain for mortals to win than foresight
and a prudent mind.

ELECTRA Thou hast said nothing unlooked-for; I well knew that thou
wouldst reject what I proffered. Well! I must do this deed with mine
own hand, and alone; for assuredly I will not leave it void.

CHRYSOTHEMIS Alas! Would thou hadst been so purposed on the day of
our father's death! What mightst thou not have wrought?

ELECTRA My nature was the same then, but my mind less ripe.

CHRYSOTHEMIS Strive to keep such a mind through all thy life.

ELECTRA These counsels mean that thou wilt not share my deed.

CHRYSOTHEMIS No; for the venture is likely to bring disaster.

ELECTRA I admire thy prudence; thy cowardice I hate.

CHRYSOTHEMIS I will listen not less calmly when thou praise me.

ELECTRA Never fear to suffer that from me.

CHRYSOTHEMIS Time enough in the future to decide that.

ELECTRA Begone; there is no power to help in thee.

CHRYSOTHEMIS Not so; but in thee, no mind to learn.

ELECTRA Go, declare all this to thy mother!

CHRYSOTHEMIS But, again, I do not hate thee with such a hate.

ELECTRA Yet know at least to what dishonour thou bringest me.

CHRYSOTHEMIS Dishonour, no! I am only thinking of thy good.

ELECTRA Am I bound, then, to follow thy rule of right?

CHRYSOTHEMIS When thou art wise, then thou shalt be our guide.

ELECTRA Sad, that one who speaks so well should speak amiss!

CHRYSOTHEMIS Thou hast well described the fault to which thou cleavest.

ELECTRA How? Dost thou not think that I speak with justice?

CHRYSOTHEMIS But sometimes justice itself is fraught with harm.

ELECTRA I care not to live by such a law.

CHRYSOTHEMIS Well, if thou must do this, thou wilt praise me yet.

ELECTRA And do it I will, no whit dismayed by thee.

CHRYSOTHEMIS Is this so indeed? Wilt thou not change thy counsels?

ELECTRA No, for nothing is more hateful than bad counsel.

CHRYSOTHEMIS Thou seemest to agree with nothing that I urge.

ELECTRA My resolve is not new, but long since fixed.

CHRYSOTHEMIS Then I will go; thou canst not be brought to approve
my words, nor to commend thy conduct.

ELECTRA Nay, go within; never will I follow thee, however much thou
mayst desire it; it were great folly even to attempt an idle quest.

CHRYSOTHEMIS Nay, if thou art wise in thine own eyes, be such wisdom
thine; by and by, when thou standest in evil plight, thou wilt praise
my words. (CHRYSOTHEMIS goes into the palace.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

When we see the birds of the air, with sure instinct, careful to
nourish those who give them life and nurture, why do not we pay these
debts in like measure? Nay, by the lightning-flash of Zeus, by Themis
throned in heaven, it is not long till sin brings sorrow.

Voice that comest to the dead beneath the earth, send a piteous cry,
I pray thee, to the son of Atreus in that world, a joyless message
of dishonour;

(antistrophe 1)

tell him that the fortunes of his house are now distempered; while,
among his children, strife of sister with sister hath broken the harmony
of loving days. Electra, forsaken, braves the storm alone; she bewails
alway, hapless one, her father's fate, like the nightingale unwearied
in lament; she recks not of death, but is ready to leave the sunlight,
could she but quell the two Furies of her house. Who shall match such
noble child of noble sire?

(strophe 2)

No generous soul deigns, by a base life, to cloud a fair repute,
and leave a name inglorious; as thou, too, O my daughter, hast chosen
to mourn all thy days with those that mourn, and hast spurned dishonour,
that thou mightest win at once a twofold praise, as wise, and as the
best of daughters.

(antistrophe 2)

May I yet see thy life raised in might and wealth above thy foes,
even as now it is humbled beneath their hand! For I have found thee
in no prosperous estate; and yet, for observance of nature's highest
laws, winning the noblest renown, by thy piety towards Zeus. (ORESTES
enters, with PYLADES and two attendants, one of them carrying a funeral
urn.)

ORESTES Ladies, have we been directed aright, and are we on the right
path to our goal?

LEADER OF THE CHORUS And what seekest thou? With what desire hast
thou come?

ORESTES I have been searching for the home of Aegisthus.

LEADER Well, thou hast found it; and thy guide is blameless.

ORESTES Which of you, then, will tell those within that our company,
long desired, hath arrived?

LEADER This maiden,- if the nearest should announce it.

ORESTES I pray thee, mistress, make it known in the house that certain
men of Phocis seek Aegisthus.

ELECTRA Ah, woe is me! Surely ye are not bringing the visible proofs
of that rumour which we heard?

ORESTES I know nothing of thy 'rumour'; but the aged Strophius charged
me with tidings of Orestes.

ELECTRA What are they, sir? Ah, how I thrill with fear!

ORESTES He is dead; and in a small urn, as thou seest, we bring the
scanty relics home.

ELECTRA Ah me unhappy! There, at last, before mine eyes, I see that
woful burden in your hands

ORESTES If thy tears are for aught which Orestes hath suffered, know
that yonder vessel holds his dust.

ELECTRA Ah, sir, allow me, then, I implore thee, if this urn indeed
contains him, to take it in my hands,- that I may weep and wail, not
for these ashes alone, but for myself and for all our house therewith!

ORESTES (to the attendants) Bring it and give it her, whoe'er she
be; for she who begs this boon must be one who wished him no evil,
but a friend, or haply a kinswoman in blood. (The urn is placed in
ELECTRA'S hands.)

ELECTRA Ah, memorial of him whom I loved best on earth! Ah, Orestes,
whose life hath no relic left save this,- how far from the hopes with
which I sent thee forth is the manner in which I receive thee back!
Now I carry thy poor dust in my hands; but thou wert radiant, my child,
when I sped the forth from home! Would that I had yielded up my breath,
ere, with these hands, I stole thee away, and sent thee to a strange
land, and rescued the from death; that so thou mightest have been
stricken down on that self-same day, and had thy portion in the tomb
of thy sire!

But now, an exile from home and fatherland, thou hast perished miserably,
far from thy sister; woe is me, these loving hands have not washed
or decked thy corpse, nor taken up, as was meet, their sad burden
from the flaming pyre. No! at the hands of strangers, hapless one,
thou hast had those rites, and so art come to us, a little dust in
a narrow urn.

Ah, woe is me for my nursing long ago, so vain, that I oft bestowed
on thee with loving toil I For thou wast never thy mother's darling
so much as mine; nor was any in the house thy nurse but I; and by
thee I was ever called 'sister.' But now all this hath vanished in
a day, with thy death; like a whirlwind, thou hast swept all away
with thee. Our father is gone; I am dead in regard to thee; thou thyself
hast perished: our foes exult; that mother, who is none, is mad with
joy,- she of whom thou didst oft send me secret messages, thy heralds,
saying that thou thyself wouldst appear as an avenger. But our evil
fortune. thine and mine, hath reft all that away, and hath sent thee
forth unto me thus,- no more the form that I loved so well, but ashes
and an idle shade.

Ah me, ah me! O piteous dust! Alas, thou dear one, sent on a dire
journey, how hast undone me,- undone me indeed, O brother mine!

Therefore take me to this thy home, me who am as nothing, to thy nothingness,
that I may dwell with thee henceforth below; for when thou wert on
earth, we shared alike; and now I fain would die, that I may not be
parted from thee in the grave. For I see that the dead have rest from
pain.

LEADER Bethink thee, Electra, thou art the child of mortal sire,
and mortal was Orestes; therefore grieve not too much. This is a debt
which all of us must pay.

ORESTES Alas, what shall I say? What words can serve me at this pass?
I can restrain my lips no longer!

ELECTRA What hath troubled thee? Why didst thou say that?

ORESTES Is this the form of the illustrious Electra that I behold?

ELECTRA It is; and very grievous is her plight.

ORESTES Alas, then, for this miserable fortune!

ELECTRA Surely, sir, thy lament is not for me?

ORESTES O form cruelly, godlessly misused!

ELECTRA Those ill-omened words, sir, fit no one better than me.

ORESTES Alas for thy life, unwedded and all unblest!

ELECTRA Why this steadfast gaze, stranger, and these laments?

ORESTES How ignorant was I, then, of mine own sorrows!

ELECTRA By what that hath been said hast thou perceived this?

ORESTES By seeing thy sufferings, so many and so great.

ELECTRA And yet thou seest but a few of my woes.

ORESTES Could any be more painful to behold?

ELECTRA This, that I share the dwelling of the murderers.

ORESTES Whose murderers? Where lies the guilt at which thou hintest?

ELECTRA My father's;- and then I am their slave perforce.

ORESTES Who is it that subjects thee to this constraint?

ELECTRA A mother-in name, but no mother in her deeds.

ORESTES How doth she oppress thee? With violence or with hardship?

ELECTRA With violence, and hardships, and all manner of ill.

ORESTES And is there none to succour, or to hinder?

ELECTRA None. I had one; and thou hast shown me his ashes.

ORESTES Hapless girl, how this sight hath stirred my pity!

ELECTRA Know, then, that thou art the first who ever pitied me.

ORESTES No other visitor hath ever shared thy pain.

ELECTRA Surely thou art not some unknown kinsman?

ORESTES I would answer, if these were friends who hear us.

ELECTRA Oh, they are friends; thou canst speak without mistrust.

ORESTES Give up this urn, then, and thou shalt be told all.

ELECTRA Nay, I beseech thee be not so cruel to me, sir!

ORESTES Do as I say, and never fear to do amiss.

ELECTRA I conjure thee, rob me not of my chief treasure!

ORESTES Thou must not keep it.

ELECTRA Ah woe is me for thee, Orestes, if I am not to give thee
burial

ORESTES Hush!-no such word!-Thou hast no right to lament.

ELECTRA No right to lament for my dead brother?

ORESTES It is not meet for thee to speak of him thus.

ELECTRA Am I so dishonoured of the dead?

ORESTES Dishonoured of none:- but this is not thy part.

ELECTRA Yes, if these are the ashes of Orestes that I hold.

ORESTES They are not; a fiction dothed them with his name. (He gently
takes the urn from her.)

ELECTRA And where is that unhappy one's tomb?

ORESTES There is none; the living have no tomb.

ELECTRA What sayest thou, boy?

ORESTES Nothing that is not true.

ELECTRA The man is alive?

ORESTES If there be life in me.

ELECTRA What? Art thou he?

ORESTES Look at this signet, once our father's, and judge if I speak
truth.

ELECTRA O blissful day!

ORESTES Blissful, in very deed!

ELECTRA Is this thy voice?

ORESTES Let no other voice reply.

ELECTRA Do I hold thee in my arms?

ORESTES As mayest thou hold me always!

ELECTRA Ah, dear friends and fellow-citizens, behold Orestes here,
who was feigned dead, and now, by that feigning hath come safely home!

LEADER We see him, daughter; and for this happy fortune a tear of
joy trickles from our eyes. (The following lines between ORESTES
and ELECTRA are chanted responsively.)

ELECTRA (strophe)

Offspring of him whom I loved best, thou hast come even now, thou
hast come, and found and seen her whom thy heart desired!

ORESTES I am with thee;- but keep silence for a while.

ELECTRA What meanest thou?

ORESTES 'Tis better to be silent, lest some one within should hear.

ELECTRA Nay, by ever-virgin Artemis, I will never stoop to fear women,
stay-at-homes, vain burdens of the ground!

ORESTES Yet remember that in women, too, dwells the spirit of battle;
thou hast had good proof of that, I ween.

ELECTRA Alas! ah me! Thou hast reminded me of my sorrow, one which,
from its nature, cannot be veiled, cannot be done away with, cannot
forget!

ORESTES I know this also; but when occasion prompts, then will be
the moment to recall those deeds.

ELECTRA (antistrophe)

Each moment of all time, as it comes, would be meet occasion for
these my just complaints; scarcely now have I had my lips set free.

ORESTES I grant it; therefore guard thy freedom.

ELECTRA What must I do?

ORESTES When the season serves not, do not wish to speak too much.

ELECTRA Nay, who could fitly exchange speech for such silence, when
thou hast appeared? For now I have seen thy face, beyond all thought
and hope!

ORESTES Thou sawest it, when the gods moved me to come....

ELECTRA Thou hast told me of a grace above the first, if a god hath
indeed brought thee to our house; I acknowledge therein the work of
heaven.

ORESTES I am loth, indeed, to curb thy gladness, but yet this excess
of joy moves my fear.

ELECTRA (epode)

O thou who, after many a year, hast deigned thus to gladden mine
eyes by thy return, do not, now that thou hast seen me in all my woe-

ORESTES What is thy prayer?

ELECTRA -do not rob me of the comfort of thy face; do not force me
to forego it!

ORESTES I should be wroth, indeed, if I saw another attempt it.

ELECTRA My prayer is granted?

ORESTES Canst thou doubt?

ELECTRA Ah, friends, I heard a voice that I could never have hoped
to hear; nor could I have restrained my emotion in silence, and without
cry, when I heard it.

Ah me! But now I have thee; thou art come to me with the light of
that dear countenance, which never, even in sorrow, could I forget.
(The chant is concluded.)

ORESTES Spare all superfluous words; tell me not of our mother's
wickedness, or how Aegisthus drains the wealth of our father's house
by lavish luxury or aimless waste; for the story would not suffer
thee to keep due limit. Tell me rather that which will serve our present
need,- where we must show ourselves, or wait in ambush, that this
our coming may confound the triumph of our foes.

And look that our mother read not thy secret in thy radiant face,
when we twain have advanced into the house, but make lament, as for
the feigned disaster; for when we have prospered, then there will
be leisure to rejoice and exult in freedom.

ELECTRA Nay, brother, as it pleases thee, so shall be my conduct
also; for all my joy is a gift from thee, and not mine own. Nor would
I consent to win great good for myself at the cost of the least pain
to thee; for so should I ill serve the divine power that befriends
us now.

But thou knowest how matters stand here, I doubt not: thou must have
beard that Aegisthus is from home, but our mother within;- and fear
not that she will ever see my face lit up with smiles; for mine old
hatred of her hath sunk into my heart; and, since I have beheld thee,
for very joy I shall never cease to weep. How indeed should I cease,
who have seen thee come home this day, first as dead, and then in
life? Strangely hast thou wrought on me; so that, if my father should
return alive, I should no longer doubt my senses, but should believe
that I saw him. Now, therefore, that thou hast come to me so wondrously,
command me as thou wilt; for, had I been alone, I should have achieved
one of two things,- a noble deliverance, or a noble death.

ORESTES Thou hadst best be silent; for I hear some one within preparing
to go forth.

ELECTRA (to ORESTES AND PYLADES) Enter, sirs; especially as ye bring
that which no one could repulse from these doors, though he receive
it without joy. (The PAEDAGOGUS enters from the palace.)

PAEDAGOGUS Foolish and senseless children! Are ye weary of your lives,
or was there no wit born in you, that ye see not how ye stand, not
on the brink, but in the very midst of deadly perils? Nay, had I not
kept watch this long while at these doors, your plans would have been
in the house before yourselves; but, as it is, my care shielded you
from that. Now have done with this long discourse, these insatiate
cries of joy, and pass within; for in such deeds delay is evil, and
'tis well to make an end.

