Jocasta.From both the twain it rose?Leader.From both the twain.Jocasta.Aye, and what was the word?Leader.Surely there is enough of evil stirred,And Thebes heaves on the swellOf storm.—Oh, leave this lying where it fell.Oedipus.So be it, thou wise counsellor! Make slightMy wrong, and blunt my purpose ere it smite.Leader.O King, not once I have answered. VisiblyMad were I, lost to all wise usages,To seek to cast thee from us. 'Twas from theeWe saw of old blue sky and summer seas,When Thebes in the storm and rainReeled, like to die.Oh, if thou canst, againBlue sky, blue sky...!Jocasta.Husband, in God's name, say what hath ensuedOf ill, that thou shouldst seek so dire a feud.Oedipus.I will, wife. I have more regard for theeThan these.—Thy brother plots to murder me.Jocasta.Speak on. Make all thy charge. Only be clear.Oedipus.He says that I am Laïus' murderer.Jocasta.Says it himself? Says he hath witnesses?Oedipus.Nay, of himself he ventures nothing. 'TisThis priest, this hellish seer, makes all the tale.Jocasta.The seer?—Then tear thy terrors like a veilAnd take free breath. A seer? No human thingBorn on the earth hath power for conjuringTruth from the dark of God.Come, I will tellAn old tale. There came once an oracleTo Laïus: I say not from the GodHimself, but from the priests and seers who trodHis sanctuary: if ever son were bredFrom him and me, by that son's hand, it said,Laïus must die. And he, the tale yet staysAmong us, at the crossing of three waysWas slain by robbers, strangers. And my son—God's mercy!—scarcely the third day was goneWhen Laïus took, and by another's handOut on the desert mountain, where the landIs rock, cast him to die. Through both his feetA blade of iron they drove. Thus did we cheatApollo of his will. My child could slayNo father, and the King could cast awayThe fear that dogged him, by his child to dieMurdered.—Behold the fruits of prophecy!Which heed not thou! God needs not that a seerHelp him, when he would make his dark things clear.Oedipus.Woman, what turmoil hath thy story wroughtWithin me! What up-stirring of old thought!Jocasta.What thought? It turns thee like a frightened thing.Oedipus.'Twas at the crossing of three ways this KingWas murdered? So I heard or so I thought.Jocasta.That was the tale. It is not yet forgot.Oedipus.The crossing of three ways! And in what land?Jocasta.Phokis 'tis called. A road on either handFrom Delphi comes and Daulia, in a glen.Oedipus.How many years and months have passed since then?Jocasta.'Twas but a little time before proclaimWas made of thee for king, the tidings came.Oedipus.My God, what hast thou willed to do with me?Jocasta.Oedipus, speak! What is it troubles thee?Oedipus.Ask me not yet. But say, what build, what heightHad Laïus? Rode he full of youth and might?Jocasta.Tall, with the white new gleaming on his browHe walked. In shape just such a man as thou.Oedipus.God help me! I much fear that I have wroughtA curse on mine own head, and knew it not.Jocasta.How sayst thou? O my King, I look on theeAnd tremble.Oedipus(to himself).Horror, if the blind can see!Answer but one thing and 'twill all be clear.Jocasta.Speak. I will answer though I shake with fear.Oedipus.Went he with scant array, or a great bandOf armèd followers, like a lord of land?Jocasta.Four men were with him, one a herald; oneChariot there was, where Laïus rode alone.Oedipus.Aye me! Tis clear now.Woman, who could bringTo Thebes the story of that manslaying?Jocasta.A house-thrall, the one man they failed to slay.Oedipus.The one man...? Is he in the house to-day?Jocasta.Indeed no. When he came that day, and foundThee on the throne where once sat Laïus crowned,He took my hand and prayed me earnestlyTo send him to the mountain heights, to beA herdsman, far from any sight or callOf Thebes. And there I sent him. 'Twas a thrallGood-hearted, worthy a far greater boon.Oedipus.Canst find him? I would see this herd, and soon.Jocasta.'Tis easy. But what wouldst thou with the herd?Oedipus.I fear mine own voice, lest it spoke a wordToo much; whereof this man must tell me true.Jocasta.The man shall come.—My lord, methinks I tooShould know what fear doth work thee this despite.Oedipus.Thou shalt. When I am tossed to such an heightOf dark foreboding, woman, when my mindFaceth such straits as these, where should I findA mightier love than thine?My father—thusI tell thee the whole tale—was Polybus,In Corinth King; my mother MeropêOf Dorian line. And I was held to beThe proudest in Corinthia, till one dayA thing befell: strange was it, but no wayMeet for such wonder and such rage as mine.A feast it was, and some one flushed with wineCried out at me that I was no true sonOf Polybus. Oh, I was wroth! That oneDay I kept silence, but the morrow mornI sought my parents, told that tale of scornAnd claimed the truth; and they rose in their prideAnd smote the mocker.... Aye, they satisfiedAll my desire; yet still the cavil gnawedMy heart, and still the story crept abroad.At last I rose—my father knew not, norMy mother—and went forth to Pytho's floorTo ask. And God in that for which I cameRejected me, but round me, like a flame,His voice flashed other answers, things of woe,Terror, and desolation. I must knowMy mother's body and beget thereonA race no mortal eye durst look upon,And spill in murder mine own father's blood.I heard, and, hearing, straight from where I stood,No landmark but the stars to light my way,Fled, fled from the dark south where Corinth lay,To lands far off, where never I might seeMy doom of scorn fulfilled. On bitterlyI strode, and reached the region where, so saithThy tale, that King of Thebes was struck to death....Wife, I will tell thee true. As one in dazeI walked, till, at the crossing of three ways,A herald, like thy tale, and o'er his headA man behind strong horses chariotedMet me. And both would turn me from the path,He and a thrall in front. And I in wrathSmote him that pushed me—'twas a groom who ledThe horses. Not a word the master said,But watched, and as I passed him on the roadDown on my head his iron-branchèd goadStabbed. But, by heaven, he rued it! In a flashI swung my staff and saw the old man crashBack from his car in blood.... Then all of themI slew.Oh, if that man's unspoken nameHad aught of Laïus in him, in God's eyeWhat man doth move more miserable than I,More dogged by the hate of heaven! No man, kinNor stranger, any more may take me in;No man may greet me with a word, but allCast me from out their houses. And withal'Twas mine own self that laid upon my lifeThese curses.—And I hold the dead man's wifeIn these polluting arms that spilt his soul....Am I a thing born evil? Am I foulIn every vein? Thebes now doth banish me,And never in this exile must I seeMine ancient folk of Corinth, never treadThe land that bore me; else my mother's bedShall be defiled, and Polybus, my goodFather, who loved me well, be rolled in blood.If one should dream that such a world beganIn some slow devil's heart, that hated man,Who should deny him?—God, as thou art clean,Suffer not this, oh, suffer not this sinTo be, that e'er I look on such a day!Out of all vision of mankind awayTo darkness let me fall ere such a fateTouch me, so unclean and so desolate!Leader.I tremble too, O King; but till thou hearFrom him who saw, oh, let hope conquer fear.Oedipus.One shred of hope I still have, and thereforeWill wait the herdsman's coming. 'Tis no more.Jocasta.He shall come. But what further dost thou seek?Oedipus.This. If we mark him close and find him speakAs thou hast, then I am lifted from my dread.Jocasta.What mean'st thou? Was there something that I said...?Oedipus.Thou said'st he spoke of robbers, a great band,That slaughtered Laïus' men. If still he standTo the same tale, the guilt comes not my way.One cannot be a band. But if he sayOne lonely loin-girt man, then visiblyThis is God's finger pointing toward me.Jocasta.Be sure of this. He told the story soWhen first he came. All they that heard him know,Not only I. He cannot change againNow. And if change he should, O Lord of men,No change of his can make the prophecyOf Laïus' death fall true. He was to dieSlain by my son. So Loxias spake.... My son!He slew no man, that poor deserted oneThat died.... And I will no more turn mine eyesThis way nor that for all their prophecies.Oedipus.Woman, thou counsellest well. Yet let it notEscape thee. Send and have the herdsman brought.Jocasta.That will I.—Come. Thou knowest I ne'er would doNor think of aught, save thou wouldst have it so.[JocastaandOedipusgo together into the Palace.Chorus.[They pray to be free from such great sins as they have just heard spoken of.[Strophe.Toward God's great mysteries, oh, let me moveUnstainèd till I dieIn speech or doing; for the Laws thereofAre holy, walkers upon ways above,Born in the far blue sky;Their father is Olympus uncreate;No man hath made nor toldTheir being; neither shall Oblivion setSleep on their eyes, for in them lives a greatSpirit and grows not old.[Antistrophe.[They wonder if these sins be all due to pride and ifCreonhas guilty ambitions;'Tis Pride that breeds the tyrant; drunken deepWith perilous things is she,Which bring not peace: up, reeling, steep on steepShe climbs, till lo, the rock-edge, and the leapTo that which needs must be,The land where the strong foot is no more strong!Yet is there surely PrideThat saves a city; God preserve it long!I judge not. Only through all maze of wrongBe God, not man, my guide.[Strophe.[Or ifTiresiascan really be a lying prophet with no fear of God; they feel that all faith in oracles and the things of God is shaken.Is there a priest who moves amid the altarsRuthless in deed and word,Fears not the presence of his god, nor faltersLest Right at last be heard?If such there be, oh, let some doom be givenMeet for his ill-starred pride,Who will not gain his gain where Justice is,Who will not hold his lips from blasphemies,Who hurls rash hands amid the things of heavenFrom man's touch sanctified.In a world where such things be,What spirit hath shield or lanceTo ward him secretlyFrom the arrow that slays askance?If honour to such things be,Why should I dance my dance?[Antistrophe.I go no more with prayers and adorationsTo Earth's deep Heart of Stone,Nor yet the Abantes' floor, nor where the nationsKneel at Olympia's throne,Till all this dark be lightened, for the fingerOf man to touch and know.O Thou that rulest—if men rightly callThy name on earth—O Zeus, thou Lord of allAnd Strength undying, let not these things lingerUnknown, tossed to and fro.For faint is the oracle,And they thrust it aside, away;And no more visibleApollo to save or slay;And the things of God, they failAs mist on the wind away.[Jocastacomes out from the Palace followed by handmaids bearing incense and flowers.Jocasta.Lords of the land, the ways my thought hath trodLead me in worship to these shrines of GodWith flowers and incense flame. So dire a stormDoth shake the King, sin, dread and every formOf grief the world knows. 'Tis the wise man's wayTo judge the morrow by the yester day;Which he doth never, but gives eye and earTo all who speak, will they but speak of fear.And seeing no word of mine hath power to healHis torment, therefore forth to thee I steal,O Slayer of the Wolf, O Lord of Light,Apollo: thou art near us, and of rightDost hold us thine: to thee in prayer I fall.