Chapter II: Part 2

I will, wife. I have more regard for thee
Than these.--Thy brother plots to murder me.

JOCASTA.

Speak on. Make all thy charge. Only be clear.

OEDIPUS.

He says that I am Laius' murderer.

JOCASTA.

Says it himself? Says he hath witnesses?

OEDIPUS.

Nay, of himself he ventures nothing. 'Tis
This priest, this hellish seer, makes all the tale.

JOCASTA.

The seer?--Then tear thy terrors like a veil
And take free breath. A seer? No human thing
Born on the earth hath power for conjuring
Truth from the dark of God.
Come, I will tell
An old tale. There came once an oracle
To Laius: I say not from the God
Himself, but from the priests and seers who trod
His sanctuary: if ever son were bred
From him and me, by that son's hand, it said,

[Sidenote: vv. 714-732]

Laius must die. And he, the tale yet stays
Among us, at the crossing of three ways
Was slain by robbers, strangers. And my son--
God's mercy!--scarcely the third day was gone
When Laius took, and by another's hand
Out on the desert mountain, where the land
Is rock, cast him to die. Through both his feet
A blade of iron they drove. Thus did we cheat
Apollo of his will. My child could slay
No father, and the King could cast away
The fear that dogged him, by his child to die
Murdered.--Behold the fruits of prophecy!
Which heed not thou! God needs not that a seer
Help him, when he would make his dark things clear.

OEDIPUS.

Woman, what turmoil hath thy story wrought
Within me! What up-stirring of old thought!

JOCASTA.

What thought? It turns thee like a frightened thing.

OEDIPUS.

'Twas at the crossing of three ways this King
Was murdered? So I heard or so I thought.

JOCASTA.

That was the tale. It is not yet forgot.

OEDIPUS.

The crossing of three ways! And in what land?

[Sidenote: vv. 733-746]

JOCASTA.

Phokis 'tis called. A road on either hand
From Delphi comes and Daulia, in a glen.

OEDIPUS.

How many years and months have passed since then?

JOCASTA.

'Twas but a little time before proclaim
Was made of thee for king, the tidings came.

OEDIPUS.

My God, what hast thou willed to do with me?

JOCASTA.

Oedipus, speak! What is it troubles thee?

OEDIPUS.

Ask me not yet. But say, what build, what height
Had Laius? Rode he full of youth and might?

JOCASTA.

Tall, with the white new gleaming on his brow
He walked. In shape just such a man as thou.

OEDIPUS.

God help me! I much fear that I have wrought
A curse on mine own head, and knew it not.

JOCASTA.

How sayst thou? O my King, I look on thee
And tremble.

[Sidenote: vv. 747-760]

OEDIPUS (_to himself_).

Horror, if the blind can see!
Answer but one thing and 'twill all be clear.

JOCASTA.

Speak. I will answer though I shake with fear.

OEDIPUS.

Went he with scant array, or a great band
Of armed followers, like a lord of land?

JOCASTA.

Four men were with him, one a herald; one
Chariot there was, where Laius rode alone.

OEDIPUS.

Aye me! Tis clear now.
Woman, who could bring
To Thebes the story of that manslaying?

JOCASTA.

A house-thrall, the one man they failed to slay.

OEDIPUS.

The one man...? Is he in the house to-day?

JOCASTA.

Indeed no. When he came that day, and found
Thee on the throne where once sat Laius crowned,
He took my hand and prayed me earnestly

[Sidenote: vv. 761-779]

To send him to the mountain heights, to be
A herdsman, far from any sight or call
Of Thebes. And there I sent him. 'Twas a thrall
Good-hearted, worthy a far greater boon.

OEDIPUS.

Canst find him? I would see this herd, and soon.

JOCASTA.

'Tis easy. But what wouldst thou with the herd?

OEDIPUS.

I fear mine own voice, lest it spoke a word
Too much; whereof this man must tell me true.

JOCASTA.

The man shall come.--My lord, methinks I too
Should know what fear doth work thee this despite.

OEDIPUS.

Thou shalt. When I am tossed to such an height
Of dark foreboding, woman, when my mind
Faceth such straits as these, where should I find
A mightier love than thine?
My father--thus
I tell thee the whole tale--was Polybus,
In Corinth King; my mother Merope
Of Dorian line. And I was held to be
The proudest in Corinthia, till one day
A thing befell: strange was it, but no way
Meet for such wonder and such rage as mine.
A feast it was, and some one flushed with wine

[Sidenote: vv. 780-807]

Cried out at me that I was no true son
Of Polybus. Oh, I was wroth! That one
Day I kept silence, but the morrow morn
I sought my parents, told that tale of scorn
And claimed the truth; and they rose in their pride
And smote the mocker.... Aye, they satisfied
All my desire; yet still the cavil gnawed
My heart, and still the story crept abroad.
At last I rose--my father knew not, nor
My mother--and went forth to Pytho's floor
To ask. And God in that for which I came
Rejected me, but round me, like a flame,
His voice flashed other answers, things of woe,
Terror, and desolation. I must know
My mother's body and beget thereon
A race no mortal eye durst look upon,
And spill in murder mine own father's blood.
I heard, and, hearing, straight from where I stood,
No landmark but the stars to light my way,
Fled, fled from the dark south where Corinth lay,
To lands far off, where never I might see
My doom of scorn fulfilled. On bitterly
I strode, and reached the region where, so saith
Thy tale, that King of Thebes was struck to death....
Wife, I will tell thee true. As one in daze
I walked, till, at the crossing of three ways,
A herald, like thy tale, and o'er his head
A man behind strong horses charioted
Met me. And both would turn me from the path,
He and a thrall in front. And I in wrath
Smote him that pushed me--'twas a groom who led
The horses. Not a word the master said,

[Sidenote: vv. 808-828]

But watched, and as I passed him on the road
Down on my head his iron-branched goad
Stabbed. But, by heaven, he rued it! In a flash
I swung my staff and saw the old man crash
Back from his car in blood.... Then all of them
I slew.
Oh, if that man's unspoken name
Had aught of Laius in him, in God's eye
What man doth move more miserable than I,
More dogged by the hate of heaven! No man, kin
Nor stranger, any more may take me in;
No man may greet me with a word, but all
Cast me from out their houses. And withal
'Twas mine own self that laid upon my life
These curses.--And I hold the dead man's wife
In these polluting arms that spilt his soul....
Am I a thing born evil? Am I foul
In every vein? Thebes now doth banish me,
And never in this exile must I see
Mine ancient folk of Corinth, never tread
The land that bore me; else my mother's bed
Shall be defiled, and Polybus, my good
Father, who loved me well, be rolled in blood.
If one should dream that such a world began
In some slow devil's heart, that hated man,
Who should deny him?--God, as thou art clean,
Suffer not this, oh, suffer not this sin
To be, that e'er I look on such a day!
Out of all vision of mankind away
To darkness let me fall ere such a fate
Touch me, so unclean and so desolate!

