OEDIPUS--Priest of Zeus
(_with the_ Train of Suppliants _grouped before an altar_).
OEDIPUS. Nurslings of Cadmus, children of my care,
Why press ye now to kneel before my gate
With sacred branches in those suppliant hands,
While o'er your city clouds of incense rise
And sounds of praise, mingling with sounds of woe?
I would not learn of your estate, my sons,
Through others, wherefore I myself am come,
Your Oedipus,--a name well known to men.
Speak, aged friend, whose look proclaims thee meet
To be their spokesman--What desire, what fear
Hath brought you? Doubt not of my earnest will
To lend all succour. Hard would be the heart
That looked unmoved on such a kneeling throng.
PRIEST. Great ruler of my country, thou beholdest
The different ages of our flock who here
Are gathered round thine altar,--some, whose wing
Hath not yet ventured far from home, and some
Burdened with many years, priests of the Gods,
Myself the arch priest of Zeus, and these fresh youths,
A chosen few. Others there are who crowd
The holy agora and the temples twain
Of Pallas, and Ismenus' hallowed fires,
A suppliant host. For, as thyself perceivest,
Our city is tempest tost, and all too weak
To lift above the waves her weary prow
That plunges in a rude and ravenous sea.
Earth's buds are nipped, withering the germs within,
Our cattle lose their increase, and our wives
Have fruitless travail; and that scourge from Heaven,
The fiery Pestilence abhorred of men,
Descending on our people with dire stroke
Lays waste the Home of Cadmus, while dark Death
Wins ample tribute of laments and groans.
We kneel, then, at thy hearth; not likening thee
Unto the gods, I nor these children here,
But of men counting thee the first in might
Whether to cope with earthly casualty
Or visiting of more than earthly Power.
Thou, in thy coming to this Theban land,
Didst take away the hateful tax we paid
To that stern songstress[1],--aided not by us
With hint nor counsel, but, as all believe,
Gifted from heaven with life-restoring thought.
Now too, great Oedipus of matchless fame,
We all uplift our suppliant looks to thee,
To find some help for us, whether from man,
Or through the prompting of a voice Divine.
Experienced counsel, we have seen and know,
Hath ever prosperous issue. Thou, then, come,
Noblest of mortals, give our city rest
From sorrow! come, take heed! seeing this our land
Now calls thee Saviour for thy former zeal;
And 'twere not well to leave this memory
Of thy great reign among Cadmean men,
'He raised us up, only again to fall.'
Let the salvation thou hast wrought for us
Be flawless and assured! As once erewhile
Thy lucky star gave us prosperity,
Be the same man to-day. Wouldst thou be king
In power, as in command, 'tis greater far
To rule a people than a wilderness.
Since nought avails or city or buttressed wall
Or gallant vessel, if unmanned and void.
OED. Ye touch me to the core. Full well I know
Your trouble and your desire. Think not, my sons,
I have no feeling of your misery!
Yet none of you hath heaviness like mine.
Your grief is held within the single breast
Of each man severally. My burdened heart
Mourns for myself, for Thebè, and for you.
Your coming hath not roused me from repose:
I have watched, and bitterly have wept; my mind
Hath travelled many a labyrinth of thought.
And now I have tried in act the only plan
Long meditation showed me. I have sent
The brother of my queen, Menoeceus' son,
Creon, to learn, in Phoebus' Delphian Hall,
What word or deed of mine may save this city.
And when I count the time, I am full of pain
To guess his speed; for he is absent long,
Beyond the limit of expectancy.
But when he shall appear, base then were I
In aught to disobey the voice of Heaven.
PR. Lo, in good time, crowning thy gracious word,
'Tis told me by these youths, Creon draws near.
OED. Apollo! may his coming be as blest
With saving fortune, as his looks are bright.
PR. Sure he brings joyful news; else had he ne'er
Worn that full wreath of thickly-berried bay.
OED. We have not long to doubt. He can hear now.
