OEDIPUS. Antigone, child of the old blind sire,
What land is here, what people? Who to-day
Shall dole to Oedipus, the wandering exile,
Their meagre gifts? Little I ask, and less
Receive with full contentment; for my woes,
And the long years ripening the noble mind,
Have schooled me to endure.--But, O my child,
If thou espiest where we may sit, though near
Some holy precinct, stay me and set me there,
Till we may learn where we are come. 'Tis ours
To hear the will of strangers and to obey.
ANTIGONE. Woe-wearied father, yonder city's wall
That shields her, looks far distant; but this ground
Is surely sacred, thickly planted over
With olive, bay and vine, within whose bowers
Thick-fluttering song-birds make sweet melody.
Here then repose thee on this unhewn stone.
Thou hast travelled far to-day for one so old.
OED. Seat me, my child, and be the blind man's guard.
ANT. Long time hath well instructed me in that.
OED. Now, canst thou tell me where we have set our feet?
ANT. Athens I know, but not the nearer ground.
OED. Ay, every man that met us in the way
Named Athens.
ANT. Shall I go, then, and find out
The name of the spot?
OED. Yes, if 'tis habitable.
ANT. It is inhabited. Yet I need not go.
I see a man even now approaching here.
OED. How? Makes he towards us? Is he drawing nigh?
ANT. He is close beside us. Whatsoe'er thou findest
Good to be spoken, say it. The man is here.
_Enter an_ Athenian.
OED. O stranger, learning from this maid, who sees
Both for herself and me, that thou art come
With timely light to clear our troubled thought--
ATHENIAN. Ere thou ask more, come forth from where thou sittest!
Ye trench on soil forbidden human tread.
OED. What soil? And to what Power thus consecrate?
ATH. None may go near, nor dwell there. 'Tis possessed
By the dread sisters, children of Earth and Night.
OED. What holy name will please them, if I pray?
ATH. 'All seeing Gentle Powers' the dwellers here
Would call them. But each land hath its own rule.
OED. And gently may they look on him who now
Implores them, and will never leave this grove!
ATH. What saying is this?
OED. The watchword of my doom.
ATH. Yet dare I not remove thee, till the town
Have heard my purpose and confirm the deed.
OED. By Heaven, I pray thee, stranger, scorn me not,
Poor wanderer that I am, but answer me.
ATH. Make clear thy drift. Thou'lt get no scorn from me.
OED. Then, pray thee, tell me how ye name the place
Where now I sit.
ATH. The region all around
Is sacred. For 'tis guarded and possessed
By dread Poseidon, and the Titan mind
That brought us fire--Prometheus. But that floor
Whereon thy feet are resting, hath been called
The brazen threshold of our land, the stay
Of glorious Athens, and the neighbouring fields
Are fain to honour for their patron-god
Thee, O Colonos, first of Knights, whose name [_Pointing to a statue_
They bear in brotherhood and own for theirs.
Such, friend, believe me, is this place, not praised
In story, but of many a heart beloved.
OED. Then is the land inhabited of men?
ATH. By men, who name them from Colonos there.
OED. Have they a lord, or sways the people's voice?
ATH. Lord Theseus, child of Aegeus, our late king.
OED. Will some one of your people bring him hither?
ATH. Wherefore? What urgent cause requires his presence?
OED. He shall gain mightily by granting little.
ATH. Who can gain profit from the blind?
OED. The words
These lips shall utter, shall be full of sight.
ATH. Well, thou look'st nobly, but for thy hard fate.
This course is safe. Thus do. Stay where I found thee,
Till I go tell the neighbour townsmen here
Not of the city, but Colonos. They
Shall judge for thee to abide or to depart. [_Exit_
OED. Tell me, my daughter, is the man away?
ANT. He is gone, father. I alone am near.
Speak what thou wilt in peace and quietness.
