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THE 
 
 TRAGEDIES OF SOPHOCLES, 
 
 TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE. 
 
 BY THE REV. THOMAS DALE, B.A. 
 
 OF CORPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 J. M. RICHARDSON, CORNHILL. 
 
 1824. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
TO THE 
 
 REV. ARTHUR WILLIAM TROLLOPE, D.D. 
 
 HEAD MASTER OF CHRIST’S HOSPITAL, 
 
 ®f)i0 ^Translation 
 
 OF THE 
 
 TRAGEDIES OF SOPHOCLES; 
 
 AS A SINCERE, THOUGH INADEQUATE, ACKNOWLEDGEMENT 
 OF EARLY AND ESSENTIAL OBLIGATIONS, 
 
 IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED 
 
 BY HIS GRATEFUL PUPIL 
 
 AND 
 
 OBEDIENT SERVANT, 
 
 THOMAS DALE. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 \ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 To trace the gradual progress of any art or 
 science, from the infancy of its institution to 
 the perfection of its maturity ; — to behold the 
 rude and shapeless materials, passing through 
 successive stages of improvement, till, like the 
 rough marble under the hands of the experi- 
 enced sculptor, they are polished into beauty 
 and moulded into symmetry ; — is one of the 
 most interesting speculations that can occupy 
 the reflecting mind. This remark applies with 
 peculiar force to the Greek Tragic Drama; 
 which, though mean almost beyond credibility 
 
VI 11 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 in its origin, attained, after the lapse of less 
 than a century, the highest degree of splendour 
 and magnificence. Indeed, if we may judge 
 either from the avidity with which dramatic 
 spectacles were anticipated by the Athenians — 
 or from the immense expense which attended 
 their celebration— it may fearlessly be pro- 
 nounced, that in Tragedy* as well as in Paint- 
 ing, Sculpture, and Music, the moderns were 
 far excelled by their predecessors of antiquity. 
 
 Two sources are assigned for the origin of 
 the Greek drama. By some it is referred back 
 to the Rhapsodists, or wandering bards, who 
 were accustomed, in very remote ages, to travel 
 from city to city, not only reciting their own 
 compositions, but accompanying the recitation 
 with correspondent gestures. Others, with 
 greater probability, ascribe it to the festivals 
 of Bacchus, at which, particularly in the 
 villages, certain hymns were chanted in ho- 
 nour of the God. In these the authors were 
 accustomed to indulge in the keenest personal 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 IX 
 
 invective against the wealthy and the covetous ; 
 and their compositions, thus flattering the de- 
 mocratic, and, if we may be allowed the ex- 
 pression, the levelling spirit of the Athenian 
 populace, were received with general applause. 
 In process of time, these hymns, which were, 
 at first, only an adventitious appendage, be- 
 came an integral part of the ceremony ; and, 
 for the sake of exciting competition, a goat 
 (rpdyog) was awarded as a prize to the com- 
 poser of the best song («<5V), whence arose the 
 name, as well as the art, of Tragedy. 
 
 These hymns, however, did not long conti- 
 nue to be simply lyrical. Their wild and un- 
 connected strains were gradually reduced to 
 some degree of harmony and order ; a regular 
 narrative of the exploits of the God was in- 
 troduced ; and even this narrative was soon 
 varied by the occasional substitution of an in- 
 terlocutory personage. The intent of this new 
 performer was, by diverting the attention of 
 the audience from the immediate subject of 
 
X 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the recitation, to keep awake their interest, 
 and afford, at the same time, some interval of 
 relief to the singer. It was at this era of the 
 dramatic art, that Thespis, a native of a small 
 borough in Attica, named Icaria, (cir. 540 
 A.C.) gave the first distinguishing feature to 
 Tragedy, by the introduction of an actor whose 
 office it should be to personate some particular 
 character; the interlocutor before-mentioned 
 being merely a kind of low jester or buffoon. 
 By this means, the Chorus became subordinate 
 to the actor, instead of the actor to the Chorus. 
 As yet, however, the only stage was a tempo- 
 rary scaffold, erected on the cart of Thespis ; 
 and the only disguise of the actor or actors 
 was the lees of wine, with which their faces 
 were besmeared. 
 
 During the ensuing half century, little or 
 no improvement appears to have been effected 
 in the composition and exhibition of dramatic 
 spectacles. The names,— and scarcely any 
 thing beyond the names, —of some Tragedians 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 xi 
 
 are recorded, among whom we may particu- 
 larize Phrynichus. He changed the dithyram- 
 bics into a species of verse more suitable to 
 Tragedy, and made a few other alterations ; 
 none, however, of sufficient importance to in- 
 validate the claim of /Eschylus to the honour- 
 able appellation of 6 Father of the Drama/ 
 
 This great man was born of an illustrious 
 family, in or about the sixty-third Olympiad, 
 528 B.C. We are not informed of the circum- 
 stances that first directed his attention to the 
 dramatic art ; but it is recorded, that, before 
 he attained his thirtieth year, he had both 
 conceived and executed the arduous enterprize 
 of redeeming Tragedy from the degraded state 
 in which he found it, and exalting it to one of 
 the highest pinnacles in the temple of literary 
 fame. He first introduced a second and after- 
 wards a third actor, thus varying the monotony 
 of the former representations by dialogue ; he 
 adorned the stage with suitable scenery, and 
 arrayed the performers in appropriate habits. 
 
