The Seven Plays in English Verse Part 72

May these dread G.o.ddesses not close my lips To this one prayer of evil against thee, Thou villain, who, when I have lost mine eyes, Bereavest me of all that I had left To make my darkness light! Therefore I pray, For this thy wrongful act, may He in heaven Whose eye sees all things, Helios, give to thee Slowly to wither in an age like mine!

CR. Men of this land, bear witness to his rage!

OED. They see us both, and are aware that I Repay thee but with words for deeds of wrong.

CR. No longer will I curb my wrath. Though lonely And c.u.mbered by mine age, I will bear off This man!

OED. Me miserable!

CH. How bold thou art, If standing here thou think'st to do this thing!

CR. I do.

CH. Then Athens is to me no city.

CR. Slight men prevail o'er strength in a just cause.

OED. Hear ye his words?

CH. He shall not make them good.

Be witness, Zeus!

CR. Zeus knows more things than thou.

OED. Is not this violence?

CR. Violence you must bear.

CH. Come, chieftain of our land!

Come hither with all speed. They pa.s.s the bound.

_Enter_ THESEUS.

THE. Wherefore that shouting? Daunted by what fear Stayed ye me sacrificing to the G.o.d[2]

Who guards this deme Colonos? Let me know What cause so hastened my reluctant foot.

OED. Dear friend (I know thy voice addressing us), One here hath lately done me cruel wrong.

THE. Who is the wrong-doer, say, and what the deed?

OED. This Creon, whom thou seest, hath torn away Two children that were all in all to me.

THE. Can this be possible?

OED. Thou hear'st the truth.

THE. Then one of you run to the altar-foot Hard by, and haste the people from the rite, Hors.e.m.e.n and footmen at the height of speed To race unto the parting of the roads Where travellers from both gorges wont to meet.

Lest there the maidens pa.s.s beyond our reach And I be worsted by this stranger's might And let him laugh at me. Be swift! Away!

--For him, were I as wroth as he deserves, He should not go unpunished from my hand.

But now he shall be ruled by the same law He thought to enforce. Thou goest not from this ground Till thou hast set these maids in presence here; Since by thine act thou hast disgraced both me And thine own lineage and thy native land, Who with unlicensed inroad hast a.s.sailed An ancient city, that hath still observed Justice and equity, and apart from law Ratifies nothing; and, being here, hast cast Authority to the winds, and made thine own Whate'er thou wouldst, bearing it off perforce,-- Deeming of me forsooth as nothing worth, And of my city as one enslaved to foes Or void of manhood. Not of Thebe's will Come such wild courses. It is not her way To foster men in sin, nor would she praise Thy doing, if she knew that thou hast robbed Me and the G.o.ds, dragging poor suppliant wights From their last refuge at thy will--I would not, Had I perchance set foot within thy land, Even were my cause most righteous, have presumed, Without consent of him who bore chief sway, To seize on any man, but would have known How men should act who tread on foreign soil.

Thou bring'st disgrace on thine own mother state All undeservedly, and the lapse of years Hath left thee aged, but not wise--Again I bid those maids now to be brought with speed, Unless thou would'st be made a sojourner In Athens by compulsion. This I speak Not with my lips alone, but from my will.

CH. Stranger, dost thou perceive? Thy parentage Is owned as n.o.ble, but thine evil deeds Are blazoned visibly.

CR. Great Aegeus' son!

Not as misprising this thy city's strength In arms, or wisdom in debate, I dared This capture, but in simple confidence Thy citizens would not so envy me My blood relations, as to harbour them Against my will,--nor welcome to their hearths A man incestuous and a parricide, The proved defiler of his mother's bed Such was the mount of Ares that I knew, Seat of high wisdom, planted in their soil, That suffers no such lawless runaways To haunt within the borders of your realm.

Relying on that I laid my hands upon This quarry, nor had done so, were it not That bitterly he cursed myself and mine.

That moved me to requital, since even Age Still bears resentment, till the power of death Frees men from anger, as from all annoy.

Being sovereign here thou wilt do thy pleasure. I, Though I have justice on my side, am weak Through being alone. Yet if you meddle with me, Old as I am, you'll find me dangerous.