OED. Dread Forms of holy Fear, since in this land
Your sanctuary first gave my limbs repose,
Be not obdurate to my prayer, nor spurn
The voice of Phoebus, who that fateful day,
When he proclaimed my host of ills to come,
Told me of rest after a weary time,
Where else but here? 'When I should reach my bourne,
And find repose and refuge with the Powers
Of reverend name, my troubled life should end
With blessing to the men who sheltered me,
And curses on their race who banished me
and sent me wandering forth.' Whereof he vouched me
Sure token, or by earthquake, or by fire
From heaven, or thundrous voices. And I know
Some aëry message from your shrine hath drawn me
With wingèd whisper to this grove. Not else
Had ye first met me coming, nor had I
Sate on your dread unchiselled seat of stone,
With dry cold lips greeting your sober shrine.
Then give Apollo's word due course, and give
Completion to my life, if in your sight
These toils and sorrows past the human bound
Seem not too little. Kindly, gentle powers,
Offspring of primal darkness, hear my prayer!
Hear it, Athenai, of all cities queen,
Great Pallas' foster-city! Look with ruth
On this poor shadow of great Oedipus,
This fading semblance of his kingly form.
ANT. Be silent now. There comes an aged band
With jealous looks to know thine errand here.
OED. I will be silent, and thine arm shall guide
My footstep under covert of the grove
Out of the path, till I make sure what words
These men will utter. Warily to observe
Is the prime secret of the prudent mind. [_Exeunt_
CHORUS (_entering_).
Keep watch! Who is it? Look! 1
Where is he? Vanished! Gone! Oh where?
Most uncontrolled of men!
Look well, inquire him out,
Search keenly in every nook!
--Some wanderer is the aged wight,
A wanderer surely, not a native here.
Else never had he gone within
The untrodden grove
Of these--unmarried, unapproachable in might,
--Whose name we dare not breathe,
But pass their shrine
Without a look, without a word,
Uttering the unheard voice of reverential thought.
But now, one comes, they tell, devoid of awe,
Whom, peering all around this grove
I find not, where he abideth.
OED. (_behind_).
Behold me! For I 'see by sound,'
As mortals say.
CH. Oh, Oh!
With horror I see him, with horror hear him speak.
OED. Pray you, regard me not as a transgressor!
CH. Defend us, Zeus! Who is that aged wight?
OED. Not one of happiest fate,
Or enviable, O guardians of this land!
'Tis manifest; else had I not come hither
Led by another's eyes, not moored my bark
On such a slender stay.
CH. Alas! And are thine eyes 2
Sightless? O full of misery,
As thou look'st full of years!
But not, if I prevail,
Shalt thou bring down this curse.
Thou art trespassing. Yet keep thy foot
From stumbling in that verdant, voiceless dell,
Where running water as it fills
The hallowed bowl,
Mingles with draughts[1] of honey. Stranger, hapless one!
Avoid that with all care.
Away! Remove!
Distance impedes the sound. Dost hear,
Woe-burdened wanderer? If aught thou carest to bring
Before our council, leave forbidden ground,
And there, where all have liberty,
Speak,--but till then, avaunt thee!
OED. Daughter, what must I think, or do?
ANT. My sire!
We must conform us to the people's will,
Yielding ere they compel.
OED. Give me thy hand.
ANT. Thou hast it.
OED. --Strangers, let me not
Be wronged, when I have trusted you
And come from where I stood!
CH. Assure thee, from this seat
No man shall drag thee off against thy will.
OED. Farther?
CH. Advance thy foot.
OED. Yet more?
CH. Assist him onward
Maiden, thou hast thy sight.
ANT. Come, follow, this way follow with thy darkened steps,
Father, the way I am leading thee.
CH. Content thee, sojourning in a strange land,
O man of woe!
To eschew whate'er the city holds in hate,
And honour what she loves!
OED. Then do thou lead me, child,
Where with our feet secure from sin
We may be suffered both to speak and hear.
Let us not war against necessity.
CH. There! From that bench of rock
Go not again astray.
OED. Even here?
CH. Enough, I tell thee.
OED. May I sit?
CH. Ay, crouch thee low adown
Crooking thy limbs, upon the stone.
ANT. Father, this task is mine--
Sink gently down into thy resting-place,
OED. Woe is me!
ANT. Supporting on this loving hand
Thy reverend aged form.