XU 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Iii compliance with popular tradition, which 
 assigned to the heroes of the 6 olden time ' a 
 loftier stature and more commanding aspect, 
 he elevated his actors by the buskin, disguised 
 them in the mask, and invested them with the 
 insignia of royalty. He increased the number 
 and prescribed the office of the Chorus ; pro- 
 cured the erection of a spacious and commo- 
 dious theatre, and reduced the drama nearly 
 to that form in which it has descended to 
 modern times. 
 
 But Sophocles, the son of Sophilus, an 
 Athenian, the date of whose birth is fixed at 
 about thirty years posterior to that of Aeschy- 
 lus, was destined one day to rival, if not to 
 eclipse, this great luminary. Endowed by 
 nature with superior personal attractions, 
 which were heightened and improved by the 
 judicious management of his education, he 
 became, in very early life, the object of po- 
 pular attention and admiration. Among a 
 chorus of chosen youths, who were celebrating 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 xm 
 
 around a trophy the battle of Salamis, he 
 was pre-eminently conspicuous both for the 
 elegance of his person, and the melody of his 
 lyre. His skill in music seems to have pre- 
 saged the harmony of those beautiful compo- 
 sitions which he was one day to produce ; and 
 his dexterity in the exercises of the Palaestra 
 might well qualify him for that office, which 
 necessarily devolved on all the Grecian drama- 
 tists of those ages — to regulate the movements 
 of the person, and direct the modulations of 
 the voice, in their respective actors. He pur- 
 sued, for a season, the track of lyric poetry ; 
 but the bent of his genius directing him to a 
 nobler species of composition, he boldly en- 
 tered into competition with iEschylus, then in 
 exclusive possession of the stage, and was de- 
 clared victor by a plurality of voices in his 
 very first attempt, when he was not more than 
 twenty-five years of age. It is said, though 
 there are substantial reasons for discrediting the 
 account, that iEschylus, fired with indignation 
 
XIV 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 at the preference thus given to his rival, with- 
 drew himself into Sicily. 
 
 The improvements introduced by Sophocles 
 into the drama, consisted principally in the 
 superior dexterity with which he formed the 
 plots of his tragedies, and the relation which he 
 made the Chorus bear to the main action of the 
 piece. The plots of iEschylus were extremely 
 rude and inartificial ; often at war with nature, 
 and sometimes scarcely reconcilable with pos- 
 sibility. Sophocles studied nature. If he was 
 not so conversant as his predecessor with the 
 imaginary world ; if he did not invest with 
 such superhuman attributes the heroes whom 
 a superstitious veneration had exalted into 
 Gods ; at least he approached nearer to the 
 true standard of mortality, and raised his cha- 
 racters to tl\at precise elevation, where they 
 would neither be too lofty to excite sympathy, 
 nor so familiar as to incur contempt. He 
 never violates probability to produce effect ; 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 xv 
 
 and if his heroes are less imposing and sublime, 
 they are, at the same time, more interesting 
 and natural than those of iEschylus. The part, 
 also, which he causes the Chorus to sustain in 
 the action imparts a peculiar finish to the 
 piece. In short, whoever would contemplate 
 the Greek drama in the meridian of its perfec- 
 tion must contemplate it in the Tragedies of 
 Sophocles. 
 
 For, whatever be the merits of Euripides, 
 (who was born about fourteen years after Sopho- 
 cles, and commenced his theatrical career at the 
 early age of eighteen,) however high be his repu- 
 tation for pathos and purity of moral sentiment, 
 he can hardly be said to have contributed, in 
 any degree, towards the perfection of the dra- 
 ma. His method of opening his plays by a 
 species of Prologue, in which one of the prin- 
 cipal characters tells the audience what may be 
 very proper for them to know, but is not quite 
 so proper for him or her to communicate, can- 
 not be called an improvement ; in fact, generally 
 
XVI 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 speaking, nothing can be more unnatural and 
 extravagant. His plots are sometimes even 
 more barren and improbable than those of 
 iEschylus ; his catastrophe occasionally feeble, 
 and not seldom ridiculous. He is, it must 
 be acknowledged, full of solemn and senten- 
 tious maxims, but even these are frequently 
 introduced in so awkward a manner, that their 
 effect is materially invalidated, if not totally 
 lost; while, by Sophocles, though of rarer 
 occurrence, they are invariably displayed to 
 the greatest advantage. Euripides interrupts 
 the progress of his action, for the sole pur- 
 pose of obtruding a prolix and unseasonable 
 moral dissertation. Sophocles, with better 
 judgement and more striking effect, deduces 
 the moral from the event. In short, re- 
 specting the rival merits of these three great 
 poets, we can hardly venture to differ from 
 Aristophanes, who, in compliance with the 
 common sentiment of the people, assigned the 
 first place to ALschylus, the second to Sopho- 
 cles, and the last to Euripides ; though we 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 x\n 
 
 may, perhaps, be pardoned for suggesting a 
 doubt whether iEschylus would have been 
 considered the greatest, had he not been the 
 first. 
 