[She kneels at the altar of Apollo Lukeios.Oh, show us still some path that is not allUnclean; for now our captain's eyes are dimWith dread, and the whole ship must follow him.[While she prays aStrangerhas entered and begins to accost the Chorus.Stranger.Good masters, is there one of you could bringMy steps to the house of Oedipus, your King?Or, better, to himself if that may be?Leader.This is the house and he within; and sheThou seest, the mother of his royal seed.[Jocastarises, anxious, from her prayer.Stranger.Being wife to such a man, happy indeedAnd ringed with happy faces may she live!Jocasta.To one so fair of speech may the Gods giveLike blessing, courteous stranger; 'tis thy due.But say what leads thee hither. Can we doThy wish in aught, or hast thou news to bring?Stranger.Good news, O Queen, for thee and for the King.Jocasta.What is it? And from what prince comest thou?Stranger.I come from Corinth.—And my tale, I trow,Will give thee joy, yet haply also pain.Jocasta.What news can have that twofold power? Be plain.Stranger.'Tis spoke in Corinth that the gatheringOf folk will make thy lord our chosen King.Jocasta.How? Is old Polybus in power no more?Stranger.Death has a greater power. His reign is o'er.Jocasta.What say'st thou? Dead?... Oedipus' father dead?Stranger.If I speak false, let me die in his stead.Jocasta.Ho, maiden! To our master! Hie thee fastAnd tell this tale.[The maiden goes.Where stand ye at the lastYe oracles of God? For many a yearOedipus fled before that man, in fearTo slay him. And behold we find him thusSlain by a chance death, not by Oedipus.[Oedipuscomes out from the Palace.Oedipus.O wife, O face I love to look upon,Why call'st thou me from where I sat alone?Jocasta.Give ear, and ponder from what this man tellsHow end these proud priests and their oracles.Oedipus.Whence comes he? And what word hath he for us?Jocasta.From Corinth; bearing news that PolybusThy father is no more. He has found his death.Oedipus.How?—Stranger, speak thyself. This that she saith ...Stranger.Is sure. If that is the first news ye crave,I tell thee, Polybus lieth in his grave.Oedipus.Not murdered?... How? Some passing of disease?Stranger.A slight thing turns an old life to its peace.Oedipus.Poor father!... 'Tis by sickness he is dead?Stranger.The growing years lay heavy on his head.Oedipus.O wife, why then should man fear any moreThe voice of Pytho's dome, or cower beforeThese birds that shriek above us? They foretoldMe for my father's murderer; and behold,He lies in Corinth dead, and here am IAnd never touched the sword.... Or did he dieIn grief for me who left him? In that wayI may have wrought his death.... But come what may,He sleepeth in his grave and with him allThis deadly seercraft, of no worth at all.Jocasta.Dear Lord, long since did I not show thee clear...?Oedipus.Indeed, yes. I was warped by mine own fear.Jocasta.Now thou wilt cast it from thee, and forget.Oedipus.Forget my mother?... It is not over yet.Jocasta.What should man do with fear, who hath but ChanceAbove him, and no sight nor governanceOf things to be? To live as life may run,No fear, no fret, were wisest 'neath the sun.And thou, fear not thy mother. Prophets deemA deed wrought that is wrought but in a dream.And he to whom these things are nothing, bestWill bear his burden.Oedipus.All thou counsellestWere good, save that my mother liveth still.And, though thy words be wise, for good or illHer I still fear.Jocasta.Think of thy father's tomb!Like light across our darkness it hath come.Oedipus.Great light; but while she lives I fly from her.Stranger.What woman, Prince, doth fill thee so with fear?Oedipus.Meropê, friend, who dwelt with Polybus.Stranger.What in Queen Meropê should fright thee thus?Oedipus.A voice of God, stranger, of dire import.Stranger.Meet for mine ears? Or of some secret sort?Oedipus.Nay, thou must hear, and Corinth. Long agoApollo spake a doom, that I should knowMy mother's flesh, and with mine own hand spillMy father's blood.—'Tis that, and not my will,Hath kept me always far from Corinth. So;Life hath dealt kindly with me, yet men knowOn earth no comfort like a mother's face.Stranger.'Tis that, hath kept thee exiled in this place?Oedipus.That, and the fear too of my father's blood.Stranger.Then, surely, Lord ... I came but for thy good ...'Twere well if from that fear I set thee free.Oedipus.Ah, couldst thou! There were rich reward for thee.Stranger.To say truth, I had hoped to lead thee homeNow, and myself to get some good therefrom.Oedipus.Nay; where my parents are I will not go.Stranger.My son, 'tis very clear thou dost not knowWhat road thou goest.Oedipus.How? In God's name, say!How clear?Stranger.'Tis this, keeps thee so long awayFrom Corinth?Oedipus.'Tis the fear lest that word breakOne day upon me true.Stranger.Fear lest thou takeDefilement from the two that gave thee birth?Oedipus.'Tis that, old man, 'tis that doth fill the earthWith terror.Stranger.Then thy terror all hath beenFor nothing.Oedipus.How? Were not your King and QueenMy parents?Stranger.Polybus was naught to theeIn blood.Oedipus.How? He, my father!Stranger.That was heAs much as I, but no more.Oedipus.Thou art naught;'Twas he begot me.Stranger.'Twas not I begotOedipus, neither was it he.Oedipus.What wildFancy, then, made him name me for his child?Stranger.Thou wast his child—by gift. Long years agoMine own hand brought thee to him.Oedipus.Coming so,From a strange hand, he gave me that great love?Stranger.He had no child, and the desire thereofHeld him.Oedipus.And thou didst find somewhere—or buy—A child for him?Stranger.I found it in a highGlen of Kithairon.[Movement ofJocasta,who stands riveted with dread, unnoticed by the others.Oedipus.Yonder? To what endWast travelling in these parts?Stranger.I came to tendThe flocks here on the mountain.Oedipus.Thou wast oneThat wandered, tending sheep for hire?Stranger.My son,That day I was the saviour of a King.Oedipus.How saviour? Was I in some suffering Or peril?Stranger.Thine own feet a tale could speak.Oedipus.Ah me! What ancient pain stirs half awake Within me!Stranger.'Twas a spike through both thy feet.I set thee free.Oedipus.A strange scorn that, to greetA babe new on the earth!Stranger.From that they fainMust call thee Oedipus, "Who-walks-in-pain."Oedipus.Who called me so—father or mother? Oh,In God's name, speak!Stranger.I know not. He should knowWho brought thee.Oedipus.So: I was not found by thee.Thou hadst me from another?Stranger.Aye; to meOne of the shepherds gave the babe, to bearFar off.Oedipus.What shepherd? Know'st thou not? DeclareAll that thou knowest.Stranger.By my memory, then,I think they called him one of Laïus' men.Oedipus.That Laïus who was king in Thebes of old?Stranger.The same. My man did herding in his fold.Oedipus.Is he yet living? Can I see his face?Stranger.[Turning to the Chorus.Ye will know that, being natives to the place.Oedipus.How?—Is there one of you within my paleStanding, that knows the shepherd of his tale?Ye have seen him on the hills? Or in this town?Speak! For the hour is come that all be known.Leader.I think 'twill be the Peasant Man, the same,Thou hast sought long time to see.—His place and nameOur mistress, if she will, can tell most clear.[Jocastaremains as if she heard nothing.Oedipus.Thou hear'st him, wife. The herd whose presence hereWe craved for, is it he this man would say?Jocasta.He saith ... What of it? Ask not; only pray Not to remember.... Tales are vainly told.Oedipus.'Tis mine own birth. How can I, when I hold Such clues as these, refrain from knowing all?Jocasta.For God's love, no! Not if thou car'st at all For thine own life.... My anguish is enough.Oedipus(bitterly).Fear not!... Though I be thrice of slavish stuffFrom my third grand-dam down, it shames not thee.Jocasta.Ask no more. I beseech thee.... Promise me!Oedipus.To leave the Truth half-found? 'Tis not my mood.Jocasta.I understand; and tell thee what is good.Oedipus.Thy good doth weary me.Jocasta.O child of woe,I pray God, I pray God, thou never know!Oedipus(turning from her).Go, fetch the herdsman straight!—This Queen of mine May walk alone to boast her royal line.Jocasta.[She twice draws in her breath through her teeth, as if in some sharp pain.Unhappy one, goodbye! Goodbye beforeI go: this once, and never never more![She comes towards him as though to take a last farewell, then stops suddenly, turns, and rushes into the Palace.Leader.King, what was that? She passed like one who fliesIn very anguish. Dread is o'er mine eyesLest from this silence break some storm of wrong.Oedipus.Break what break will! My mind abideth strongTo know the roots, how low soe'er they be,Which grew to Oedipus. This woman, sheIs proud, methinks, and fears my birth and nameWill mar her nobleness. But I, no shameCan ever touch me. I am Fortune's child,Not man's; her mother face hath ever smiledAbove me, and my brethren of the sky,The changing Moons, have changed me low and high.There is my lineage true, which none shall wrestFrom me; who then am I to fear this quest?Chorus.[They singOedipusas the foundling of their own Theban mountain, Kithairon, and doubtless of divine birth.[Strophe.If I, O Kithairon, some vision can borrowFrom seercraft, if still there is wit in the old,Long, long, through the deep-orbèd Moon of the morrow—So hear me, Olympus!—thy tale shall be told.O mountain of Thebes, a new Theban shall praise thee,One born of thy bosom, one nursed at thy springs;And the old men shall dance to thy glory, and raise theeTo worship, O bearer of joy to my kings.And thou, we pray,Look down in peace, O Apollo; I-ê, I-ê![Antistrophe.What Oread mother, unaging, unweeping,Did bear thee, O Babe, to the Crag-walker Pan;Or perchance to Apollo? He loveth the leapingOf herds on the rock-ways unhaunted of man.Or was it the lord of Cyllênê, who found thee,Or glad Dionysus, whose home is the height,Who knew thee his own on the mountain, as round theeThe White Brides of Helicon laughed for delight?'Tis there, 'tis there,The joy most liveth of all his dance and prayer.Oedipus.If I may judge, ye Elders, who have ne'erSeen him, methinks I see the shepherd thereWhom we have sought so long. His weight of yearsFits well with our Corinthian messenger's;And, more, I know the men who guide his way,Bondsmen of mine own house.Thou, friend, wilt sayMost surely, who hast known the man of old.Leader.I know him well. A shepherd of the foldOf Laïus, one he trusted more than all.[TheShepherdcomes in, led by two thralls. He is an old man and seems terrified.Oedipus.Thou first, our guest from Corinth: say withalIs this the man?Stranger.This is the man, O King.Oedipus.[Addressing theShepherd.Old man! Look up, and answer everythingI ask thee.—Thou wast Laïus' man of old?Shepherd.Born in his house I was, not bought with gold.Oedipus.What kind of work, what way of life, was thine?Shepherd.Most of my days I tended sheep or kine.Oedipus.What was thy camping ground at midsummer?Shepherd.Sometimes Kithairon, sometimes mountains near.Oedipus.Saw'st ever there this man thou seëst now?Shepherd.There, Lord? What doing?—What man meanest thou?Oedipus.[Pointing to theStranger.Look! Hath he ever crossed thy path before?Shepherd.I call him not to mind, I must think more.Stranger.Small wonder that, O King! But I will throwLight on his memories.