ORESTES What, then, will be my prospects when I enter?

PAEDAGOGUS Good; for thou art secured from recognition.

ORESTES Thou hast reported me, I presume, as dead?

PAEDAGOGUS Know that here thou art numbered with the shades.

ORESTES Do they rejoice, then, at these tidings? Or what say they?

PAEDAGOGUS I will tell thee at the end; meanwhile, all is well for
us on their party-even that which is not well.

ELECTRA Who is this, brother? I pray thee, tell me.

ORESTES Dost thou not perceive?

ELECTRA I cannot guess.

ORESTES Knowest thou not the man to whose hands thou gavest me once?

ELECTRA What man? How sayest thou?

ORESTES By whose hands, through thy forethought, I was secretly conveyed
forth to Phocian soil.

ELECTRA Is this he in whom, alone of many, I found a true ally of
old, when our sire was slain?

ORESTES 'Tis he; question me no further.

ELECTRA O joyous day! O sole preserver of Agamemnon's house, how
hast thou come? Art thou he indeed, who didst save my brother and
myself from many sorrows? O dearest hands; O messenger whose feet
were kindly servants! How couldst thou be with me so long, and remain
unknown, nor give a ray of light, but afflict me by fables, while
possessed of truths most sweet? Hail, father,- for 'tis a father that
I seem to behold! All hail,- and know that I have hated thee, and
loved thee, in one day, as never man before!

PAEDAGOGUS Enough, methinks; as for the story of the past, many are
the circling nights, and days as many, which shall show it thee, Electra,
in its fulness. (To ORESTES and PYLADES) But this is my counsel
to you twain, who stand there- now is the time to act; now Clytemnestra
is alone,- no man is now within: but, if ye pause, consider that ye
will have to fight, not with the inmates alone, but with other foes
more numerous and better skilled.

ORESTES Pylades, this our task seems no longer to crave many words,
but rather that we should enter the house forthwith,- first adoring
the shrines of my father's gods, who keep these gates. (ORESTES and
PYLADES enter the Palace, followed by the PAEDAGOGUS.- ELECTRA remains
outside.)

ELECTRA O King Apollo! graciously hear them, and hear me besides,
who so oft have come before thine altar with such gifts as my devout
hand could bring! And now, O Lycean Apollo, with such vows as I can
make, I pray thee, I supplicate, I implore, grant us thy benignant
aid in these designs, and show men how impiety is rewarded by the
gods! (ELECTRA enters the palace.)

CHORUS (singing) Behold how Ares moves onward, breathing deadly
vengeance, against which none may strive!

Even now the pursuers of dark guilt have passed beneath yon roof,
the hounds which none may flee. Therefore the vision of my soul shall
not long tarry in suspense.

The champion of the spirits infernal is ushered with stealthy feet
into the house, the ancestral palace of his sire, bearing keen-edged
death in his hands; and Hermes, son of Maia, who hath shrouded the
guile in darkness, leads him forward, even to the end, and delays
no more. (ELECTRA enters from the palace.)

ELECTRA (strophe)

Ah, dearest friends, in a moment the men will do the deed;- but wait
in silence.

CHORUS How is it?- what do they now?

ELECTRA She is decking the urn for burial, and those two stand close
to her

CHORUS And why hast thou sped forth?

ELECTRA To guard against Aegisthus entering before we are aware.

CLYTEMNESTRA (within) Alas! Woe for the house forsaken of friends
and filled with murderers!

ELECTRA A cry goes up within:- hear ye not, friends?

CHORUS I heard, ah me, sounds dire to hear, and shuddered!

CLYTEMNESTRA (within) O hapless that I am!- Aegisthus, where, where
art thou?

ELECTRA Hark, once more a voice resounds I

CLYTEMNESTRA (within) My son, my son, have pity on thy mother!

ELECTRA Thou hadst none for him, nor for the father that begat him.

CHORUS Ill-fated realm and race, now the fate that hath pursued thee
day by day is dying,- is dying!

CLYTEMNESTRA (within) Oh, I am smitten!

ELECTRA Smite, if thou canst, once more!

CLYTEMNESTRA (within) Ah, woe is me again!

ELECTRA Would that the woe were for Aegisthus too!

CHORUS The curses are at work; the buried live; blood flows for blood,
drained from the slayers by those who died of yore. (ORESTES and
PYLADES enter from the palace., antistrophe)

Behold, they come! That red hand reeks with sacrifice to Ares; nor
can I blame the deed.

ELECTRA Orestes, how fare ye?

ORESTES All is well within the house, if Apollo's oracle spake well.

ELECTRA The guilty one is dead?

ORESTES Fear no more that thy proud mother will ever put thee to
dishonour.

CHORUS Cease; for I see Aegisthus full in view.

ELECTRA Rash boys, back, back!

ORESTES Where see ye the man?

ELECTRA Yonder, at our mercy, be advances from the suburb, full of
joy.

CHORUS Make with all speed for the vestibule; that, as your first
task prospered. so this again may prosper now.

ORESTES Fear not,- we will perform it.

ELECTRA Haste, then, whither thou wouldst.

ORESTES See, I am gone.

ELECTRA I will look to matters here. (ORESTES and PYLADES go back
into the palace.)

CHORUS 'Twere well to soothe his ear with some few words of seeming
gentleness, that he may rush blindly upon the struggle with his doom.
(AEGISTHUS enters.)

AEGISTHUS Which of you can tell me, where are those Phocian strangers,
who, 'tis said, have brought us tidings of Orestes slain in the wreck
of his chariot? Thee, thee I ask, yes, thee, in former days so bold,-
for methinks it touches thee most nearly; thou best must know, and
best canst tell.

ELECTRA I know assuredly; else were I a stranger to the fortune of
my nearest kinsfolk.

AEGISTHUS Where then may be the strangers? Tell me.

ELECTRA Within; they have found a way to the heart of their hostess.

AEGISTHUS Have they in truth reported him dead?

ELECTRA Nay, not reported only; they have shown him.

AEGISTHUS Can I, then, see the corpse with mine own eyes?

ELECTRA Thou canst, indeed; and 'tis no enviable sight.

AEGISTHUS Indeed, thou hast given me a joyful greeting, beyond thy
wont.

ELECTRA Joy be thine, if in these things thou findest joy.

AEGISTHUS Silence, I say, and throw wide the gates, for all Mycenaeans
and Argives to behold; that, if any of them were once buoyed on empty
hopes from this man, now, seeing him dead, they may receive my curb,
instead of waiting till my chastisement make them wise perforce!

ELECTRA No loyalty is lacking on my part; time hath taught me the
prudence of concord with the stronger. (The central doors of the
palace are thrown open and a shrouded corpse is disclosed. ORESTES
and PYLADES stand near it.)

AEGISTHUS O Zeus, I behold that which hath not fallen save by the
doom of jealous Heaven; but, if Nemesis attend that word, be it unsaid!

Take all the covering from the face, that kinship, at least, may receive
the tribute of lament from me also.

ORESTES Lift the veil thyself; not my part this, but thine, to look
upon these relics, and to greet them kindly.

AEGISTHUS 'Tis good counsel, and I will follow it.- (To ELECTRA)
But thou-call me Clytemnestra, if she is within.

ORESTES Lo, she is near thee: turn not thine eyes elsewhere. (AEGISTHUS
removes the face-cloth from the corpse.)

AEGISTHUS O, what sight is this!

ORESTES Why so scared? Is the face so strange?

AEGISTHUS Who are the men into whose mid toils I have fallen, hapless
that I am?

ORESTES Nay, hast thou not discovered ere now that the dead, as thou
miscallest them, are living?

AEGISTHUS Alas, I read the riddle: this can be none but Orestes who
speaks to me!

ORESTES And, though so good a prophet, thou wast deceived so long?

AEGISTHUS Oh lost, undone! Yet suffer me to say one word...

ELECTRA In heaven's name, my brother, suffer him not to speak further,
or to plead at length! When mortals are in the meshes of fate, how
can such respite avail one who is to die? No,- slay him forthwith,
and cast his corpse to the creatures from whom such as he should have
burial, far from our sight! To me, nothing but this can make amends
for the woes of the past.

ORESTES (to AEGISTHUS) Go in, and quickly; the issue here is not
of words, but of thy life.

AEGISTHUS Why take me into the house? If this deed be fair, what
need of darkness? Why is thy hand not prompt to strike?

ORESTES Dictate not, but go where thou didst slay my father, that
in the same place thou mayest die.

AEGISTHUS Is this dwelling doomed to see all woes of Pelops' line,
now, and in time to come?

ORESTES Thine, at least; trust my prophetic skill so far.

AEGISTHUS The skill thou vauntest belonged not to thy sire.

ORESTES Thou bandiest words, and our going is delayed. Move forward!

AEGISTHUS Lead thou.

ORESTES Thou must go first.

AEGISTHUS Lest I escape thee?

ORESTES No, but that thou mayest not choose how to die; I must not
spare thee any bitterness of death. And well it were if this judgment
came straight-way upon all who dealt in lawless deeds, even the judgment
of the sword: so should not wickedness abound. (ORESTES and PYLADES
drive AEGISTHUS into the palace.)

CHORUS (singing) O house of Atreus, through how many sufferings
hast thou come forth at last in freedom, crowned with good by this
day's enterprise!

THE END

Oedipus the King

By Sophocles — Translated by F. Storr — London, W. Heinemann; New York, The Macmillan co., [1912-13]

Dramatis Personae

OEDIPUS
THE PRIEST OF ZEUS
CREON
CHORUS OF THEBAN ELDERS
TEIRESIAS
JOCASTA
MESSENGER
HERD OF LAIUS

Thebes. Before the Palace of Oedipus. Suppliants of all ages are seated
round the altar at the palace doors, at their head a PRIEST OF ZEUS.
To them enter OEDIPUS.

OEDIPUS My children, latest born to Cadmus old,
Why sit ye here as suppliants, in your hands
Branches of olive filleted with wool?
What means this reek of incense everywhere,
And everywhere laments and litanies?
Children, it were not meet that I should learn
From others, and am hither come, myself,
I Oedipus, your world-renowned king.
Ho! aged sire, whose venerable locks
Proclaim thee spokesman of this company,
Explain your mood and purport. Is it dread
Of ill that moves you or a boon ye crave?
My zeal in your behalf ye cannot doubt;
Ruthless indeed were I and obdurate
If such petitioners as you I spurned.

PRIEST Yea, Oedipus, my sovereign lord and king,
Thou seest how both extremes of age besiege
Thy palace altars--fledglings hardly winged,
And greybeards bowed with years, priests, as am I
Of Zeus, and these the flower of our youth.
Meanwhile, the common folk, with wreathed boughs
Crowd our two market-places, or before
Both shrines of Pallas congregate, or where
Ismenus gives his oracles by fire.
For, as thou seest thyself, our ship of State,
Sore buffeted, can no more lift her head,
Foundered beneath a weltering surge of blood.
A blight is on our harvest in the ear,
A blight upon the grazing flocks and herds,
A blight on wives in travail; and withal
Armed with his blazing torch the God of Plague
Hath swooped upon our city emptying
The house of Cadmus, and the murky realm
Of Pluto is full fed with groans and tears.

Therefore, O King, here at thy hearth we sit,
I and these children; not as deeming thee
A new divinity, but the first of men;
First in the common accidents of life,
And first in visitations of the Gods.
Art thou not he who coming to the town
Of Cadmus freed us from the tax we paid
To the fell songstress? Nor hadst thou received
Prompting from us or been by others schooled;
No, by a god inspired (so all men deem,
And testify) didst thou renew our life.
And now, O Oedipus, our peerless king,
All we thy votaries beseech thee, find
Some succor, whether by a voice from heaven
Whispered, or haply known by human wit.
Tried counselors, methinks, are aptest found
To furnish for the future pregnant rede.
Upraise, O chief of men, upraise our State!
Look to thy laurels! for thy zeal of yore
Our country's savior thou art justly hailed:
O never may we thus record thy reign:--
"He raised us up only to cast us down."
Uplift us, build our city on a rock.
Thy happy star ascendant brought us luck,
O let it not decline! If thou wouldst rule
This land, as now thou reignest, better sure
To rule a peopled than a desert realm.
Nor battlements nor galleys aught avail,
If men to man and guards to guard them tail.

OEDIPUS Ah! my poor children, known, ah, known too well,

The quest that brings you hither and your need.
Ye sicken all, well wot I, yet my pain,
How great soever yours, outtops it all.
Your sorrow touches each man severally,
Him and none other, but I grieve at once
Both for the general and myself and you.
Therefore ye rouse no sluggard from day-dreams.
Many, my children, are the tears I've wept,
And threaded many a maze of weary thought.
Thus pondering one clue of hope I caught,
And tracked it up; I have sent Menoeceus' son,
Creon, my consort's brother, to inquire
Of Pythian Phoebus at his Delphic shrine,
How I might save the State by act or word.
And now I reckon up the tale of days
Since he set forth, and marvel how he fares.
'Tis strange, this endless tarrying, passing strange.
But when he comes, then I were base indeed,
If I perform not all the god declares.

PRIEST Thy words are well timed; even as thou speakest
That shouting tells me Creon is at hand.

OEDIPUS O King Apollo! may his joyous looks
Be presage of the joyous news he brings!

PRIEST As I surmise, 'tis welcome; else his head
Had scarce been crowned with berry-laden bays.

OEDIPUS We soon shall know; he's now in earshot range. (Enter CREON.)
My royal cousin, say, Menoeceus' child,
What message hast thou brought us from the god?

CREON Good news, for e'en intolerable ills,
Finding right issue, tend to naught but good.

OEDIPUS How runs the oracle? thus far thy words
Give me no ground for confidence or fear.

CREON If thou wouldst hear my message publicly,
I'll tell thee straight, or with thee pass within.

OEDIPUS Speak before all; the burden that I bear
Is more for these my subjects than myself.

CREON Let me report then all the god declared.
King Phoebus bids us straitly extirpate
A fell pollution that infests the land,
And no more harbor an inveterate sore.

OEDIPUS What expiation means he? What's amiss?

CREON Banishment, or the shedding blood for blood.
This stain of blood makes shipwreck of our state.

OEDIPUS Whom can he mean, the miscreant thus denounced?

CREON Before thou didst assume the helm of State,
The sovereign of this land was Laius.

OEDIPUS I heard as much, but never saw the man.

CREON He fell; and now the god's command is plain:
Punish his takers-off, whoe'er they be.

OEDIPUS Where are they? Where in the wide world to find

The far, faint traces of a bygone crime?

CREON In this land, said the god; "who seeks shall find;

Who sits with folded hands or sleeps is blind."

OEDIPUS Was he within his palace, or afield,
Or traveling, when Laius met his fate?

CREON Abroad; he started, so he told us, bound
For Delphi, but he never thence returned.

OEDIPUS Came there no news, no fellow-traveler
To give some clue that might be followed up?

CREON But one escape, who flying for dear life,
Could tell of all he saw but one thing sure.

OEDIPUS And what was that? One clue might lead us far,
With but a spark of hope to guide our quest.

CREON Robbers, he told us, not one bandit but
A troop of knaves, attacked and murdered him.

