Plays of Sophocles: Oedipus the King; Oedipus at Colonus; Antigone
For them, I pray thee, care, and, if thou willst,
O might I feel their touch and make my moan.
Hear me, O prince, my noble-hearted prince!
Could I but blindly touch them with my hands
I’d think they still were mine, as when I saw.
[ANTIGONE and ISMENE are led in.]
What say I? can it be my pretty ones
Whose sobs I hear? Has Creon pitied me
And sent me my two darlings? Can this be?
CREON.
’Tis true; ’twas I procured thee this delight,
Knowing the joy they were to thee of old.
OEDIPUS.
God speed thee! and as meed for bringing them
May Providence deal with thee kindlier
Than it has dealt with me! O children mine,
Where are ye? Let me clasp you with these hands,
A brother’s hands, a father’s; hands that made
Lack-luster sockets of his once bright eyes;
Hands of a man who blindly, recklessly,
Became your sire by her from whom he sprang.
Though I cannot behold you, I must weep
In thinking of the evil days to come,
The slights and wrongs that men will put upon you.
Where’er ye go to feast or festival,
No merrymaking will it prove for you,
But oft abashed in tears ye will return.
And when ye come to marriageable years,
Where’s the bold wooers who will jeopardize
To take unto himself such disrepute
As to my children’s children still must cling,
For what of infamy is lacking here?
“Their father slew his father, sowed the seed
Where he himself was gendered, and begat
These maidens at the source wherefrom he sprang.”
Such are the gibes that men will cast at you.
Who then will wed you? None, I ween, but ye
Must pine, poor maids, in single barrenness.
O Prince, Menoeceus’ son, to thee, I turn,
With the it rests to father them, for we
Their natural parents, both of us, are lost.
O leave them not to wander poor, unwed,
Thy kin, nor let them share my low estate.
O pity them so young, and but for thee
All destitute. Thy hand upon it, Prince.
To you, my children I had much to say,
Were ye but ripe to hear. Let this suffice:
Pray ye may find some home and live content,
And may your lot prove happier than your sire’s.
CREON.
Thou hast had enough of weeping; pass within.
OEDIPUS.
I must obey,
Though ’tis grievous.
CREON.
Weep not, everything must have its day.
OEDIPUS.
Well I go, but on conditions.
CREON.
What thy terms for going, say.
OEDIPUS.
Send me from the land an exile.
CREON.
Ask this of the gods, not me.
OEDIPUS.
But I am the gods’ abhorrence.
CREON.
Then they soon will grant thy plea.
OEDIPUS.
Lead me hence, then, I am willing.
CREON.
Come, but let thy children go.
OEDIPUS.
Rob me not of these my children!
CREON.
Crave not mastery in all,
For the mastery that raised thee was thy bane and wrought thy fall.
CHORUS.
Look ye, countrymen and Thebans, this is Oedipus the great,
He who knew the Sphinx’s riddle and was mightiest in our state.
Who of all our townsmen gazed not on his fame with envious eyes?
Now, in what a sea of troubles sunk and overwhelmed he lies!
Therefore wait to see life’s ending ere thou count one mortal blest;
Wait till free from pain and sorrow he has gained his final rest.
FOOTNOTES
1 (return)
[ Dr. Kennedy and others render “Since to men of experience I see that
also comparisons of their counsels are in most lively use.”]
2 (return)
[ Literally “not to call them thine,” but the Greek may be rendered “In
order not to reveal thine.”]
3 (return)
[ The Greek text that occurs in this place has been lost.]
OEDIPUS AT COLONUS
Translation by F. Storr, BA
Formerly Scholar of Trinity College, Cambridge
From the Loeb Library Edition
Originally published by
Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA
and
William Heinemann Ltd, London
First published in 1912
ARGUMENT
Oedipus, the blind and banished King of Thebes, has come in his
wanderings to Colonus, a deme of Athens, led by his daughter Antigone.
He sits to rest on a rock just within a sacred grove of the Furies and
is bidden depart by a passing native. But Oedipus, instructed by an
oracle that he had reached his final resting-place, refuses to stir,
and the stranger consents to go and consult the Elders of Colonus (the
Chorus of the Play). Conducted to the spot they pity at first the blind
beggar and his daughter, but on learning his name they are
horror-striken and order him to quit the land. He appeals to the
world-famed hospitality of Athens and hints at the blessings that his
coming will confer on the State. They agree to await the decision of
King Theseus. From Theseus Oedipus craves protection in life and burial
in Attic soil; the benefits that will accrue shall be told later.
Theseus departs having promised to aid and befriend him. No sooner has
he gone than Creon enters with an armed guard who seize Antigone and
carry her off (Ismene, the other sister, they have already captured)
and he is about to lay hands on Oedipus, when Theseus, who has heard
the tumult, hurries up and, upbraiding Creon for his lawless act,
threatens to detain him till he has shown where the captives are and
restored them. In the next scene Theseus returns bringing with him the
rescued maidens. He informs Oedipus that a stranger who has taken
sanctuary at the altar of Poseidon wishes to see him. It is Polyneices
who has come to crave his father’s forgiveness and blessing, knowing by
an oracle that victory will fall to the side that Oedipus espouses. But
Oedipus spurns the hypocrite, and invokes a dire curse on both his
unnatural sons. A sudden clap of thunder is heard, and as peal follows
peal, Oedipus is aware that his hour is come and bids Antigone summon
Theseus. Self-guided he leads the way to the spot where death should
overtake him, attended by Theseus and his daughters. Halfway he bids
his daughters farewell, and what followed none but Theseus knew. He was
not (so the Messenger reports) for the gods took him.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
OEDIPUS, banished King of Thebes.