_Enter_ CREON.
Son of Menoeceus, brother of my queen,
What answer from Apollo dost thou bring?
CREON. Good; for my message is that even our woes,
When brought to their right issue, shall be well.
OED. What saith the oracle? Thy words so far
Neither embolden nor dishearten me.
CR. Say, must I tell it with these standing by,
Or go within? I am ready either way.
OED. Speak forth to all. The burden of their grief
Weighs more on me than my particular fear.
CE. My lips shall utter what the God hath said.
Sovereign Apollo clearly bids us drive
Forth from this region an accursed thing
(For such is fostered in the land and stains
Our sacred clime), nor cherish it past cure.
OED. What is the fault, and how to be redressed?
CR. By exile, or by purging blood with blood.
Since blood it is that shakes us with this storm.
OED. Whose murder doth Apollo thus reveal?
CR. My gracious lord, before thy prosperous reign
King Laius was the leader of our land.
OED. Though I ne'er saw him, I have heard, and know.
CR. Phoebus commands us now to punish home,
Whoe'er they are, the authors of his death.
OED. But they, where are they? Where shall now be read
The fading record of this ancient guilt?
CR He saith, 'tis in this land. And what is sought
Is found, while things uncared for glide away.
OED. But where did Laius meet this violent end?
At home, afield, or on some foreign soil?
CR. He had left us, as he said, to visit Delphi;
But nevermore returned since he set forth.
OED. And was there none, no fellow traveller,
To see, and tell the tale, and help our search?
CR. No, they were slain; save one, who, flying in fear,
Had nought to tell us but one only thing.
OED. What was that thing? A little door of hope,
Once opened, may discover much to view.
CR. A random troop of robbers, meeting him,
Outnumbered and o'erpowered him. So 'twas told.
OED. What robber would have ventured such a deed,
If unsolicited with bribes from hence?
CR. We thought of that. But Laius being dead,
We found no helper in our miseries.
OED. When majesty was fallen, what misery
Could hinder you from searching out the truth?
CR. A present trouble had engrossed our care.
The riddling Sphinx compelled us to observe
The moment's grief, neglecting things unknown.
OED. But I will track this evil to the spring
And clear it to the day. Most worthily
Doth great Apollo, worthily dost thou
Prompt this new care for the unthought of dead.
And me too ye shall find a just ally,
Succouring the cause of Phoebus and the land.
Since, in dispelling this dark cloud, I serve
No indirect or distant claim on me,
But mine own life, for he that slew the king
May one day turn his guilty hand 'gainst me
With equal rage. In righting Laius, then,
I forward mine own cause.--Now, children, rise
From the altar-steps, and lift your suppliant boughs,
And let some other summon to this place
All Cadmus' people, and assure them, I
Will answer every need. This day shall see us
Blest with glad fortune through God's help, or fallen.
PR. Rise then, my children. Even for this we came
Which our good lord hath promised of himself.
Only may Phoebus, who hath sent this word,
With healing power descend, and stay the plague. [_Exeunt severally_
CHORUS (_entering_).
Kind voice of Heaven, soft-breathing from the height I 1
Of Pytho's opulent home to Thebè bright,
What wilt thou bring to day?
Ah, Delian Healer, say!
My heart hangs on thy word with trembling awe:
What new giv'n law,
Or what returning in Time's circling round
Wilt thou unfold? Tell us, immortal sound,
Daughter of golden Hope, tell us, we pray, we pray!
First, child of Zeus, Pallas, to thee appealing, I 2
Then to sweet Artemis, thy sister, kneeling,
Who with benignant hand
Still guards our sacred land,
Throned o'er the circling mart that hears her praise,
And thou, whose rays
Pierce evil from afar, ho! come and save,
Ye mighty three! if e'er before ye drave
The threatening fire of woe from Thebè, come to day!
For ah! the griefs that on me weigh II 1
Are numberless; weak are my helpers all,
And thought finds not a sword to fray
This hated pestilence from hearth or hall.