OEDIPUS Did any bandit dare so bold a stroke,
Unless indeed he were suborned from Thebes?

CREON So 'twas surmised, but none was found to avenge
His murder mid the trouble that ensued.

OEDIPUS What trouble can have hindered a full quest,
When royalty had fallen thus miserably?

CREON The riddling Sphinx compelled us to let slide
The dim past and attend to instant needs.

OEDIPUS Well, I will start afresh and once again
Make dark things clear. Right worthy the concern
Of Phoebus, worthy thine too, for the dead;
I also, as is meet, will lend my aid
To avenge this wrong to Thebes and to the god.
Not for some far-off kinsman, but myself,
Shall I expel this poison in the blood;
For whoso slew that king might have a mind
To strike me too with his assassin hand.
Therefore in righting him I serve myself.
Up, children, haste ye, quit these altar stairs,
Take hence your suppliant wands, go summon hither
The Theban commons. With the god's good help
Success is sure; 'tis ruin if we fail. (Exeunt OEDIPUS and CREON.)

PRIEST Come, children, let us hence; these gracious words

Forestall the very purpose of our suit.
And may the god who sent this oracle
Save us withal and rid us of this pest. (Exeunt PRIEST and SUPPLIANTS.)

CHORUS (strophe 1)

Sweet-voiced daughter of Zeus from thy gold-paved Pythian shrine

Wafted to Thebes divine,
What dost thou bring me? My soul is racked and shivers with fear.

Healer of Delos, hear!
Hast thou some pain unknown before,
Or with the circling years renewest a penance of yore?
Offspring of golden Hope, thou voice immortal, O tell me.

(antistrophe 1)

First on Athene I call; O Zeus-born goddess, defend!
Goddess and sister, befriend,
Artemis, Lady of Thebes, high-throned in the midst of our mart!

Lord of the death-winged dart!
Your threefold aid I crave
From death and ruin our city to save.
If in the days of old when we nigh had perished, ye drave

From our land the fiery plague, be near us now and defend us!

(strophe 2)

Ah me, what countless woes are mine!
All our host is in decline;
Weaponless my spirit lies.
Earth her gracious fruits denies;
Women wail in barren throes;
Life on life downstriken goes,
Swifter than the wind bird's flight,
Swifter than the Fire-God's might,
To the westering shores of Night.

(antistrophe 2)

Wasted thus by death on death
All our city perisheth.
Corpses spread infection round;
None to tend or mourn is found.
Wailing on the altar stair
Wives and grandams rend the air--
Long-drawn moans and piercing cries
Blent with prayers and litanies.
Golden child of Zeus, O hear
Let thine angel face appear!

(strophe 3)

And grant that Ares whose hot breath I feel,
Though without targe or steel
He stalks, whose voice is as the battle shout,
May turn in sudden rout,
To the unharbored Thracian waters sped,
Or Amphitrite's bed.
For what night leaves undone,
Smit by the morrow's sun
Perisheth. Father Zeus, whose hand
Doth wield the lightning brand,
Slay him beneath thy levin bold, we pray,
Slay him, O slay!

(antistrophe 3)

O that thine arrows too, Lycean King,
From that taut bow's gold string,
Might fly abroad, the champions of our rights;
Yea, and the flashing lights
Of Artemis, wherewith the huntress sweeps
Across the Lycian steeps.
Thee too I call with golden-snooded hair,
Whose name our land doth bear,
Bacchus to whom thy Maenads Evoe shout;
Come with thy bright torch, rout,
Blithe god whom we adore,
The god whom gods abhor. (Enter OEDIPUS.)

OEDIPUS Ye pray; 'tis well, but would ye hear my words
And heed them and apply the remedy,
Ye might perchance find comfort and relief.
Mind you, I speak as one who comes a stranger
To this report, no less than to the crime;
For how unaided could I track it far
Without a clue? Which lacking (for too late
Was I enrolled a citizen of Thebes)
This proclamation I address to all:--
Thebans, if any knows the man by whom
Laius, son of Labdacus, was slain,
I summon him to make clean shrift to me.
And if he shrinks, let him reflect that thus
Confessing he shall 'scape the capital charge;
For the worst penalty that shall befall him
Is banishment--unscathed he shall depart.
But if an alien from a foreign land
Be known to any as the murderer,
Let him who knows speak out, and he shall have
Due recompense from me and thanks to boot.
But if ye still keep silence, if through fear
For self or friends ye disregard my hest,
Hear what I then resolve; I lay my ban
On the assassin whosoe'er he be.
Let no man in this land, whereof I hold
The sovereign rule, harbor or speak to him;
Give him no part in prayer or sacrifice
Or lustral rites, but hound him from your homes.
For this is our defilement, so the god
Hath lately shown to me by oracles.
Thus as their champion I maintain the cause
Both of the god and of the murdered King.
And on the murderer this curse I lay
(On him and all the partners in his guilt):--
Wretch, may he pine in utter wretchedness!
And for myself, if with my privity
He gain admittance to my hearth, I pray
The curse I laid on others fall on me.
See that ye give effect to all my hest,
For my sake and the god's and for our land,
A desert blasted by the wrath of heaven.
For, let alone the god's express command,
It were a scandal ye should leave unpurged
The murder of a great man and your king,
Nor track it home. And now that I am lord,
Successor to his throne, his bed, his wife,
(And had he not been frustrate in the hope
Of issue, common children of one womb
Had forced a closer bond twixt him and me,
But Fate swooped down upon him), therefore I
His blood-avenger will maintain his cause
As though he were my sire, and leave no stone
Unturned to track the assassin or avenge
The son of Labdacus, of Polydore,
Of Cadmus, and Agenor first of the race.
And for the disobedient thus I pray:
May the gods send them neither timely fruits
Of earth, nor teeming increase of the womb,
But may they waste and pine, as now they waste,
Aye and worse stricken; but to all of you,
My loyal subjects who approve my acts,
May Justice, our ally, and all the gods
Be gracious and attend you evermore.

CHORUS The oath thou profferest, sire, I take and swear.

I slew him not myself, nor can I name
The slayer. For the quest, 'twere well, methinks
That Phoebus, who proposed the riddle, himself
Should give the answer--who the murderer was.

OEDIPUS Well argued; but no living man can hope
To force the gods to speak against their will.

CHORUS May I then say what seems next best to me?

OEDIPUS Aye, if there be a third best, tell it too.

CHORUS My liege, if any man sees eye to eye
With our lord Phoebus, 'tis our prophet, lord
Teiresias; he of all men best might guide
A searcher of this matter to the light.

OEDIPUS Here too my zeal has nothing lagged, for twice
At Creon's instance have I sent to fetch him,
And long I marvel why he is not here.

CHORUS I mind me too of rumors long ago--
Mere gossip.

OEDIPUS Tell them, I would fain know all.

CHORUS 'Twas said he fell by travelers.

OEDIPUS So I heard,
But none has seen the man who saw him fall.

CHORUS Well, if he knows what fear is, he will quail
And flee before the terror of thy curse.

OEDIPUS Words scare not him who blenches not at deeds.

CHORUS But here is one to arraign him. Lo, at length
They bring the god-inspired seer in whom
Above all other men is truth inborn. (Enter TEIRESIAS, led by a boy.)

OEDIPUS Teiresias, seer who comprehendest all,
Lore of the wise and hidden mysteries,
High things of heaven and low things of the earth,
Thou knowest, though thy blinded eyes see naught,
What plague infects our city; and we turn
To thee, O seer, our one defense and shield.
The purport of the answer that the God
Returned to us who sought his oracle,
The messengers have doubtless told thee--how
One course alone could rid us of the pest,
To find the murderers of Laius,
And slay them or expel them from the land.
Therefore begrudging neither augury
Nor other divination that is thine,
O save thyself, thy country, and thy king,
Save all from this defilement of blood shed.
On thee we rest. This is man's highest end,
To others' service all his powers to lend.

TEIRESIAS Alas, alas, what misery to be wise
When wisdom profits nothing! This old lore
I had forgotten; else I were not here.

OEDIPUS What ails thee? Why this melancholy mood?

TEIRESIAS Let me go home; prevent me not; 'twere best
That thou shouldst bear thy burden and I mine.

OEDIPUS For shame! no true-born Theban patriot
Would thus withhold the word of prophecy.

TEIRESIAS Thy words, O king, are wide of the mark, and I

For fear lest I too trip like thee...

OEDIPUS Oh speak,
Withhold not, I adjure thee, if thou know'st,
Thy knowledge. We are all thy suppliants.

TEIRESIAS Aye, for ye all are witless, but my voice
Will ne'er reveal my miseries--or thine.

OEDIPUS What then, thou knowest, and yet willst not speak!

Wouldst thou betray us and destroy the State?

TEIRESIAS I will not vex myself nor thee. Why ask
Thus idly what from me thou shalt not learn?

OEDIPUS Monster! thy silence would incense a flint.
Will nothing loose thy tongue? Can nothing melt thee,
Or shake thy dogged taciturnity?

TEIRESIAS Thou blam'st my mood and seest not thine own
Wherewith thou art mated; no, thou taxest me.

OEDIPUS And who could stay his choler when he heard
How insolently thou dost flout the State?

TEIRESIAS Well, it will come what will, though I be mute.

OEDIPUS Since come it must, thy duty is to tell me.

TEIRESIAS I have no more to say; storm as thou willst,
And give the rein to all thy pent-up rage.

OEDIPUS Yea, I am wroth, and will not stint my words,
But speak my whole mind. Thou methinks thou art he,
Who planned the crime, aye, and performed it too,
All save the assassination; and if thou
Hadst not been blind, I had been sworn to boot
That thou alone didst do the bloody deed.

TEIRESIAS Is it so? Then I charge thee to abide
By thine own proclamation; from this day
Speak not to these or me. Thou art the man,
Thou the accursed polluter of this land.

OEDIPUS Vile slanderer, thou blurtest forth these taunts,

And think'st forsooth as seer to go scot free.

TEIRESIAS Yea, I am free, strong in the strength of truth.

OEDIPUS Who was thy teacher? not methinks thy art.

TEIRESIAS Thou, goading me against my will to speak.

OEDIPUS What speech? repeat it and resolve my doubt.

TEIRESIAS Didst miss my sense wouldst thou goad me on?

OEDIPUS I but half caught thy meaning; say it again.

TEIRESIAS I say thou art the murderer of the man
Whose murderer thou pursuest.

OEDIPUS Thou shalt rue it
Twice to repeat so gross a calumny.

TEIRESIAS Must I say more to aggravate thy rage?

OEDIPUS Say all thou wilt; it will be but waste of breath.

TEIRESIAS I say thou livest with thy nearest kin
In infamy, unwitting in thy shame.

OEDIPUS Think'st thou for aye unscathed to wag thy tongue?

TEIRESIAS Yea, if the might of truth can aught prevail.

OEDIPUS With other men, but not with thee, for thou
In ear, wit, eye, in everything art blind.

TEIRESIAS Poor fool to utter gibes at me which all
Here present will cast back on thee ere long.

OEDIPUS Offspring of endless Night, thou hast no power
O'er me or any man who sees the sun.

TEIRESIAS No, for thy weird is not to fall by me.
I leave to Apollo what concerns the god.

OEDIPUS Is this a plot of Creon, or thine own?

TEIRESIAS Not Creon, thou thyself art thine own bane.

OEDIPUS O wealth and empiry and skill by skill
Outwitted in the battlefield of life,
What spite and envy follow in your train!
See, for this crown the State conferred on me.
A gift, a thing I sought not, for this crown
The trusty Creon, my familiar friend,
Hath lain in wait to oust me and suborned
This mountebank, this juggling charlatan,
This tricksy beggar-priest, for gain alone
Keen-eyed, but in his proper art stone-blind.
Say, sirrah, hast thou ever proved thyself
A prophet? When the riddling Sphinx was here
Why hadst thou no deliverance for this folk?
And yet the riddle was not to be solved
By guess-work but required the prophet's art;
Wherein thou wast found lacking; neither birds
Nor sign from heaven helped thee, but I came,
The simple Oedipus; I stopped her mouth
By mother wit, untaught of auguries.
This is the man whom thou wouldst undermine,
In hope to reign with Creon in my stead.
Methinks that thou and thine abettor soon
Will rue your plot to drive the scapegoat out.
Thank thy grey hairs that thou hast still to learn
What chastisement such arrogance deserves.

CHORUS To us it seems that both the seer and thou,
O Oedipus, have spoken angry words.
This is no time to wrangle but consult
How best we may fulfill the oracle.

TEIRESIAS King as thou art, free speech at least is mine

To make reply; in this I am thy peer.
I own no lord but Loxias; him I serve
And ne'er can stand enrolled as Creon's man.
Thus then I answer: since thou hast not spared
To twit me with my blindness--thou hast eyes,
Yet see'st not in what misery thou art fallen,
Nor where thou dwellest nor with whom for mate.
Dost know thy lineage? Nay, thou know'st it not,
And all unwitting art a double foe
To thine own kin, the living and the dead;
Aye and the dogging curse of mother and sire
One day shall drive thee, like a two-edged sword,
Beyond our borders, and the eyes that now
See clear shall henceforward endless night.
Ah whither shall thy bitter cry not reach,
What crag in all Cithaeron but shall then
Reverberate thy wail, when thou hast found
With what a hymeneal thou wast borne
Home, but to no fair haven, on the gale!
Aye, and a flood of ills thou guessest not
Shall set thyself and children in one line.
Flout then both Creon and my words, for none
Of mortals shall be striken worse than thou.

OEDIPUS Must I endure this fellow's insolence?
A murrain on thee! Get thee hence! Begone
Avaunt! and never cross my threshold more.

TEIRESIAS I ne'er had come hadst thou not bidden me.

OEDIPUS I know not thou wouldst utter folly, else
Long hadst thou waited to be summoned here.

TEIRESIAS Such am I--as it seems to thee a fool,
But to the parents who begat thee, wise.

OEDIPUS What sayest thou--"parents"? Who begat me, speak?

TEIRESIAS This day shall be thy birth-day, and thy grave.

OEDIPUS Thou lov'st to speak in riddles and dark words.

TEIRESIAS In reading riddles who so skilled as thou?

OEDIPUS Twit me with that wherein my greatness lies.

TEIRESIAS And yet this very greatness proved thy bane.

OEDIPUS No matter if I saved the commonwealth.

TEIRESIAS 'Tis time I left thee. Come, boy, take me home.

OEDIPUS Aye, take him quickly, for his presence irks
And lets me; gone, thou canst not plague me more.

TEIRESIAS I go, but first will tell thee why I came.
Thy frown I dread not, for thou canst not harm me.
Hear then: this man whom thou hast sought to arrest
With threats and warrants this long while, the wretch
Who murdered Laius--that man is here.
He passes for an alien in the land
But soon shall prove a Theban, native born.
And yet his fortune brings him little joy;
For blind of seeing, clad in beggar's weeds,
For purple robes, and leaning on his staff,
To a strange land he soon shall grope his way.
And of the children, inmates of his home,
He shall be proved the brother and the sire,
Of her who bare him son and husband both,
Co-partner, and assassin of his sire.
Go in and ponder this, and if thou find
That I have missed the mark, henceforth declare
I have no wit nor skill in prophecy. (Exeunt TEIRESIAS and OEDIPUS.)