 It has already been intimated by what cir- 
 cumstances the Chorus ; — a branch of the 
 Grecian drama, which the English reader will 
 find some difficulty in tolerating assumed so 
 conspicuous a part. It is a relic, and, in fact, 
 the sole surviving relic of the original poems. 
 The complement of the Chorus varied at differ- 
 ent periods. On one occasion iEschylus intro- 
 duced no less than fifty upon the stage; but 
 by a subsequent edict, the Chorus was limited 
 to twelve; to which number, at the instance of 
 Sophocles, were afterwards added three more. 
 These fifteen persons were arranged five in 
 depth and three in front; their motions were 
 regulated by a flute-player, and their senti- 
 ments were communicated, on all occasions, 
 by their leader, denominated Coryphaeus or 
 Choregus. Hence arises that apparent incon- 
 
 b 
 
XV III 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 gruity, which will strike the English reader, 
 that the Chorus are frequently addressed, 
 and return their answer in the singular num- 
 ber. The first instance of this seeming ano- 
 maly occurs in the (Edipus Tyrannus, p. 29 , 
 where the Choregus, for himself and his asso- 
 ciates, disclaims all participation in the death 
 of Lai us — 
 
 Mighty King! 
 
 So will I speak, as in thy curse involved ; 
 
 I slew him not — 
 
 While the choral odes were singing, the Chorus 
 performed certain evolutions, marching with a 
 kind of military step, and in the order above 
 mentioned, first from right to left, whence the 
 former division of the ode itself is called 
 “ Strophe ; 93 and then from left to right, 
 whence the corresponding division is called 
 “ Antistrophe/' During the “ Epode,” they 
 stood still in the middle of the stage, on which 
 they remained during the whole time of the 
 representation, except when their absence was 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 xix 
 
 indispensably required; as in the Ajax, where 
 the hero falls upon his sword, which occurrence 
 could not take place in the presence of any 
 witnesses. On the whole, however the Chorus 
 may be at variance with the notions of the 
 moderns, there can be no doubt that it was 
 rather an ornament than an incumbrance to 
 the ancient stage. It was generally the vehicle 
 of those beautiful moral sentiments in which 
 the Tragic poets delighted, and which justly 
 elevated the dramatic performances of Greece 
 to the dignity of a religious festival. 1 
 
 It being the principal, or rather the exclu- 
 sive design of these introductory remarks, to 
 
 1 The Chorus, Francklin observes, as introduced by 
 Sophocles, is composed of such persons as might naturally 
 be supposed present on the occasion ; whose situations 
 might so far interest them in the events of the Fable, as to 
 render their presence useful and necessary ; and yet not so 
 deeply concerned as to render them incapable of offering- 
 useful reflections and giving advice, an office for which 
 they were particularly appointed. 
 
 b 2 
 
XX 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 clear up such difficulties as may present them- 
 selves to a reader who is unacquainted with 
 the peculiar customs of the Ancients, we shall 
 not consider it necessary to enter into a minute 
 examination of the Greek Theatres. A full 
 and satisfactory account of these, and all par- 
 ticulars connected with them, may be found 
 either in Francklin's 66 Dissertation on Ancient 
 Tragedy/' or in the Travels of Anacharsis. 
 We shall confine ourselves to a few concise 
 remarks respecting the division and recitation 
 of the plays, with a brief explanation of the 
 “ Unities." 
 
 The division into five acts; though, as we 
 learn from the canon of Horace, 
 
 Neve minor, neu sit quinto productior actu, 
 
 it was prevalent among the Latins, appears to 
 have been altogether unknown to the Greeks. 
 The action was uniform and uninterrupted 
 from the commencement to the catastrophe. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 xxi 
 
 This is evident, as well from the constant con- 
 tinuance of the Chorus upon the stage, as from 
 the difficulty of dividing any of the remaining 
 Greek dramas into five acts, which shall bear 
 any reasonable proportion to one another. The 
 more natural division, and that which is sane- 
 
 v 
 
 tioned by the authority of Aristotle, is into 
 Prologue, which extends from the opening of 
 the drama to the first interlude or chorus ; 
 Episode, which includes all between the first 
 and last interludes ; Exode, which comprises 
 the remainder from the last interlude to the 
 close. Considering, however, the different ac- 
 ceptation in which the word prologue is now 
 used, it will perhaps be more intelligible to an 
 English reader, if the whole drama be re- 
 garded as one long piece of a single act. 
 
 It cannot be decidedly pronounced whether 
 the T upfioi (which, in the following translation, 
 are rendered by the usual metre of tragedy, 
 blank heroic verse,) were accompanied with 
 music or not. The former supposition seems 
 
XXII 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the more probable, since music, according to 
 Aristotle, was one of the essential parts of 
 Tragedy. The recitation may possibly have 
 been a kind of slow and solemn chant; — and 
 wherever it is observed that sudden and abrupt 
 transitions occur in the metre, a question or 
 answer being frequently conveyed in a single 
 word, there it may be supposed that the music 
 was suddenly changed. It is certain that the 
 Greek music possessed, in a peculiar degree, 
 the power of expressing the passions; love, 
 hatred, joy, sorrow, hope, fear, frenzy, jealousy, 
 despair, were alternately depicted by its magic 
 influence ; and that too in such perfection, that 
 the effect of even dramatic illusion would not 
 for an instant be impeded or impaired. 
 
