the vile rabble think them,Their knowledge springs from our credulity.
œdipus.
Would it were so! for then I might be happy.
jocaste.
It is: alas! my griefs bear witness to it.
Once I was partial to them like thyself,
But undeceived at length lament my folly;
Heaven hath chastised me for my easy faith
In dark mysterious lying oracles,
That robbed me of my child; I hate the base
Deluders all; had it not been for them,
My son had still been living.
œdipus.
Ha! thy son!
How didst thou lose him? By what oracles
Did the gods speak concerning him?
jocaste.
I’ll tell thee
What from myself I would have gladly hidden.
But ’twas a false one; therefore be not moved.
Thou must have heard I had a son by Laius.
A mother’s fond disquietude provoked me
To ask his fate of the great oracle.
Alas! what madness ’tis to wrest from heaven
Those secrets which it kindly would conceal:
But I was a weak woman, and a mother.
Before the priestess’ feet I fell submissive,
And thus her answer was; for O, too well
I must remember what but to repeat
Now makes me tremble; but thou wilt forgive me:
“Thy son shall slay his father, sacrilegious,
Incestuous parricide.” Shall I go on?
œdipus.
Well, very well—
jocaste.
In short, it then foretold me,
This son, this monster should pollute my bed;
That I, his mother, should embrace my son,
Just recent from the murder of his father.
That thus united by these dreadful ties,
I should bear children to this hapless child.
You seem to be disordered at my story,
And dread perhaps to hear the sad remainder.
œdipus.
Proceed: what did you with the wretched infant.
Object of wrath divine?
jocaste.
Believed the gods;
Piously cruel, sacrificed my child,
And stifled all a mother’s tenderness:
In vain the clamors of parental love
Condemned the rigid laws of partial heaven:
Alas! I meant to save the tender victim
From his hard fate that threatened future guilt,
And doomed him to involuntary crimes:
I thought to triumph o’er the oracle,
And in compassion gave him up to death.
Cruel compassion, and destructive too!
Deceitful darkness of a false prediction!
What did I reap from my inhuman care,
Did it prolong my wretched husband’s life?
Alas! cut off in full prosperity,
He fell by the unknown hands of base assassins,
Not by his son. Thus were they both torn from me:
I lost my child, and could not save his father.
By my example taught, avoid my errors,
Banish these idle fears, and calm thy soul.
œdipus.
After the dreadful secret thou hast told me,
It were not fit I should conceal my own:
Hear then my tale; perchance when thou shalt know
The sad relation, which they bear each other,
Thou too wilt tremble: Born the natural heir
To Corinth’s throne, from Corinth far removed,
I look with horror on my native land:
One day—that fatal day I well remember,
For O! ’tis ever present to my thoughts,
And dreadful to my soul—my youthful hands,
For the first time their solemn gift prepared
An offering to the gods, when lo! the gates
Throughout the temple on a sudden stood
Self-opened, and the pillars streamed with blood;
The altars shook; a hand invisible
Threw back my offerings, and in thunder thus
A horrid voice addressed me: “Come not here,
Stain not the holy threshold with thy feet,
The gods have from the living cut thee off
Indignant, nor will e’er accept thy gifts;
Go, take thy offerings to the furies, seek
The serpents that stand ready to devour thee;
These are thy gods, begone, and worship them.”
While terror seized me at these dreadful words,
Again the voice alarmed me, and foretold
All those sad crimes which heaven to thee denounced