Earth's blossoms blasted fall:
Nor can our women rise
From childbed after pangs and cries;
But flocking more and more
Toward the western shore,
Soul after soul is known to wing her flight,
Swifter than quenchless flame, to the far realm of Night.
So deaths innumerable abound. II 2
My city's sons unpitied lie around
Over the plague-encumbered ground
And wives and matrons old on every hand
Along the altar-strand
Groaning in saddest grief
Pour supplication for relief.
Loud hymns are sounding clear
With wailing voices near.
Then, golden daughter of the heavenly sire,
Send bright-eyed Succour forth to drive away this fire.
And swiftly speed afar, III 1
Windborne on backward car,
The viewless fiend who scares me with wild cries,
To oarless Thracian tide,
Of ocean-chambers wide,
About the bed where Amphitritè lies.
Day blights what night hath spared. O thou whose hand
Wields lightning, blast him with thy thundrous brand.
Shower from the golden string III 2
Thine arrows Lycian King!
O Phoebus, let thy fiery lances fly
Resistless, as they rove
Through Xanthus' mountain-grove!
O Thoeban Bacchus of the lustrous eye,
With torch and trooping Maenads and bright crown
Blaze on thee god whom all in Heaven disown.
[OEDIPUS _has entered during the Choral song_
OED. Your prayers are answered. Succour and relief
Are yours, if ye will heed my voice and yield
What help the plague requires. Hear it from me,
Who am hitherto a stranger to the tale,
As to the crime. Being nought concerned therewith,
I could not of myself divine the truth.
But now, as one adopted to your state,
To all of you Cadmeans I speak this:
Whoe'er among you knoweth the murderer
Of Laius, son of royal Labdacus,
Let him declare the deed in full to me.
First, if the man himself be touched with fear,
Let him depart, carrying the guilt away;
No harm shall follow him:--he shall go free.
Or if there be who knows another here,
Come from some other country, to have wrought
This murder, let him speak. Reward from me
And store of kind remembrance shall be his.
But if ye are silent, and one present here
Who might have uttered this, shall hold his peace,
As fearing for himself, or for his friend,
What then shall be performed, hear me proclaim.
I here prohibit all within this realm
Whereof I wield the sceptre and sole sway,
To admit the murderer, whosoe'er he be,
Within their houses, or to speak with him,
Or share with him in vow or sacrifice
Or lustral rite. All men shall thrust him forth,
Our dark pollution, so to me revealed
By this day's oracle from Pytho's cell.
So firm is mine allegiance to the God
And your dead sovereign in this holy war.
Now on the man of blood, whether he lurk
In lonely guilt, or with a numerous band,
I here pronounce this curse:--Let his crushed life
Wither forlorn in hopeless misery.
Next, I pray Heaven, should he or they be housed
With mine own knowledge in my home, that I
May suffer all I imprecate on them.
Last, I enjoin each here to lend his aid
For my sake, and the God's, and for your land
Reft of her increase and renounced by Heaven.
It was not right, when your good king had fallen,
Although the oracle were silent still,
To leave this inquisition unperformed.
Long since ye should have purged the crime. But now
I, to whom fortune hath transferred his crown,
And given his queen in marriage,--yea, moreover,
His seed and mine had been one family
Had not misfortune trampled on his head
Cutting him off from fair posterity,--
All this being so, I will maintain his cause
As if my father's, racking means and might
To apprehend the author of the death
Of Laius, son to Labdacus, and heir
To Polydorus and to Cadmus old,
And proud Agenor of the eldest time.
Once more, to all who disobey in this
May Heaven deny the produce of the ground
And offspring from their wives, and may they pine
With plagues more horrible than this to-day.
But for the rest of you Cadmean men,
Who now embrace my word, may Righteousness,
Strong to defend, and all the Gods for aye
Watch over you for blessing in your land.