[Sidenote: vv. 829-850]

LEADER.

I tremble too, O King; but till thou hear
From him who saw, oh, let hope conquer fear.

OEDIPUS.

One shred of hope I still have, and therefore
Will wait the herdsman's coming. 'Tis no more.

JOCASTA.

He shall come. But what further dost thou seek?

OEDIPUS.

This. If we mark him close and find him speak
As thou hast, then I am lifted from my dread.

JOCASTA.

What mean'st thou? Was there something that I said...?

OEDIPUS.

Thou said'st he spoke of robbers, a great band,
That slaughtered Laius' men. If still he stand
To the same tale, the guilt comes not my way.
One cannot be a band. But if he say
One lonely loin-girt man, then visibly
This is God's finger pointing toward me.

JOCASTA.

Be sure of this. He told the story so
When first he came. All they that heard him know,

[Sidenote: vv. 850-870]

Not only I. He cannot change again
Now. And if change he should, O Lord of men,
No change of his can make the prophecy
Of Laius' death fall true. He was to die
Slain by my son. So Loxias spake.... My son!
He slew no man, that poor deserted one
That died.... And I will no more turn mine eyes
This way nor that for all their prophecies.

OEDIPUS.

Woman, thou counsellest well. Yet let it not
Escape thee. Send and have the herdsman brought.

JOCASTA.

That will I.--Come. Thou knowest I ne'er would do
Nor think of aught, save thou wouldst have it so.

[JOCASTA _and_ OEDIPUS _go together into the Palace._

CHORUS.

[_They pray to be free from such great sins as
they have just heard spoken of._

[_Strophe._

Toward God's great mysteries, oh, let me move
Unstained till I die
In speech or doing; for the Laws thereof
Are holy, walkers upon ways above,
Born in the far blue sky;

Their father is Olympus uncreate;
No man hath made nor told
Their being; neither shall Oblivion set

[Sidenote: vv. 870-893]

Sleep on their eyes, for in them lives a great
Spirit and grows not old. [_Antistrophe._

[_They wonder if these sins be all due to pride
and if_ CREON _has guilty ambitions;_

'Tis Pride that breeds the tyrant; drunken deep
With perilous things is she,
Which bring not peace: up, reeling, steep on steep
She climbs, till lo, the rock-edge, and the leap
To that which needs must be,

The land where the strong foot is no more strong!
Yet is there surely Pride
That saves a city; God preserve it long!
I judge not. Only through all maze of wrong
Be God, not man, my guide. [_Strophe._

[_Or if_ TIRESIAS _can really be a lying prophet with
no fear of God; they feel that all faith in
oracles and the things of God is shaken._

Is there a priest who moves amid the altars
Ruthless in deed and word,
Fears not the presence of his god, nor falters
Lest Right at last be heard?
If such there be, oh, let some doom be given
Meet for his ill-starred pride,
Who will not gain his gain where Justice is,
Who will not hold his lips from blasphemies,
Who hurls rash hands amid the things of heaven
From man's touch sanctified.

In a world where such things be,
What spirit hath shield or lance

[Sidenote: vv. 893-916]

To ward him secretly
From the arrow that slays askance?
If honour to such things be,
Why should I dance my dance?

[_Antistrophe._

I go no more with prayers and adorations
To Earth's deep Heart of Stone,
Nor yet the Abantes' floor, nor where the nations
Kneel at Olympia's throne,
Till all this dark be lightened, for the finger
Of man to touch and know.
O Thou that rulest--if men rightly call
Thy name on earth--O Zeus, thou Lord of all
And Strength undying, let not these things linger
Unknown, tossed to and fro.

For faint is the oracle,
And they thrust it aside, away;
And no more visible
Apollo to save or slay;
And the things of God, they fail
As mist on the wind away.

[JOCASTA _comes out from the Palace followed
by handmaids bearing incense and flowers._

JOCASTA.

Lords of the land, the ways my thought hath trod
Lead me in worship to these shrines of God
With flowers and incense flame. So dire a storm
Doth shake the King, sin, dread and every form
Of grief the world knows. 'Tis the wise man's way
To judge the morrow by the yester day;

[Sidenote: vv. 917-933]

Which he doth never, but gives eye and ear
To all who speak, will they but speak of fear.
And seeing no word of mine hath power to heal
His torment, therefore forth to thee I steal,
O Slayer of the Wolf, O Lord of Light,
Apollo: thou art near us, and of right
Dost hold us thine: to thee in prayer I fall.

[_She kneels at the altar of Apollo Lukeios._

Oh, show us still some path that is not all
Unclean; for now our captain's eyes are dim
With dread, and the whole ship must follow him.

[_While she prays a_ STRANGER _has entered and
begins to accost the Chorus._

STRANGER.

Good masters, is there one of you could bring
My steps to the house of Oedipus, your King?
Or, better, to himself if that may be?

LEADER.

This is the house and he within; and she
Thou seest, the mother of his royal seed.

[JOCASTA _rises, anxious, from her prayer._

STRANGER.

Being wife to such a man, happy indeed
And ringed with happy faces may she live!

JOCASTA.

To one so fair of speech may the Gods give
Like blessing, courteous stranger; 'tis thy due.
But say what leads thee hither. Can we do
Thy wish in aught, or hast thou news to bring?

[Sidenote: vv. 934-947]

STRANGER.

Good news, O Queen, for thee and for the King.

JOCASTA.

What is it? And from what prince comest thou?

STRANGER.

I come from Corinth.--And my tale, I trow,
Will give thee joy, yet haply also pain.

JOCASTA.

What news can have that twofold power? Be plain.

STRANGER.