—Right well I knowHe knows the time when, all Kithairon through,I with one wandering herd and he with two,Three times we neighboured one another, clearFrom spring to autumn stars, a good half-year.At winter's fall we parted; he drove downTo his master's fold, and I back to mine own....Dost call it back, friend? Was it as I say?Shepherd.It was. It was.... 'Tis all so far away.Stranger.Say then: thou gavest me once, there in the wild,A babe to rear far off as mine own child?Shepherd.[His terror returning.What does this mean? To what end askest thou?Stranger.[Pointing toOedipus.That babe has grown, friend. 'Tis our master now.Shepherd.[He slowly understands, then stands for a moment horror-struck.No, in the name of death!... Fool, hold thy peace.[He lifts his staff at theStranger.Oedipus.Ha, greybeard! Wouldst thou strike him?—'Tis not hisOffences, 'tis thine own we need to mend.Shepherd.Most gentle master, how do I offend?Oedipus.Whence came that babe whereof he questioneth?Shepherd.He doth not know ... 'tis folly ... what he saith.Oedipus.Thou wilt not speak for love; but pain maybe ...Shepherd.I am very old. Ye would not torture me.Oedipus.Back with his arms, ye bondmen! Hold him so.[The thralls drag back theShepherd's arms, ready for torture.Shepherd.Woe's me! What have I done?... What wouldst thou know?Oedipus.Didst give this man the child, as he doth say?Shepherd.I did.... Would God that I had died this day!Oedipus.'Fore heaven, thou shalt yet, if thou speak not true.Shepherd.'Tis more than death and darker, if I do.Oedipus.This dog, it seems, will keep us waiting.Shepherd.Nay,I said at first I gave it.Oedipus.In what wayCame it to thee? Was it thine own child, orAnother's?Shepherd.Nay, it never crossed my door:Another's.Oedipus.Whose? What man, what house, of theseAbout thee?Shepherd.In the name of God who sees,Ask me no more!Oedipus.If once I ask again,Thou diest.Shepherd.From the folk of Laïus, then,It came.Oedipus.A slave, or born of Laïus' blood?Shepherd.There comes the word I dread to speak, O God!Oedipus.And I to hear: yet heard it needs must be.Shepherd.Know then, they said 'twas Laïus' child. But sheWithin, thy wife, best knows its fathering.Oedipus.'Twas she that gave it?Shepherd.It was she, O King.Oedipus.And bade you ... what?Shepherd.Destroy it.Oedipus.Her own child?...Cruel!Shepherd.Dark words of God had made her wild.Oedipus.What words?Shepherd.The babe must slay his father; so'Twas written.Oedipus.Why didst thou, then, let him goWith this old man?Shepherd.O King, I pitied him.I thought the man would save him to some dimAnd distant land, beyond all fear.... And he,To worse than death, did save him!... Verily,If thou art he whom this man telleth of,To sore affliction thou art born.Oedipus.Enough!All, all, shall be fulfilled.... Oh, on these eyesShed light no more, ye everlasting skiesThat know my sin! I have sinned in birth and breath.I have sinned with Woman. I have sinned with Death.[He rushes into the Palace. TheShepherdis led away by the thralls.Chorus.[Strophe.Nothingness, nothingness,Ye Children of Man, and lessI count you, waking or dreaming!And none among mortals, none,Seeking to live, hath wonMore than to seem, and to ceaseAgain from his seeming.While ever before mine eyesOne fate, one ensample, lies—Thine, thine, O Oedipus, soreOf God oppressèd—What thing that is human moreDare I call blessèd?[Antistrophe.Straight his archery flewTo the heart of living; he knewJoy and the fulness of power,O Zeus, when the riddling breathWas stayed and the Maid of DeathSlain, and we saw him throughThe death-cloud, a tower!For that he was called my king;Yea, every precious thingWherewith men are honoured, downWe cast before him,And great Thebes brought her crownAnd kneeled to adore him.[Strophe.But now, what man's story is such bitterness to speak?What life hath Delusion so visited, and Pain,And swiftness of Disaster?O great King, our master,How oped the one haven to the slayer and the slain?And the furrows of thy father, did they turn not nor shriek,Did they bear so long silent thy casting of the grain?[Antistrophe.'Tis Time, Time, desireless, hath shown thee what thou art;The long monstrous mating, it is judged and all its race.O child of him that sleepeth,Thy land weepeth, weepeth,Unfathered.... Would God, I had never seen thy face!From thee in great peril fell peace upon my heart,In thee mine eye clouded and the dark is come apace.[AMessengerrushes out from the Palace.Messenger.O ye above this land in honour oldExalted, what a tale shall ye be told,What sights shall see, and tears of horror shed,If still your hearts be true to them that ledYour sires! There runs no river, well I ween,Not Phasis nor great Ister, shall wash cleanThis house of all within that hideth—nay,Nor all that creepeth forth to front the day,Of purposed horror. And in miseryThat woundeth most which men have willed to be.Leader.No lack there was in what we knew beforeOf food for heaviness. What bring'st thou more?Messenger.One thing I bring thee first.... 'Tis quickly said.Jocasta, our anointed queen, is dead.Leader.Unhappy woman! How came death to her?Messenger.By her own hand.... Oh, of what passed in thereYe have been spared the worst. Ye cannot see.Howbeit, with that which still is left in meOf mind and memory, ye shall hear her fate.Like one entranced with passion, through the gateShe passed, the white hands flashing o'er her head,Like blades that tear, and fled, unswerving fled,Toward her old bridal room, and disappearedAnd the doors crashed behind her. But we heardHer voice within, crying to him of old,Her Laïus, long dead; and things untoldOf the old kiss unforgotten, that should bringThe lover's death and leave the loved a thingOf horror, yea, a field beneath the ploughFor sire and son: then wailing bitter-lowAcross that bed of births unreconciled,Husband from husband born and child from child.And, after that, I know not how her deathFound her. For sudden, with a roar of wrath,Burst Oedipus upon us. Then, I ween,We marked no more what passion held the Queen,But him, as in the fury of his stride,"A sword! A sword! And show me here," he cried,"That wife, no wife, that field of bloodstained earthWhere husband, father, sin on sin, had birth,Polluted generations!" While he thusRaged on, some god—for sure 'twas none of us—Showed where she was; and with a shout away,As though some hand had pointed to the prey,He dashed him on the chamber door. The straightDoor-bar of oak, it bent beneath his weight,Shook from its sockets free, and in he burstTo the dark chamber.There we saw her firstHanged, swinging from a noose, like a dead bird.He fell back when he saw her. Then we heardA miserable groan, and straight he foundAnd loosed the strangling knot, and on the groundLaid her.—Ah, then the sight of horror came!The pin of gold, broad-beaten like a flame,He tore from off her breast, and, left and right,Down on the shuddering orbits of his sightDashed it: "Out! Out! Ye never more shall seeMe nor the anguish nor the sins of me.Ye looked on lives whose like earth never bore,Ye knew not those my spirit thirsted for:Therefore be dark for ever!"Like a songHis voice rose, and again, again, the strongAnd stabbing hand fell, and the massacredAnd bleeding eyeballs streamed upon his beard,Wild rain, and gouts of hail amid the rain.Behold affliction, yea, afflictions twainFrom man and woman broken, now made oneIn downfall. All the riches yester sunSaw in this house were rich in verity.What call ye now our riches? Agony,Delusion, Death, Shame, all that eye or earHath ever dreamed of misery, is here.Leader.And now how fares he? Doth the storm abate?Messenger.
Jocasta.From both the twain it rose?Leader.From both the twain.Jocasta.Aye, and what was the word?Leader.Surely there is enough of evil stirred,And Thebes heaves on the swellOf storm.—Oh, leave this lying where it fell.Oedipus.So be it, thou wise counsellor! Make slightMy wrong, and blunt my purpose ere it smite.Leader.O King, not once I have answered. VisiblyMad were I, lost to all wise usages,To seek to cast thee from us. 'Twas from theeWe saw of old blue sky and summer seas,When Thebes in the storm and rainReeled, like to die.Oh, if thou canst, againBlue sky, blue sky...!Jocasta.Husband, in God's name, say what hath ensuedOf ill, that thou shouldst seek so dire a feud.Oedipus.I will, wife. I have more regard for theeThan these.—Thy brother plots to murder me.Jocasta.Speak on. Make all thy charge. Only be clear.Oedipus.He says that I am Laïus' murderer.Jocasta.Says it himself? Says he hath witnesses?Oedipus.Nay, of himself he ventures nothing. 'TisThis priest, this hellish seer, makes all the tale.Jocasta.The seer?—Then tear thy terrors like a veilAnd take free breath. A seer? No human thingBorn on the earth hath power for conjuringTruth from the dark of God.Come, I will tellAn old tale. There came once an oracleTo Laïus: I say not from the GodHimself, but from the priests and seers who trodHis sanctuary: if ever son were bredFrom him and me, by that son's hand, it said,Laïus must die. And he, the tale yet staysAmong us, at the crossing of three waysWas slain by robbers, strangers. And my son—God's mercy!—scarcely the third day was goneWhen Laïus took, and by another's handOut on the desert mountain, where the landIs rock, cast him to die. Through both his feetA blade of iron they drove. Thus did we cheatApollo of his will. My child could slayNo father, and the King could cast awayThe fear that dogged him, by his child to dieMurdered.—Behold the fruits of prophecy!Which heed not thou! God needs not that a seerHelp him, when he would make his dark things clear.Oedipus.Woman, what turmoil hath thy story wroughtWithin me! What up-stirring of old thought!Jocasta.What thought? It turns thee like a frightened thing.Oedipus.'Twas at the crossing of three ways this KingWas murdered? So I heard or so I thought.Jocasta.That was the tale. It is not yet forgot.Oedipus.The crossing of three ways! And in what land?Jocasta.Phokis 'tis called. A road on either handFrom Delphi comes and Daulia, in a glen.Oedipus.How many years and months have passed since then?Jocasta.'Twas but a little time before proclaimWas made of thee for king, the tidings came.Oedipus.My God, what hast thou willed to do with me?Jocasta.Oedipus, speak! What is it troubles thee?Oedipus.Ask me not yet. But say, what build, what heightHad Laïus? Rode he full of youth and might?Jocasta.Tall, with the white new gleaming on his browHe walked. In shape just such a man as thou.Oedipus.God help me! I much fear that I have wroughtA curse on mine own head, and knew it not.Jocasta.How sayst thou? O my King, I look on theeAnd tremble.Oedipus(to himself).Horror, if the blind can see!Answer but one thing and 'twill all be clear.Jocasta.Speak. I will answer though I shake with fear.Oedipus.Went he with scant array, or a great bandOf armèd followers, like a lord of land?Jocasta.Four men were with him, one a herald; oneChariot there was, where Laïus rode alone.Oedipus.Aye me! Tis clear now.Woman, who could bringTo Thebes the story of that manslaying?Jocasta.A house-thrall, the one man they failed to slay.Oedipus.The one man...? Is he in the house to-day?Jocasta.Indeed no. When he came that day, and foundThee on the throne where once sat Laïus crowned,He took my hand and prayed me earnestlyTo send him to the mountain heights, to beA herdsman, far from any sight or callOf Thebes. And there I sent him. 