The Seven Plays in English Verse Part 66

OED. And where, then, is the promise thou hast given?

CH. No doom retributive attends the deed That wreaks prevenient wrong.

Deceit, matched with deceit, makes recompense Of evil, not of kindness. Get thee forth!

Desert that seat again, and from this land Unmooring speed thee away, lest on our state Thou bring some further bale!

MONODY.

ANT. O strangers, full of reverent care!

Since ye cannot endure my father here, Aged and blind, Because ye have heard a rumour of the deeds He did unknowingly,--yet, we entreat you.

Strangers, have pity on me, the hapless girl, Who pray for mine own sire and for none else, --Pray, looking in your eyes with eyes not blind.

As if a daughter had appeared to you.

Pleading for mercy to the unfortunate.

We are in your hands as in the hand of G.o.d, Helpless. O then accord the unhoped for boon!

By what is dear to thee, thy veriest own, I pray thee,--chattel or child, or holier name!

Search through the world, thou wilt not find the man Who could resist the leading of a G.o.d.

CH. Daughter of Oedipus, be well a.s.sured We view with pity both thy case and his, But fear of Heavenly wrath confines our speech To that we have already said to you.

OED. What profit lives in fame and fair renown By unsubstantial rumour idly spread?

When Athens is extolled with peerless praise For reverence, and for mercy!--She alone The sufferer's s.h.i.+eld, the exile's comforter!

What have I reaped hereof? Ye have raised me up From yonder seat, and now would drive me forth Fearing a name! For there is nought in me Or deeds of mine to make you fear. My life Hath more of wrong endured than of wrong done, Were it but lawful to disclose to you Wherefore ye dread me,--not my sin but theirs, My mother's and my sire's. I know your thought.

Yet never can ye fasten guilt on me, Who, though I had acted with the clear'st intent, Were guiltless, for my deed requited wrong.

But as it was, all blindly I went forth On that dire road, while they who planned my death Planned it with perfect knowledge. Therefore, sirs, By Heaven I pray you, as ye have bid me rise, Protect your suppliant without fail; and do not In jealous reverence for the blessed G.o.ds Rob them of truest reverence, but know this:-- G.o.d looks upon the righteousness of men And their unrighteousness, nor ever yet Hath one escaped who wrought iniquity.

Take part, then, with the G.o.ds, nor overcloud The golden fame of Athens with dark deeds; But as ye have pledged your faith to shelter me, Defend me and rescue, not rejecting me Through mere abhorrence of my ruined face.

For on a holy mission am I come, Sent with rich blessings for your neighbours here.

And when the head and sovereign of your folk Is present, ye shall learn the truth at full.

Till then, be gracious to me, and not perverse.

CH. Thy meaning needs must strike our hearts with awe, Old wanderer! so weighty are the words That body it forth. Therefore we are content The Lord of Athens shall decide this case.

OED. And where is he who rules this country, sirs?

CH. He keeps his father's citadel. But one Is gone to fetch him, he who brought us. .h.i.ther.

OED. Think you he will consider the blind man, And come in person here to visit him?

CH. Be sure he will,--when he hath heard thy name.

OED. And who will carry that?

CH. 'Tis a long road; But rumour from the lips of wayfarers Flies far and wide, so that he needs must hear; And hearing, never doubt but he will come.

So noised in every land hath been thy name, Old sovereign,--were he sunk in drowsiness, That sound would bring him swiftly to thy side.

OED. Well, may he come to bless his city and me!

When hath not goodness blessed the giver of good?

ANT. O Heavens! What shall I say, what think, my father?

OED. Daughter Antigone, what is it?

ANT. I see A woman coming toward us, mounted well On a fair Sicilian palfrey, and her face With brow-defending hood of Thessaly Is shadowed from the sun. What must I think?

Is it she or no? Can the eye so far deceive?

It is. 'Tis not. Unhappy that I am, I know not.--Yes, 'tis she. For drawing near She greets me with bright glances, and declares Beyond a doubt, Ismene's self is here.

OED. What say'st thou, daughter?

ANT. That I see thy child, My sister. Soon her voice will make thee sure.

_Enter_ ISMENE.

ISMENE. Father and sister!--names for ever dear!

Hard hath it been to find you, yea, and hard I feel it now to look on you for grief.

OED. Child, art thou here?

ISM. Father! O sight of pain!

OED. Offspring and sister!

ISM. Woe for thy dark fate!

OED. Hast thou come, daughter?

ISM. On a troublous way.

OED. Touch me, my child!

ISM. I give a hand to both.

OED. To her and me?

ISM. Three linked in one sad knot.

OED. Child, wherefore art thou come?

ISM. In care for thee.

OED. Because you missed me?

ISM. Ay, and to bring thee tidings, With the only slave whom I could trust.

OED. And they, Thy brethren, what of them? Were they not there To take this journey for their father's good?

ISM. Ask not of them. Dire deeds are theirs to day.

OED. How in all points their life obeys the law Of Egypt, where the men keep house and weave Sitting within doors, while the wives abroad Provide with ceaseless toil the means of life.

So in your case, my daughters, they who should Have ta'en this burden on them, bide at home Like maidens, while ye take their place, and lighten My miseries by your toil. Antigone, E'er since her childhood ended, and her frame Was firmly knit, with ceaseless ministry Still tends upon the old man's wandering, Oft in the forest ranging up and down Fasting and barefoot through the burning heat Or pelting rain, nor thinks, unhappy maid, Of home or comfort, so her father's need Be satisfied. And thou, that camest before, Eluding the Cadmeans, and didst tell me What words Apollo had p.r.o.nounced on me.

And when they banished me, stood'st firm to s.h.i.+eld me, What news, Ismene, bring'st thou to thy sire To day? What mission sped thee forth? I know Thou com'st not idly, but with fears for me.