LEADER OF CH. Under the shadow of thy curse, my lord,
I will speak. I slew him not, nor can I show
The man who slew. Phoebus, who gave the word,
Should name the guilty one.
OED. Thy thought is just,
But man may not compel the Gods.
CH. Again,
That failing, I perceive a second way.
OED. Were there a third, spare not to speak it forth.
CH. I know of one alone whose kingly mind
Sees all King Phoebus sees--Tirésias,--he
Infallibly could guide us in this quest.
OED. That doth not count among my deeds undone.
By Creon's counsel I have sent twice o'er
To fetch him, and I muse at his delay.
CH. The rumour that remains is old and dim.
OED. What rumour? Let no tale be left untried.
CH. 'Twas said he perished by some wandering band.
OED. But the one witness is removed from ken.
CH. Well, if the man be capable of fear,
He'll not remain when he hath heard thy curse.
OED. Words have no terror for the soul that dares
Such doings.
CH. Yet lives one who shall convict him.
For look where now they lead the holy seer,
Whom sacred Truth inspires alone of men.
_Enter_ TIRESIAS.
OED. O thou whose universal thought commands
All knowledge and all mysteries, in Heaven
And on the earth beneath, thy mind perceives,
Tirésias, though thine outward eye be dark,
What plague is wasting Thebè, who in thee,
Great Sir, finds her one saviour, her sole guide.
Phoebus (albeit the messengers perchance
Have told thee this) upon our sending sent
This answer back, that no release might come
From this disaster, till we sought and found
And slew the murderers of king Laius,
Or drave them exiles from our land. Thou, then,
Withhold not any word of augury
Or other divination which thou knowest,
But rescue Thebè, and thyself, and me,
And purge the stain that issues from the dead.
On thee we lean: and 'tis a noble thing
To use what power one hath in doing good.
TIRESIAS. Ah! terrible is knowledge to the man
Whom knowledge profits not. This well I knew,
But had forgotten. Else I ne'er had come.
OED. Why dost thou bring a mind so full of gloom?
TI. Let me go home. Thy part and mine to-day
Will best be borne, if thou obey me in that.
OED. Disloyal and ungrateful! to deprive
The state that reared thee of thine utterance now.
TI. Thy speech, I see, is foiling thine intent;
And I would shield me from the like mishap. (_Going._)
OED. Nay, if thou knowest, turn thee not away:
All here with suppliant hands importune thee.
TI. Yea, for ye all are blind. Never will I
Reveal my woe;--mine, that I say not, thine.
OED. So, then, thou hast the knowledge of the crime
And wilt not tell, but rather wouldst betray
This people, and destroy thy fatherland!
TI. You press me to no purpose. I'll not pain
Thee, nor myself. Thou wilt hear nought from me.
OED. How? Miscreant! Thy stubbornness would rouse
Wrath in a breast of stone. Wilt thou yet hold
That silent, hard, impenetrable mien?
TI. You censure me for my harsh mood. Your own
Dwells unsuspected with you. Me you blame!
OED. Who can be mild and gentle, when thou speakest
Such words to mock this people?
TI. It will come:
Although I bury it in silence here.
OED. Must not the King be told of what will come?
TI. No word from me. At this, an if thou wilt,
Rage to the height of passionate vehemence.
OED. Ay, and my passion shall declare my thought.
'Tis clear to me as daylight, thou hast been
The arch-plotter of this deed; yea, thou hast done
All but the actual blow. Hadst thou thy sight,
I had proclaimed thee the sole murderer.
TI. Ay, say'st thou so?--I charge thee to abide
By thine own ordinance; and from this hour
Speak not to any Theban nor to me.
Thou art the vile polluter of the land.
OED. O void of shame! What wickedness is this?
What power will give thee refuge for such guilt?
TI. The might of truth is scatheless. I am free.
OED. Whence came the truth to thee? Not from thine art.
TI. From thee, whose rage impelled my backward tongue.
OED. Speak it once more, that I may know the drift.
TI. Was it so dark? Or wouldst thou tempt me further?