'Twas a thrallGood-hearted, worthy a far greater boon.Oedipus.Canst find him? I would see this herd, and soon.Jocasta.'Tis easy. But what wouldst thou with the herd?Oedipus.I fear mine own voice, lest it spoke a wordToo much; whereof this man must tell me true.Jocasta.The man shall come.—My lord, methinks I tooShould know what fear doth work thee this despite.Oedipus.Thou shalt. When I am tossed to such an heightOf dark foreboding, woman, when my mindFaceth such straits as these, where should I findA mightier love than thine?My father—thusI tell thee the whole tale—was Polybus,In Corinth King; my mother MeropêOf Dorian line. And I was held to beThe proudest in Corinthia, till one dayA thing befell: strange was it, but no wayMeet for such wonder and such rage as mine.A feast it was, and some one flushed with wineCried out at me that I was no true sonOf Polybus. Oh, I was wroth! That oneDay I kept silence, but the morrow mornI sought my parents, told that tale of scornAnd claimed the truth; and they rose in their prideAnd smote the mocker.... Aye, they satisfiedAll my desire; yet still the cavil gnawedMy heart, and still the story crept abroad.At last I rose—my father knew not, norMy mother—and went forth to Pytho's floorTo ask. And God in that for which I cameRejected me, but round me, like a flame,His voice flashed other answers, things of woe,Terror, and desolation. I must knowMy mother's body and beget thereonA race no mortal eye durst look upon,And spill in murder mine own father's blood.I heard, and, hearing, straight from where I stood,No landmark but the stars to light my way,Fled, fled from the dark south where Corinth lay,To lands far off, where never I might seeMy doom of scorn fulfilled. On bitterlyI strode, and reached the region where, so saithThy tale, that King of Thebes was struck to death....Wife, I will tell thee true. As one in dazeI walked, till, at the crossing of three ways,A herald, like thy tale, and o'er his headA man behind strong horses chariotedMet me. And both would turn me from the path,He and a thrall in front. And I in wrathSmote him that pushed me—'twas a groom who ledThe horses. Not a word the master said,But watched, and as I passed him on the roadDown on my head his iron-branchèd goadStabbed. But, by heaven, he rued it! In a flashI swung my staff and saw the old man crashBack from his car in blood.... Then all of themI slew.Oh, if that man's unspoken nameHad aught of Laïus in him, in God's eyeWhat man doth move more miserable than I,More dogged by the hate of heaven! No man, kinNor stranger, any more may take me in;No man may greet me with a word, but allCast me from out their houses. And withal'Twas mine own self that laid upon my lifeThese curses.—And I hold the dead man's wifeIn these polluting arms that spilt his soul....Am I a thing born evil? Am I foulIn every vein? Thebes now doth banish me,And never in this exile must I seeMine ancient folk of Corinth, never treadThe land that bore me; else my mother's bedShall be defiled, and Polybus, my goodFather, who loved me well, be rolled in blood.If one should dream that such a world beganIn some slow devil's heart, that hated man,Who should deny him?—God, as thou art clean,Suffer not this, oh, suffer not this sinTo be, that e'er I look on such a day!Out of all vision of mankind awayTo darkness let me fall ere such a fateTouch me, so unclean and so desolate!Leader.I tremble too, O King; but till thou hearFrom him who saw, oh, let hope conquer fear.Oedipus.One shred of hope I still have, and thereforeWill wait the herdsman's coming. 'Tis no more.Jocasta.He shall come. But what further dost thou seek?Oedipus.This. If we mark him close and find him speakAs thou hast, then I am lifted from my dread.Jocasta.What mean'st thou? Was there something that I said...?Oedipus.Thou said'st he spoke of robbers, a great band,That slaughtered Laïus' men. If still he standTo the same tale, the guilt comes not my way.One cannot be a band. But if he sayOne lonely loin-girt man, then visiblyThis is God's finger pointing toward me.Jocasta.Be sure of this. He told the story soWhen first he came. All they that heard him know,Not only I. He cannot change againNow. And if change he should, O Lord of men,No change of his can make the prophecyOf Laïus' death fall true. He was to dieSlain by my son. So Loxias spake.... My son!He slew no man, that poor deserted oneThat died.... And I will no more turn mine eyesThis way nor that for all their prophecies.Oedipus.Woman, thou counsellest well. Yet let it notEscape thee. Send and have the herdsman brought.Jocasta.That will I.—Come. Thou knowest I ne'er would doNor think of aught, save thou wouldst have it so.[JocastaandOedipusgo together into the Palace.Chorus.[They pray to be free from such great sins as they have just heard spoken of.[Strophe.Toward God's great mysteries, oh, let me moveUnstainèd till I dieIn speech or doing; for the Laws thereofAre holy, walkers upon ways above,Born in the far blue sky;Their father is Olympus uncreate;No man hath made nor toldTheir being; neither shall Oblivion setSleep on their eyes, for in them lives a greatSpirit and grows not old.[Antistrophe.[They wonder if these sins be all due to pride and ifCreonhas guilty ambitions;'Tis Pride that breeds the tyrant; drunken deepWith perilous things is she,Which bring not peace: up, reeling, steep on steepShe climbs, till lo, the rock-edge, and the leapTo that which needs must be,The land where the strong foot is no more strong!Yet is there surely PrideThat saves a city; God preserve it long!I judge not. Only through all maze of wrongBe God, not man, my guide.[Strophe.[Or ifTiresiascan really be a lying prophet with no fear of God; they feel that all faith in oracles and the things of God is shaken.Is there a priest who moves amid the altarsRuthless in deed and word,Fears not the presence of his god, nor faltersLest Right at last be heard?If such there be, oh, let some doom be givenMeet for his ill-starred pride,Who will not gain his gain where Justice is,Who will not hold his lips from blasphemies,Who hurls rash hands amid the things of heavenFrom man's touch sanctified.In a world where such things be,What spirit hath shield or lanceTo ward him secretlyFrom the arrow that slays askance?If honour to such things be,Why should I dance my dance?[Antistrophe.I go no more with prayers and adorationsTo Earth's deep Heart of Stone,Nor yet the Abantes' floor, nor where the nationsKneel at Olympia's throne,Till all this dark be lightened, for the fingerOf man to touch and know.O Thou that rulest—if men rightly callThy name on earth—O Zeus, thou Lord of allAnd Strength undying, let not these things lingerUnknown, tossed to and fro.For faint is the oracle,And they thrust it aside, away;And no more visibleApollo to save or slay;And the things of God, they failAs mist on the wind away.[Jocastacomes out from the Palace followed by handmaids bearing incense and flowers.Jocasta.Lords of the land, the ways my thought hath trodLead me in worship to these shrines of GodWith flowers and incense flame. So dire a stormDoth shake the King, sin, dread and every formOf grief the world knows. 'Tis the wise man's wayTo judge the morrow by the yester day;Which he doth never, but gives eye and earTo all who speak, will they but speak of fear.And seeing no word of mine hath power to healHis torment, therefore forth to thee I steal,O Slayer of the Wolf, O Lord of Light,Apollo: thou art near us, and of rightDost hold us thine: to thee in prayer I fall.[She kneels at the altar of Apollo Lukeios.Oh, show us still some path that is not allUnclean; for now our captain's eyes are dimWith dread, and the whole ship must follow him.[While she prays aStrangerhas entered and begins to accost the Chorus.Stranger.Good masters, is there one of you could bringMy steps to the house of Oedipus, your King?Or, better, to himself if that may be?Leader.This is the house and he within; and sheThou seest, the mother of his royal seed.[Jocastarises, anxious, from her prayer.Stranger.Being wife to such a man, happy indeedAnd ringed with happy faces may she live!Jocasta.To one so fair of speech may the Gods giveLike blessing, courteous stranger; 'tis thy due.But say what leads thee hither. Can we doThy wish in aught, or hast thou news to bring?Stranger.Good news, O Queen, for thee and for the King.Jocasta.What is it? And from what prince comest thou?Stranger.I come from Corinth.—And my tale, I trow,Will give thee joy, yet haply also pain.Jocasta.What news can have that twofold power? Be plain.Stranger.'Tis spoke in Corinth that the gatheringOf folk will make thy lord our chosen King.Jocasta.How? Is old Polybus in power no more?Stranger.Death has a greater power. His reign is o'er.Jocasta.What say'st thou? Dead?... Oedipus' father dead?Stranger.If I speak false, let me die in his stead.Jocasta.Ho, maiden! To our master! Hie thee fastAnd tell this tale.[The maiden goes.Where stand ye at the lastYe oracles of God? For many a yearOedipus fled before that man, in fearTo slay him. And behold we find him thusSlain by a chance death, not by Oedipus.[Oedipuscomes out from the Palace.Oedipus.O wife, O face I love to look upon,Why call'st thou me from where I sat alone?Jocasta.Give ear, and ponder from what this man tellsHow end these proud priests and their oracles.Oedipus.Whence comes he? And what word hath he for us?Jocasta.From Corinth; bearing news that PolybusThy father is no more. He has found his death.Oedipus.How?—Stranger, speak thyself. This that she saith ...Stranger.Is sure. If that is the first news ye crave,I tell thee, Polybus lieth in his grave.Oedipus.Not murdered?... How? Some passing of disease?Stranger.A slight thing turns an old life to its peace.Oedipus.Poor father!... 'Tis by sickness he is dead?Stranger.The growing years lay heavy on his head.Oedipus.O wife, why then should man fear any moreThe voice of Pytho's dome, or cower beforeThese birds that shriek above us? They foretoldMe for my father's murderer; and behold,He lies in Corinth dead, and here am IAnd never touched the sword.... Or did he dieIn grief for me who left him? In that wayI may have wrought his death.... But come what may,He sleepeth in his grave and with him allThis deadly seercraft, of no worth at all.Jocasta.Dear Lord, long since did I not show thee clear...?Oedipus.Indeed, yes. I was warped by mine own fear.Jocasta.Now thou wilt cast it from thee, and forget.Oedipus.Forget my mother?... It is not over yet.Jocasta.What should man do with fear, who hath but ChanceAbove him, and no sight nor governanceOf things to be? To live as life may run,No fear, no fret, were wisest 'neath the sun.And thou, fear not thy mother. Prophets deemA deed wrought that is wrought but in a dream.And he to whom these things are nothing, bestWill bear his burden.Oedipus.All thou counsellestWere good, save that my mother liveth still.And, though thy words be wise, for good or illHer I still fear.Jocasta.Think of thy father's tomb!Like light across our darkness it hath come.Oedipus.Great light; but while she lives I fly from her.Stranger.What woman, Prince, doth fill thee so with fear?Oedipus.Meropê, friend, who dwelt with Polybus.Stranger.What in Queen Meropê should fright thee thus?Oedipus.A voice of God, stranger, of dire import.Stranger.Meet for mine ears? Or of some secret sort?Oedipus.Nay, thou must hear, and Corinth. Long agoApollo spake a doom, that I should knowMy mother's flesh, and with mine own hand spillMy father's blood.