'Tis spoke in Corinth that the gathering
Of folk will make thy lord our chosen King.

JOCASTA.

How? Is old Polybus in power no more?

STRANGER.

Death has a greater power. His reign is o'er.

JOCASTA.

What say'st thou? Dead?... Oedipus' father dead?

STRANGER.

If I speak false, let me die in his stead.

JOCASTA.

Ho, maiden! To our master! Hie thee fast
And tell this tale.

[_The maiden goes._

Where stand ye at the last

[Sidenote: vv. 948-961]

Ye oracles of God? For many a year
Oedipus fled before that man, in fear
To slay him. And behold we find him thus
Slain by a chance death, not by Oedipus.

[OEDIPUS _comes out from the Palace._

OEDIPUS.

O wife, O face I love to look upon,
Why call'st thou me from where I sat alone?

JOCASTA.

Give ear, and ponder from what this man tells
How end these proud priests and their oracles.

OEDIPUS.

Whence comes he? And what word hath he for us?

JOCASTA.

From Corinth; bearing news that Polybus
Thy father is no more. He has found his death.

OEDIPUS.

How?--Stranger, speak thyself. This that she saith ...

STRANGER.

Is sure. If that is the first news ye crave,
I tell thee, Polybus lieth in his grave.

OEDIPUS.

Not murdered?... How? Some passing of disease?

STRANGER.

A slight thing turns an old life to its peace.

[Sidenote: vv. 962-978]

OEDIPUS.

Poor father!... 'Tis by sickness he is dead?

STRANGER.

The growing years lay heavy on his head.

OEDIPUS.

O wife, why then should man fear any more
The voice of Pytho's dome, or cower before
These birds that shriek above us? They foretold
Me for my father's murderer; and behold,
He lies in Corinth dead, and here am I
And never touched the sword.... Or did he die
In grief for me who left him? In that way
I may have wrought his death.... But come what may,
He sleepeth in his grave and with him all
This deadly seercraft, of no worth at all.

JOCASTA.

Dear Lord, long since did I not show thee clear...?

OEDIPUS.

Indeed, yes. I was warped by mine own fear.

JOCASTA.

Now thou wilt cast it from thee, and forget.

OEDIPUS.

Forget my mother?... It is not over yet.

JOCASTA.

What should man do with fear, who hath but Chance
Above him, and no sight nor governance

[Sidenote: vv. 979-993]

Of things to be? To live as life may run,
No fear, no fret, were wisest 'neath the sun.
And thou, fear not thy mother. Prophets deem
A deed wrought that is wrought but in a dream.
And he to whom these things are nothing, best
Will bear his burden.

OEDIPUS.

All thou counsellest
Were good, save that my mother liveth still.
And, though thy words be wise, for good or ill
Her I still fear.

JOCASTA.

Think of thy father's tomb!
Like light across our darkness it hath come.

OEDIPUS.

Great light; but while she lives I fly from her.

STRANGER.

What woman, Prince, doth fill thee so with fear?

OEDIPUS.

Merope, friend, who dwelt with Polybus.

STRANGER.

What in Queen Merope should fright thee thus?

OEDIPUS.

A voice of God, stranger, of dire import.

STRANGER.

Meet for mine ears? Or of some secret sort?

[Sidenote: vv. 994-1009]

OEDIPUS.

Nay, thou must hear, and Corinth. Long ago
Apollo spake a doom, that I should know
My mother's flesh, and with mine own hand spill
My father's blood.--'Tis that, and not my will,
Hath kept me always far from Corinth. So;
Life hath dealt kindly with me, yet men know
On earth no comfort like a mother's face.

STRANGER.

'Tis that, hath kept thee exiled in this place?

OEDIPUS.

That, and the fear too of my father's blood.

STRANGER.

Then, surely, Lord ... I came but for thy good ...
'Twere well if from that fear I set thee free.

OEDIPUS.

Ah, couldst thou! There were rich reward for thee.

STRANGER.

To say truth, I had hoped to lead thee home
Now, and myself to get some good therefrom.

OEDIPUS.

Nay; where my parents are I will not go.

STRANGER.

My son, 'tis very clear thou dost not know
What road thou goest.

OEDIPUS.

How? In God's name, say!
How clear?

[Sidenote: vv. 1010-1019]

STRANGER.

'Tis this, keeps thee so long away
From Corinth?

OEDIPUS.

'Tis the fear lest that word break
One day upon me true.

STRANGER.

Fear lest thou take
Defilement from the two that gave thee birth?

OEDIPUS.

'Tis that, old man, 'tis that doth fill the earth
With terror.

STRANGER.

Then thy terror all hath been
For nothing.

OEDIPUS.

How? Were not your King and Queen
My parents?

STRANGER.

Polybus was naught to thee
In blood.

OEDIPUS.

How? He, my father!

STRANGER.

That was he
As much as I, but no more.

OEDIPUS.

Thou art naught;
'Twas he begot me.

[Sidenote: vv. 1020-1028]

STRANGER.

'Twas not I begot
Oedipus, neither was it he.

OEDIPUS.

What wild
Fancy, then, made him name me for his child?

STRANGER.

Thou wast his child--by gift. Long years ago
Mine own hand brought thee to him.

OEDIPUS.

Coming so,
From a strange hand, he gave me that great love?

STRANGER.

He had no child, and the desire thereof
Held him.

OEDIPUS.

And thou didst find somewhere--or buy--
A child for him?

STRANGER.

I found it in a high
Glen of Kithairon.

[_Movement of_ JOCASTA, _who stands riveted
with dread, unnoticed by the others._

OEDIPUS.

Yonder? To what end
Wast travelling in these parts?

STRANGER.

I came to tend
The flocks here on the mountain.

[Sidenote: vv. 1029-1037]

OEDIPUS.

Thou wast one
That wandered, tending sheep for hire?

STRANGER.

My son,
That day I was the saviour of a King.

OEDIPUS.

How saviour? Was I in some suffering
Or peril?

STRANGER.

Thine own feet a tale could speak.

OEDIPUS.

Ah me! What ancient pain stirs half awake
Within me!

STRANGER.

'Twas a spike through both thy feet.
I set thee free.

OEDIPUS.

A strange scorn that, to greet
A babe new on the earth!

STRANGER.