OED. O boldness void of shame! Whom dost thou think Thy obloquy most harms, this aged head Or thine, who hast thus let pa.s.s thy lips the crimes I have borne unwittingly. So Heaven was pleased To wreak some old offence upon our race.

Since in myself you will find no stain of sin For which such ruinous error 'gainst myself And mine own house might be the recompense.

Tell me, I pray thee, if a word from Heaven Came to my father through the oracle That he should die by his son's hand,--what right Hast thou to fasten that reproach on me, The child not yet begotten of my sire, An unborn nothing, unconceived? Or if, Born as I was to misery, I encountered And killed my father in an angry fray, Nought knowing of what I did or whom I slew, What reason is't to blame the unwitting deed?

And, oh, thou wretch! art not ashamed to force me To speak that of my mother, thine own sister, Which I will speak, for I will not keep silence, Since thou hast been thus impious with thy tongue.

She was my mother, oh, the bitter word!

Though neither knew it, and having borne me, she Became the mother of children to her son, An infamous birth! Yet this I know, thy crime Of speech against us both is voluntary.

But all involuntary was my deed In marriage and is this mine utterance now.

No,--that shall not be called a bosom-sin, Nor shall my name be sullied with the deed, Thy tongue would brand on me, against my sire.

For answer me one question. If to-day, Here, now, one struck at thee a murderous stroke,-- At thee, the righteous person,--wouldst thou ask If such a.s.sailant were thy sire, or strike Forthwith? Methinks, as one who cares to live, You would strike before you questioned of the right, Or reasoned of his kindred whom you slew.

Such was the net that snared me: such the woes Heaven drew me to fulfil. My father's spirit, Came he to life, would not gainsay my word.

But thou, to whom, beneath the garb of right, No matter is too dreadful or too deep For words, so rail'st on me, in such a presence.

Well thou dost flatter the great name of Theseus, And Athens in her glory stablished here, But midst thy fulsome praises thou forgettest How of all lands that yield the immortal G.o.ds Just homage of true piety, this land Is foremost. Yet from hence thou would'st beguile Me, the aged suppliant. Nay, from hence thou would'st drag Myself with violence, and hast reft away My children. Wherefore I conjure these powers, With solemn invocation and appeal, To come and take my part, that thou may'st know What men they are who guard this hallowed realm.

CH. My lord, the stranger deserves well. His fate Is grievous, but the more demands our aid.

THE. Enough of words. The captors and their prey Are hasting;--we, they have wronged, are standing still.

CR. I am powerless here. What dost thou bid me do?

THE. Lead us the way they are gone. I too must be Thine escort, that if hereabout thou hast Our maidens, thou mayest show them to my sight.

But if men flee and bear them, we may spare Superfluous labour. Others hotly urge That business, whom those robbers shall not boast Before their G.o.ds to have 'scaped out of this land.

Come, be our guide! Thou hast and hast not. Fortune Hath seized thee seizing on thy prey. So quickly Pa.s.ses the gain that's got by wrongful guile.

Nay, thou shalt have no helper. Well I wot Thou flew'st not to this pitch of truculent pride Alone, or unsupported by intrigue; But thy bold act hath some confederate here.

This I must look into, nor let great Athens Prove herself weaker than one single man.

Hast caught my drift? Or is my voice as vain Now, as you thought it when you planned this thing?

CR. I will gainsay nought of what thou utterest here.

But once in Thebes, I too shall know my course.

THE. Threaten, but go! Thou, Oedipus, remain In quietness and perfect trust that I, If death do not prevent me, will not rest Till I restore thy children to thy hand.

CHORUS.

Soon shall the wheeling foes I 1 Clash with the din of brazen-throated War.

Would I were there to see them close, Be the onset near or far!

Whether at Daphne's gorge to Phoebus dear, Or by the torch-lit sh.o.r.e Where kind maternal powers for evermore Guard golden mysteries of holy fear To nourish mortal souls Whose voice the seal of silent awe controls Imprinted by the Eumolpid minister.

There, on that sacred way, Shall the divinest head Of royal Theseus, rouser of the fray, And those free maids, in their two squadrons led, Meet in the valorous fight That conquers for the right.

Else, by the snow-capped rock, I 2 Pa.s.sing to westward, they are drawing nigh The tract beyond the pasture high Where Oea feeds her flock.

The riders ride, the rattling chariots flee At racing speed.--'Tis done!