CHORUS (strophe 1)

Who is he by voice immortal named from Pythia's rocky cell,

Doer of foul deeds of bloodshed, horrors that no tongue can tell?

A foot for flight he needs
Fleeter than storm-swift steeds,
For on his heels doth follow,
Armed with the lightnings of his Sire, Apollo.
Like sleuth-hounds too
The Fates pursue.

(antistrophe 1)

Yea, but now flashed forth the summons from Parnassus' snowy peak,

"Near and far the undiscovered doer of this murder seek!"

Now like a sullen bull he roves
Through forest brakes and upland groves,
And vainly seeks to fly
The doom that ever nigh
Flits o'er his head,
Still by the avenging Phoebus sped,
The voice divine,
From Earth's mid shrine.

(strophe 2)

Sore perplexed am I by the words of the master seer.
Are they true, are they false? I know not and bridle my tongue for
fear,
Fluttered with vague surmise; nor present nor future is clear.

Quarrel of ancient date or in days still near know I none

Twixt the Labdacidan house and our ruler, Polybus' son.
Proof is there none: how then can I challenge our King's good name,

How in a blood-feud join for an untracked deed of shame?

(antistrophe 2)

All wise are Zeus and Apollo, and nothing is hid from their ken;

They are gods; and in wits a man may surpass his fellow men;

But that a mortal seer knows more than I know--where
Hath this been proven? Or how without sign assured, can I blame

Him who saved our State when the winged songstress came,

Tested and tried in the light of us all, like gold assayed?

How can I now assent when a crime is on Oedipus laid?

CREON Friends, countrymen, I learn King Oedipus
Hath laid against me a most grievous charge,
And come to you protesting. If he deems
That I have harmed or injured him in aught
By word or deed in this our present trouble,
I care not to prolong the span of life,
Thus ill-reputed; for the calumny
Hits not a single blot, but blasts my name,
If by the general voice I am denounced
False to the State and false by you my friends.

CHORUS This taunt, it well may be, was blurted out
In petulance, not spoken advisedly.

CREON Did any dare pretend that it was I
Prompted the seer to utter a forged charge?

CHORUS Such things were said; with what intent I know not.

CREON Were not his wits and vision all astray
When upon me he fixed this monstrous charge?

CHORUS I know not; to my sovereign's acts I am blind.
But lo, he comes to answer for himself. (Enter OEDIPUS.)

OEDIPUS Sirrah, what mak'st thou here? Dost thou presume

To approach my doors, thou brazen-faced rogue,
My murderer and the filcher of my crown?
Come, answer this, didst thou detect in me
Some touch of cowardice or witlessness,
That made thee undertake this enterprise?
I seemed forsooth too simple to perceive
The serpent stealing on me in the dark,
Or else too weak to scotch it when I saw.
This thou art witless seeking to possess
Without a following or friends the crown,
A prize that followers and wealth must win.

CREON Attend me. Thou hast spoken, 'tis my turn
To make reply. Then having heard me, judge.

OEDIPUS Thou art glib of tongue, but I am slow to learn

Of thee; I know too well thy venomous hate.

CREON First I would argue out this very point.

OEDIPUS O argue not that thou art not a rogue.

CREON If thou dost count a virtue stubbornness,
Unschooled by reason, thou art much astray.

OEDIPUS If thou dost hold a kinsman may be wronged,
And no pains follow, thou art much to seek.

CREON Therein thou judgest rightly, but this wrong
That thou allegest--tell me what it is.

OEDIPUS Didst thou or didst thou not advise that I
Should call the priest?

CREON Yes, and I stand to it.

OEDIPUS Tell me how long is it since Laius...

CREON Since Laius...? I follow not thy drift.

OEDIPUS By violent hands was spirited away.

CREON In the dim past, a many years agone.

OEDIPUS Did the same prophet then pursue his craft?

CREON Yes, skilled as now and in no less repute.

OEDIPUS Did he at that time ever glance at me?

CREON Not to my knowledge, not when I was by.

OEDIPUS But was no search and inquisition made?

CREON Surely full quest was made, but nothing learnt.

OEDIPUS Why failed the seer to tell his story then?

CREON I know not, and not knowing hold my tongue.

OEDIPUS This much thou knowest and canst surely tell.

CREON What's mean'st thou? All I know I will declare.

OEDIPUS But for thy prompting never had the seer
Ascribed to me the death of Laius.

CREON If so he thou knowest best; but I
Would put thee to the question in my turn.

OEDIPUS Question and prove me murderer if thou canst.

CREON Then let me ask thee, didst thou wed my sister?

OEDIPUS A fact so plain I cannot well deny.

CREON And as thy consort queen she shares the throne?

OEDIPUS I grant her freely all her heart desires.

CREON And with you twain I share the triple rule?

OEDIPUS Yea, and it is that proves thee a false friend.

CREON Not so, if thou wouldst reason with thyself,
As I with myself. First, I bid thee think,
Would any mortal choose a troubled reign
Of terrors rather than secure repose,
If the same power were given him? As for me,
I have no natural craving for the name
Of king, preferring to do kingly deeds,
And so thinks every sober-minded man.
Now all my needs are satisfied through thee,
And I have naught to fear; but were I king,
My acts would oft run counter to my will.
How could a title then have charms for me
Above the sweets of boundless influence?
I am not so infatuate as to grasp
The shadow when I hold the substance fast.
Now all men cry me Godspeed! wish me well,
And every suitor seeks to gain my ear,
If he would hope to win a grace from thee.
Why should I leave the better, choose the worse?
That were sheer madness, and I am not mad.
No such ambition ever tempted me,
Nor would I have a share in such intrigue.
And if thou doubt me, first to Delphi go,
There ascertain if my report was true
Of the god's answer; next investigate
If with the seer I plotted or conspired,
And if it prove so, sentence me to death,
Not by thy voice alone, but mine and thine.
But O condemn me not, without appeal,
On bare suspicion. 'Tis not right to adjudge
Bad men at random good, or good men bad.
I would as lief a man should cast away
The thing he counts most precious, his own life,
As spurn a true friend. Thou wilt learn in time
The truth, for time alone reveals the just;
A villain is detected in a day.

CHORUS To one who walketh warily his words
Commend themselves; swift counsels are not sure.

OEDIPUS When with swift strides the stealthy plotter stalks

I must be quick too with my counterplot.
To wait his onset passively, for him
Is sure success, for me assured defeat.

CREON What then's thy will? To banish me the land?

OEDIPUS I would not have thee banished, no, but dead,
That men may mark the wages envy reaps.

CREON I see thou wilt not yield, nor credit me.

OEDIPUS None but a fool would credit such as thou.

CREON Thou art not wise.

OEDIPUS Wise for myself at least.

CREON Why not for me too?

OEDIPUS Why for such a knave?

CREON Suppose thou lackest sense.

OEDIPUS Yet kings must rule.

CREON Not if they rule ill.

OEDIPUS Oh my Thebans, hear him!

CREON Thy Thebans? am not I a Theban too?

CHORUS Cease, princes; lo there comes, and none too soon,

Jocasta from the palace. Who so fit
As peacemaker to reconcile your feud? (Enter JOCASTA.)

JOCASTA Misguided princes, why have ye upraised
This wordy wrangle? Are ye not ashamed,
While the whole land lies striken, thus to voice
Your private injuries? Go in, my lord;
Go home, my brother, and forebear to make
A public scandal of a petty grief.

CREON My royal sister, Oedipus, thy lord,
Hath bid me choose (O dread alternative!)
An outlaw's exile or a felon's death.

OEDIPUS Yes, lady; I have caught him practicing
Against my royal person his vile arts.

CREON May I ne'er speed but die accursed, if I
In any way am guilty of this charge.

JOCASTA Believe him, I adjure thee, Oedipus,
First for his solemn oath's sake, then for mine,
And for thine elders' sake who wait on thee.

CHORUS (strophe 1)

Hearken, King, reflect, we pray thee, but not stubborn but relent.

OEDIPUS Say to what should I consent?

CHORUS Respect a man whose probity and troth
Are known to all and now confirmed by oath.

OEDIPUS Dost know what grace thou cravest?

CHORUS Yea, I know.

OEDIPUS Declare it then and make thy meaning plain.

CHORUS Brand not a friend whom babbling tongues assail;

Let not suspicion 'gainst his oath prevail.

OEDIPUS Bethink you that in seeking this ye seek
In very sooth my death or banishment?

CHORUS No, by the leader of the host divine!

(strophe 2)

Witness, thou Sun, such thought was never mine,
Unblest, unfriended may I perish,
If ever I such wish did cherish!
But O my heart is desolate
Musing on our striken State,
Doubly fall'n should discord grow
Twixt you twain, to crown our woe.

OEDIPUS Well, let him go, no matter what it cost me,
Or certain death or shameful banishment,
For your sake I relent, not his; and him,
Where'er he be, my heart shall still abhor.

CREON Thou art as sullen in thy yielding mood
As in thine anger thou wast truculent.
Such tempers justly plague themselves the most.

OEDIPUS Leave me in peace and get thee gone.

CREON I go,
By thee misjudged, but justified by these. (Exeunt CREON.)

CHORUS (antistrophe 1)

Lady, lead indoors thy consort; wherefore longer here delay?

JOCASTA Tell me first how rose the fray.

CHORUS Rumors bred unjust suspicious and injustice rankles sore.

JOCASTA Were both at fault?

CHORUS Both.

JOCASTA What was the tale?

CHORUS Ask me no more. The land is sore distressed; 'Twere better
sleeping ills to leave at rest.

OEDIPUS Strange counsel, friend! I know thou mean'st me well,

And yet would'st mitigate and blunt my zeal.

CHORUS (antistrophe 2)

King, I say it once again,
Witless were I proved, insane,
If I lightly put away
Thee my country's prop and stay,
Pilot who, in danger sought,
To a quiet haven brought
Our distracted State; and now
Who can guide us right but thou?

JOCASTA Let me too, I adjure thee, know, O king,
What cause has stirred this unrelenting wrath.

OEDIPUS I will, for thou art more to me than these.
Lady, the cause is Creon and his plots.

JOCASTA But what provoked the quarrel? make this clear.

OEDIPUS He points me out as Laius' murderer.

JOCASTA Of his own knowledge or upon report?

OEDIPUS He is too cunning to commit himself,
And makes a mouthpiece of a knavish seer.

JOCASTA Then thou mayest ease thy conscience on that score.

Listen and I'll convince thee that no man
Hath scot or lot in the prophetic art.
Here is the proof in brief. An oracle
Once came to Laius (I will not say
'Twas from the Delphic god himself, but from
His ministers) declaring he was doomed
To perish by the hand of his own son,
A child that should be born to him by me.
Now Laius--so at least report affirmed--
Was murdered on a day by highwaymen,
No natives, at a spot where three roads meet.
As for the child, it was but three days old,
When Laius, its ankles pierced and pinned
Together, gave it to be cast away
By others on the trackless mountain side.
So then Apollo brought it not to pass
The child should be his father's murderer,
Or the dread terror find accomplishment,
And Laius be slain by his own son.
Such was the prophet's horoscope. O king,
Regard it not. Whate'er the god deems fit
To search, himself unaided will reveal.

OEDIPUS What memories, what wild tumult of the soul
Came o'er me, lady, as I heard thee speak!

JOCASTA What mean'st thou? What has shocked and startled thee?

OEDIPUS Methought I heard thee say that Laius
Was murdered at the meeting of three roads.

JOCASTA So ran the story that is current still.

OEDIPUS Where did this happen? Dost thou know the place?

JOCASTA Phocis the land is called; the spot is where
Branch roads from Delphi and from Daulis meet.

OEDIPUS And how long is it since these things befell?

JOCASTA 'Twas but a brief while were thou wast proclaimed

Our country's ruler that the news was brought.

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

JOCASTA What is it, Oedipus, that moves thee so?

OEDIPUS Ask me not yet; tell me the build and height
Of Laius? Was he still in manhood's prime?

JOCASTA Tall was he, and his hair was lightly strewn
With silver; and not unlike thee in form.

OEDIPUS O woe is me! Mehtinks unwittingly
I laid but now a dread curse on myself.

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

I tremble.

OEDIPUS 'Tis a dread presentiment
That in the end the seer will prove not blind.
One further question to resolve my doubt.

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

OEDIPUS Had he but few attendants or a train
Of armed retainers with him, like a prince?

JOCASTA They were but five in all, and one of them
A herald; Laius in a mule-car rode.

OEDIPUS Alas! 'tis clear as noonday now. But say,
Lady, who carried this report to Thebes?

JOCASTA A serf, the sole survivor who returned.

OEDIPUS Haply he is at hand or in the house?

JOCASTA No, for as soon as he returned and found
Thee reigning in the stead of Laius slain,
He clasped my hand and supplicated me
To send him to the alps and pastures, where
He might be farthest from the sight of Thebes.
And so I sent him. 'Twas an honest slave
And well deserved some better recompense.

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

JOCASTA He shall be brought; but wherefore summon him?

OEDIPUS Lady, I fear my tongue has overrun
Discretion; therefore I would question him.

JOCASTA Well, he shall come, but may not I too claim
To share the burden of thy heart, my king?

OEDIPUS And thou shalt not be frustrate of thy wish.
Now my imaginings have gone so far.
Who has a higher claim that thou to hear
My tale of dire adventures? Listen then.
My sire was Polybus of Corinth, and
My mother Merope, a Dorian;
And I was held the foremost citizen,
Till a strange thing befell me, strange indeed,
Yet scarce deserving all the heat it stirred.
A roisterer at some banquet, flown with wine,
Shouted "Thou art not true son of thy sire."
It irked me, but I stomached for the nonce
The insult; on the morrow I sought out
My mother and my sire and questioned them.
They were indignant at the random slur
Cast on my parentage and did their best
To comfort me, but still the venomed barb
Rankled, for still the scandal spread and grew.
So privily without their leave I went
To Delphi, and Apollo sent me back
Baulked of the knowledge that I came to seek.
But other grievous things he prophesied,
Woes, lamentations, mourning, portents dire;
To wit I should defile my mother's bed
And raise up seed too loathsome to behold,
And slay the father from whose loins I sprang.
Then, lady,--thou shalt hear the very truth--
As I drew near the triple-branching roads,
A herald met me and a man who sat
In a car drawn by colts--as in thy tale--
The man in front and the old man himself
Threatened to thrust me rudely from the path,
Then jostled by the charioteer in wrath
I struck him, and the old man, seeing this,
Watched till I passed and from his car brought down
Full on my head the double-pointed goad.
Yet was I quits with him and more; one stroke
Of my good staff sufficed to fling him clean
Out of the chariot seat and laid him prone.
And so I slew them every one. But if
Betwixt this stranger there was aught in common
With Laius, who more miserable than I,
What mortal could you find more god-abhorred?
Wretch whom no sojourner, no citizen
May harbor or address, whom all are bound
To harry from their homes. And this same curse
Was laid on me, and laid by none but me.
Yea with these hands all gory I pollute
The bed of him I slew. Say, am I vile?
Am I not utterly unclean, a wretch
Doomed to be banished, and in banishment
Forgo the sight of all my dearest ones,
And never tread again my native earth;
Or else to wed my mother and slay my sire,
Polybus, who begat me and upreared?
If one should say, this is the handiwork
Of some inhuman power, who could blame
His judgment? But, ye pure and awful gods,
Forbid, forbid that I should see that day!
May I be blotted out from living men
Ere such a plague spot set on me its brand!