From that they fain
Must call thee Oedipus, "_Who-walks-in-pain_."

OEDIPUS.

Who called me so--father or mother? Oh,
In God's name, speak!

[Sidenote: vv. 1038-1046]

STRANGER.

I know not. He should know
Who brought thee.

OEDIPUS.

So: I was not found by thee.
Thou hadst me from another?

STRANGER.

Aye; to me
One of the shepherds gave the babe, to bear
Far off.

OEDIPUS.

What shepherd? Know'st thou not? Declare
All that thou knowest.

STRANGER.

By my memory, then,
I think they called him one of Laius' men.

OEDIPUS.

That Laius who was king in Thebes of old?

STRANGER.

The same. My man did herding in his fold.

OEDIPUS.

Is he yet living? Can I see his face?

STRANGER.

[_Turning to the Chorus._

Ye will know that, being natives to the place.

[Sidenote: vv. 1047-1062]

OEDIPUS.

How?--Is there one of you within my pale
Standing, that knows the shepherd of his tale?
Ye have seen him on the hills? Or in this town?
Speak! For the hour is come that all be known.

LEADER.

I think 'twill be the Peasant Man, the same,
Thou hast sought long time to see.--His place and name
Our mistress, if she will, can tell most clear.

[JOCASTA _remains as if she heard nothing._

OEDIPUS.

Thou hear'st him, wife. The herd whose presence here
We craved for, is it he this man would say?

JOCASTA.

He saith ... What of it? Ask not; only pray
Not to remember.... Tales are vainly told.

OEDIPUS.

'Tis mine own birth. How can I, when I hold
Such clues as these, refrain from knowing all?

JOCASTA.

For God's love, no! Not if thou car'st at all
For thine own life.... My anguish is enough.

OEDIPUS (_bitterly_).

Fear not!... Though I be thrice of slavish stuff
From my third grand-dam down, it shames not thee.

[Sidenote: vv. 1063-1075]

JOCASTA.

Ask no more. I beseech thee.... Promise me!

OEDIPUS.

To leave the Truth half-found? 'Tis not my mood.

JOCASTA.

I understand; and tell thee what is good.

OEDIPUS.

Thy good doth weary me.

JOCASTA.

O child of woe,
I pray God, I pray God, thou never know!

OEDIPUS (_turning from her_).

Go, fetch the herdsman straight!--This Queen of mine
May walk alone to boast her royal line.

JOCASTA.

[_She twice draws in her breath through her
teeth, as if in some sharp pain._

Unhappy one, goodbye! Goodbye before
I go: this once, and never never more!

[_She comes towards him as though to take a last
farewell, then stops suddenly, turns, and
rushes into the Palace._

LEADER.

King, what was that? She passed like one who flies
In very anguish. Dread is o'er mine eyes
Lest from this silence break some storm of wrong.

[Sidenote: vv. 1076-1097]

OEDIPUS.

Break what break will! My mind abideth strong
To know the roots, how low soe'er they be,
Which grew to Oedipus. This woman, she
Is proud, methinks, and fears my birth and name
Will mar her nobleness. But I, no shame
Can ever touch me. I am Fortune's child,
Not man's; her mother face hath ever smiled
Above me, and my brethren of the sky,
The changing Moons, have changed me low and high.
There is my lineage true, which none shall wrest
From me; who then am I to fear this quest?

CHORUS.

[_They sing_ OEDIPUS _as the foundling of their
own Theban mountain, Kithairon, and
doubtless of divine birth._

[_Strophe._

If I, O Kithairon, some vision can borrow
From seercraft, if still there is wit in the old,
Long, long, through the deep-orbed Moon of the morrow--
So hear me, Olympus!--thy tale shall be told.
O mountain of Thebes, a new Theban shall praise thee,
One born of thy bosom, one nursed at thy springs;
And the old men shall dance to thy glory, and raise thee
To worship, O bearer of joy to my kings.
And thou, we pray,
Look down in peace, O Apollo; I-e, I-e!

[Sidenote: vv. 1098-1120]

[_Antistrophe._

What Oread mother, unaging, unweeping,
Did bear thee, O Babe, to the Crag-walker Pan;
Or perchance to Apollo? He loveth the leaping
Of herds on the rock-ways unhaunted of man.
Or was it the lord of Cyllene, who found thee,
Or glad Dionysus, whose home is the height,
Who knew thee his own on the mountain, as round thee
The White Brides of Helicon laughed for delight?
'Tis there, 'tis there,
The joy most liveth of all his dance and prayer.

OEDIPUS.

If I may judge, ye Elders, who have ne'er
Seen him, methinks I see the shepherd there
Whom we have sought so long. His weight of years
Fits well with our Corinthian messenger's;
And, more, I know the men who guide his way,
Bondsmen of mine own house.
Thou, friend, wilt say
Most surely, who hast known the man of old.

LEADER.

I know him well. A shepherd of the fold
Of Laius, one he trusted more than all.

[_The_ SHEPHERD _comes in, led by two thralls.
He is an old man and seems terrified._

OEDIPUS.

Thou first, our guest from Corinth: say withal
Is this the man?

[Sidenote: vv. 1120-1130]

STRANGER.

This is the man, O King.

OEDIPUS.

[_Addressing the_ SHEPHERD.

Old man! Look up, and answer everything
I ask thee.--Thou wast Laius' man of old?

SHEPHERD.

Born in his house I was, not bought with gold.

OEDIPUS.

What kind of work, what way of life, was thine?

SHEPHERD.

Most of my days I tended sheep or kine.

OEDIPUS.

What was thy camping ground at midsummer?

SHEPHERD.

Sometimes Kithairon, sometimes mountains near.

OEDIPUS.

Saw'st ever there this man thou seest now?

SHEPHERD.

There, Lord? What doing?--What man meanest thou?

OEDIPUS.

[_Pointing to the_ STRANGER.

Look! Hath he ever crossed thy path before?

[Sidenote: vv. 1131-1146]

SHEPHERD.

I call him not to mind, I must think more.

STRANGER.

Small wonder that, O King! But I will throw
Light on his memories.--Right well I know
He knows the time when, all Kithairon through,
I with one wandering herd and he with two,
Three times we neighboured one another, clear
From spring to autumn stars, a good half-year.
At winter's fall we parted; he drove down
To his master's fold, and I back to mine own....
Dost call it back, friend? Was it as I say?

