The Tragedies of Sophocles. Sophocles

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of me,—thou still hast patience to care for the blind man! Ah me! Thy presence is not hid from me—no, dark though I am, yet know I thy voice full well.

      Ch. Man of dread deeds, how couldst thou in such wise quench thy vision? What more than human power urged thee?

      str. 2. Oe. Apollo, friends, Apollo was he that brought these my woes to pass,1330 these my sore, sore woes: but the hand that struck the eyes was none save mine, ​wretched that I am! Why was I to see, when sight could show me nothing sweet?

      Ch. These things were even as thou sayest.

      Oe. Say, friends, what can I more behold, what can I love, what greeting can touch mine ear with joy? Haste,1340 lead me from the land, friends, lead me hence, the utterly lost, the thrice accursed, yea, the mortal most abhorred of heaven!

      Ch. Wretched alike for thy fortune and for thy sense thereof, would that I had never so much as known thee!

      ant. 2. Oe. Perish the man, whoe'er he was, that freed me in the pastures from the cruel shackle on my feet,1350 and saved me from death, and gave me back to life,—a thankless deed! Had I died then, to my friends and to mine own soul I had not been so sore a grief.

      Ch. I also would have had it thus.

      Oe. So had I not come to shed my father's blood, nor been called among men the spouse of her from whom I sprang: but now am I forsaken of the gods, son of a defiled mother,1360 successor to his bed who gave me mine own wretched being: and if there be yet a woe surpassing woes, it hath become the portion of Oedipus.

      Ch. I know not how I can say that thou hast counselled well: for thou wert better dead than living and blind.

      Oe. Show me not at large that these things are not best done thus:1370 give me counsel no more. For, ​had I sight, I know not with what eyes I could e'en have looked on my father, when I came to the place of the dead, aye, or on my miserable mother, since against both I have sinned such sins as strangling could not punish. But deem ye that the sight of children, born as mine were born, was lovely for me to look upon? No, no, not lovely to mine eyes for ever! No, nor was this town with its towered walls, nor the sacred statues of the gods, since I, thrice wretched that I am,—I, noblest of the sons of Thebes,—have1380 doomed myself to know these no more, by mine own command that all should thrust away the impious one,—even him whom gods have shown to be unholy—and of the race of Laïus!

      After bearing such a stain upon me, was I to look with steady eyes on this folk? No, verily: no, were there yet a way to choke the fount of hearing, I had not spared to make a fast prison of this wretched frame, that so I should have known nor sight nor sound; for 'tis sweet that our thought should dwell beyond the sphere of griefs.1390

      Alas, Cithaeron, why hadst thou a shelter for me? When I was given to thee, why didst thou not slay me straightway, that so I might never have revealed my source to men? Ah, Polybus,—ah, Corinth, and thou that wast called the ancient house of my fathers, how seeming-fair was I your nurseling, and what ills were festering beneath! For now I am found evil, and of evil birth. O ye three roads, and thou secret glen,—thou coppice, and narrow way where three paths met—ye who drank from my hands that father's blood1400 which ​was mine own,—remember ye, perchance, what deeds I wrought for you to see,—and then, when I came hither, what fresh deeds I went on to do?

      O marriage-rites, ye gave me birth, and when ye had brought me forth, again ye bore children to your child, ye created an incestuous kinship of fathers, brothers, sons,—brides, wives, mothers,—yea, all the foulest shame that is wrought among men! Nay, but 'tis unmeet to name what 'tis unmeet to do:—haste ye, for the gods' love,1410 hide me somewhere beyond the land, or slay me, or cast me into the sea, where ye shall never behold me more! Approach,—deign to lay your hands on a wretched man;—hearken, fear not,—my plague can rest on no mortal beside.

      Ch. Nay, here is Creon, in meet season for thy requests, crave they act or counsel; for he alone is left to guard the land in thy stead.

      Oe. Ah me, how indeed shall I accost him? What claim to credence can be shown on my part?1420 For in the past I have been found wholly false to him.

      Creon.

      I have not come in mockery, Oedipus, nor to reproach thee with any bygone fault.—(To the attendants.) But ye, if ye respect the children of men no more, revere at least the all-nurturing flame of our lord the Sun,—spare to show thus nakedly a pollution such as this,—one which neither earth can welcome, nor the holy rain, nor the light. Nay, take him into the house as quickly as ye may; for it best accords with piety that kinsfolk alone should see and hear a kinsman's woes.1430

      ​Oe. For the gods' love—since thou hast done a gentle violence to my presage, who hast come in a spirit so noble to me, a man most vile—grant me a boon;—for thy good I will speak, not for mine own.

      Cr. And what wish art thou so fain to have of me?

      Oe. Cast me out of this land with all speed, to a place where no mortal shall be found to greet me more.

      Cr. This would I have done, be thou sure, but that I craved first to learn all my duty from the god.

      Oe. Nay, his behest hath been set forth in1440 full,—to let me perish, the parricide, the unholy one, that I am.

      Cr. Such was the purport; yet, seeing to what a pass we have come, 'tis better to learn clearly what should be done.

      Oe. Will ye, then, seek a response on behalf of such a wretch as I am?

      Cr. Aye, for thou thyself wilt now surely put faith in the god.

      Oe. Yea; and on thee lay I this charge, to thee will I make this entreaty:—give to her who is within such burial as thou thyself wouldest; for thou wilt meetly render the last rites to thine own. But for me—never let this city of my sire1450 be condemned to have me dwelling therein, while I live: no, suffer me to abide on the hills, where yonder is Cithaeron, famed as mine,—which my mother and sire, while they lived, set for my appointed tomb,—that so I may die by their decree who sought to slay me. Howbeit of thus much am I sure,—that neither sickness nor aught else can destroy ​me; for never had I been snatched from death, but in reserve for some strange doom.

      Nay, let my fate go whither it will: but as touching my children,—I pray thee, Creon, take no care on thee for my sons;1460 they are men, so that, be they where they may, they can never lack the means to live. But my two girls, poor hapless ones,—who never knew my table spread apart, or lacked their father's presence, but ever in all things shared my daily bread,—I pray thee, care for them; and—if thou canst—suffer me to touch them with my hands, and to indulge my grief. Grant it, prince, grant it, thou noble heart! Ah, could I but once touch them with my hands, I should think that they were with me, even as when I had sight…1470

      [Creon's attendants lead in the children Antigone and Ismene.

      Ha? O ye gods, can it be my loved ones that I hear sobbing,—can Creon have taken pity on me and sent me my children—my darlings? Am I right?

      Cr. Yea: 'tis of my contriving, for I knew thy joy in them of old,—the joy that now is thine.

      Oe. Then blessed be thou, and, for guerdon of this errand, may heaven prove to thee a kinder guardian than it hath to me!1480 My children, where are ye? Come hither,—hither to the hands of him whose mother was your own, the hands whose offices have wrought that your sire's once bright eyes should be such orbs as these,—his,

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