—'Tis that, and not my will,Hath kept me always far from Corinth. So;Life hath dealt kindly with me, yet men knowOn earth no comfort like a mother's face.Stranger.'Tis that, hath kept thee exiled in this place?Oedipus.That, and the fear too of my father's blood.Stranger.Then, surely, Lord ... I came but for thy good ...'Twere well if from that fear I set thee free.Oedipus.Ah, couldst thou! There were rich reward for thee.Stranger.To say truth, I had hoped to lead thee homeNow, and myself to get some good therefrom.Oedipus.Nay; where my parents are I will not go.Stranger.My son, 'tis very clear thou dost not knowWhat road thou goest.Oedipus.How? In God's name, say!How clear?Stranger.'Tis this, keeps thee so long awayFrom Corinth?Oedipus.'Tis the fear lest that word breakOne day upon me true.Stranger.Fear lest thou takeDefilement from the two that gave thee birth?Oedipus.'Tis that, old man, 'tis that doth fill the earthWith terror.Stranger.Then thy terror all hath beenFor nothing.Oedipus.How? Were not your King and QueenMy parents?Stranger.Polybus was naught to theeIn blood.Oedipus.How? He, my father!Stranger.That was heAs much as I, but no more.Oedipus.Thou art naught;'Twas he begot me.Stranger.'Twas not I begotOedipus, neither was it he.Oedipus.What wildFancy, then, made him name me for his child?Stranger.Thou wast his child—by gift. Long years agoMine own hand brought thee to him.Oedipus.Coming so,From a strange hand, he gave me that great love?Stranger.He had no child, and the desire thereofHeld him.Oedipus.And thou didst find somewhere—or buy—A child for him?Stranger.I found it in a highGlen of Kithairon.[Movement ofJocasta,who stands riveted with dread, unnoticed by the others.Oedipus.Yonder? To what endWast travelling in these parts?Stranger.I came to tendThe flocks here on the mountain.Oedipus.Thou wast oneThat wandered, tending sheep for hire?Stranger.My son,That day I was the saviour of a King.Oedipus.How saviour? Was I in some suffering Or peril?Stranger.Thine own feet a tale could speak.Oedipus.Ah me! What ancient pain stirs half awake Within me!Stranger.'Twas a spike through both thy feet.I set thee free.Oedipus.A strange scorn that, to greetA babe new on the earth!Stranger.From that they fainMust call thee Oedipus, "Who-walks-in-pain."Oedipus.Who called me so—father or mother? Oh,In God's name, speak!Stranger.I know not. He should knowWho brought thee.Oedipus.So: I was not found by thee.Thou hadst me from another?Stranger.Aye; to meOne of the shepherds gave the babe, to bearFar off.Oedipus.What shepherd? Know'st thou not? DeclareAll that thou knowest.Stranger.By my memory, then,I think they called him one of Laïus' men.Oedipus.That Laïus who was king in Thebes of old?Stranger.The same. My man did herding in his fold.Oedipus.Is he yet living? Can I see his face?Stranger.[Turning to the Chorus.Ye will know that, being natives to the place.Oedipus.How?—Is there one of you within my paleStanding, that knows the shepherd of his tale?Ye have seen him on the hills? Or in this town?Speak! For the hour is come that all be known.Leader.I think 'twill be the Peasant Man, the same,Thou hast sought long time to see.—His place and nameOur mistress, if she will, can tell most clear.[Jocastaremains as if she heard nothing.Oedipus.Thou hear'st him, wife. The herd whose presence hereWe craved for, is it he this man would say?Jocasta.He saith ... What of it? Ask not; only pray Not to remember.... Tales are vainly told.Oedipus.'Tis mine own birth. How can I, when I hold Such clues as these, refrain from knowing all?Jocasta.For God's love, no! Not if thou car'st at all For thine own life.... My anguish is enough.Oedipus(bitterly).Fear not!... Though I be thrice of slavish stuffFrom my third grand-dam down, it shames not thee.Jocasta.Ask no more. I beseech thee.... Promise me!Oedipus.To leave the Truth half-found? 'Tis not my mood.Jocasta.I understand; and tell thee what is good.Oedipus.Thy good doth weary me.Jocasta.O child of woe,I pray God, I pray God, thou never know!Oedipus(turning from her).Go, fetch the herdsman straight!—This Queen of mine May walk alone to boast her royal line.Jocasta.[She twice draws in her breath through her teeth, as if in some sharp pain.Unhappy one, goodbye! Goodbye beforeI go: this once, and never never more![She comes towards him as though to take a last farewell, then stops suddenly, turns, and rushes into the Palace.Leader.King, what was that? She passed like one who fliesIn very anguish. Dread is o'er mine eyesLest from this silence break some storm of wrong.Oedipus.Break what break will! My mind abideth strongTo know the roots, how low soe'er they be,Which grew to Oedipus. This woman, sheIs proud, methinks, and fears my birth and nameWill mar her nobleness. But I, no shameCan ever touch me. I am Fortune's child,Not man's; her mother face hath ever smiledAbove me, and my brethren of the sky,The changing Moons, have changed me low and high.There is my lineage true, which none shall wrestFrom me; who then am I to fear this quest?Chorus.[They singOedipusas the foundling of their own Theban mountain, Kithairon, and doubtless of divine birth.[Strophe.If I, O Kithairon, some vision can borrowFrom seercraft, if still there is wit in the old,Long, long, through the deep-orbèd Moon of the morrow—So hear me, Olympus!—thy tale shall be told.O mountain of Thebes, a new Theban shall praise thee,One born of thy bosom, one nursed at thy springs;And the old men shall dance to thy glory, and raise theeTo worship, O bearer of joy to my kings.And thou, we pray,Look down in peace, O Apollo; I-ê, I-ê![Antistrophe.What Oread mother, unaging, unweeping,Did bear thee, O Babe, to the Crag-walker Pan;Or perchance to Apollo? He loveth the leapingOf herds on the rock-ways unhaunted of man.Or was it the lord of Cyllênê, who found thee,Or glad Dionysus, whose home is the height,Who knew thee his own on the mountain, as round theeThe White Brides of Helicon laughed for delight?'Tis there, 'tis there,The joy most liveth of all his dance and prayer.Oedipus.If I may judge, ye Elders, who have ne'erSeen him, methinks I see the shepherd thereWhom we have sought so long. His weight of yearsFits well with our Corinthian messenger's;And, more, I know the men who guide his way,Bondsmen of mine own house.Thou, friend, wilt sayMost surely, who hast known the man of old.Leader.I know him well. A shepherd of the foldOf Laïus, one he trusted more than all.[TheShepherdcomes in, led by two thralls. He is an old man and seems terrified.Oedipus.Thou first, our guest from Corinth: say withalIs this the man?Stranger.This is the man, O King.Oedipus.[Addressing theShepherd.Old man! Look up, and answer everythingI ask thee.—Thou wast Laïus' man of old?Shepherd.Born in his house I was, not bought with gold.Oedipus.What kind of work, what way of life, was thine?Shepherd.Most of my days I tended sheep or kine.Oedipus.What was thy camping ground at midsummer?Shepherd.Sometimes Kithairon, sometimes mountains near.Oedipus.Saw'st ever there this man thou seëst now?Shepherd.There, Lord? What doing?—What man meanest thou?Oedipus.[Pointing to theStranger.Look! Hath he ever crossed thy path before?Shepherd.I call him not to mind, I must think more.Stranger.Small wonder that, O King! But I will throwLight on his memories.—Right well I knowHe knows the time when, all Kithairon through,I with one wandering herd and he with two,Three times we neighboured one another, clearFrom spring to autumn stars, a good half-year.At winter's fall we parted; he drove downTo his master's fold, and I back to mine own....Dost call it back, friend? Was it as I say?Shepherd.It was. It was.... 'Tis all so far away.Stranger.Say then: thou gavest me once, there in the wild,A babe to rear far off as mine own child?Shepherd.[His terror returning.What does this mean? To what end askest thou?Stranger.[Pointing toOedipus.That babe has grown, friend. 'Tis our master now.Shepherd.[He slowly understands, then stands for a moment horror-struck.No, in the name of death!... Fool, hold thy peace.[He lifts his staff at theStranger.Oedipus.Ha, greybeard! Wouldst thou strike him?—'Tis not hisOffences, 'tis thine own we need to mend.Shepherd.Most gentle master, how do I offend?Oedipus.Whence came that babe whereof he questioneth?Shepherd.He doth not know ... 'tis folly ... what he saith.Oedipus.Thou wilt not speak for love; but pain maybe ...Shepherd.I am very old. Ye would not torture me.Oedipus.Back with his arms, ye bondmen! Hold him so.[The thralls drag back theShepherd's arms, ready for torture.Shepherd.Woe's me! What have I done?... What wouldst thou know?Oedipus.Didst give this man the child, as he doth say?Shepherd.I did.... Would God that I had died this day!Oedipus.'Fore heaven, thou shalt yet, if thou speak not true.Shepherd.'Tis more than death and darker, if I do.Oedipus.This dog, it seems, will keep us waiting.Shepherd.Nay,I said at first I gave it.Oedipus.In what wayCame it to thee? Was it thine own child, orAnother's?Shepherd.Nay, it never crossed my door:Another's.Oedipus.Whose? What man, what house, of theseAbout thee?Shepherd.In the name of God who sees,Ask me no more!Oedipus.If once I ask again,Thou diest.Shepherd.From the folk of Laïus, then,It came.Oedipus.A slave, or born of Laïus' blood?Shepherd.There comes the word I dread to speak, O God!Oedipus.And I to hear: yet heard it needs must be.Shepherd.Know then, they said 'twas Laïus' child. But sheWithin, thy wife, best knows its fathering.Oedipus.'Twas she that gave it?Shepherd.It was she, O King.Oedipus.And bade you ... what?Shepherd.Destroy it.Oedipus.Her own child?...Cruel!Shepherd.Dark words of God had made her wild.Oedipus.What words?Shepherd.The babe must slay his father; so'Twas written.Oedipus.Why didst thou, then, let him goWith this old man?Shepherd.O King, I pitied him.I thought the man would save him to some dimAnd distant land, beyond all fear.... And he,To worse than death, did save him!... Verily,If thou art he whom this man telleth of,To sore affliction thou art born.Oedipus.Enough!All, all, shall be fulfilled.... Oh, on these eyesShed light no more, ye everlasting skiesThat know my sin! I have sinned in birth and breath.I have sinned with Woman. I have sinned with Death.[He rushes into the Palace. TheShepherdis led away by the thralls.Chorus.[Strophe.Nothingness, nothingness,Ye Children of Man, and lessI count you, waking or dreaming!And none among mortals, none,Seeking to live, hath wonMore than to seem, and to ceaseAgain from his seeming.While ever before mine eyesOne fate, one ensample, lies—Thine, thine, O Oedipus, soreOf God oppressèd—What thing that is human moreDare I call blessèd?[Antistrophe.Straight his archery flewTo the heart of living; he knewJoy and the fulness of power,O Zeus, when the riddling breathWas stayed and the Maid of DeathSlain, and we saw him throughThe death-cloud, a tower!For that he was called my king;Yea, every precious thingWherewith men are honoured, downWe cast before him,And great Thebes brought her crownAnd kneeled to adore him.