SHEPHERD.

It was. It was.... 'Tis all so far away.

STRANGER.

Say then: thou gavest me once, there in the wild,
A babe to rear far off as mine own child?

SHEPHERD.

[_His terror returning._

What does this mean? To what end askest thou?

STRANGER.

[_Pointing to_ OEDIPUS.

That babe has grown, friend. 'Tis our master now.

SHEPHERD.

[_He slowly understands, then stands for a moment horror-struck._

No, in the name of death!... Fool, hold thy peace.

[_He lifts his staff at the_ STRANGER.

[Sidenote: vv. 1147-1157]

OEDIPUS.

Ha, greybeard! Wouldst thou strike him?--'Tis not his
Offences, 'tis thine own we need to mend.

SHEPHERD.

Most gentle master, how do I offend?

OEDIPUS.

Whence came that babe whereof he questioneth?

SHEPHERD.

He doth not know ... 'tis folly ... what he saith.

OEDIPUS.

Thou wilt not speak for love; but pain maybe ...

SHEPHERD.

I am very old. Ye would not torture me.

OEDIPUS.

Back with his arms, ye bondmen! Hold him so.

[_The thralls drag back the_ SHEPHERD'S
_arms, ready for torture._

SHEPHERD.

Woe's me! What have I done?... What wouldst thou know?

OEDIPUS.

Didst give this man the child, as he doth say?

SHEPHERD.

I did.... Would God that I had died this day!

[Sidenote: vv. 1158-1167]

OEDIPUS.

'Fore heaven, thou shalt yet, if thou speak not true.

SHEPHERD.

'Tis more than death and darker, if I do.

OEDIPUS.

This dog, it seems, will keep us waiting.

SHEPHERD.

Nay,
I said at first I gave it.

OEDIPUS.

In what way
Came it to thee? Was it thine own child, or
Another's?

SHEPHERD.

Nay, it never crossed my door:
Another's.

OEDIPUS.

Whose? What man, what house, of these
About thee?

SHEPHERD.

In the name of God who sees,
Ask me no more!

OEDIPUS.

If once I ask again,
Thou diest.

SHEPHERD.

From the folk of Laius, then,
It came.

[Sidenote: vv. 1168-1176]

OEDIPUS.

A slave, or born of Laius' blood?

SHEPHERD.

There comes the word I dread to speak, O God!

OEDIPUS.

And I to hear: yet heard it needs must be.

SHEPHERD.

Know then, they said 'twas Laius' child. But she
Within, thy wife, best knows its fathering.

OEDIPUS.

'Twas she that gave it?

SHEPHERD.

It was she, O King.

OEDIPUS.

And bade you ... what?

SHEPHERD.

Destroy it.

OEDIPUS.
Her own child?...
Cruel!

SHEPHERD.

Dark words of God had made her wild.

OEDIPUS.

What words?

[Sidenote: vv. 1176-1192]

SHEPHERD.

The babe must slay his father; so
'Twas written.

OEDIPUS.

Why didst thou, then, let him go
With this old man?

SHEPHERD.

O King, I pitied him.
I thought the man would save him to some dim
And distant land, beyond all fear.... And he,
To worse than death, did save him!... Verily,
If thou art he whom this man telleth of,
To sore affliction thou art born.

OEDIPUS.

Enough!
All, all, shall be fulfilled.... Oh, on these eyes
Shed light no more, ye everlasting skies
That know my sin! I have sinned in birth and breath.
I have sinned with Woman. I have sinned with Death.

[_He rushes into the Palace. The_ SHEPHERD
_is led away by the thralls._

CHORUS.

[_Strophe._

Nothingness, nothingness,
Ye Children of Man, and less
I count you, waking or dreaming!
And none among mortals, none,
Seeking to live, hath won
More than to seem, and to cease
Again from his seeming.

[Sidenote: vv. 1193-1212]

While ever before mine eyes
One fate, one ensample, lies--
Thine, thine, O Oedipus, sore
Of God oppressed--
What thing that is human more
Dare I call blessed?

[_Antistrophe._

Straight his archery flew
To the heart of living; he knew
Joy and the fulness of power,
O Zeus, when the riddling breath
Was stayed and the Maid of Death
Slain, and we saw him through
The death-cloud, a tower!

For that he was called my king;
Yea, every precious thing
Wherewith men are honoured, down
We cast before him,
And great Thebes brought her crown
And kneeled to adore him.

[_Strophe._

But now, what man's story is such bitterness to speak?
What life hath Delusion so visited, and Pain,
And swiftness of Disaster?
O great King, our master,
How oped the one haven to the slayer and the slain?
And the furrows of thy father, did they turn not nor shriek,
Did they bear so long silent thy casting of the grain?

[Sidenote: vv. 1213-1235]

[_Antistrophe._

'Tis Time, Time, desireless, hath shown thee what thou art;
The long monstrous mating, it is judged and all its race.
O child of him that sleepeth,
Thy land weepeth, weepeth,
Unfathered.... Would God, I had never seen thy face!
From thee in great peril fell peace upon my heart,
In thee mine eye clouded and the dark is come apace.

[_A_ MESSENGER _rushes out from the Palace._

MESSENGER.

O ye above this land in honour old
Exalted, what a tale shall ye be told,
What sights shall see, and tears of horror shed,
If still your hearts be true to them that led
Your sires! There runs no river, well I ween,
Not Phasis nor great Ister, shall wash clean
This house of all within that hideth--nay,
Nor all that creepeth forth to front the day,
Of purposed horror. And in misery
That woundeth most which men have willed to be.

LEADER.

No lack there was in what we knew before
Of food for heaviness. What bring'st thou more?

MESSENGER.

One thing I bring thee first.... 'Tis quickly said.
Jocasta, our anointed queen, is dead.

[Sidenote: vv. 1236-1260]

LEADER.

Unhappy woman! How came death to her?

MESSENGER.