CHORUS We too, O king, are troubled; but till thou
Hast questioned the survivor, still hope on.

OEDIPUS My hope is faint, but still enough survives
To bid me bide the coming of this herd.

JOCASTA Suppose him here, what wouldst thou learn of him?

OEDIPUS I'll tell thee, lady; if his tale agrees
With thine, I shall have 'scaped calamity.

JOCASTA And what of special import did I say?

OEDIPUS In thy report of what the herdsman said
Laius was slain by robbers; now if he
Still speaks of robbers, not a robber, I
Slew him not; "one" with "many" cannot square.
But if he says one lonely wayfarer,
The last link wanting to my guilt is forged.

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

Nor can he now retract what then he said;
Not I alone but all our townsfolk heard it.
E'en should he vary somewhat in his story,
He cannot make the death of Laius
In any wise jump with the oracle.
For Loxias said expressly he was doomed
To die by my child's hand, but he, poor babe,
He shed no blood, but perished first himself.
So much for divination. Henceforth I
Will look for signs neither to right nor left.

OEDIPUS Thou reasonest well. Still I would have thee send

And fetch the bondsman hither. See to it.

JOCASTA That will I straightway. Come, let us within.
I would do nothing that my lord mislikes. (Exeunt OEDIPUS and JOCASTA.)

CHORUS (strophe 1)

My lot be still to lead
The life of innocence and fly
Irreverence in word or deed,
To follow still those laws ordained on high
Whose birthplace is the bright ethereal sky
No mortal birth they own,
Olympus their progenitor alone:
Ne'er shall they slumber in oblivion cold,
The god in them is strong and grows not old.

(antistrophe 1)

Of insolence is bred
The tyrant; insolence full blown,
With empty riches surfeited,
Scales the precipitous height and grasps the throne.
Then topples o'er and lies in ruin prone;
No foothold on that dizzy steep.
But O may Heaven the true patriot keep
Who burns with emulous zeal to serve the State.
God is my help and hope, on him I wait.

(strophe 2)

But the proud sinner, or in word or deed,
That will not Justice heed,
Nor reverence the shrine
Of images divine,
Perdition seize his vain imaginings,
If, urged by greed profane,
He grasps at ill-got gain,
And lays an impious hand on holiest things.
Who when such deeds are done
Can hope heaven's bolts to shun?
If sin like this to honor can aspire,
Why dance I still and lead the sacred choir?

(antistrophe 2)

No more I'll seek earth's central oracle,
Or Abae's hallowed cell,
Nor to Olympia bring
My votive offering.
If before all God's truth be not bade plain.
O Zeus, reveal thy might,
King, if thou'rt named aright
Omnipotent, all-seeing, as of old;
For Laius is forgot;
His weird, men heed it not;
Apollo is forsook and faith grows cold. (Enter JOCASTA.)

JOCASTA My lords, ye look amazed to see your queen
With wreaths and gifts of incense in her hands.
I had a mind to visit the high shrines,
For Oedipus is overwrought, alarmed
With terrors manifold. He will not use
His past experience, like a man of sense,
To judge the present need, but lends an ear
To any croaker if he augurs ill.
Since then my counsels naught avail, I turn
To thee, our present help in time of trouble,
Apollo, Lord Lycean, and to thee
My prayers and supplications here I bring.
Lighten us, lord, and cleanse us from this curse!
For now we all are cowed like mariners
Who see their helmsman dumbstruck in the storm. (Enter Corinthian
MESSENGER.)

MESSENGER My masters, tell me where the palace is
Of Oedipus; or better, where's the king.

CHORUS Here is the palace and he bides within;
This is his queen the mother of his children.

MESSENGER All happiness attend her and the house,
Blessed is her husband and her marriage-bed.

JOCASTA My greetings to thee, stranger; thy fair words
Deserve a like response. But tell me why
Thou comest--what thy need or what thy news.

MESSENGER Good for thy consort and the royal house.

JOCASTA What may it be? Whose messenger art thou?

MESSENGER The Isthmian commons have resolved to make
Thy husband king--so 'twas reported there.

JOCASTA What! is not aged Polybus still king?

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

JOCASTA What! is he dead, the sire of Oedipus?

MESSENGER If I speak falsely, may I die myself.

JOCASTA Quick, maiden, bear these tidings to my lord.
Ye god-sent oracles, where stand ye now!
This is the man whom Oedipus long shunned,
In dread to prove his murderer; and now
He dies in nature's course, not by his hand. (Enter OEDIPUS.)

OEDIPUS My wife, my queen, Jocasta, why hast thou
Summoned me from my palace?

JOCASTA Hear this man,
And as thou hearest judge what has become
Of all those awe-inspiring oracles.

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

JOCASTA He comes from Corinth and his message this:
Thy father Polybus hath passed away.

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

MESSENGER If I must first make plain beyond a doubt
My message, know that Polybus is dead.

OEDIPUS By treachery, or by sickness visited?

MESSENGER One touch will send an old man to his rest.

OEDIPUS So of some malady he died, poor man.

MESSENGER Yes, having measured the full span of years.

OEDIPUS Out on it, lady! why should one regard
The Pythian hearth or birds that scream i' the air?
Did they not point at me as doomed to slay
My father? but he's dead and in his grave
And here am I who ne'er unsheathed a sword;
Unless the longing for his absent son
Killed him and so I slew him in a sense.
But, as they stand, the oracles are dead--
Dust, ashes, nothing, dead as Polybus.

JOCASTA Say, did not I foretell this long ago?

OEDIPUS Thou didst: but I was misled by my fear.

JOCASTA Then let I no more weigh upon thy soul.

OEDIPUS Must I not fear my mother's marriage bed.

JOCASTA Why should a mortal man, the sport of chance,
With no assured foreknowledge, be afraid?
Best live a careless life from hand to mouth.
This wedlock with thy mother fear not thou.
How oft it chances that in dreams a man
Has wed his mother! He who least regards
Such brainsick phantasies lives most at ease.

OEDIPUS I should have shared in full thy confidence,
Were not my mother living; since she lives
Though half convinced I still must live in dread.

JOCASTA And yet thy sire's death lights out darkness much.

OEDIPUS Much, but my fear is touching her who lives.

MESSENGER Who may this woman be whom thus you fear?

OEDIPUS Merope, stranger, wife of Polybus.

MESSENGER And what of her can cause you any fear?

OEDIPUS A heaven-sent oracle of dread import.

MESSENGER A mystery, or may a stranger hear it?

OEDIPUS Aye, 'tis no secret. Loxias once foretold
That I should mate with mine own mother, and shed
With my own hands the blood of my own sire.
Hence Corinth was for many a year to me
A home distant; and I trove abroad,
But missed the sweetest sight, my parents' face.

MESSENGER Was this the fear that exiled thee from home?

OEDIPUS Yea, and the dread of slaying my own sire.

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

Have I not rid thee of this second fear?

OEDIPUS Well, thou shalt have due guerdon for thy pains.

MESSENGER Well, I confess what chiefly made me come
Was hope to profit by thy coming home.

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

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

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

MESSENGER If this is why thou dreadest to return.

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

MESSENGER Lest through thy parents thou shouldst be accursed?

OEDIPUS This and none other is my constant dread.

MESSENGER Dost thou not know thy fears are baseless all?

OEDIPUS How baseless, if I am their very son?

MESSENGER Since Polybus was naught to thee in blood.

OEDIPUS What say'st thou? was not Polybus my sire?

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

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

MESSENGER Since I begat thee not, no more did he.

OEDIPUS What reason had he then to call me son?

MESSENGER Know that he took thee from my hands, a gift.

OEDIPUS Yet, if no child of his, he loved me well.

MESSENGER A childless man till then, he warmed to thee.

OEDIPUS A foundling or a purchased slave, this child?

MESSENGER I found thee in Cithaeron's wooded glens.

OEDIPUS What led thee to explore those upland glades?

MESSENGER My business was to tend the mountain flocks.

OEDIPUS A vagrant shepherd journeying for hire?

MESSENGER True, but thy savior in that hour, my son.

OEDIPUS My savior? from what harm? what ailed me then?

MESSENGER Those ankle joints are evidence enow.

OEDIPUS Ah, why remind me of that ancient sore?

MESSENGER I loosed the pin that riveted thy feet.

OEDIPUS Yes, from my cradle that dread brand I bore.

MESSENGER Whence thou deriv'st the name that still is thine.

OEDIPUS Who did it? I adjure thee, tell me who
Say, was it father, mother?

MESSENGER I know not.
The man from whom I had thee may know more.

OEDIPUS What, did another find me, not thyself?

MESSENGER Not I; another shepherd gave thee me.

OEDIPUS Who was he? Would'st thou know again the man?

MESSENGER He passed indeed for one of Laius' house.

OEDIPUS The king who ruled the country long ago?

MESSENGER The same: he was a herdsman of the king.

OEDIPUS And is he living still for me to see him?

MESSENGER His fellow-countrymen should best know that.

OEDIPUS Doth any bystander among you know
The herd he speaks of, or by seeing him
Afield or in the city? answer straight!
The hour hath come to clear this business up.

CHORUS Methinks he means none other than the hind
Whom thou anon wert fain to see; but that
Our queen Jocasta best of all could tell.

OEDIPUS Madam, dost know the man we sent to fetch?
Is the same of whom the stranger speaks?

JOCASTA Who is the man? What matter? Let it be.
'Twere waste of thought to weigh such idle words.

OEDIPUS No, with such guiding clues I cannot fail
To bring to light the secret of my birth.

JOCASTA Oh, as thou carest for thy life, give o'er
This quest. Enough the anguish I endure.

OEDIPUS Be of good cheer; though I be proved the son
Of a bondwoman, aye, through three descents
Triply a slave, thy honor is unsmirched.

JOCASTA Yet humor me, I pray thee; do not this.

OEDIPUS I cannot; I must probe this matter home.

JOCASTA 'Tis for thy sake I advise thee for the best.

OEDIPUS I grow impatient of this best advice.

JOCASTA Ah mayst thou ne'er discover who thou art!

OEDIPUS Go, fetch me here the herd, and leave yon woman

To glory in her pride of ancestry.

JOCASTA O woe is thee, poor wretch! With that last word

I leave thee, henceforth silent evermore. (Exit JOCASTA.)

CHORUS Why, Oedipus, why stung with passionate grief
Hath the queen thus departed? Much I fear
From this dead calm will burst a storm of woes.

OEDIPUS Let the storm burst, my fixed resolve still holds,

To learn my lineage, be it ne'er so low.
It may be she with all a woman's pride
Thinks scorn of my base parentage. But I
Who rank myself as Fortune's favorite child,
The giver of good gifts, shall not be shamed.
She is my mother and the changing moons
My brethren, and with them I wax and wane.
Thus sprung why should I fear to trace my birth?
Nothing can make me other than I am.

CHORUS (strophe)

If my soul prophetic err not, if my wisdom aught avail,

Thee, Cithaeron, I shall hail,
As the nurse and foster-mother of our Oedipus shall greet

Ere tomorrow's full moon rises, and exalt thee as is meet.

Dance and song shall hymn thy praises, lover of our royal race.

Phoebus, may my words find grace!

(antistrophe)

Child, who bare thee, nymph or goddess? sure thy sure was more than
man,
Haply the hill-roamer Pan.
Of did Loxias beget thee, for he haunts the upland wold;

Or Cyllene's lord, or Bacchus, dweller on the hilltops cold?

Did some Heliconian Oread give him thee, a new-born joy?

Nymphs with whom he love to toy?

OEDIPUS Elders, if I, who never yet before
Have met the man, may make a guess, methinks
I see the herdsman who we long have sought;
His time-worn aspect matches with the years
Of yonder aged messenger; besides
I seem to recognize the men who bring him
As servants of my own. But you, perchance,
Having in past days known or seen the herd,
May better by sure knowledge my surmise.

CHORUS I recognize him; one of Laius' house;
A simple hind, but true as any man. (Enter HERDSMAN.)

OEDIPUS Corinthian, stranger, I address thee first,
Is this the man thou meanest!

MESSENGER This is he.

OEDIPUS And now old man, look up and answer all
I ask thee. Wast thou once of Laius' house?

HERDSMAN I was, a thrall, not purchased but home-bred.

OEDIPUS What was thy business? how wast thou employed?

HERDSMAN The best part of my life I tended sheep.

OEDIPUS What were the pastures thou didst most frequent?

HERDSMAN Cithaeron and the neighboring alps.

OEDIPUS Then there
Thou must have known yon man, at least by fame?

HERDSMAN Yon man? in what way? what man dost thou mean?

OEDIPUS The man here, having met him in past times...

HERDSMAN Off-hand I cannot call him well to mind.

MESSENGER No wonder, master. But I will revive
His blunted memories. Sure he can recall
What time together both we drove our flocks,
He two, I one, on the Cithaeron range,
For three long summers; I his mate from spring
Till rose Arcturus; then in winter time
I led mine home, he his to Laius' folds.
Did these things happen as I say, or no?

HERDSMAN 'Tis long ago, but all thou say'st is true.

MESSENGER Well, thou mast then remember giving me
A child to rear as my own foster-son?

HERDSMAN Why dost thou ask this question? What of that?

MESSENGER Friend, he that stands before thee was that child.

HERDSMAN A plague upon thee! Hold thy wanton tongue!

OEDIPUS Softly, old man, rebuke him not; thy words
Are more deserving chastisement than his.

HERDSMAN O best of masters, what is my offense?

OEDIPUS Not answering what he asks about the child.

HERDSMAN He speaks at random, babbles like a fool.

OEDIPUS If thou lack'st grace to speak, I'll loose thy tongue.

HERDSMAN For mercy's sake abuse not an old man.

OEDIPUS Arrest the villain, seize and pinion him!

HERDSMAN Alack, alack!
What have I done? what wouldst thou further learn?

OEDIPUS Didst give this man the child of whom he asks?

HERDSMAN I did; and would that I had died that day!

OEDIPUS And die thou shalt unless thou tell the truth.

HERDSMAN But, if I tell it, I am doubly lost.

OEDIPUS The knave methinks will still prevaricate.

HERDSMAN Nay, I confessed I gave it long ago.

OEDIPUS Whence came it? was it thine, or given to thee?

HERDSMAN I had it from another, 'twas not mine.

OEDIPUS From whom of these our townsmen, and what house?

HERDSMAN Forbear for God's sake, master, ask no more.

OEDIPUS If I must question thee again, thou'rt lost.

HERDSMAN Well then--it was a child of Laius' house.

OEDIPUS Slave-born or one of Laius' own race?

HERDSMAN Ah me!
I stand upon the perilous edge of speech.

OEDIPUS And I of hearing, but I still must hear.

HERDSMAN Know then the child was by repute his own,
But she within, thy consort best could tell.

OEDIPUS What! she, she gave it thee?

