Plays of Sophocles: Oedipus the King; Oedipus at Colonus; Antigone
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.
(Str. 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.
(Ant. 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.
(Str. 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?
(Ant. 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