 It will appear somewhat singular, that, with 
 very little exception, the entire action of the 
 play is supposed to pass in one and the same 
 place : in the (Edipus Tyrannus, the Antigone, 
 the Trachiniae, and the Electra, before the ves- 
 tibule o( a palace ; in the QEdipus Coloneus, on 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 XXlll 
 
 the verge of a grove dedicated to the Furies ; 
 in the Philoctetes, near a cave on the coast of 
 Lemnos. This arises from the extreme rigour 
 of the rules which the ancient dramatists pre- 
 scribed to themselves, respecting what are 
 called the Unities. These Unities are three- 
 fold,- — of Action, of Time, and of Place. We 
 may define the Unity of Action to be, a con- 
 centration of the interest into one or two prin- 
 cipal characters, with such a continuity of it 
 through the whole drama, that the spectators' 
 thoughts may be exclusively directed to the 
 developement of one catastrophe. Thus the 
 detection of the guilt of CEdipus in one tragedy 
 and his death in another; the execution of 
 Creon's tyrannical edict on the generous and 
 devoted Antigone; the destruction of Hercules 
 by the malignant subtilty of the Centaur; the 
 liberation of Philoctetes from his captivity in 
 Lemnos ; and the triumph of Electra and 
 Orestes over the murderers of their father ; — 
 these are the points on which our attention is 
 riveted from the first ; and, in the tendency of 
 
XXIV 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 every incident to produce the anticipated result, 
 the Unity of Action is exemplified. The only 
 instance in which Sophocles has violated it 
 appears in the Ajax, where the action is con- 
 tinued after the death of the hero. This, how- 
 ever, may be accounted for by the peculiarity 
 of the heathen superstition respecting the in- 
 terment of the dead. The Unity of Time 
 requires that the whole action should be com- 
 prised within the space between the rising and 
 the setting of the sun. This rule Sophocles 
 has disregarded in his Trachiniae, where the 
 voyage to Euboea and back is performed 
 during the representation, even in the short 
 interval while the Chorus is singing an ode. 
 The Unity of Place, as we have already inti- 
 mated, confines the action to a single place; 
 the exception to which rule occurs also in the 
 Ajax, where indeed the nature of the action 
 requires it, as the Chorus separates into tw r o 
 parties, each headed by a leader, in search of 
 Ajax. It is, nevertheless, possible that the 
 scene here may open, and discover Ajax be- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 xxv 
 
 hind. — The observance of these rules, it will 
 readily be seen, must have been an oppressive 
 and almost intolerable restraint on the “ free 
 flights” of genius; yet it is a circumstance 
 highly creditable to Sophocles, that while he 
 is more attentive to the Unities than either of 
 his rival dramatists, his plots are more con- 
 formable to probability, — his incidents more 
 consistent with the tenor of real life. 
 
 The Greeks had a great aversion to the in- 
 troduction of many characters upon the stage 
 at the same time. The general restriction in 
 this respect, — we are not prepared to say that it 
 may not have been violated in particular in- 
 stances, — seems to have been, that there should 
 not be more than three 4 actors, beside the Cho- 
 rus, actually engaged in the dialogue ; and that, 
 if the appearance of a greater number on the 
 
 2 Nec quarta loqui peronsa laboret. — Hor. Ars. Poet. 
 192 . 
 
XXVI 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 stage be absolutely indispensable, they should 
 be merely “ Mutae Personae/' taking no part 
 in the action. Such are Eurysaces in the 
 Ajax, and Pylades in the Electra. It is evi- 
 dently one of the principal reasons for this 
 arrangement, that the favourite actor frequently 
 supported, in the representation, more than one 
 character. Thus, in the CEdipus Tyrannus, 
 the same actor might have performed Creon 
 and the Corinthian, who never appear together; 
 in the Ajax, Agamemnon and Menelaus ; — by 
 only changing the masks. The necessity for the 
 use of masks will be doubly apparent, when it 
 is remembered that the Greeks never admitted 
 women on the stage; though it must seem 
 wonderful how male performers could success- 
 fully imitate that voice — 
 
 Ever soft, 
 
 Gentle, and low; an excellent thing in woman. — 
 
 But it is time that we return to Sophocles. 
 
 We have already seen that Sophocles com- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 XXV11 
 
 menced his poetical career by a victory over 
 iEschylus. He pursued it with distinguished, 
 though not invariable success, and, if one ac- 
 count be credited, expired in the very arms of 
 triumph. Though the number of his compo- 
 sitions, to which the prize was awarded, is not 
 stated to be the same by all authors, it is yet 
 generally admitted, that he was more success- 
 ful in proportion than either of his competi- 
 tors. He is said to have produced on the 
 whole one hundred and twenty tragedies, 
 eighteen of which, or, according to others, 
 twenty-four, were honoured with the palm; 
 while but thirteen out of the hundred trage- 
 dies of iEschylus were equally fortunate, and 
 five only out of the eighty dramas which are 
 attributed to Euripides. 
 