HERDSMAN 'Tis so, my king.

OEDIPUS With what intent?

HERDSMAN To make away with it.

OEDIPUS What, she its mother.

HERDSMAN Fearing a dread weird.

OEDIPUS What weird?

HERDSMAN 'Twas told that he should slay his sire.

OEDIPUS What didst thou give it then to this old man?

HERDSMAN Through pity, master, for the babe. I thought
He'd take it to the country whence he came;
But he preserved it for the worst of woes.
For if thou art in sooth what this man saith,
God pity thee! thou wast to misery born.

OEDIPUS Ah me! ah me! all brought to pass, all true!
O light, may I behold thee nevermore!
I stand a wretch, in birth, in wedlock cursed,
A parricide, incestuously, triply cursed! (Exit OEDIPUS.)

CHORUS (strophe 1)

Races of mortal man
Whose life is but a span,
I count ye but the shadow of a shade!
For he who most doth know
Of bliss, hath but the show;
A moment, and the visions pale and fade.
Thy fall, O Oedipus, thy piteous fall
Warns me none born of women blest to call.

(antistrophe 1)

For he of marksmen best,
O Zeus, outshot the rest,
And won the prize supreme of wealth and power.
By him the vulture maid
Was quelled, her witchery laid;
He rose our savior and the land's strong tower.
We hailed thee king and from that day adored
Of mighty Thebes the universal lord.

(strophe 2)

O heavy hand of fate!
Who now more desolate,
Whose tale more sad than thine, whose lot more dire?
O Oedipus, discrowned head,
Thy cradle was thy marriage bed;
One harborage sufficed for son and sire.
How could the soil thy father eared so long
Endure to bear in silence such a wrong?

(antistrophe 2)

All-seeing Time hath caught
Guilt, and to justice brought
The son and sire commingled in one bed.
O child of Laius' ill-starred race
Would I had ne'er beheld thy face;
I raise for thee a dirge as o'er the dead.
Yet, sooth to say, through thee I drew new breath,
And now through thee I feel a second death. (Enter SECOND MESSENGER.)

SECOND MESSENGER Most grave and reverend senators of Thebes,

What Deeds ye soon must hear, what sights behold
How will ye mourn, if, true-born patriots,
Ye reverence still the race of Labdacus!
Not Ister nor all Phasis' flood, I ween,
Could wash away the blood-stains from this house,
The ills it shrouds or soon will bring to light,
Ills wrought of malice, not unwittingly.
The worst to bear are self-inflicted wounds.

CHORUS Grievous enough for all our tears and groans
Our past calamities; what canst thou add?

SECOND MESSENGER My tale is quickly told and quickly heard.

Our sovereign lady queen Jocasta's dead.

CHORUS Alas, poor queen! how came she by her death?

SECOND MESSENGER By her own hand. And all the horror of it,

Not having seen, yet cannot comprehend.
Nathless, as far as my poor memory serves,
I will relate the unhappy lady's woe.
When in her frenzy she had passed inside
The vestibule, she hurried straight to win
The bridal-chamber, clutching at her hair
With both her hands, and, once within the room,
She shut the doors behind her with a crash.
"Laius," she cried, and called her husband dead
Long, long ago; her thought was of that child
By him begot, the son by whom the sire
Was murdered and the mother left to breed
With her own seed, a monstrous progeny.
Then she bewailed the marriage bed whereon
Poor wretch, she had conceived a double brood,
Husband by husband, children by her child.
What happened after that I cannot tell,
Nor how the end befell, for with a shriek
Burst on us Oedipus; all eyes were fixed
On Oedipus, as up and down he strode,
Nor could we mark her agony to the end.
For stalking to and fro "A sword!" he cried,
"Where is the wife, no wife, the teeming womb
That bore a double harvest, me and mine?"
And in his frenzy some supernal power
(No mortal, surely, none of us who watched him)
Guided his footsteps; with a terrible shriek,
As though one beckoned him, he crashed against
The folding doors, and from their staples forced
The wrenched bolts and hurled himself within.
Then we beheld the woman hanging there,
A running noose entwined about her neck.
But when he saw her, with a maddened roar
He loosed the cord; and when her wretched corpse
Lay stretched on earth, what followed--O 'twas dread!
He tore the golden brooches that upheld
Her queenly robes, upraised them high and smote
Full on his eye-balls, uttering words like these:
"No more shall ye behold such sights of woe,
Deeds I have suffered and myself have wrought;
Henceforward quenched in darkness shall ye see
Those ye should ne'er have seen; now blind to those
Whom, when I saw, I vainly yearned to know."
Such was the burden of his moan, whereto,
Not once but oft, he struck with his hand uplift
His eyes, and at each stroke the ensanguined orbs
Bedewed his beard, not oozing drop by drop,
But one black gory downpour, thick as hail.
Such evils, issuing from the double source,
Have whelmed them both, confounding man and wife.
Till now the storied fortune of this house
Was fortunate indeed; but from this day
Woe, lamentation, ruin, death, disgrace,
All ills that can be named, all, all are theirs.

CHORUS But hath he still no respite from his pain?

SECOND MESSENGER He cries, "Unbar the doors and let all Thebes

Behold the slayer of his sire, his mother's--"
That shameful word my lips may not repeat.
He vows to fly self-banished from the land,
Nor stay to bring upon his house the curse
Himself had uttered; but he has no strength
Nor one to guide him, and his torture's more
Than man can suffer, as yourselves will see.
For lo, the palace portals are unbarred,
And soon ye shall behold a sight so sad
That he who must abhorred would pity it. (Enter OEDIPUS blinded.)

CHORUS Woeful sight! more woeful none
These sad eyes have looked upon.
Whence this madness? None can tell
Who did cast on thee his spell, prowling all thy life around,

Leaping with a demon bound.
Hapless wretch! how can I brook
On thy misery to look?
Though to gaze on thee I yearn,
Much to question, much to learn,
Horror-struck away I turn.

OEDIPUS Ah me! ah woe is me!
Ah whither am I borne!
How like a ghost forlorn
My voice flits from me on the air!
On, on the demon goads. The end, ah where?

CHORUS An end too dread to tell, too dark to see.

OEDIPUS (strophe 1)

Dark, dark! The horror of darkness, like a shroud,
Wraps me and bears me on through mist and cloud.
Ah me, ah me! What spasms athwart me shoot,
What pangs of agonizing memory?

CHORUS No marvel if in such a plight thou feel'st
The double weight of past and present woes.

OEDIPUS (antistrophe 1)

Ah friend, still loyal, constant still and kind,
Thou carest for the blind.
I know thee near, and though bereft of eyes,
Thy voice I recognize.

CHORUS O doer of dread deeds, how couldst thou mar
Thy vision thus? What demon goaded thee?

OEDIPUS (strophe 2)

Apollo, friend, Apollo, he it was
That brought these ills to pass;
But the right hand that dealt the blow
Was mine, none other. How,
How, could I longer see when sight
Brought no delight?

CHORUS Alas! 'tis as thou sayest.

OEDIPUS Say, friends, can any look or voice
Or touch of love henceforth my heart rejoice?
Haste, friends, no fond delay,
Take the twice cursed away
Far from all ken,
The man abhorred of gods, accursed of men.

CHORUS O thy despair well suits thy desperate case.
Would I had never looked upon thy face!

OEDIPUS (antistrophe 2)

My curse on him whoe'er unrived
The waif's fell fetters and my life revived!
He meant me well, yet had he left me there,
He had saved my friends and me a world of care.

CHORUS I too had wished it so.

OEDIPUS Then had I never come to shed
My father's blood nor climbed my mother's bed;
The monstrous offspring of a womb defiled,
Co-mate of him who gendered me, and child.
Was ever man before afflicted thus,
Like Oedipus.

CHORUS I cannot say that thou hast counseled well,
For thou wert better dead than living blind.

OEDIPUS What's done was well done. Thou canst never shake

My firm belief. A truce to argument.
For, had I sight, I know not with what eyes
I could have met my father in the shades,
Or my poor mother, since against the twain
I sinned, a sin no gallows could atone.
Aye, but, ye say, the sight of children joys
A parent's eyes. What, born as mine were born?
No, such a sight could never bring me joy;
Nor this fair city with its battlements,
Its temples and the statues of its gods,
Sights from which I, now wretchedst of all,
Once ranked the foremost Theban in all Thebes,
By my own sentence am cut off, condemned
By my own proclamation 'gainst the wretch,
The miscreant by heaven itself declared
Unclean--and of the race of Laius.
Thus branded as a felon by myself,
How had I dared to look you in the face?
Nay, had I known a way to choke the springs
Of hearing, I had never shrunk to make
A dungeon of this miserable frame,
Cut off from sight and hearing; for 'tis bliss to bide in regions
sorrow cannot reach.
Why didst thou harbor me, Cithaeron, why
Didst thou not take and slay me? Then I never
Had shown to men the secret of my birth.
O Polybus, O Corinth, O my home,
Home of my ancestors (so wast thou called)
How fair a nursling then I seemed, how foul
The canker that lay festering in the bud!
Now is the blight revealed of root and fruit.
Ye triple high-roads, and thou hidden glen,
Coppice, and pass where meet the three-branched ways,
Ye drank my blood, the life-blood these hands spilt,
My father's; do ye call to mind perchance
Those deeds of mine ye witnessed and the work
I wrought thereafter when I came to Thebes?
O fatal wedlock, thou didst give me birth,
And, having borne me, sowed again my seed,
Mingling the blood of fathers, brothers, children,
Brides, wives and mothers, an incestuous brood,
All horrors that are wrought beneath the sun,
Horrors so foul to name them were unmeet.
O, I adjure you, hide me anywhere
Far from this land, or slay me straight, or cast me
Down to the depths of ocean out of sight.
Come hither, deign to touch an abject wretch;
Draw near and fear not; I myself must bear
The load of guilt that none but I can share. (Enter CREON.)

CREON Lo, here is Creon, the one man to grant
Thy prayer by action or advice, for he
Is left the State's sole guardian in thy stead.

OEDIPUS Ah me! what words to accost him can I find?
What cause has he to trust me? In the past
I have bee proved his rancorous enemy.

CREON Not in derision, Oedipus, I come
Nor to upbraid thee with thy past misdeeds. (To BYSTANDERS.) But
shame upon you! if ye feel no sense
Of human decencies, at least revere
The Sun whose light beholds and nurtures all.
Leave not thus nakedly for all to gaze at
A horror neither earth nor rain from heaven
Nor light will suffer. Lead him straight within,
For it is seemly that a kinsman's woes
Be heard by kin and seen by kin alone.

OEDIPUS O listen, since thy presence comes to me
A shock of glad surprise--so noble thou,
And I so vile--O grant me one small boon.
I ask it not on my behalf, but thine.

CREON And what the favor thou wouldst crave of me?

OEDIPUS Forth from thy borders thrust me with all speed;

Set me within some vasty desert where
No mortal voice shall greet me any more.

CREON This had I done already, but I deemed
It first behooved me to consult the god.

OEDIPUS His will was set forth fully--to destroy
The parricide, the scoundrel; and I am he.

CREON Yea, so he spake, but in our present plight
'Twere better to consult the god anew.

OEDIPUS Dare ye inquire concerning such a wretch?

CREON Yea, for thyself wouldst credit now his word.

OEDIPUS Aye, and on thee in all humility
I lay this charge: let her who lies within
Receive such burial as thou shalt ordain;
Such rites 'tis thine, as brother, to perform.
But for myself, O never let my Thebes,
The city of my sires, be doomed to bear
The burden of my presence while I live.
No, let me be a dweller on the hills,
On yonder mount Cithaeron, famed as mine,
My tomb predestined for me by my sire
And mother, while they lived, that I may die
Slain as they sought to slay me, when alive.
This much I know full surely, nor disease
Shall end my days, nor any common chance;
For I had ne'er been snatched from death, unless
I was predestined to some awful doom.
So be it. I reck not how Fate deals with me
But my unhappy children--for my sons
Be not concerned, O Creon, they are men,
And for themselves, where'er they be, can fend.
But for my daughters twain, poor innocent maids,
Who ever sat beside me at the board
Sharing my viands, drinking of my cup,
For them, I pray thee, care, and, if thou willst,
O might I feel their touch and make my moan.
Hear me, O prince, my noble-hearted prince!
Could I but blindly touch them with my hands
I'd think they still were mine, as when I saw. (ANTIGONE and ISMENE
are led in.) What say I? can it be my pretty ones
Whose sobs I hear? Has Creon pitied me
And sent me my two darlings? Can this be?

CREON 'Tis true; 'twas I procured thee this delight,
Knowing the joy they were to thee of old.

OEDIPUS God speed thee! and as meed for bringing them
May Providence deal with thee kindlier
Than it has dealt with me! O children mine,
Where are ye? Let me clasp you with these hands,
A brother's hands, a father's; hands that made
Lack-luster sockets of his once bright eyes;
Hands of a man who blindly, recklessly,
Became your sire by her from whom he sprang.
Though I cannot behold you, I must weep
In thinking of the evil days to come,
The slights and wrongs that men will put upon you.
Where'er ye go to feast or festival,
No merrymaking will it prove for you,
But oft abashed in tears ye will return.
And when ye come to marriageable years,
Where's the bold wooers who will jeopardize
To take unto himself such disrepute
As to my children's children still must cling,
For what of infamy is lacking here?
"Their father slew his father, sowed the seed
Where he himself was gendered, and begat
These maidens at the source wherefrom he sprang."
Such are the gibes that men will cast at you.
Who then will wed you? None, I ween, but ye
Must pine, poor maids, in single barrenness.
O Prince, Menoeceus' son, to thee, I turn,
With the it rests to father them, for we
Their natural parents, both of us, are lost.
O leave them not to wander poor, unwed,
Thy kin, nor let them share my low estate.
O pity them so young, and but for thee
All destitute. Thy hand upon it, Prince.
To you, my children I had much to say,
Were ye but ripe to hear. Let this suffice:
Pray ye may find some home and live content,
And may your lot prove happier than your sire's.

CREON Thou hast had enough of weeping; pass within.

OEDIPUS I must obey,
Though 'tis grievous.

CREON Weep not, everything must have its day.

OEDIPUS Well I go, but on conditions.

CREON What thy terms for going, say.

OEDIPUS Send me from the land an exile.

CREON Ask this of the gods, not me.

OEDIPUS But I am the gods' abhorrence.

CREON Then they soon will grant thy plea.

OEDIPUS Lead me hence, then, I am willing.

CREON Come, but let thy children go.

OEDIPUS Rob me not of these my children!

CREON Crave not mastery in all,
For the mastery that raised thee was thy bane and wrought thy fall.

CHORUS Look ye, countrymen and Thebans, this is Oedipus the great,

He who knew the Sphinx's riddle and was mightiest in our state.

Who of all our townsmen gazed not on his fame with envious eyes?

Now, in what a sea of troubles sunk and overwhelmed he lies!

Therefore wait to see life's ending ere thou count one mortal blest;

Wait till free from pain and sorrow he has gained his final rest.