OED. I cannot say 'twas clear. Speak it again.
TI. I say thou art the murderer whom thou seekest.
OED. Again that baleful word! But thou shalt rue.
TI. Shall I add more, to aggravate thy wrath?
OED. All is but idleness. Say what thou wilt.
TI. I tell thee thou art living unawares
In shameful commerce with thy near'st of blood,
Ignorant of the abyss wherein thou liest.
OED. Think you to triumph in offending still?
TI. If Truth have power.
OED. She hath, but not for thee.
Blind as thou art in eyes and ears and mind.
TI. O miserable reproach, which all who now
Behold thee, soon shall thunder forth on thee!
OED. Nursed in unbroken night, thou canst not harm
Or me, or any man who seeth the day.
TI. No, not from me proceeds thy fall; the God,
Who cares for this, is able to perform it.
OED. Came this device from Creon or thyself?
TI. Not Creon: thou art thy sole enemy.
OED. O wealth and sovereign power and high success
Attained through wisdom and admired of men,
What boundless jealousies environ you!
When for this rule, which to my hand the State
Committed unsolicited and free,
Creon, my first of friends, trusted and sure,
Would undermine and hurl me from my throne,
Meanly suborning such a mendicant
Botcher of lies, this crafty wizard rogue,
Blind in his art, and seeing but for gain.
Where are the proofs of thy prophetic power?
How came it, when the minstrel-hound was here,
This folk had no deliverance through thy word?
Her snare could not be loosed by common wit,
But needed divination and deep skill;
No sign whereof proceeded forth from thee
Procured through birds or given by God, till I,
The unknowing traveller, overmastered her,
The stranger Oedipus, not led by birds,
But ravelling out the secret by my thought:
Whom now you study to supplant, and trust
To stand as a supporter of the throne
Of lordly Creon,--To your bitter pain
Thou and the man who plotted this will hunt
Pollution forth[2].--But for thy reverend look
Thou hadst atoned thy trespass on the spot.
CH. Your friends would humbly deprecate the wrath
That sounds both in your speech, my lord, and his.
That is not what we need, but to discern
How best to solve the heavenly oracle.
TI. Though thou art king and lord, I claim no less
Lordly prerogative to answer thee.
Speech is my realm; Apollo rules my life,
Not thou. Nor need I Creon to protect me.
Now, then: my blindness moves thy scorn:--thou hast
Thy sight, and seest not where thou art sunk in evil,
What halls thou dost inhabit, or with whom:
Know'st not from whence thou art--nay, to thy kin,
Buried in death and here above the ground,
Unwittingly art a most grievous foe.
And when thy father's and thy mother's curse
With fearful tread shall drive thee from the land,
On both sides lashing thee,--thine eye so clear
Beholding darkness in that day,--oh, then,
What region will not shudder at thy cry?
What echo in all Cithaeron will be mute,
When thou perceiv'st, what bride-song in thy hall
Wafted thy gallant bark with nattering gale
To anchor,--where? And other store of ill
Thou seest not, that shall show thee as thou art,
Merged with thy children in one horror of birth.
Then rail at noble Creon, and contemn
My sacred utterance! No life on earth
More vilely shall be rooted out, than thine.
OED. Must I endure such words from him? Begone!
Off to thy ruin, and with speed! Away,
And take thy presence from our palace-hall!
TI. Had you not sent for me, I ne'er had come.
OED. I knew not thou wouldst utter folly here,
Else never had I brought thee to my door.
TI. To thee I am foolish, then; but to the pair
Who gave thee life, I was wise.
OED. Hold, go not! who?
Who gave me being?
TI. To-day shall bring to light
Thy birth and thy destruction.
OED. Wilt thou still
Speak all in riddles and dark sentences?
TI. Methought thou wert the man to find them out.
OED. Ay! Taunt me with the gift that makes me great.
TI. And yet this luck hath been thy overthrow.
OED. I care not, since I rescued this fair town.