 It is not, however, as a Poet alone that 
 Sophocles is illustrious in the annals of his 
 country; he was scarcely less eminent as a 
 warrior. He was the companion in arms of 
 Thucydides and of Pericles, with whom he 
 
XXV111 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 was associated in reducing to obedience the 
 island of Samos. It is affirmed, that he was 
 afterwards complimented with the government 
 of this new conquest on the representation of 
 his Antigone. — Sophocles was the only one of 
 the three great Tragedians, who succeeded in 
 preserving the attachment of a people so cha- 
 racteristically fickle as the Athenians. iEschy- 
 lus and Euripides both died in exile, while 
 Sophocles, in full enjoyment of the love of his 
 fellow-citizens, and with unabated poetical 
 fervour, survived in the bosom of his country 
 to an extreme old age. The only bitter ingre- 
 dient which mingled in his overflowing cup of 
 happiness was the ingratitude of his children, 
 who accused him before the magistrates of 
 being incompetent, by reason of the decay of 
 his faculties, to the management of his own 
 affairs. This accusation he triumphantly re- 
 futed by reading to the judges his CEdipus at 
 Colonos, one of the most interesting of his 
 productions, and full of that calm and gentle 
 beauty which might be expected from his age 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 xxix 
 
 and habits. The 3 marvellous incidents which 
 are related by Plutarch, Cicero, and others, 
 however unworthy of credit or repetition, are 
 at least sufficient to prove that Sophocles, on 
 account of the excellence of his character, was 
 considered the peculiar favourite of the Gods. 
 And as this great man had been fortunate in 
 his life, so was he happy in his death; he had 
 witnessed the glories of his country in the 
 zenith of her grandeur, but he was spared the 
 bitter pang of beholding her degradation. He 
 expired but a short time before Athens was 
 taken by Lysander, choked, as some relate, by 
 a grapestone, or overpowered, according to 
 others, by excess of joy on having obtained the 
 prize. This latter account we are inclined to 
 question, because his rivals Aeschylus and 
 
 3 Plutarch mentions that the God iEsculapius dwelt 
 with Sophocles ; and Cicero relates, that a goblet having 
 been stolen from the temple of Hercules, the thief was 
 made known to the poet in a vision of the night, which was 
 thrice repeated, till the booty was restored. 
 
XXX 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Euripides were already deceased, and had left 
 behind them no antagonist over whom Sopho- 
 cles could be honoured by a triumph. So high 
 was the estimation in which this great man 
 was held throughout Greece, that even the 
 rough and perfidious Lysander intermitted for 
 a short period the siege of Athens, that he 
 might afford her citizens an opportunity of 
 celebrating the obsequies of the last and most 
 venerated of their bards. 
 
 The most popular poetical translations of 
 Sophocles are those of Francklin and of Potter. 
 Both are possessed of merit, though in a very 
 different degree. The former translation, which 
 appeared in 1759, is in many parts extremely 
 loose and inaccurate. The pathetic simplicity 
 of the original degenerates, in the translation, 
 into a rude and insipid familiarity; nor does 
 the translator seem to be aware, that a very 
 literal rendering may be a very incorrect one. 
 In the Choral Odes, Dr. Francklin has been 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 xxxi 
 
 particularly unfortunate. Nevertheless, his 
 work is entitled to considerable praise, as 
 being the first successful attempt to clothe 
 Sophocles “ in an English habit/' and thus 
 recommend him to the perusal of those who 
 were unacquainted with the language of the 
 original. The notes, it may be added, convey 
 much valuable information. 
 
 The translation of Potter is highly finished 
 and correct, and he may justly be said, in re- 
 ference to his great original, to have been 
 
 “ True to his sense, but truer to his fame.” 
 
 It is in those very points, where Dr. Francklin 
 had most conspicuously failed, that Potter 
 most decidedly excels. His Choral Odes are 
 distinguished by a judicious adaptation of 
 metre, and a close adherence to the sense of 
 the original; nor does he ever deviate from the 
 dignified tone of Tragedy. He is simple, with- 
 out being familiar; faithful, without being 
 
XXXll 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 insipid. He may perhaps be occasionally con- 
 sidered deficient in spirit and animation ; but 
 if he rarely soars, at least he never sinks. In 
 short, it may be pronounced, — and there can be 
 no higher praise, — that the Translator is not 
 unworthy of the Author. 
 
 The reasons which prompted this new trans- 
 lation, and the particulars in which it professes 
 to differ from those which have preceded it, 
 have already been submitted to the Public in a 
 Prospectus; and, judging from the number and 
 respectability of the Subscribers, it is presumed 
 that they have not been unsatisfactory. The 
 main object was there stated to be, “ to render 
 the diversified metres of the original by mea- 
 sures as nearly corresponding as the genius of 
 our language will permit/' How far this 
 object has been accomplished, it will remain 
 for the Public to decide. 
 
 Of the Notes which are appended to the pre- 
 
INTRODUCTION. xxxiii 
 
 sent Translation, it may be necessary to state, 
 that they are designed principally for the in- 
 formation of the English reader. The greater 
 part of them are borrowed from various authors ; 4 
 and wherever a distinct acknowledgement has 
 been accidentally omitted, it is hoped that this 
 general recognition will redeem the Translator 
 from the imputation of attempting to profit by 
 the labours of others, without confessing his 
 obligations. The few which are original have 
 no pretensions to depth of erudition or acute- 
 ness of conjecture; they are merely intended 
 as illustrative or explanatory ; and their brevity 
 will, it is trusted, be excused, by a considera- 
 tion of the facility with which they might have 
 been multiplied and enlarged. 
 