THE END

Philoctetes

By Sophocles — Translated by Thomas Francklin — London, Printed for R. Francklin [1759]

Dramatis Personae

ULYSSES, King of Ithaca
NEOPTOLEMUS, son of Achilles
PHILOCTETES, son of Poeas and Companion of HERCULES
A SPY
HERCULES
CHORUS, composed of the companions of ULYSSES and NEOPTOLEMUS

A lonely region on the shore of Lemnos, before a steep cliff in which
is the entrance to PHILOCTETES' cave. ULYSSES, NEOPTOLEMUS and an
attendant enter.

ULYSSES At length, my noble friend, thou bravest son
Of a brave father- father of us all,
The great Achilles- we have reached the shore
Of sea-girt Lemnos, desert and forlorn,
Where never tread of human step is seen,
Or voice of mortal heard, save his alone,
Poor Philoctetes, Poeas' wretched son,
Whom here I left; for such were my commands
From Grecia's chiefs, when by his fatal wound
Oppressed, his groans and execrations dreadful
Alarmed our hosts, our sacred rites profaned,
And interrupted holy sacrifice.
But why should I repeat the tale? The time
Admits not of delay. We must not linger,
Lest he discover our arrival here,
And all our purposed fraud to draw him hence
Be ineffectual. Lend me then thy aid.
Surveying round thee, canst thou see a rock
With double entrance- to the sun's warm rays
In winter open, and in summer's heat
Giving free passage to the welcome breeze?
A little to the left there is a fountain
Of living water, where, if yet he breathes,
He slakes his thirst. If aught thou seest of this
Inform me; so shall each to each impart
Counsel most fit, and serve our common cause.

NEOPTOLEMUS (leaving ULYSSES a little behind him) If I mistake not,
I behold a cave,
E'en such as thou describst.

ULYSSES Dost thou? which way?

NEOPTOLEMUS Yonder it is; but no path leading thither,
Or trace of human footstep.

ULYSSES In his cell
A chance but he hath lain down to rest:
Look if he hath not.

NEOPTOLEMUS (advancing to the cave) Not a creature there.

ULYSSES Nor food, nor mark of household preparation?

NEOPTOLEMUS A rustic bed of scattered leaves.

ULYSSES What more?

NEOPTOLEMUS A wooden bowl, the work of some rude hand,
With a few sticks for fuel.

ULYSSES This is all
His little treasure here.

NEOPTOLEMUS Unhappy man!
Some linen for his wounds.

ULYSSES This must be then
His place of habitation; far from hence
He cannot roam; distempered as he is,
It were impossible. He is but gone
A little way for needful food, or herb
Of power to 'suage and mitigate his pain,
Wherefore despatch this servant to some place
Of observation, whence he may espy
His every motion, lest he rush upon us.
There's not a Grecian whom his soul so much
Could wish to crush beneath him as Ulysses. (He makes a signal to
the Attendant. who retires.)

NEOPTOLEMUS He's gone to guard each avenue; and now,
If thou hast aught of moment to impart
Touching our purpose, say it; I attend.

ULYSSES Son of Achilles, mark me well! Remember,
What we are doing not on strength alone,
Or courage, but oil conduct will depend;
Therefore if aught uncommon be proposed,
Strange to thy ears and adverse to thy nature,
Reflect that 'tis thy duty to comply,
And act conjunctive with me.

NEOPTOLEMUS Well, what is it?

ULYSSES We must deceive this Philoctetes; that
Will be thy task. When he shall ask thee who
And what thou art, Achilles'son reply-
Thus far within the verge of truth, no more.
Add that resentment fired thee to forsake
The Grecian fleet, and seek thy native soil,
Unkindly used by those who long with vows
Had sought thy aid to humble haughty Troy,
And when thou cam'st, ungrateful as they were.
The arms of great Achilles, thy just right,
Gave to Ulysses. Here thy bitter taunts
And sharp invectives liberally bestow
On me. Say what thou wilt, I shall forgive,
And Greece will not forgive thee if thou dost not;
For against Troy thy efforts are all vain
Without his arrows. Safely thou mayst hold
Friendship and converse with him, but I cannot.
Thou wert not with us when the war began,
Nor bound by solemn oath to join our host,
As I was; me he knows, and if he find
That I am with thee, we are both undone.
They must be ours then, these all-conquering arms;
Remember that. I know thy noble nature
Abhors the thought of treachery or fraud.
But what a glorious prize is victory!
Therefore be bold; we will be just hereafter.
Give to deceit and me a little portion
Of one short day, and for thy future life
Be called the holiest, worthiest, best of men.

NEOPTOLEMUS What but to hear alarms my conscious soul,
Son of Laertes, I shall never practise.
I was not born to flatter or betray;
Nor I, nor he- the voice of fame reports-
Who gave me birth. What open arms can do
Behold me prompt to act, but ne'er to fraud
Will I descend. Sure we can more than match
In strength a foe thus lame and impotent.
I came to be a helpmate to thee, not
A base betrayer; and, O king! believe me,
Rather, much rather would I fall by virtue
Than rise by guilt to certain victory.

ULYSSES O noble youth! and worthy of thy sire!
When I like thee was young, like thee of strength
And courage boastful, little did I deem
Of human policy; but long experience
Hath taught me, son, 'tis not the powerful arm,
But soft enchanting tongue that governs all.

NEOPTOLEMUS And thou wouldst have me tell an odious falsehood?

ULYSSES He must be gained by fraud.

NEOPTOLEMUS By fraud? And why
Not by persuasion?

ULYSSES He'll not listen to it;
And force were vainer still.

NEOPTOLEMUS What mighty power
Hath he to boast?

ULYSSES His arrows winged with death
Inevitable.

NEOPTOLEMUS Then it were not safe
E'en to approach him.

ULYSSES No; unless by fraud
He be secured.

NEOPTOLEMUS And thinkst thou 'tis not base
To tell a lie then?

ULYSSES Not if on that lie
Depends our safety.

NEOPTOLEMUS Who shall dare to tell it
Without a blush?

ULYSSES We need not blush at aught
That may promote our interest and success.

NEOPTOLEMUS But where's the interest that should bias me?

Come he or not to Troy, imports it aught
To Neoptolemus?

ULYSSES Troy cannot fall
Without his arrows.

NEOPTOLEMUS Saidst thou not that I
Was destined to destroy her?

ULYSSES Without them
Naught canst thou do, and they without thee nothing.

NEOPTOLEMUS Then I must have them.

ULYSSES When thou hast, remember
A double prize awaits thee.

NEOPTOLEMUS What, Ulysses?

ULYSSES The glorious names of valiant and of wise.

NEOPTOLEMUS Away! I'll do it. Thoughts of guilt or shame

No more appal me.

ULYSSES Wilt thou do it then?
Wilt thou remember what I told thee of?

NEOPTOLEMUS Depend on 't; I have promised- that's sufficient.

ULYSSES Here then remain thou; I must not be seen.
If thou stay long, I'll send a faithful spy,
Who in a sailor's habit well disguised
May pass unknown; of him, from time to time,
What best may suit our purpose thou shalt know.
I'll to the ship. Farewell! and may the god
Who brought us here, the fraudful Mercury,
And great Minerva, guardian of our country,
And ever kind to me, protect us still! (ULYSSES goes out as the CHORUS
enters. The following lines are chanted responsively between NEOPTOLEMUS
and the CHORUS.)

CHORUS (strophe 1)

Master, instruct us, strangers as we are,
What we may utter, what we must conceal.
Doubtless the man we seek will entertain
Suspicion of us; how are we to act?
To those alone belongs the art to rule
Who bear the sceptre from the hand of Jove;
To thee of right devolves the power supreme,
From thy great ancestors delivered down;
Speak then, our royal lord, and we obey.

NEOPTOLEMUS (systema 1)

If you would penetrate yon deep recess
To seek the cave where Philoctetes lies,
Go forward; but remember to return
When the poor wanderer comes this way, prepared
To aid our purpose here if need require.

CHORUS (antistrophe 1)

O king! we ever meant to fix our eyes
On thee, and wait attentive to thy will;
But, tell us, in what part is he concealed?
'Tis fit we know the place, lest unobserved
He rush upon us. Which way doth it lie?
Seest thou his footsteps leading from the cave,
Or hither bent?

NEOPTOLEMUS (advancing towards the cave, systema 2)

Behold the double door
Of his poor dwelling, and the flinty bed.

CHORUS And whither is its wretched master gone?

NEOPTOLEMUS Doubtless in search of food, and not far off,

For such his manner is; accustomed here,
So fame reports, to pierce with winged arrows
His savage prey for daily sustenance,
His wound still painful, and no hope of cure.

CHORUS (strophe 2)

Alas! I pity him. Without a friend,
Without a fellow-sufferer, left alone,
Deprived of all the mutual joys that flow
From sweet society- distempered too!
How can he bear it? O unhappy race
Of mortal man! doomed to an endless round
Of sorrows, and immeasurable woe!

(antistrophe 2)

Second to none in fair nobility
Was Philoctetes, of illustrious race;
Yet here he lies, from every human aid
Far off removed, in dreadful solitude,
And mingles with the wild and savage herd;
With them in famine and in misery
Consumes his days, and weeps their common fate,
Unheeded, save when babbling echo mourns
In bitterest notes responsive to his woe.

NEOPTOLEMUS (systema 3)

And yet I wonder not; for if aright
I judge, from angry heaven the sentence came,
And Chrysa was the cruel source of all;
Nor doth this sad disease inflict him still
Incurable, without assenting gods?
For so they have decreed, lest Troy should fall
Beneath his arrows ere the' appointed time
Of its destruction come.

CHORUS (strophe 3)

No more, my son!

NEOPTOLEMUS What sayst thou?

CHORUS Sure I heard a dismal groan
Of some afflicted wretch.

NEOPTOLEMUS Which way?

CHORUS E'en now
I hear it, and the sound as of some step
Slow-moving this way. He is not far from us.
His plaints are louder now.

(antistrophe 3)

Prepare, my son!

NEOPTOLEMUS For what?

CHORUS New troubles; for behold he comes!
Not like the shepherd with his rural pipe
And cheerful song, but groaning heavily.
Either his wounded foot against some thorn
Hath struck, and pains him sorely, or perchance
He hath espied from far some ship attempting
To enter this inhospitable port,
And hence his cries to save it from destruction. (PHILOCTETES enters,
clad in rags. He moves with difficulty and is obviously suffering
pain from his injured foot.)

PHILOCTETES Say, welcome strangers, what disastrous fate

Led you to this inhospitable shore,
Nor haven safe, nor habitation fit
Affording ever? Of what clime, what race?
Who are ye? Speak! If I may trust that garb,
Familiar once to me, ye are of Greece,
My much-loved country. Let me hear the sound
Of your long wished-for voices. Do not look
With horror on me, but in kind compassion
Pity a wretch deserted and forlorn
In this sad place. Oh! if ye come as friends,
Speak then, and answer- hold some converse with me,
For this at least from man to man is due.

NEOPTOLEMUS Know, stranger, first what most thou seemst to wish;

We are of Greece.

PHILOCTETES Oh! happiness to hear!
After so many years of dreadful silence,
How welcome was that sound! Oh! tell me, son,
What chance, what purpose, who conducted thee?
What brought thee thither, what propitious gale?
Who art thou? Tell me all- inform me quickly.

NEOPTOLEMUS Native of Scyros, hither I return;
My name is Neoptolemus, the son
Of brave Achilles. I have told thee all.

PHILOCTETES Dear is thy country, and thy father dear
To me, thou darling of old Lycomede;
But tell me in what fleet, and whence thou cam'st.

NEOPTOLEMUS From Troy.

PHILOCTETES From Troy? I think thou wert not with us
When first our fleet sailed forth.

NEOPTOLEMUS Wert thou then there?
Or knowst thou aught of that great enterprise?

PHILOCTETES Know you not then the man whom you behold?

NEOPTOLEMUS How should I know whom I had never seen?

PHILOCTETES Have you ne'er heard of me, nor of my name?

Hath my sad story never reached your ear?

NEOPTOLEMUS Never.

PHILOCTETES Alas! how hateful to the gods,
How very poor a wretch must I be then,
That Greece should never hear of woes like mine!
But they who sent me hither, they concealed them,
And smile triumphant, whilst my cruel wounds
Grow deeper still. O, sprung from great Achilles!
Behold before thee Poeas' wretched son,
With whom, a chance but thou hast heard, remain
The dreadful arrows of renowned Alcides,
E'en the unhappy Philoctetes- him
Whom the Atreidae and the vile Ulysses
Inhuman left, distempered as I was
By the envenomed serpent's deep-felt wound.
Soon as they saw that, with long toil oppressed,
Sleep had o'ertaken me on the hollow rock,
There did they leave me when from Chrysa's shore
They bent their fatal course; a little food
And these few rags were all they would bestow.
Such one day be their fate! Alas! my son,
How dreadful, thinkst thou, was that waking to me,
When from my sleep I rose and saw them not!
How did I weep! and mourn my wretched state!
When not a ship remained of all the fleet
That brought me here- no kind companion left
To minister or needful food or balm
To my sad wounds. On every side I looked,
And nothing saw but woe; of that indeed
Measure too full. For day succeeded day,
And still no comfort came; myself alone
Could to myself the means of life afford,
In this poor grotto. On my bow I lived:
The winged dove, which my sharp arrow slew,
With pain I brought into my little hut,
And feasted there; then from the broken ice
I slaked my thirst, or crept into the wood
For useful fuel; from the stricken flint
I drew the latent spark, that warms me still
And still revives. This with my humble roof
Preserve me, son. But, oh! my wounds remain.
Thou seest an island desolate and waste;
No friendly port nor hopes of gain to tempt,
Nor host to welcome in the traveller;
Few seek the wild inhospitable shore.
By adverse winds, sometimes th' unwilling guests,
As well thou mayst suppose, were hither driven;
But when they came, they only pitied me,
Gave me a little food, or better garb
To shield me from the cold; in vain I prayed
That they would bear me to my native soil,
For none would listen. Here for ten long years
Have I remained, whilst misery and famine
Keep fresh my wounds, and double my misfortune.
This have th' Atreidae and Ulysses done,
And may the gods with equal woes repay them!

LEADER OF THE CHORUS O, son of Poeas! well might those, who came

And saw thee thus, in kind compassion weep;
I too must pity thee- I can no more.

NEOPTOLEMUS I can bear witness to thee, for I know
By sad experience what th' Atreidae are,
And what Ulysses.

PHILOCTETES Hast thou suffered then?
And dost thou hate them too?

NEOPTOLEMUS Oh! that these hands
Could vindicate my wrongs! Mycenae then
And Sparta should confess that Scyros boasts
Of sons as brave and valiant as their own.

PHILOCTETES O noble youth! But wherefore cam'st thou hither?

Whence this resentment?

NEOPTOLEMUS I will tell thee all,
If I can bear to tell it. Know then, soon
As great Achilles died-

PHILOCTETES Oh, stay, my son!
Is then Achilles dead?

NEOPTOLEMUS He is, and not
By mortal hand, but by Apollo's shaft
Fell glorious.

PHILOCTETES Oh! most worthy of each other,
The slayer and the slain! Permit me, son,
To mourn his fate, ere I attend to thine.

NEOPTOLEMUS Alas! thou needst not weep for others' woes,

Thou hast enough already of thy own.

PHILOCTETES 'Tis very true; and therefore to thy tale.