By her own hand.... Oh, of what passed in there
Ye have been spared the worst. Ye cannot see.
Howbeit, with that which still is left in me
Of mind and memory, ye shall hear her fate.
Like one entranced with passion, through the gate
She passed, the white hands flashing o'er her head,
Like blades that tear, and fled, unswerving fled,
Toward her old bridal room, and disappeared
And the doors crashed behind her. But we heard
Her voice within, crying to him of old,
Her Laius, long dead; and things untold
Of the old kiss unforgotten, that should bring
The lover's death and leave the loved a thing
Of horror, yea, a field beneath the plough
For sire and son: then wailing bitter-low
Across that bed of births unreconciled,
Husband from husband born and child from child.
And, after that, I know not how her death
Found her. For sudden, with a roar of wrath,
Burst Oedipus upon us. Then, I ween,
We marked no more what passion held the Queen,
But him, as in the fury of his stride,
"A sword! A sword! And show me here," he cried,
"That wife, no wife, that field of bloodstained earth
Where husband, father, sin on sin, had birth,
Polluted generations!" While he thus
Raged on, some god--for sure 'twas none of us--
Showed where she was; and with a shout away,
As though some hand had pointed to the prey,

[Sidenote: vv. 1261-1286]

He dashed him on the chamber door. The straight
Door-bar of oak, it bent beneath his weight,
Shook from its sockets free, and in he burst
To the dark chamber.
There we saw her first
Hanged, swinging from a noose, like a dead bird.
He fell back when he saw her. Then we heard
A miserable groan, and straight he found
And loosed the strangling knot, and on the ground
Laid her.--Ah, then the sight of horror came!
The pin of gold, broad-beaten like a flame,
He tore from off her breast, and, left and right,
Down on the shuddering orbits of his sight
Dashed it: "Out! Out! Ye never more shall see
Me nor the anguish nor the sins of me.
Ye looked on lives whose like earth never bore,
Ye knew not those my spirit thirsted for:
Therefore be dark for ever!"
Like a song
His voice rose, and again, again, the strong
And stabbing hand fell, and the massacred
And bleeding eyeballs streamed upon his beard,
Wild rain, and gouts of hail amid the rain.
Behold affliction, yea, afflictions twain
From man and woman broken, now made one
In downfall. All the riches yester sun
Saw in this house were rich in verity.
What call ye now our riches? Agony,
Delusion, Death, Shame, all that eye or ear
Hath ever dreamed of misery, is here.

LEADER.

And now how fares he? Doth the storm abate?

[Sidenote: vv. 1287-1308]

MESSENGER.

He shouts for one to open wide the gate
And lead him forth, and to all Thebes display
His father's murderer, his mother's.... Nay,
Such words I will not speak. And his intent
Is set, to cast himself in banishment
Out to the wild, not walk 'mid human breed
Bearing the curse he bears. Yet sore his need
Of strength and of some guiding hand. For sure
He hath more burden now than man may endure.
But see, the gates fall back, and that appears
Which he who loathes shall pity--yea, with tears.

[OEDIPUS _is led in, blinded and bleeding. The
Old Men bow down and hide their faces;
some of them weep._

CHORUS.

Oh, terrible! Oh, sight of all
This life hath crossed, most terrible!
Thou man more wronged than tongue can tell,
What madness took thee? Do there crawl
Live Things of Evil from the deep
To leap on man? Oh, what a leap
Was His that flung thee to thy fall!

LEADER.

O fallen, fallen in ghastly case,
I dare not raise mine eyes to thee;
Fain would I look and ask and see,
But shudder sickened from thy face.

OEDIPUS.

Oh, pain; pain and woe!
Whither? Whither?

[Sidenote: vv. 1308-1328]

They lead me and I go;
And my voice drifts on the air
Far away.
Where, Thing of Evil, where
Endeth thy leaping hither?

LEADER.

In fearful ends, which none may hear nor say.

OEDIPUS.

[_Strophe._

Cloud of the dark, mine own
For ever, horrible,
Stealing, stealing, silent, unconquerable,
Cloud that no wind, no summer can dispel!
Again, again I groan,
As through my heart together crawl the strong
Stabs of this pain and memories of old wrong.

LEADER.

Yea, twofold hosts of torment hast thou there,
The stain to think on and the pain to bear.

OEDIPUS.

[_Antistrophe._

O Friend, thou mine own
Still faithful, minister
Steadfast abiding alone of them that were,
Dost bear with me and give the blind man care?
Ah me! Not all unknown
Nor hid thou art. Deep in this dark a call
Comes and I know thy voice in spite of all.

LEADER.

O fearful sufferer, and could'st thou kill
Thy living orbs? What God made blind thy will?

[Sidenote: vv. 1329-1351]

OEDIPUS.

[_Strophe._

'Tis Apollo; all is Apollo,
O ye that love me, 'tis he long time hath planned
These things upon me evilly, evilly,
Dark things and full of blood.
I knew not; I did but follow
His way; but mine the hand
And mine the anguish. What were mine eyes to me
When naught to be seen was good?

LEADER.

'Tis even so; and Truth doth speak in thee.

OEDIPUS.

To see, to endure, to hear words kindly spoken,
Should I have joy in such?
Out, if ye love your breath,
Cast me swift unto solitude, unbroken
By word or touch.
Am I not charged with death,
Most charged and filled to the brim
With curses? And what man saith
God hath so hated him?

LEADER.

Thy bitter will, thy hard calamity,
Would I had never known nor looked on thee!

OEDIPUS.

[_Antistrophe._

My curse, my curse upon him,
That man whom pity held in the wilderness,
Who saved the feet alive from the blood-fetter
And loosed the barb thereof!

[Sidenote: vv. 1351-1377]

That babe--what grace was done him,
Had he died shelterless,
He had not laid on himself this grief to bear,
And all who gave him love.

LEADER.

I, too, O Friend, I had been happier.

OEDIPUS.

Found not the way to his father's blood, nor shaken
The world's scorn on his mother,
The child and the groom withal;
But now, of murderers born, of God forsaken,
Mine own sons' brother;
All this, and if aught can fall
Upon man more perilous
And elder in sin, lo, all
Is the portion of Oedipus.

LEADER.

How shall I hold this counsel of thy mind
True? Thou wert better dead than living blind.

OEDIPUS.