[Strophe.But now, what man's story is such bitterness to speak?What life hath Delusion so visited, and Pain,And swiftness of Disaster?O great King, our master,How oped the one haven to the slayer and the slain?And the furrows of thy father, did they turn not nor shriek,Did they bear so long silent thy casting of the grain?[Antistrophe.'Tis Time, Time, desireless, hath shown thee what thou art;The long monstrous mating, it is judged and all its race.O child of him that sleepeth,Thy land weepeth, weepeth,Unfathered.... Would God, I had never seen thy face!From thee in great peril fell peace upon my heart,In thee mine eye clouded and the dark is come apace.[AMessengerrushes out from the Palace.Messenger.O ye above this land in honour oldExalted, what a tale shall ye be told,What sights shall see, and tears of horror shed,If still your hearts be true to them that ledYour sires! There runs no river, well I ween,Not Phasis nor great Ister, shall wash cleanThis house of all within that hideth—nay,Nor all that creepeth forth to front the day,Of purposed horror. And in miseryThat woundeth most which men have willed to be.Leader.No lack there was in what we knew beforeOf food for heaviness. What bring'st thou more?Messenger.One thing I bring thee first.... 'Tis quickly said.Jocasta, our anointed queen, is dead.Leader.Unhappy woman! How came death to her?Messenger.By her own hand.... Oh, of what passed in thereYe have been spared the worst. Ye cannot see.Howbeit, with that which still is left in meOf mind and memory, ye shall hear her fate.Like one entranced with passion, through the gateShe passed, the white hands flashing o'er her head,Like blades that tear, and fled, unswerving fled,Toward her old bridal room, and disappearedAnd the doors crashed behind her. But we heardHer voice within, crying to him of old,Her Laïus, long dead; and things untoldOf the old kiss unforgotten, that should bringThe lover's death and leave the loved a thingOf horror, yea, a field beneath the ploughFor sire and son: then wailing bitter-lowAcross that bed of births unreconciled,Husband from husband born and child from child.And, after that, I know not how her deathFound her. For sudden, with a roar of wrath,Burst Oedipus upon us. Then, I ween,We marked no more what passion held the Queen,But him, as in the fury of his stride,"A sword! A sword! And show me here," he cried,"That wife, no wife, that field of bloodstained earthWhere husband, father, sin on sin, had birth,Polluted generations!" While he thusRaged on, some god—for sure 'twas none of us—Showed where she was; and with a shout away,As though some hand had pointed to the prey,He dashed him on the chamber door. The straightDoor-bar of oak, it bent beneath his weight,Shook from its sockets free, and in he burstTo the dark chamber.There we saw her firstHanged, swinging from a noose, like a dead bird.He fell back when he saw her. Then we heardA miserable groan, and straight he foundAnd loosed the strangling knot, and on the groundLaid her.—Ah, then the sight of horror came!The pin of gold, broad-beaten like a flame,He tore from off her breast, and, left and right,Down on the shuddering orbits of his sightDashed it: "Out! Out! Ye never more shall seeMe nor the anguish nor the sins of me.Ye looked on lives whose like earth never bore,Ye knew not those my spirit thirsted for:Therefore be dark for ever!"Like a songHis voice rose, and again, again, the strongAnd stabbing hand fell, and the massacredAnd bleeding eyeballs streamed upon his beard,Wild rain, and gouts of hail amid the rain.Behold affliction, yea, afflictions twainFrom man and woman broken, now made oneIn downfall. All the riches yester sunSaw in this house were rich in verity.What call ye now our riches? Agony,Delusion, Death, Shame, all that eye or earHath ever dreamed of misery, is here.Leader.And now how fares he? Doth the storm abate?Messenger.
Jocasta.From both the twain it rose?Leader.From both the twain.Jocasta.Aye, and what was the word?Leader.Surely there is enough of evil stirred,And Thebes heaves on the swellOf storm.—Oh, leave this lying where it fell.Oedipus.So be it, thou wise counsellor! Make slightMy wrong, and blunt my purpose ere it smite.Leader.O King, not once I have answered. VisiblyMad were I, lost to all wise usages,To seek to cast thee from us. 'Twas from theeWe saw of old blue sky and summer seas,When Thebes in the storm and rainReeled, like to die.Oh, if thou canst, againBlue sky, blue sky...!Jocasta.Husband, in God's name, say what hath ensuedOf ill, that thou shouldst seek so dire a feud.Oedipus.I will, wife. I have more regard for theeThan these.—Thy brother plots to murder me.Jocasta.Speak on. Make all thy charge. Only be clear.Oedipus.He says that I am Laïus' murderer.Jocasta.Says it himself? Says he hath witnesses?Oedipus.Nay, of himself he ventures nothing. 'TisThis priest, this hellish seer, makes all the tale.Jocasta.The seer?—Then tear thy terrors like a veilAnd take free breath. A seer? No human thingBorn on the earth hath power for conjuringTruth from the dark of God.Come, I will tellAn old tale. There came once an oracleTo Laïus: I say not from the GodHimself, but from the priests and seers who trodHis sanctuary: if ever son were bredFrom him and me, by that son's hand, it said,Laïus must die. And he, the tale yet staysAmong us, at the crossing of three waysWas slain by robbers, strangers. And my son—God's mercy!—scarcely the third day was goneWhen Laïus took, and by another's handOut on the desert mountain, where the landIs rock, cast him to die. Through both his feetA blade of iron they drove. Thus did we cheatApollo of his will. My child could slayNo father, and the King could cast awayThe fear that dogged him, by his child to dieMurdered.—Behold the fruits of prophecy!Which heed not thou! God needs not that a seerHelp him, when he would make his dark things clear.Oedipus.Woman, what turmoil hath thy story wroughtWithin me! What up-stirring of old thought!Jocasta.What thought? It turns thee like a frightened thing.Oedipus.'Twas at the crossing of three ways this KingWas murdered? So I heard or so I thought.Jocasta.That was the tale. It is not yet forgot.Oedipus.The crossing of three ways! And in what land?Jocasta.Phokis 'tis called. A road on either handFrom Delphi comes and Daulia, in a glen.Oedipus.How many years and months have passed since then?Jocasta.'Twas but a little time before proclaimWas made of thee for king, the tidings came.Oedipus.My God, what hast thou willed to do with me?Jocasta.Oedipus, speak! What is it troubles thee?Oedipus.Ask me not yet. But say, what build, what heightHad Laïus? Rode he full of youth and might?Jocasta.Tall, with the white new gleaming on his browHe walked. In shape just such a man as thou.Oedipus.God help me! I much fear that I have wroughtA curse on mine own head, and knew it not.Jocasta.How sayst thou? O my King, I look on theeAnd tremble.Oedipus(to himself).Horror, if the blind can see!Answer but one thing and 'twill all be clear.Jocasta.Speak. I will answer though I shake with fear.Oedipus.Went he with scant array, or a great bandOf armèd followers, like a lord of land?Jocasta.Four men were with him, one a herald; oneChariot there was, where Laïus rode alone.Oedipus.Aye me! Tis clear now.Woman, who could bringTo Thebes the story of that manslaying?Jocasta.A house-thrall, the one man they failed to slay.Oedipus.The one man...? Is he in the house to-day?Jocasta.Indeed no. When he came that day, and foundThee on the throne where once sat Laïus crowned,He took my hand and prayed me earnestlyTo send him to the mountain heights, to beA herdsman, far from any sight or callOf Thebes. And there I sent him. 'Twas a thrallGood-hearted, worthy a far greater boon.Oedipus.Canst find him? I would see this herd, and soon.Jocasta.'Tis easy. But what wouldst thou with the herd?Oedipus.I fear mine own voice, lest it spoke a wordToo much; whereof this man must tell me true.Jocasta.The man shall come.—My lord, methinks I tooShould know what fear doth work thee this despite.Oedipus.Thou shalt. When I am tossed to such an heightOf dark foreboding, woman, when my mindFaceth such straits as these, where should I findA mightier love than thine?My father—thusI tell thee the whole tale—was Polybus,In Corinth King; my mother MeropêOf Dorian line. And I was held to beThe proudest in Corinthia, till one dayA thing befell: strange was it, but no wayMeet for such wonder and such rage as mine.A feast it was, and some one flushed with wineCried out at me that I was no true sonOf Polybus. Oh, I was wroth! That oneDay I kept silence, but the morrow mornI sought my parents, told that tale of scornAnd claimed the truth; and they rose in their prideAnd smote the mocker.... Aye, they satisfiedAll my desire; yet still the cavil gnawedMy heart, and still the story crept abroad.At last I rose—my father knew not, norMy mother—and went forth to Pytho's floorTo ask. And God in that for which I cameRejected me, but round me, like a flame,His voice flashed other answers, things of woe,Terror, and desolation. I must knowMy mother's body and beget thereonA race no mortal eye durst look upon,And spill in murder mine own father's blood.I heard, and, hearing, straight from where I stood,No landmark but the stars to light my way,Fled, fled from the dark south where Corinth lay,To lands far off, where never I might seeMy doom of scorn fulfilled. On bitterlyI strode, and reached the region where, so saithThy tale, that King of Thebes was struck to death....Wife, I will tell thee true. As one in dazeI walked, till, at the crossing of three ways,A herald, like thy tale, and o'er his headA man behind strong horses chariotedMet me. And both would turn me from the path,He and a thrall in front. And I in wrathSmote him that pushed me—'twas a groom who ledThe horses. Not a word the master said,But watched, and as I passed him on the roadDown on my head his iron-branchèd goadStabbed. But, by heaven, he rued it! In a flashI swung my staff and saw the old man crashBack from his car in blood.... Then all of themI slew.Oh, if that man's unspoken nameHad aught of Laïus in him, in God's eyeWhat man doth move more miserable than I,More dogged by the hate of heaven! No man, kinNor stranger, any more may take me in;No man may greet me with a word, but allCast me from out their houses. And withal'Twas mine own self that laid upon my lifeThese curses.—And I hold the dead man's wifeIn these polluting arms that spilt his soul....Am I a thing born evil? Am I foulIn every vein? Thebes now doth banish me,And never in this exile must I seeMine ancient folk of Corinth, never treadThe land that bore me; else my mother's bedShall be defiled, and Polybus, my goodFather, who loved me well, be rolled in blood.If one should dream that such a world beganIn some slow devil's heart, that hated man,Who should deny him?—God, as thou art clean,Suffer not this, oh, suffer not this sinTo be, that e'er I look on such a day!Out of all vision of mankind awayTo darkness let me fall ere such a fateTouch me, so unclean and so desolate!Leader.I tremble too, O King; but till thou hearFrom him who saw, oh, let hope conquer fear.Oedipus.One shred of hope I still have, and thereforeWill wait the herdsman's coming. 