NEOPTOLEMUS Thus then it was. Soon as Achilles died,
Phoenix, the guardian of his tender years,
Instant sailed forth, and sought me out at Scyros;
With him the wary chief Ulysses came.
They told me then (or true or false I know not),
My father dead, by me, and me alone
Proud Troy must fall. I yielded to their prayers;
I hoped to see at least the dear remains
Of him whom living I had long in vain
Wished to behold. Safe at Sigeum's port
Soon we arrived. In crowds the numerous host
Thronged to embrace me, called the gods to witness
In me once more they saw their loved Achilles
To life restored; but he, alas! was gone.
I shed the duteous tear, then sought my friends
Th' Atreidae friends I thought 'em!-claimed the arms
Of my dead father, and what else remained
His late possession: when- O cruel words!
And wretched I to hear them- thus they answered:
"Son of Achilles, thou in vain demandst
Those arms already to Ulysses given;
The rest be thine." I wept. "And is it thus,"
Indignant I replied, "ye dare to give
My right away?" "Know, boy," Ulysses cried,
"That right was mine. and therefore they bestowed
The boon on me: me who preserved the arms,
And him who bore them too." With anger fired
At this proud speech, I threatened all that rage
Could dictate to me if he not returned them.
Stung with my words, yet calm, he answered me:
"Thou wert not with us; thou wert in a place
Where thou shouldst not have been; and since thou meanst

To brave us thus, know, thou shalt never bear
Those arms with thee to Scyros; 'tis resolved."
Thus injured, thus deprived of all I held
Most precious, by the worst of men, I left
The hateful place, and seek my native soil.
Nor do I blame so much the proud Ulysses
As his base masters- army, city, all
Depend on those who rule. When men grow vile
The guilt is theirs who taught them to be wicked.
I've told thee all, and him who hates the Atreidae
I hold a friend to me and to the gods.

CHORUS (singing) O Earth! thou mother of great Jove,
Embracing all with universal love,
Author benign of every good,
Through whom Pactolus rolls his golden flood!
To thee, whom in thy rapid car
Fierce lions draw, I rose and made my prayer-
To thee I made my sorrows known,
When from Achilles' injured son
Th' Atreidae gave the prize, that fatal day
When proud Ulysses bore his arms away.

PHILOCTETES I wonder not, my friend, to see you here,
And I believe the tale; for well I know
The man who wronged you, know the base Ulysses
Falsehood and fraud dwell on his lips, and nought
That's just or good can be expected from him.
But strange it is to me that, Ajax present,
He dare attempt it.

NEOPTOLEMUS Ajax is no more;
Had he been living, I had ne'er been spoiled
Thus of my right.

PHILOCTETES Is he then dead?

NEOPTOLEMUS He is.

PHILOCTETES Alas! the son of Tydeus, and that slave,
Sold by his father Sisyphus, they live,
Unworthy as they are.

NEOPTOLEMUS Alas! they do,
And flourish still.

PHILOCTETES My old and worthy friend
The Pylian sage, how is he? He could see
Their arts, and would have given them better counsels.

NEOPTOLEMUS Weighed down with grief he lives, but most unhappy,

Weeps his lost son, his dear Antilochus.

PHILOCTETES O double woe! whom I could most have wished

To live and to be happy, those to perish!
Ulysses to survive! It should not be.

NEOPTOLEMUS Oh! 'tis a subtle foe; but deepest plans
May sometimes fail.

PHILOCTETES Where was Patroclus then,
Thy father's dearest friend?

NEOPTOLEMUS He too was dead.
In war, alas- so fate ordains it ever-
The coward 'scapes, the brave and virtuous fall.

PHILOCTETES It is too true; and now thou talkst of cowards,

Where is that worthless wretch, of readiest tongue,
Subtle and voluble?

NEOPTOLEMUS Ulysses?

PHILOCTETES No;
Thersites, ever talking, never heard.

NEOPTOLEMUS I have not seen him, but I hear he lives.

PHILOCTETES I did not doubt it: evil never dies;
The gods take care of that. If aught there be
Fraudful and vile, 'tis safe; the good and just
Perish unpitied by them. Wherefore is it?
When gods do ill, why should we worship them?

NEOPTOLEMUS Since thus it is, since virtue is oppressed,

And vice triumphant, who deserve to live
Are doomed to perish, and the guilty reign.
Henceforth, O son of Poeas! far from Troy
And the Atreidae will I live remote.
I would not see the man I cannot love.
My barren Scyros shall afford me refuge,
And home- felt joys delight my future days.
So, fare thee well, and may th' indulgent gods
Heal thy sad wound, and grant thee every wish
Thy soul can form! Once more, farewell! I go,
The first propitious gale.

PHILOCTETES What! now, my son?
So soon?

NEOPTOLEMUS Immediately; the time demands
We should be near, and ready to depart.

PHILOCTETES Now, by the memory of thy honoured sire,
By thy loved mother, by whate'er remains
On earth most dear to thee, oh! hear me now,
Thy suppliant! Do not, do not thus forsake me,
Alone, oppressed, deserted, as thou seest,
In this sad place. I shall, I know it must, be
A burthen to thee. But, oh! bear it kindly;
For ever doth the noble mind abhor
Th' ungenerous deed, and loves humanity;
Disgrace attends thee if thou dost forsake me,
If not, immortal fame rewards thy goodness.
Thou mayst convey me safe to Oeta's shores
In one short day; I'll trouble you no longer.
Hide me in any part where I may least
Molest you. Hear me! By the guardian god
Of the poor suppliant, all- protecting Jove,
I beg. Behold me at thy feet, infirm,
And wretched as I am, I clasp thy knees.
Leave me not here then, where there is no mark
Of human footstep- take me to thy home!
Or to Euboea's port, to Oeta, thence
Short is the way to Trachin, or the banks
Of Spercheius' gentle stream, to meet my father,
If yet he lives; for, oh! I begged him oft
By those who hither came, to fetch me hence-
Or is he dead, or they neglectful bent
Their hasty course to their own native soil.
Be thou my better guide! Pity and save
The poor and wretched. Think, my son, how frail
And full of danger is the state of man-
Now prosperous, now adverse. Who feels no ills
Should therefore fear them; and when fortune smiles
Be doubly cautious, lest destruction come
Remorseless on him, and he fall unpitied.

CHORUS (singing) Oh, pity him, my lord, for bitterest woes

And trials most severe he hath recounted;
Far be such sad distress from those I love!
Oh! if thou hat'st the base Atreidae, now
Revenge thee on them, serve their deadliest foe;
Bear the poor suppliant to his native soil;
So shalt thou bless thy friend, and 'scape the wrath
Of the just gods, who still protect the wretched.

NEOPTOLEMUS Your proffered kindness, friends, may cost you dear;

When you shall feel his dreadful malady
Oppress you sore, you will repent it.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS Never
Shall that reproach be ours.

NEOPTOLEMUS In generous pity
Of the afflicted thus to be o'ercome
Were most disgraceful to me; he shall go.
May the kind gods speed our departure hence,
And guide our vessels to the wished-for shore!

PHILOCTETES O happy hour! O kindest, best of men!
And you my dearest friends! how shall I thank you?
What shall I do to show my grateful heart?
Let us be gone! But, oh! permit me first
To take a last farewell of my poor hut,
Where I so long have lived. Perhaps you'll say
I must have had a noble mind to bear it.
The very sight to any eyes but mine
Were horrible, but sad necessity
At length prevailed, and made it pleasing to me.

LEADER One from our ship, my lord, and with him comes
A stranger. Stop a moment till we hear
Their business with us. (The Spy enters, dressed as a merchant. He
is accompanied by one of NEOPTOLEMUS'men.)

SPY Son of great Achilles,
Know, chance alone hath brought me hither, driven
By adverse winds to where thy vessels lay,
As home I sailed from Troy. There did I meet
This my companion, who informed me where
Thou mightst be found. Hence to pursue my course
And not to tell thee what concerns thee near
Had been ungenerous, thou perhaps meantime
Of Greece and of her counsels naught suspecting,
Counsels against thee not by threats alone
Or words enforced, but now in execution.

NEOPTOLEMUS Now by my virtue, stranger, for thy news
I am much bound to thee, and will repay
Thy service. Tell me what the Greeks have done.

SPY A fleet already sails to fetch thee back,
Conducted by old Phoenix, and the sons
Of valiant Theseus.

NEOPTOLEMUS Come they then to force me?
Or am I to be won by their persuasion?

SPY I know not that; you have what I could learn.

NEOPTOLEMUS And did the' Atreidae send them?

SPY Sent they are,
And will be with you soon.

NEOPTOLEMUS But wherefore then
Came not Ulysses? Did his courage fail?

SPY He, ere I left the camp, with Diomede
On some important embassy sailed forth
In search-

NEOPTOLEMUS Of whom?

SPY There was a man- but stay,
Who is thy friend here, tell me, but speak softly.

NEOPTOLEMUS (whispering to him) The famous Philoctetes.

SPY Ha! begone then!
Ask me no more- away, immediately!

PHILOCTETES What do these dark mysterious whispers mean?

Concern they me, my son?

NEOPTOLEMUS I know not what
He means to say, but I would have him speak
Boldly before us all, whate'er it be.

SPY Do not betray me to the Grecian host,
Nor make me speak what I would fain conceal.
I am but poor- they have befriended me.

NEOPTOLEMUS In me thou seest an enemy confest
To the Atreidae. This is my best friend
Because he hates them too; if thou art mine,
Hide nothing then.

SPY Consider first.

NEOPTOLEMUS I have.

SPY The blame will be on you.

NEOPTOLEMUS Why, let it be:
But speak, I charge thee.

SPY Since I must then, know,
In solemn league combined, the bold Ulysses
And gallant Diomede have sworn by force
Or by persuasion to bring back thy friend:
The Grecians heard Laertes' son declare
His purpose; far more resolute he seemed
Than Diomede, and surer of success.

NEOPTOLEMUS But why the' Atreidae, after so long time,
Again should wish to see this wretched exile,
Whence this desire? Came it from th' angry gods
To punish thus their inhumanity?

SPY I can inform you; for perhaps from Greece
Of late you have not heard. There was a prophet,
Son of old Priam, Helenus by name,
Hlim, in his midnight walks, the wily chief
Ulysses, curse of every tongue, espied;
Took him. and led him captive. to the Creeks
A welcome spoil. Much he foretold to all,
And added last that Troy should never fall
Till Philoctetes from this isle returned.
Ulysses heard, and instant promise gave
To fetch him hence; he hoped by gentle means
To gain him; those successless, force at last
Could but compel him. He would go, he cried,
And if he failed his head should pay th' forfeit.
I've told thee all, and warn thee to be gone,
Thou and thy friend, if thou wouldst wish to save him.

PHILOCTETES And does the traitor think he can persuade me?

As well might he persuade me to return
From death to life, as his base father did.

SPY Of that know not: I must to my ship.
Farewell, and may the gods protect you both! (The Spy departs.)

PHILOCTETES Lead me- expose me to the Grecian host!
And could the insolent Ulysses hope
With his soft flatteries e'er to conquer me?
No! Sooner would I listen to the voice
Of that fell serpent, whose envenomed tongue
Hath lamed me thus. But what is there he dare not
Or say or do? I know he will be here
E'en now, depend on't. Therefore, let's away!
Quick let the sea divide us from Ulysses.
Let us be gone; for well-timed expedition,
The task performed, brings safety and repose.

NEOPTOLEMUS Soon as the wind permits us we embark,
But now 'tis adverse.

PHILOCTETES Every wind is fair
When we are flying from misfortune.

NEOPTOLEMUS True;
And 'tis against them too.

PHILOCTETES Alas! no storms
Can drive back fraud and rapine from their prey.

NEOPTOLEMUS I'm ready. Take what may be necessary,
And follow me.

PHILOCTETES I want not much.

NEOPTOLEMUS Perhaps
My ship will furnish you.

PHILOCTETES There is a plant
Which to my wound gives some relief; I must
Have that.

NEOPTOLEMUS Is there aught else?

PHILOCTETES Alas! my bow
I had forgot. I must not lose that treasure. (PHILOCTETES steps into
the cave, and brings out his bow and arrows.)

NEOPTOLEMUS Are these the famous arrows then?

PHILOCTETES They are.

NEOPTOLEMUS And may I be permitted to behold,
To touch, to pay my adoration to them?

PHILOCTETES In these, my son, in everything that's mine

Thou hast a right,

NEOPTOLEMUS But if it be a crime,
I would not; otherwise-

PHILOCTETES Oh! thou art full
Of piety; in thee it is no crime;
In thee, my friend, by whom alone I look
Once more with pleasure on the radiant sun-
By whom I live- who giv'st me to return
To my dear father, to my friends, my country:
Sunk as I was beneath my foes, once more
I rise to triumph o'er them by thy aid:
Behold them, touch them, but return them to me,
And boast that virtue which on thee alone
Bestowed such honour. Virtue made them mine.
I can deny thee nothing: he, whose heart
Is grateful can alone deserve the name
Of friend, to every treasure far superior.

NEOPTOLEMUS Go in.

PHILOCTETES Come with me; for my painful wound
Requires thy friendly hand to help me onward. (They go into the cave.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

Since proud Ixion, doomed to feel
The tortures of th' eternal wheel,
Bound by the hand of angry Jove,
Received the due rewards of impious love;
Ne'er was distress so deep or woe so great
As on the wretched Philoctetes wait;
Who ever with the just and good,
Guiltless of fraud and rapine, stood,
And the fair paths of virtue still pursued;
Alone on this inhospitable shore,
Where waves for ever beat and tempests roar,
How could he e'er or hope or comfort know,
Or painful life support beneath such weight of woe?

(antistrophe 1)

Exposed to the inclement skies,
Deserted and forlorn he lies,
No friend or fellow-mourner there
To soothe his sorrows and divide his care,
Or seek the healing plant of power to 'suage
His aching wound and mitigate its rage;
But if perchance, awhile released
From torturing pain, he sinks to rest,
Awakened soon, and by sharp hunger prest,
Compelled to wander forth in search of food,
He crawls in anguish to the neighbouring wood;
Even as the tottering infant in despair
Who mourns an absent mother's kind supporting care.

(strophe 2)

The teeming earth, who mortals still supplies
With every good, to him her seed denies;
A stranger to the joy that flows
From the kind aid which man on man bestows;
Nor food, alas! to him was given,
Save when his arrows pierced the birds of heaven;
Nor e'er did Bacchus' heart-expanding bow!
For ten long years relieve his cheerless soul;
But glad was he his eager thirst to slake
In the unwholesome pool, or ever-stagnant lake.

(antistrophe 2)

But now, behold the joyful captive freed;
A fairer fate, and brighter days succeed:
For he at last hath found a friend
Of noblest race, to save and to defend,
To guide him with protecting hand,
And safe restore him to his native land;
On Spercheius' flowery banks to join the throng
Of Malian nymphs, and lead the choral song
On Oeta's top, which saw Alcides rise,
And from the flaming pile ascend his native skies. (NEOPTOLEMUS and
PHILOCTETES enter from the cave. PHILOCTETES is suddenly seized with
spasms of pain. He still holds in his hand the bow and arrows.)