The Seven Plays in English Verse Part 25

CH. 3. From both alike.

JO. How caused?

CH. 4. Enough for me, Amply enough it seems, when our poor land Is vexed already, not to wake what sleeps.

OED. (_to_ LEADER OF CH.).

See where thine honest zeal hath landed thee, Bating my wrath, and blunting my desire!

CH. 5. My prince, I say it again: II 2 a.s.sure thee, I were lost to sense, Infatuate, void of wholesome thought, Could I be tempted now To loose my faith from thee, Who, when the land I love Laboured beneath a wildering load, Didst speed her forth anew with favouring gale.

Now, too, if but thou may'st, be her good guide.

JO. Let not thy queen be left in ignorance What cause thou hadst to lift thy wrath so high.

OED. I'll tell thee, lady, for I honour thee More than these citizens. 'Twas Creon there, And his inveterate treason against me.

JO. Accuse him, so you make the quarrel plain.

OED. He saith I am the murderer of the King.

JO. Speaks he from hearsay, or as one who knows?

OED. He keeps his own lips free: but hath suborned A rascal soothsayer to this villany.

JO. Hearken to me, and set your heart at rest On that you speak of, while I make you learn No mortal thing is touched by soothsaying.

Of that I'll give thee warrant brief and plain.

Word came to Laius once, I will not say From Phoebus' self, but from his ministers, The King should be destroyed by his own son, If son were born to him from me. What followed?

Laius was slain, by robbers from abroad, Saith Rumour, in a cross-way! But the child Lived not three days, ere by my husband's hand His feet were locked, and he was cast and left By messengers on the waste mountain wold.

So Phoebus neither brought upon the boy His father's murder, nor on Laius The thing he greatly feared, death by his son.

Such issue came of prophesying words.

Therefore regard them not. G.o.d can himself With ease bring forth what for his ends he needs.

OED. What strange emotions overcloud my soul, Stirred to her depths on hearing this thy tale!

JO. What sudden change is this? What cares oppress thee?

OED. Methought I heard thee say, King Laius Was at a cross-road overpowered and slain?

JO. So ran the talk that yet is current here.

OED. Where was the scene of this unhappy blow?

JO. Phocis the land is named. The parted ways Meet in one point from Dauha and from Delphi.

OED. And since the event how much of time hath flown?

JO. 'Twas just ere you appeared with prospering speed And took the kingdom, that the tidings came.

OED. What are thy purposes against me, Zeus?

JO. Why broods thy mind upon such thoughts, my king?

OED. Nay, ask me not! But tell me first what height Had Laius, and what grace of manly prime?

JO. Tall, with dark locks just sprinkled o'er with grey: In shape and bearing much resembling thee.

OED. O heavy fate! How all unknowingly I laid that dreadful curse on my own head!

JO. How?

I tremble as I gaze on thee, my king!

OED. The fear appals me that the seer can see.

Tell one thing more, to make it doubly clear!

JO. I am lothe to speak, but, when you ask, I will.

OED. Had he scant following, or, as princes use, Full numbers of a well-appointed train?

JO. There were but five in all: a herald one; And Laius travelled in the only car.

OED. Woe! woe! 'Tis clear as daylight. Who was he That brought you this dire message, O my queen?

JO. A home-slave, who alone returned alive.

OED. And is he now at hand within the house?

JO. No, truly. When he came from yonder scene And found thee king in room of Laius murdered, He touched my hand, and made his instant prayer That I would send him to o'erlook the flocks And rural pastures, so to live as far As might be from the very thought of Thebes.

I granted his desire. No servant ever More richly merited such boon than he.

OED. Can he be brought again immediately?

JO. Indeed he can. But why desire it so?

OED. Words have by me been uttered, O my queen, That give me too much cause to wish him here.

JO. Then come he shall. But I may surely claim To hear what in thy state goes heavily.

OED. Thou shalt not lose thy rights in such an hour, When I am harrowed thus with doubt and fear.

To whom more worthy should I tell my grief?

--My father was Corinthian Polybus, My mother, Dorian Merope.--I lived A prince among that people, till a chance Encountered me, worth wonder, but, though strange, Not worth the anxious thought it waked in me.

For at a feasting once over the wine One deep in liquor called aloud to me, 'Hail, thou false foundling of a foster-sire!'

That day with pain I held my pa.s.sion down; But early on the morrow I came near And questioned both my parents, who were fierce In anger at the man who broached this word.

For their part I was satisfied, but still It galled me, for the rumour would not die.

Eluding then my parents I made way To Delphi, where, as touching my desire, Phoebus denied me; but brake forth instead With other oracles of misery And horrible misfortune, how that I Must know my mother's shame, and cause to appear A birth intolerable in human view, And do to death the author of my life.

I fled forth at the word, conjecturing now Corinthia's region by the stars of heaven, And wandered, where I never might behold Those dreadful prophecies fulfilled on me.

So travelling on, I came even to the place Where, as thou tell'st, the King of Thebe fell.

And, O my wife, I will hide nought from thee.

When I drew near the cross-road of your tale, A herald, and a man upon a car, Like your description, there encountered me.

And he who led the car, and he himself The greybeard, sought to thrust me from the path.