ANTIGONE, his daughter.
ISMENE, his daughter.
THESEUS, King of Athens.
CREON, brother of Jocasta, now reigning at Thebes.
POLYNEICES, elder son of Oedipus.
STRANGER, a native of Colonus.
MESSENGER, an attendant of Theseus.
CHORUS, citizens of Colonus.
Scene: In front of the grove of the Eumenides.
OEDIPUS AT COLONUS
Enter the blind OEDIPUS led by his daughter, ANTIGONE.
OEDIPUS.
Child of an old blind sire, Antigone,
What region, say, whose city have we reached?
Who will provide today with scanted dole
This wanderer? ’Tis little that he craves,
And less obtains—that less enough for me;
For I am taught by suffering to endure,
And the long years that have grown old with me,
And last not least, by true nobility.
My daughter, if thou seest a resting place
On common ground or by some sacred grove,
Stay me and set me down. Let us discover
Where we have come, for strangers must inquire
Of denizens, and do as they are bid.
ANTIGONE.
Long-suffering father, Oedipus, the towers
That fence the city still are faint and far;
But where we stand is surely holy ground;
A wilderness of laurel, olive, vine;
Within a choir or songster nightingales
Are warbling. On this native seat of rock
Rest; for an old man thou hast traveled far.
OEDIPUS.
Guide these dark steps and seat me there secure.
ANTIGONE.
If time can teach, I need not to be told.
OEDIPUS.
Say, prithee, if thou knowest, where we are.
ANTIGONE.
Athens I recognize, but not the spot.
OEDIPUS.
That much we heard from every wayfarer.
ANTIGONE.
Shall I go on and ask about the place?
OEDIPUS.
Yes, daughter, if it be inhabited.
ANTIGONE.
Sure there are habitations; but no need
To leave thee; yonder is a man hard by.
OEDIPUS.
What, moving hitherward and on his way?
ANTIGONE.
Say rather, here already. Ask him straight
The needful questions, for the man is here.
[Enter STRANGER]
OEDIPUS.
O stranger, as I learn from her whose eyes
Must serve both her and me, that thou art here
Sent by some happy chance to serve our doubts—
STRANGER.
First quit that seat, then question me at large:
The spot thou treadest on is holy ground.
OEDIPUS.
What is the site, to what god dedicate?
STRANGER.
Inviolable, untrod; goddesses,
Dread brood of Earth and Darkness, here abide.
OEDIPUS.
Tell me the awful name I should invoke?
STRANGER.
The Gracious Ones, All-seeing, so our folk
Call them, but elsewhere other names are rife.
OEDIPUS.
Then may they show their suppliant grace, for I
From this your sanctuary will ne’er depart.
STRANGER.
What word is this?
OEDIPUS.
The watchword of my fate.
STRANGER.
Nay, ’tis not mine to bid thee hence without
Due warrant and instruction from the State.
OEDIPUS.
Now in God’s name, O stranger, scorn me not
As a wayfarer; tell me what I crave.
STRANGER.
Ask; your request shall not be scorned by me.
OEDIPUS.
How call you then the place wherein we bide?
STRANGER.
Whate’er I know thou too shalt know; the place
Is all to great Poseidon consecrate.
Hard by, the Titan, he who bears the torch,
Prometheus, has his worship; but the spot
Thou treadest, the Brass-footed Threshold named,
Is Athens’ bastion, and the neighboring lands
Claim as their chief and patron yonder knight
Colonus, and in common bear his name.
Such, stranger, is the spot, to fame unknown,
But dear to us its native worshipers.
OEDIPUS.
Thou sayest there are dwellers in these parts?
STRANGER.
Surely; they bear the name of yonder god.
OEDIPUS.
Ruled by a king or by the general voice?
STRANGER.
The lord of Athens is our over-lord.
OEDIPUS.
Who is this monarch, great in word and might?
STRANGER.
Theseus, the son of Aegeus our late king.
OEDIPUS.
Might one be sent from you to summon him?
STRANGER.
Wherefore? To tell him aught or urge his coming?
OEDIPUS.
Say a slight service may avail him much.
STRANGER.
How can he profit from a sightless man?
OEDIPUS.
The blind man’s words will be instinct with sight.
STRANGER.
Heed then; I fain would see thee out of harm;
For by the looks, marred though they be by fate,
I judge thee noble; tarry where thou art,
While I go seek the burghers—those at hand,
Not in the city. They will soon decide
Whether thou art to rest or go thy way.
[Exit STRANGER]
OEDIPUS.
Tell me, my daughter, has the stranger gone?
ANTIGONE.
Yes, he has gone; now we are all alone,
And thou may’st speak, dear father, without fear.
OEDIPUS.
Stern-visaged queens, since coming to this land
First in your sanctuary I bent the knee,
Frown not on me or Phoebus, who, when erst
He told me all my miseries to come,
Spake of this respite after many years,
Some haven in a far-off land, a rest
Vouchsafed at last by dread divinities.
“There,” said he, “shalt thou round thy weary life,
A blessing to the land wherein thou dwell’st,
But to the land that cast thee forth, a curse.”
And of my weird he promised signs should come,
Earthquake, or thunderclap, or lightning flash.
And now I recognize as yours the sign
That led my wanderings to this your grove;
Else had I never lighted on you first,
A wineless man on your seat of native rock.
O goddesses, fulfill Apollo’s word,
Grant me some consummation of my life,
If haply I appear not all too vile,
A thrall to sorrow worse than any slave.
Hear, gentle daughters of primeval Night,
Hear, namesake of great Pallas; Athens, first
Of cities, pity this dishonored shade,
The ghost of him who once was Oedipus.
ANTIGONE.