 This Translation, originally undertaken merely 
 
 4 The edition which has been taken for the basis of the 
 present W ork is that of Erfurdt ; though the text and an- 
 notations of Brunck, Lobeck, and other Commentators 
 have been diligently considered and compared. 
 
 c 
 
XXXIV 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 as an exercise for study in earlier days, was 
 commenced and carried forward in the quiet 
 seclusion of a College ; but, after having been 
 abandoned for reasons which it is unnecessary 
 to state, was resumed and completed in the 
 few brief intervals which could be snatched from 
 the avocations of a laborious profession. Could 
 the difficulties have been foreseen, which have 
 since obstructed its progress, it is probable that 
 the work would never have been presented 
 to the Public. But the highly respectable list 
 of Subscribers at once invited and encouraged 
 the best exertions of the Translator to redeem 
 his pledge ; and, for this purpose, he has 
 spared no pains in revising and correcting his 
 first sketch, and endeavouring to express the 
 sense of the original as closely as the idiom of 
 the English language will allow. The time 
 which has been devoted to the prosecution of 
 his task has passed pleasantly, and, he would 
 gladly persuade himself, not unprofitably ; for 
 it is assuredly matter of more than mere curi- 
 osity to observe, what opinions were entertain- 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 XXXV 
 
 ed by the most enlightened people upon earth 
 on the great subjects of Religion and Morality, 
 centuries before the 6 day-spring from on high" 
 arose with the Gospel. If the polished Athe- 
 nians are found to have mixed the most absurd 
 puerilities with their civil and religious solem- 
 nities, and occasionally to have combined pure 
 and philosophical principles of morals with the 
 most impure and inconsistent system of Poly- 
 theism ; this consideration ought not only to 
 excite our gratitude, for the transcendent advan- 
 tages which we enjoy, but to awaken humility, 
 when we reflect how grossly we have perverted, 
 or how negligently improved them. And he 
 who thus compares the heathen code of mo- 
 rals with the divine institutes of Christianity 
 will, we venture to predict, rise with no incon- 
 siderable benefit from the perusal of the “ Tra- 
 gedies of Sophocles.” 
 
. 
 
 
 
(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 B 
 
(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 When Lams, King of Thebes, upon his marriage 
 with Jocasta, implored the Gods to bless their 
 union with a numerous and happy offspring, it 
 was replied by the oracle, that Jupiter, incensed 
 by the crimes of his ancestors, had assigned to 
 him an only son, by whose hand the Fates had 
 decreed that he should one day perish. The King, 
 appalled by this inauspicious response, formed a 
 solemn resolution never to approach Jocasta. In 
 the reckless hardihood of intoxication, this resolu- 
 tion was disregarded or forgotten, and Jocasta 
 became the mother of a son, predestined, ere his 
 birth, to be the murderer of his father. 
 
 b 2 
 
4 
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Though deterred by the natural yearnings of 
 maternal tenderness from executing in its full ex- 
 tent the mandate of Laius, who had enjoined her 
 to destroy the infant as soon as it was born, the 
 Queen, nevertheless, delivered it to a confidential 
 domestic, with a charge to expose it upon the moun- 
 tains. The slave, in obedience to this cruel and 
 unnatural command, bored the infant’s feet, and 
 suspended it by the heels from a tree in the wild 
 and unfrequented forests of Cithmron. In this 
 condition the child was found by one of the shepherds 
 of Polybus, King of Corinth, who, moved with com- 
 passion, unbound the babe, carried it to Corinth, 
 and presented it to the King, his master. Peri- 
 bcea, the wife of Polybus, prevailed upon her 
 husband, as they were childless, to adopt the 
 infant ; who being, accordingly, received into the 
 palace, was educated with the utmost care and 
 tenderness, as the son of Polybus and Peribcea, and 
 the destined inheritor of the crown of Corinth. 
 
 It is unnecessary, even for the information of 
 the English reader, to pursue the narrative beyond 
 this point, since all the subsequent events of the 
 life of (Edipus are incidentally developed by him- 
 
(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 5 
 
 self in the progress of the drama. Suffice it, 
 therefore, to premise, that, at the period from 
 which the action commences, CEdipus is supposed 
 to have swayed the sceptre of Thebes for many 
 years, loving his people, and not less beloved by 
 them, happy in an affectionate consort, a flourishing 
 race of children, a loyal and devoted friend. But 
 a dark and lowering cloud has begun to overcast 
 this hitherto calm and unclouded sky : Thebes is 
 visited by a pestilential disorder, universally ascribed 
 to the anger of the Gods ; though the cause of 
 their indignation is enveloped in a mysterious and 
 total obscurity. The baleful effects of this penal 
 visitation are most pathetically described in the 
 opening scene. Henceforth, the history of QEdi- 
 pus proceeds collaterally with the business of the 
 piece. 
 
 This tragedy has been honoured with the con- 
 current approbation of the most acute and judici- 
 ous critics of every age : it was adopted b}^ Aris- 
 totle as a perfect model of dramatic excellence, 
 and few of the modern commentators have been 
 less enthusiastic in their encomiums. It is affirmed 
 to bear the same relation to tragic, which the Iliad 
 
6 
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 bears to epic poetry. It is said to stand alone and 
 unrivalled, while all other efforts of tragic writers 
 can only be successful in proportion as they ap- 
 proximate more or less to this, their common 
 standard and criterion. 
 