'Tis no more.Jocasta.He shall come. But what further dost thou seek?Oedipus.This. If we mark him close and find him speakAs thou hast, then I am lifted from my dread.Jocasta.What mean'st thou? Was there something that I said...?Oedipus.Thou said'st he spoke of robbers, a great band,That slaughtered Laïus' men. If still he standTo the same tale, the guilt comes not my way.One cannot be a band. But if he sayOne lonely loin-girt man, then visiblyThis is God's finger pointing toward me.Jocasta.Be sure of this. He told the story soWhen first he came. All they that heard him know,Not only I. He cannot change againNow. And if change he should, O Lord of men,No change of his can make the prophecyOf Laïus' death fall true. He was to dieSlain by my son. So Loxias spake.... My son!He slew no man, that poor deserted oneThat died.... And I will no more turn mine eyesThis way nor that for all their prophecies.Oedipus.Woman, thou counsellest well. Yet let it notEscape thee. Send and have the herdsman brought.Jocasta.That will I.—Come. Thou knowest I ne'er would doNor think of aught, save thou wouldst have it so.[JocastaandOedipusgo together into the Palace.Chorus.[They pray to be free from such great sins as they have just heard spoken of.[Strophe.Toward God's great mysteries, oh, let me moveUnstainèd till I dieIn speech or doing; for the Laws thereofAre holy, walkers upon ways above,Born in the far blue sky;Their father is Olympus uncreate;No man hath made nor toldTheir being; neither shall Oblivion setSleep on their eyes, for in them lives a greatSpirit and grows not old.[Antistrophe.[They wonder if these sins be all due to pride and ifCreonhas guilty ambitions;'Tis Pride that breeds the tyrant; drunken deepWith perilous things is she,Which bring not peace: up, reeling, steep on steepShe climbs, till lo, the rock-edge, and the leapTo that which needs must be,The land where the strong foot is no more strong!Yet is there surely PrideThat saves a city; God preserve it long!I judge not. Only through all maze of wrongBe God, not man, my guide.[Strophe.[Or ifTiresiascan really be a lying prophet with no fear of God; they feel that all faith in oracles and the things of God is shaken.Is there a priest who moves amid the altarsRuthless in deed and word,Fears not the presence of his god, nor faltersLest Right at last be heard?If such there be, oh, let some doom be givenMeet for his ill-starred pride,Who will not gain his gain where Justice is,Who will not hold his lips from blasphemies,Who hurls rash hands amid the things of heavenFrom man's touch sanctified.In a world where such things be,What spirit hath shield or lanceTo ward him secretlyFrom the arrow that slays askance?If honour to such things be,Why should I dance my dance?[Antistrophe.I go no more with prayers and adorationsTo Earth's deep Heart of Stone,Nor yet the Abantes' floor, nor where the nationsKneel at Olympia's throne,Till all this dark be lightened, for the fingerOf man to touch and know.O Thou that rulest—if men rightly callThy name on earth—O Zeus, thou Lord of allAnd Strength undying, let not these things lingerUnknown, tossed to and fro.For faint is the oracle,And they thrust it aside, away;And no more visibleApollo to save or slay;And the things of God, they failAs mist on the wind away.[Jocastacomes out from the Palace followed by handmaids bearing incense and flowers.Jocasta.Lords of the land, the ways my thought hath trodLead me in worship to these shrines of GodWith flowers and incense flame. So dire a stormDoth shake the King, sin, dread and every formOf grief the world knows. 'Tis the wise man's wayTo judge the morrow by the yester day;Which he doth never, but gives eye and earTo all who speak, will they but speak of fear.And seeing no word of mine hath power to healHis torment, therefore forth to thee I steal,O Slayer of the Wolf, O Lord of Light,Apollo: thou art near us, and of rightDost hold us thine: to thee in prayer I fall.[She kneels at the altar of Apollo Lukeios.Oh, show us still some path that is not allUnclean; for now our captain's eyes are dimWith dread, and the whole ship must follow him.[While she prays aStrangerhas entered and begins to accost the Chorus.Stranger.Good masters, is there one of you could bringMy steps to the house of Oedipus, your King?Or, better, to himself if that may be?Leader.This is the house and he within; and sheThou seest, the mother of his royal seed.[Jocastarises, anxious, from her prayer.Stranger.Being wife to such a man, happy indeedAnd ringed with happy faces may she live!Jocasta.To one so fair of speech may the Gods giveLike blessing, courteous stranger; 'tis thy due.But say what leads thee hither. Can we doThy wish in aught, or hast thou news to bring?Stranger.Good news, O Queen, for thee and for the King.Jocasta.What is it? And from what prince comest thou?Stranger.I come from Corinth.—And my tale, I trow,Will give thee joy, yet haply also pain.Jocasta.What news can have that twofold power? Be plain.Stranger.'Tis spoke in Corinth that the gatheringOf folk will make thy lord our chosen King.Jocasta.How? Is old Polybus in power no more?Stranger.Death has a greater power. His reign is o'er.Jocasta.What say'st thou? Dead?... Oedipus' father dead?Stranger.If I speak false, let me die in his stead.Jocasta.Ho, maiden! To our master! Hie thee fastAnd tell this tale.[The maiden goes.Where stand ye at the lastYe oracles of God? For many a yearOedipus fled before that man, in fearTo slay him. And behold we find him thusSlain by a chance death, not by Oedipus.[Oedipuscomes out from the Palace.Oedipus.O wife, O face I love to look upon,Why call'st thou me from where I sat alone?Jocasta.Give ear, and ponder from what this man tellsHow end these proud priests and their oracles.Oedipus.Whence comes he? And what word hath he for us?Jocasta.From Corinth; bearing news that PolybusThy father is no more. He has found his death.Oedipus.How?—Stranger, speak thyself. This that she saith ...Stranger.Is sure. If that is the first news ye crave,I tell thee, Polybus lieth in his grave.Oedipus.Not murdered?... How? Some passing of disease?Stranger.A slight thing turns an old life to its peace.Oedipus.Poor father!... 'Tis by sickness he is dead?Stranger.The growing years lay heavy on his head.Oedipus.O wife, why then should man fear any moreThe voice of Pytho's dome, or cower beforeThese birds that shriek above us? They foretoldMe for my father's murderer; and behold,He lies in Corinth dead, and here am IAnd never touched the sword.... Or did he dieIn grief for me who left him? In that wayI may have wrought his death.... But come what may,He sleepeth in his grave and with him allThis deadly seercraft, of no worth at all.Jocasta.Dear Lord, long since did I not show thee clear...?Oedipus.Indeed, yes. I was warped by mine own fear.Jocasta.Now thou wilt cast it from thee, and forget.Oedipus.Forget my mother?... It is not over yet.Jocasta.What should man do with fear, who hath but ChanceAbove him, and no sight nor governanceOf things to be? To live as life may run,No fear, no fret, were wisest 'neath the sun.And thou, fear not thy mother. Prophets deemA deed wrought that is wrought but in a dream.And he to whom these things are nothing, bestWill bear his burden.Oedipus.All thou counsellestWere good, save that my mother liveth still.And, though thy words be wise, for good or illHer I still fear.Jocasta.Think of thy father's tomb!Like light across our darkness it hath come.Oedipus.Great light; but while she lives I fly from her.Stranger.What woman, Prince, doth fill thee so with fear?Oedipus.Meropê, friend, who dwelt with Polybus.Stranger.What in Queen Meropê should fright thee thus?Oedipus.A voice of God, stranger, of dire import.Stranger.Meet for mine ears? Or of some secret sort?Oedipus.Nay, thou must hear, and Corinth. Long agoApollo spake a doom, that I should knowMy mother's flesh, and with mine own hand spillMy father's blood.—'Tis that, and not my will,Hath kept me always far from Corinth. So;Life hath dealt kindly with me, yet men knowOn earth no comfort like a mother's face.Stranger.'Tis that, hath kept thee exiled in this place?Oedipus.That, and the fear too of my father's blood.Stranger.Then, surely, Lord ... I came but for thy good ...'Twere well if from that fear I set thee free.Oedipus.Ah, couldst thou! There were rich reward for thee.Stranger.To say truth, I had hoped to lead thee homeNow, and myself to get some good therefrom.Oedipus.Nay; where my parents are I will not go.Stranger.My son, 'tis very clear thou dost not knowWhat road thou goest.Oedipus.How? In God's name, say!How clear?Stranger.'Tis this, keeps thee so long awayFrom Corinth?Oedipus.'Tis the fear lest that word breakOne day upon me true.Stranger.Fear lest thou takeDefilement from the two that gave thee birth?Oedipus.'Tis that, old man, 'tis that doth fill the earthWith terror.Stranger.Then thy terror all hath beenFor nothing.Oedipus.How? Were not your King and QueenMy parents?Stranger.Polybus was naught to theeIn blood.Oedipus.How? He, my father!Stranger.That was heAs much as I, but no more.Oedipus.Thou art naught;'Twas he begot me.Stranger.'Twas not I begotOedipus, neither was it he.Oedipus.What wildFancy, then, made him name me for his child?Stranger.Thou wast his child—by gift. Long years agoMine own hand brought thee to him.Oedipus.Coming so,From a strange hand, he gave me that great love?Stranger.He had no child, and the desire thereofHeld him.Oedipus.And thou didst find somewhere—or buy—A child for him?Stranger.I found it in a highGlen of Kithairon.[Movement ofJocasta,who stands riveted with dread, unnoticed by the others.Oedipus.Yonder? To what endWast travelling in these parts?Stranger.I came to tendThe flocks here on the mountain.Oedipus.Thou wast oneThat wandered, tending sheep for hire?Stranger.My son,That day I was the saviour of a King.Oedipus.How saviour? Was I in some suffering Or peril?Stranger.Thine own feet a tale could speak.Oedipus.Ah me! What ancient pain stirs half awake Within me!Stranger.'Twas a spike through both thy feet.I set thee free.Oedipus.A strange scorn that, to greetA babe new on the earth!Stranger.From that they fainMust call thee Oedipus, "Who-walks-in-pain."Oedipus.Who called me so—father or mother? Oh,In God's name, speak!Stranger.I know not. He should knowWho brought thee.Oedipus.So: I was not found by thee.Thou hadst me from another?Stranger.Aye; to meOne of the shepherds gave the babe, to bearFar off.Oedipus.What shepherd? Know'st thou not? DeclareAll that thou knowest.Stranger.By my memory, then,I think they called him one of Laïus' men.Oedipus.That Laïus who was king in Thebes of old?Stranger.The same. My man did herding in his fold.Oedipus.Is he yet living? Can I see his face?Stranger.[Turning to the Chorus.Ye will know that, being natives to the place.Oedipus.How?—Is there one of you within my paleStanding, that knows the shepherd of his tale?Ye have seen him on the hills? Or in this town?Speak! For the hour is come that all be known.Leader.I think 'twill be the Peasant Man, the same,Thou hast sought long time to see.—His place and nameOur mistress, if she will, can tell most clear.[Jocastaremains as if she heard nothing.Oedipus.Thou hear'st him, wife. The herd whose presence hereWe craved for, is it he this man would say?Jocasta.He saith ... What of it? Ask not; only pray Not to remember.... Tales are vainly told.Oedipus.'Tis mine own birth. How can I, when I hold Such clues as these, refrain from knowing all?Jocasta.For God's love, no! Not if thou car'st at all For thine own life.... My anguish is enough.Oedipus(bitterly).Fear not!... Though I be thrice of slavish stuffFrom my third grand-dam down, it shames not thee.Jocasta.Ask no more. I beseech thee.... Promise me!Oedipus.To leave the Truth half-found? 