That this deed is not well and wisely wrought
Thou shalt not show me; therefore school me not.
Think, with what eyes hereafter in the place
Of shadows could I see my father's face,
Or my poor mother's? Both of whom this hand
Hath wronged too deep for man to understand.
Or children--born as mine were born, to see
Their shapes should bring me joy? Great God!
To me

[Sidenote: vv. 1378-1403]

There is no joy in city nor in tower
Nor temple, from all whom, in this mine hour,
I that was chief in Thebes alone, and ate
The King's bread, I have made me separate
For ever. Mine own lips have bid the land
Cast from it one so evil, one whose hand
To sin was dedicate, whom God hath shown
Birth-branded ... and my blood the dead King's own!
All this myself have proved. And can I then
Look with straight eyes into the eyes of men?
I trow not. Nay, if any stop there were
To dam this fount that welleth in mine ear
For hearing, I had never blenched nor stayed
Till this vile shell were all one dungeon made,
Dark, without sound. 'Tis thus the mind would fain
Find peace, self-prisoned from a world of pain.
O wild Kithairon, why was it thy will
To save me? Why not take me quick and kill,
Kill, before ever I could make men know
The thing I am, the thing from which I grow?
Thou dead King, Polybus, thou city wall
Of Corinth, thou old castle I did call
My father's, what a life did ye begin,
What splendour rotted by the worm within,
When ye bred me! O Crossing of the Roads,
O secret glen and dusk of crowding woods,
O narrow footpath creeping to the brink
Where meet the Three! I gave you blood to drink.
Do ye remember? 'Twas my life-blood, hot
From mine own father's heart. Have ye forgot
What deed I did among you, and what new
And direr deed I fled from you to do?
O flesh, horror of flesh!...

[Sidenote: vv. 1409-1431]

But what is shame
To do should not be spoken. In God's name,
Take me somewhere far off and cover me
From sight, or slay, or cast me to the sea
Where never eye may see me any more.
What? Do ye fear to touch a man so sore
Stricken? Nay, tremble not. My misery
Is mine, and shall be borne by none but me.

LEADER.

Lo, yonder comes for answer to thy prayer
Creon, to do and to decree. The care
Of all our land is his, now thou art weak.

OEDIPUS.

Alas, what word to Creon can I speak,
How make him trust me more? He hath seen of late
So vile a heart in me, so full of hate.

_Enter_ CREON.

CREON.

Not to make laughter, Oedipus, nor cast
Against thee any evil of the past
I seek thee, but ... Ah God! ye ministers,
Have ye no hearts? Or if for man there stirs
No pity in you, fear at least to call
Stain on our Lord the Sun, who feedeth all;
Nor show in nakedness a horror such
As this, which never mother Earth may touch,
Nor God's clean rain nor sunlight. Quick within!
Guide him.--The ills that in a house have been
They of the house alone should know or hear.

[Sidenote: vv. 1432-1447]

OEDIPUS.

In God's name, since thou hast undone the fear
Within me, coming thus, all nobleness,
To one so vile, grant me one only grace.
For thy sake more I crave it than mine own.

CREON.

Let me first hear what grace thou wouldst be shown.

OEDIPUS.

Cast me from Thebes ... now, quick ... where none may see
My visage more, nor mingle words with me.

CREON.

That had I done, for sure, save that I still
Tremble, and fain would ask Apollo's will.

OEDIPUS.

His will was clear enough, to stamp the unclean
Thing out, the bloody hand, the heart of sin.

CREON.

'Twas thus he seemed to speak; but in this sore
Strait we must needs learn surer than before.

OEDIPUS.

Thou needs must trouble God for one so low?

CREON.

Surely; thyself will trust his answer now.

OEDIPUS.

I charge thee more ... and, if thou fail, my sin
Shall cleave to thee.... For her who lies within,

[Sidenote: vv. 1448-1472]

Make as thou wilt her burial. 'Tis thy task
To tend thine own. But me: let no man ask
This ancient city of my sires to give
Harbour in life to me. Set me to live
On the wild hills and leave my name to those
Deeps of Kithairon which my father chose,
And mother, for my vast and living tomb.
As they, my murderers, willed it, let my doom
Find me. For this my very heart doth know,
No sickness now, nor any mortal blow,
Shall slay this body. Never had my breath
Been thus kept burning in the midst of death,
Save for some frightful end. So, let my way
Go where it listeth.
But my children--Nay,
Creon, my sons will ask thee for no care.
Men are they, and can find them everywhere
What life needs. But my two poor desolate
Maidens.... There was no table ever set
Apart for them, but whatso royal fare
I tasted, they were with me and had share
In all.... Creon, I pray, forget them not.
And if it may be, go, bid them be brought,

[CREON _goes and presently returns with the
two princesses._ OEDIPUS _thinks he is
there all the time._

That I may touch their faces, and so weep....
Go, Prince. Go, noble heart!...
If I might touch them, I should seem to keep
And not to have lost them, now mine eyes are gone....
What say I?
In God's name, can it be I hear mine own

[Sidenote: vv. 1473-1505]

Beloved ones sobbing? Creon of his grace
Hath brought my two, my dearest, to this place.
Is it true?

CREON.

'Tis true. I brought them, for in them I know
Thy joy is, the same now as long ago.

OEDIPUS.

God bless thee, and in this hard journey give
Some better guide than mine to help thee live.
Children! Where are ye? Hither; come to these
Arms of your ... brother, whose wild offices
Have brought much darkness on the once bright eyes
Of him who grew your garden; who, nowise
Seeing nor understanding, digged a ground
The world shall shudder at. Children, my wound
Is yours too, and I cannot meet your gaze
Now, as I think me what remaining days
Of bitter living the world hath for you.
What dance of damsels shall ye gather to,
What feast of Thebes, but quick ye shall turn home,
All tears, or ere the feast or dancers come?
And, children, when ye reach the years of love,
Who shall dare wed you, whose heart rise above
The peril, to take on him all the shame
That cleaves to my name and my children's name?
God knows, it is enough!...
My flowers, ye needs must die, waste things, bereft
And fruitless.
Creon, thou alone art left
Their father now, since both of us are gone
Who cared for them. Oh, leave them not alone

[Sidenote: vv. 1505-1518]

To wander masterless, these thine own kin,
And beggared. Neither think of them such sin
As ye all know in me, but let their fate
Touch thee. So young they are, so desolate--
Of all save thee. True man, give me thine hand,
And promise.

[OEDIPUS _and_ CREON _clasp hands._

If your age could understand,
Children, full many counsels I could give.
But now I leave this one word: Pray to live
As life may suffer you, and find a road
To travel easier than your father trod.