 Indeed, when we consider the admirable dex- 
 terity which is evinced in the mechanism of the 
 piece, the mutual consistency and harmonious 
 combination of its parts, the gradual and progres- 
 sive developement of the various circumstances 
 which unite to elicit the catastrophe, it must be 
 acknowledged that this tragedy is absolutely perfect. 
 Not an incident occurs, however trivial in appear- 
 ance, which does not conduce to some appropriate 
 and important end ; not a character is introduced 
 which does not sustain some part of vital and essen- 
 tial interest in the grand business of the drama. The 
 poet never loses sight of the end in the prosecution of 
 the means. If a momentary hope be excited, it tends 
 but to deepen the impending and inevitable 
 despair ; if a ray of light dart rapidly athwart the 
 gloom, it only displays, in all its horror, the ap- 
 proaching “ blackness of darkness.” The denun- 
 ciations of CEdipus against the criminal, so worded 
 
(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 7 
 
 from the first as to apply peculiarly to himself; 
 the ambiguous response brought by Creon from 
 the oracle of Delphi ; the reluctant compliance of 
 Tiresias with the first summons of the monarch, as 
 though he were constrained by some mighty and 
 mysterious agency, which he vainly struggled to 
 control ; his subsequent vehemence of prophetic 
 indignation ; the profane and arrogant exultation 
 which bursts from J ocasta on the apparent confutation 
 of the oracle by the death of Polybus ; the faint 
 solitary hope, to which the shuddering monarch 
 clings in that pause of agonizing suspense, while 
 he is awaiting the arrival of the Theban slave ; 
 the resistless and overwhelming conviction which 
 flashes upon his soul at the clear unequivocal testi- 
 mony of this last fatal witness ; all these circum- 
 stances are successively described in a manner so 
 lively and natural, that the interest never lan- 
 guishes for an instant. We are prepossessed from 
 the first in favour of the unhappy prince ; we feel 
 with him and for him ; we are continually agitated 
 between hope and fear; and, though we know 
 from the beginning that the catastrophe is inevita- 
 ble, we are scarcely less startled and surprised by 
 
8 
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 the appalling discovery, than if it had been totally 
 unexpected and unforeseen. 
 
 Another point in which the poet has displayed 
 his consummate acquaintance with the nicest re- 
 finement of his art, is the delineation of the cha- 
 racter of CEdipus. Had this devoted monarch 
 been represented altogether without blemish, we 
 might have pitied his sorrows, but we could 
 not have sympathised with them : had he been 
 pourtrayed as an utterly abandoned criminal, we 
 could neither have sympathised with him nor 
 pitied him. We feel, comparatively, but little 
 interest in characters which rise far above, or sink 
 greatly below, the common level of mankind ; the 
 former excite our indifference, — the latter, our dis- 
 gust. But CEdipus, unlike the heroes of modern 
 tragedy, neither sins like a demon, nor suffers like 
 a God. 1 He is in all things a perfectly human 
 character, a being of like passions with ourselves, 
 not free from faults, yet “ more sinned against 
 
 Aristotle, Poetics, xxv. 
 
CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 9 
 
 than sinning,” — not wholly undeserving of censure, 
 yet far more unfortunate than culpable. Such is 
 man. Mentem mortalia tangunt. 
 
 We cannot, however, forbear to record our dis- 
 sent from one eulogy of Sophocles, which, notwith- 
 standing, has been pronounced by no mean authority. 
 “ Never,” it has been said, “ was there a tale 
 more affecting than that of CEdipus, and never 
 was it told more pathetically than by Sophocles.” z 
 In the former part of this panegyric we cannot 
 acquiesce ; on the contrary, we consider the tale, on 
 which the drama is founded, as altogether repugnant 
 and revolting to the best and finest feelings of our 
 nature ; and in no one instance is the genius of 
 Sophocles so transcendently triumphant, as in the 
 consummate address with which he has treated 
 a subject calculated, in less powerful hands, to 
 awaken only the strongest emotions of horror, in- 
 dignation, and disgust. But the master-spirit of 
 the great poet has tempered the revolting details 
 of his plot with so much pure human feeling, such 
 
 Knox’s Essays, No. clxxvi. 
 
10 
 
 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 pathetic and redeeming benevolence, that our sym- 
 pathy is never for an instant checked by abhor- 
 rence, or superseded by disgust. We forget the 
 crimes of CEdipus in his misfortunes ; nor do we 
 so much regard the murderer, the parricide, the 
 t» zrurpog o[xo<r7ropog, as the dethroned monarch, 
 — the blind, self-devoted, and despairing out- 
 cast, — the affectionate and miserable father, who, 
 though his children survive, is yet worse than 
 childless, for they only survive to misery, and of 
 that misery he is the cause ! 
 