'Tis not my mood.Jocasta.I understand; and tell thee what is good.Oedipus.Thy good doth weary me.Jocasta.O child of woe,I pray God, I pray God, thou never know!Oedipus(turning from her).Go, fetch the herdsman straight!—This Queen of mine May walk alone to boast her royal line.Jocasta.[She twice draws in her breath through her teeth, as if in some sharp pain.Unhappy one, goodbye! Goodbye beforeI go: this once, and never never more![She comes towards him as though to take a last farewell, then stops suddenly, turns, and rushes into the Palace.Leader.King, what was that? She passed like one who fliesIn very anguish. Dread is o'er mine eyesLest from this silence break some storm of wrong.Oedipus.Break what break will! My mind abideth strongTo know the roots, how low soe'er they be,Which grew to Oedipus. This woman, sheIs proud, methinks, and fears my birth and nameWill mar her nobleness. But I, no shameCan ever touch me. I am Fortune's child,Not man's; her mother face hath ever smiledAbove me, and my brethren of the sky,The changing Moons, have changed me low and high.There is my lineage true, which none shall wrestFrom me; who then am I to fear this quest?Chorus.[They singOedipusas the foundling of their own Theban mountain, Kithairon, and doubtless of divine birth.[Strophe.If I, O Kithairon, some vision can borrowFrom seercraft, if still there is wit in the old,Long, long, through the deep-orbèd Moon of the morrow—So hear me, Olympus!—thy tale shall be told.O mountain of Thebes, a new Theban shall praise thee,One born of thy bosom, one nursed at thy springs;And the old men shall dance to thy glory, and raise theeTo worship, O bearer of joy to my kings.And thou, we pray,Look down in peace, O Apollo; I-ê, I-ê![Antistrophe.What Oread mother, unaging, unweeping,Did bear thee, O Babe, to the Crag-walker Pan;Or perchance to Apollo? He loveth the leapingOf herds on the rock-ways unhaunted of man.Or was it the lord of Cyllênê, who found thee,Or glad Dionysus, whose home is the height,Who knew thee his own on the mountain, as round theeThe White Brides of Helicon laughed for delight?'Tis there, 'tis there,The joy most liveth of all his dance and prayer.Oedipus.If I may judge, ye Elders, who have ne'erSeen him, methinks I see the shepherd thereWhom we have sought so long. His weight of yearsFits well with our Corinthian messenger's;And, more, I know the men who guide his way,Bondsmen of mine own house.Thou, friend, wilt sayMost surely, who hast known the man of old.Leader.I know him well. A shepherd of the foldOf Laïus, one he trusted more than all.[TheShepherdcomes in, led by two thralls. He is an old man and seems terrified.Oedipus.Thou first, our guest from Corinth: say withalIs this the man?Stranger.This is the man, O King.Oedipus.[Addressing theShepherd.Old man! Look up, and answer everythingI ask thee.—Thou wast Laïus' man of old?Shepherd.Born in his house I was, not bought with gold.Oedipus.What kind of work, what way of life, was thine?Shepherd.Most of my days I tended sheep or kine.Oedipus.What was thy camping ground at midsummer?Shepherd.Sometimes Kithairon, sometimes mountains near.Oedipus.Saw'st ever there this man thou seëst now?Shepherd.There, Lord? What doing?—What man meanest thou?Oedipus.[Pointing to theStranger.Look! Hath he ever crossed thy path before?Shepherd.I call him not to mind, I must think more.Stranger.Small wonder that, O King! But I will throwLight on his memories.—Right well I knowHe knows the time when, all Kithairon through,I with one wandering herd and he with two,Three times we neighboured one another, clearFrom spring to autumn stars, a good half-year.At winter's fall we parted; he drove downTo his master's fold, and I back to mine own....Dost call it back, friend? Was it as I say?Shepherd.It was. It was.... 'Tis all so far away.Stranger.Say then: thou gavest me once, there in the wild,A babe to rear far off as mine own child?Shepherd.[His terror returning.What does this mean? To what end askest thou?Stranger.[Pointing toOedipus.That babe has grown, friend. 'Tis our master now.Shepherd.[He slowly understands, then stands for a moment horror-struck.No, in the name of death!... Fool, hold thy peace.[He lifts his staff at theStranger.Oedipus.Ha, greybeard! Wouldst thou strike him?—'Tis not hisOffences, 'tis thine own we need to mend.Shepherd.Most gentle master, how do I offend?Oedipus.Whence came that babe whereof he questioneth?Shepherd.He doth not know ... 'tis folly ... what he saith.Oedipus.Thou wilt not speak for love; but pain maybe ...Shepherd.I am very old. Ye would not torture me.Oedipus.Back with his arms, ye bondmen! Hold him so.[The thralls drag back theShepherd's arms, ready for torture.Shepherd.Woe's me! What have I done?... What wouldst thou know?Oedipus.Didst give this man the child, as he doth say?Shepherd.I did.... Would God that I had died this day!Oedipus.'Fore heaven, thou shalt yet, if thou speak not true.Shepherd.'Tis more than death and darker, if I do.Oedipus.This dog, it seems, will keep us waiting.Shepherd.Nay,I said at first I gave it.Oedipus.In what wayCame it to thee? Was it thine own child, orAnother's?Shepherd.Nay, it never crossed my door:Another's.Oedipus.Whose? What man, what house, of theseAbout thee?Shepherd.In the name of God who sees,Ask me no more!Oedipus.If once I ask again,Thou diest.Shepherd.From the folk of Laïus, then,It came.Oedipus.A slave, or born of Laïus' blood?Shepherd.There comes the word I dread to speak, O God!Oedipus.And I to hear: yet heard it needs must be.Shepherd.Know then, they said 'twas Laïus' child. But sheWithin, thy wife, best knows its fathering.Oedipus.'Twas she that gave it?Shepherd.It was she, O King.Oedipus.And bade you ... what?Shepherd.Destroy it.Oedipus.Her own child?...Cruel!Shepherd.Dark words of God had made her wild.Oedipus.What words?Shepherd.The babe must slay his father; so'Twas written.Oedipus.Why didst thou, then, let him goWith this old man?Shepherd.O King, I pitied him.I thought the man would save him to some dimAnd distant land, beyond all fear.... And he,To worse than death, did save him!... Verily,If thou art he whom this man telleth of,To sore affliction thou art born.Oedipus.Enough!All, all, shall be fulfilled.... Oh, on these eyesShed light no more, ye everlasting skiesThat know my sin! I have sinned in birth and breath.I have sinned with Woman. I have sinned with Death.[He rushes into the Palace. TheShepherdis led away by the thralls.Chorus.[Strophe.Nothingness, nothingness,Ye Children of Man, and lessI count you, waking or dreaming!And none among mortals, none,Seeking to live, hath wonMore than to seem, and to ceaseAgain from his seeming.While ever before mine eyesOne fate, one ensample, lies—Thine, thine, O Oedipus, soreOf God oppressèd—What thing that is human moreDare I call blessèd?[Antistrophe.Straight his archery flewTo the heart of living; he knewJoy and the fulness of power,O Zeus, when the riddling breathWas stayed and the Maid of DeathSlain, and we saw him throughThe death-cloud, a tower!For that he was called my king;Yea, every precious thingWherewith men are honoured, downWe cast before him,And great Thebes brought her crownAnd kneeled to adore him.[Strophe.But now, what man's story is such bitterness to speak?What life hath Delusion so visited, and Pain,And swiftness of Disaster?O great King, our master,How oped the one haven to the slayer and the slain?And the furrows of thy father, did they turn not nor shriek,Did they bear so long silent thy casting of the grain?[Antistrophe.'Tis Time, Time, desireless, hath shown thee what thou art;The long monstrous mating, it is judged and all its race.O child of him that sleepeth,Thy land weepeth, weepeth,Unfathered.... Would God, I had never seen thy face!From thee in great peril fell peace upon my heart,In thee mine eye clouded and the dark is come apace.[AMessengerrushes out from the Palace.Messenger.O ye above this land in honour oldExalted, what a tale shall ye be told,What sights shall see, and tears of horror shed,If still your hearts be true to them that ledYour sires! There runs no river, well I ween,Not Phasis nor great Ister, shall wash cleanThis house of all within that hideth—nay,Nor all that creepeth forth to front the day,Of purposed horror. And in miseryThat woundeth most which men have willed to be.Leader.No lack there was in what we knew beforeOf food for heaviness. What bring'st thou more?Messenger.One thing I bring thee first.... 'Tis quickly said.Jocasta, our anointed queen, is dead.Leader.Unhappy woman! How came death to her?Messenger.By her own hand.... Oh, of what passed in thereYe have been spared the worst. Ye cannot see.Howbeit, with that which still is left in meOf mind and memory, ye shall hear her fate.Like one entranced with passion, through the gateShe passed, the white hands flashing o'er her head,Like blades that tear, and fled, unswerving fled,Toward her old bridal room, and disappearedAnd the doors crashed behind her. But we heardHer voice within, crying to him of old,Her Laïus, long dead; and things untoldOf the old kiss unforgotten, that should bringThe lover's death and leave the loved a thingOf horror, yea, a field beneath the ploughFor sire and son: then wailing bitter-lowAcross that bed of births unreconciled,Husband from husband born and child from child.And, after that, I know not how her deathFound her. For sudden, with a roar of wrath,Burst Oedipus upon us. Then, I ween,We marked no more what passion held the Queen,But him, as in the fury of his stride,"A sword! A sword! And show me here," he cried,"That wife, no wife, that field of bloodstained earthWhere husband, father, sin on sin, had birth,Polluted generations!" While he thusRaged on, some god—for sure 'twas none of us—Showed where she was; and with a shout away,As though some hand had pointed to the prey,He dashed him on the chamber door. The straightDoor-bar of oak, it bent beneath his weight,Shook from its sockets free, and in he burstTo the dark chamber.There we saw her firstHanged, swinging from a noose, like a dead bird.He fell back when he saw her. Then we heardA miserable groan, and straight he foundAnd loosed the strangling knot, and on the groundLaid her.—Ah, then the sight of horror came!The pin of gold, broad-beaten like a flame,He tore from off her breast, and, left and right,Down on the shuddering orbits of his sightDashed it: "Out! Out! Ye never more shall seeMe nor the anguish nor the sins of me.Ye looked on lives whose like earth never bore,Ye knew not those my spirit thirsted for:Therefore be dark for ever!"Like a songHis voice rose, and again, again, the strongAnd stabbing hand fell, and the massacredAnd bleeding eyeballs streamed upon his beard,Wild rain, and gouts of hail amid the rain.Behold affliction, yea, afflictions twainFrom man and woman broken, now made oneIn downfall. All the riches yester sunSaw in this house were rich in verity.What call ye now our riches? Agony,Delusion, Death, Shame, all that eye or earHath ever dreamed of misery, is here.Leader.And now how fares he? Doth the storm abate?Messenger.