TI. Then I will go. Come, sirrah, guide me forth!
OED. Be it so! For standing here you vex our eye,
But, you being gone, our trouble goes with you.
TI. I go, but I will speak. Why should I fear
Thy frown? Thou ne'er canst ruin me. The word
Wherefore I came, is this: The man you seek
With threatening proclamation of the guilt
Of Laius' blood, that man is here to-day,
An alien sojourner supposed from far,
But by-and-by he shall be certified
A true-born Theban: nor will such event
Bring him great joy; for, blind from having sight
And beggared from high fortune, with a staff
In stranger lands he shall feel forth his way;
Shown living with the children of his loins,
Their brother and their sire, and to the womb
That bare him, husband-son, and, to his father,
Parricide and corrival. Now go in,
Ponder my words; and if thou find them false,
then say my power is naught in prophecy. [_Exeunt severally_
CHORUS.
Whom hath the voice from Delphi's rocky throne I 1
Loudly declared to have done
Horror unnameable with murdering hand?
With speed of storm-swift car
'Tis time he fled afar
With mighty footstep hurrying from the land.
For, armed with lightning brand,
The son of Zeus assails him with fierce bounds,
Hunting with Death's inevitable hounds.
Late from divine Parnassus' snow-capped height I 2
This utterance sprang to light,
To track by every path the man unknown.
Through woodland caverns deep
And o'er the rocky steep
Harbouring in caves he roams the wild alone,
With none to share his moan.
Shunning that prophet-voice's central sound,
Which ever lives, and haunts him, hovering round.
The reverend Seer hath stirred me with strange awe. II 1
Gainsay I cannot, nor yet think him true.
I know not how to speak. My fluttering heart
In wild expectancy sees nothing clear.
Things past and future with the present doubt
Are shrouded in one mist. What quarrel lay
'Twixt Cadmus' issue and Corinthus' heir
Was never shown me, from old times till now,
By one on whose sure word I might rely
In running counter to the King's fair fame,
To wreak for Laius that mysterious death.
Zeus and Apollo scan the ways of men II 2
With perfect vision. But of mortals here
That soothsayers are more inspired than I
What certain proof is given? A man through wit
May pass another's wisdom in the race.
But never, till I see the word fulfilled,
Will I confirm their clamour 'gainst the King.
In open day the female monster came:
Then perfect witness made his wisdom clear.
Thebè hath tried him and delights in him.
Wherefore my heart shall still believe him good.
_Enter_ CREON.
CR. Citizens, hearing of dire calumny
Denounced on me by Oedipus the King,
I am here to make loud protest. If he think,
In this embroilment of events, one word
Or deed of mine hath wrought him injury,
I am not careful to prolong my life
Beneath such imputation. For it means
No trifling danger, but disastrous harm,
Making my life dishonoured in the state,
And meanly thought of by my friends and you.
CH. Perchance 'twas but the sudden flash of wrath,
Not the deliberate judgement of the soul.
CR. Who durst declare it[3], that Tirésias spake
False prophecies, set on to this by me?
CH. Such things were said, I know not how advised.
CR. And were the eyes and spirit not distraught,
When the tongue uttered this to ruin me?
CH. I cannot say. To what my betters do
I am blind. But see, the King comes forth again.
_Enter_ OEDIPUS.
OED. Insolent, art thou here? Hadst thou the face
To bring thy boldness near my palace-roof,
Proved as thou art to have contrived my death
And laid thy robber hands upon my state?
Tell me, by heaven, had you seen in me
A coward or a fool, when you planned this?--
Deemed you I should be blind to your attempt
Craftily creeping on, or, when perceived,
Not ward it off? Is't not a silly scheme,
To think to compass without troops of friends
Power, that is only won by wealth and men?
CR. Wilt them be counselled? Hear as much in turn
As thou hast spoken, and then thyself be judge.
OED. I know thy tongue, but I am slow to learn
From thee, whom I have found my grievous foe.