CREON.

Enough thy heart hath poured its tears; now back into
thine house repair.

OEDIPUS.

I dread the house, yet go I must.

CREON.

Fair season maketh all things fair.

OEDIPUS.

One oath then give me, and I go.

CREON.

Name it, and I will answer thee.

OEDIPUS.

To cast me from this land.

[Sidenote: vv. 1519-1523]

CREON.

A gift not mine but God's thou askest me.

OEDIPUS.

I am a thing of God abhorred.

CREON.

The more, then, will he grant thy prayer.

OEDIPUS.

Thou givest thine oath?

CREON.

I see no light; and, seeing not, I may not swear.

OEDIPUS.

Then take me hence. I care not.

CREON.

Go in peace, and give these children o'er.

OEDIPUS.

Ah no! Take not away my daughters!

[_They are taken from him._

CREON.

Seek not to be master more. Did not thy
masteries of old forsake thee when the end was near?

[Sidenote: vv. 1524-1530]

CHORUS.

Ye citizens of Thebes, behold; 'tis Oedipus that passeth here,
Who read the riddle-word of Death, and mightiest stood of mortal
men,
And Fortune loved him, and the folk that saw him turned and looked
again.
Lo, he is fallen, and around great storms and the outreaching sea!
Therefore, O Man, beware, and look toward the end of things that be,
The last of sights, the last of days; and no man's life account as gain
Ere the full tale be finished and the darkness find him without pain.

[OEDIPUS _is led into the house and the doors
close on him._

NOTES TO

OEDIPUS, KING OF THEBES

P. 4, l. 21: Dry Ash of Ismenus.]--Divination by burnt offerings was practised at an altar of Apollo by the river Ismenus in Thebes.

Observe how many traits Oedipus retains of the primitive king, who was at once chief and medicine-man and god. The Priest thinks it necessary to state explicitly that he does not regard Oedipus as a god, but he is clearly not quite like other men. And it seems as if Oedipus himself realised in this scene that the oracle from Delphi might well demand the king's life. Cf. p. 6, "what deed of mine, what bitter task, May save my city"; p. 7, "any fear for mine own death." This thought, present probably in more minds than his, greatly increases the tension of the scene. Cf. _Anthropology and the Classics_, pp. 74-79.]

P. 7, l. 87, Message of joy.]--Creon says this for the sake of the omen. The first words uttered at such a crisis would be ominous and tend to fulfil themselves.]

Pp. 13-16, ll. 216-275. The long cursing speech of Oedipus.]--Observe that this speech is broken into several divisions, Oedipus at each point expecting an answer and receiving none. Thus it is not mere declamation; it involves action and reaction between a speaker and a crowd.--Every reader will notice how full it is of "tragic irony." Almost every paragraph carries with it some sinister meaning of which the speaker is unconscious. Cf. such phrases as "if he tread my hearth," "had but his issue been more fortunate," "as I would for mine own father," and of course the whole situation.

P. 25, l. 437, Who were they?]--This momentary doubt of Oedipus, who of course regarded himself as the son of Polybus, King of Corinth, is explained later (p. 46, l. 780).

Pp. 29 ff. The Creon scene.]--The only part of the play which could possibly be said to flag. Creon's defence, p. 34, "from probabilities," as the rhetoricians would have called it, seems less interesting to us than it probably did to the poet's contemporaries. It is remarkably like Hippolytus's defence (pp. 52 f. of my translation), and probably one was suggested by the other. We cannot be sure which was the earlier play.

The scene serves at least to quicken the pace of the drama, to bring out the impetuous and somewhat tyrannical nature of Oedipus, and to prepare the magnificent entrance of Jocasta.

P. 36, l. 630, Thebes is my country.]--It must be remembered that to the Chorus Creon is a real Theban, Oedipus a stranger from Corinth.

P. 41, Conversation of Oedipus and Jocasta.]--The technique of this wonderful scene, an intimate self-revealing conversation between husband and wife about the past, forming the pivot of the play, will remind a modern reader of Ibsen.

P. 42, l. 718.]--Observe that Jocasta does not tell the whole truth. It was she herself who gave the child to be killed (p. 70, l. 1173).

P. 42, l. 730, Crossing of Three Ways.]--Cross roads always had dark associations. This particular spot was well known to tradition and is still pointed out. "A bare isolated hillock of grey stone stands at the point where our road from Daulia meets the road to Delphi and a third road that stretches to the south.... The road runs up a frowning pass between Parnassus on the right hand and the spurs of the Helicon range on the left. Away to the south a wild and desolate valley opens, running up among the waste places of Helicon, a scene of inexpressible grandeur and desolation" (Jebb, abridged).

P. 44, l. 754, Who could bring, &c.]--Oedipus of course thought he had killed them all. See his next speech.

P. 51.]--Observe the tragic effect of this prayer. Apollo means to destroy Jocasta, not to save her; her prayer is broken across by the entry of the Corinthian Stranger, which seems like a deliverance but is really a link in the chain of destruction. There is a very similar effect in Sophocles' _Electra_, 636-659, Clytaemnestra's prayer; compare also the prayers to Cypris in Euripides' _Hippolytus_.

P. 51, l. 899.]--Abae was an ancient oracular shrine in Boeotia; Olympia in Elis was the seat of the Olympian Games and of a great Temple of Zeus.

P. 52, l. 918, O Slayer of the Wolf, O Lord of Light.]--The names Lykeios, Lykios, &c., seem to have two roots, one meaning "Wolf" and the other "Light."

P. 56, l. 987, Thy father's tomb Like light across our darkness.]--This ghastly line does not show hardness of heart, it shows only the terrible position in which Oedipus and Jocasta are. Naturally Oedipus would give thanks if his father was dead. Compare his question above, p. 54, l. 960, "Not murdered?"--He cannot get the thought of the fated murder out of his mind.

P. 57, l. 994.]--Why does Oedipus tell the Corinthian this oracle, which he has kept a secret even from his wife till to-day?--Perhaps because, if there is any thought of his going back to Corinth, his long voluntary exile must be explained. Perhaps, too, the secret possesses his mind so overpoweringly that it can hardly help coming out.

Pp. 57, 58, ll. 1000-1020.]--It is natural that the Corinthian hesitates before telling a king that he is really not of royal birth.