 But it would be unpardonable in a Christian 
 writer, while commenting upon this drama, to pass 
 lightly over that which Sophocles himself claimed as 
 the brightest ornament of his native Athens, 3 and 
 which constitutes not the least interesting feature in 
 his own immortal dramas, — a pious and devout reve- 
 rence for the Gods. The chorus in this tragedy 
 nobly sustain their dignified character. Venerable 
 alike for age and virtue, they will not suffer to pass 
 unnoticed or unreproved the unguarded exclamations 
 
 GEdip. Colon. 1005 . 
 
 3 
 
CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 11 
 
 even of the monarch whom they revere and love. 
 The choral hymns breathe a beautiful spirit of 
 meek and holy feeling, coupled with the most 
 poetic elevation of sentiment, and interspersed with 
 pathetic appeals to Heaven to avert its vengeance from 
 their country and their King. And we trust it will not 
 be deemed intrusive or irrelevant, if we seize the op- 
 portunity of drawing, not from this drama alone, 
 but from the collective works of Sophocles, the 
 following moral conclusion : that if, under the 
 disadvantages of a confused and complicated my- 
 thology, and at a period when, with respect to 
 religious truth, “ darkness covered the earth and 
 gross darkness the people,” — if a heathen poet could 
 then inculcate the fear of the Gods as the most exalted 
 virtue and the most imperative duty, how ought 
 we to evince, by our more rigid and enlightened 
 observance of the same precept, that “ the dark- 
 ness is past, and the true light now shineth,” — 
 that, as our knowledge is more extensive than was 
 that of the heathen, so is our piety more fervent, 
 our morality more pure, our practice more virtuous 
 and irreproachable. 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONAL 
 
 CEdipus, King of Thebes. 
 Priest of Jupiter. 
 
 Creon, Brother of Jocasta. 
 Tiresias. 
 
 Jocasta, Wife of (Edipus. 
 Corinthian. 
 
 Herdsman. 
 
 Messenger. 
 
 Chorus of aged Thebans. 
 
(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Scene — Thebes, before the Palace of (Edipus. 
 
 (EDIPUS. THEBANS. 
 
 (Ed. Why, O my children, from the ancient stock 
 Of Cadmus sprung, why haste ye to these seats 
 Bearing the suppliant branches ? 1 Incense breathes 
 Through all the town, and votive paeans blend 
 With deep and bitter wailings. O my people, 
 
 I could not learn your woes from other lips, 
 
 1 Suppliants, whether they addressed themselves to Gods 
 or men, were accustomed to bear in their hands olive-branches 
 tipped with wool, called, by the Greeks, r^ara, by the 
 Latins, velamina. 
 
14 
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 But came in person, (Edipus, your King ! 
 
 A name to all illustrious. Say, old man— 
 
 Thine age demands such reverence — wherefore thus 
 Ye bend imploring? Dread ye future ills, 
 
 Or strive with present griefs ? My will is prompt 
 To aid in all : — obdurate were my heart 
 Could I behold a sight like this unmoved. 
 
 Pr. 0 CEdipus, imperial lord of Thebes ! 
 
 Thou seest our sad estate, and how we sit 
 Before thine altars ; * some, whose callow wings 
 Refuse a lengthened flight ; — some, bowed with age, 
 Priests of the Gods — myself the Priest of Jove, 
 And some, the flower of all our Theban youth. 
 Another band their suppliant boughs extend 
 At the two fanes of Pallas, 2 3 * 5 and the shrine 
 Oracular, by fair Ismenus’ stream. 
 
 The state — as thou may’st witness — with the storm 
 
 2 The altars here intended were not consecrated to (Edipus, 
 but simply erected before the doors of his palace, and, most 
 probably, dedicated to Apollo. 
 
 3 In Thebes, there were two temples of Minerva erected 
 to her under the names of Oncaea and Ismenia. Apollo had 
 a temple on the banks of the Ismenus, and from the flames 
 
 and ashes of its altars his priests drew prophecies; hence 
 
 <77rote, the prophetic ashes of Ismenus. 
 
(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 15 
 
 Is struggling, and in vain essays to rear 
 
 Her head emergent from the blood-stained wave. 
 
 Her fruits are blasted in the opening bud ; 
 
 Her herds, infected, perish ; her weak births 
 Are blighted immature. The fiery God , 4 
 Loathed Pestilence, o’er this devoted city 
 Hangs imminent, and desolates th’ abode 
 Of Cadmus, while in shrieks and piercing groans 
 Dark Pluto richly revels. Hence I bend, 
 
 With these sad youths, a suppliant at thine altars ; 
 Not that we deem thee equal to the Gods, 
 
 But in the sad vicissitudes of life, 
 
 Or visitations of the angry Gods, 
 
 Account thee first of men. At Thebes arriving, 
 Thou didst redeem us from the tax imposed 
 By that relentless monster , 5 uninformed, 
 
 Untaught of us ; by pitying Heaven alone 
 We deem thee sent our glory to restore. 
 
 4 The “ fiery God,” according to Musgrave, is Mars. 
 The ground of his conjecture is the application of the epithet 
 'Brvpo eig to the planet bearing the name of that divinity. It 
 appears more probable, however, that the expression poeti- 
 cally denotes a personification of Pestilence. 
 
 5 ’Aoifrov, literally, songstress ; so called, because her enig- 
 mas were propounded in verse. 
 
16 
 
 CED1PUS TYRANNITS. 
 
 Now, worthiest CEdipus ! on thee we fix 
 Our supplicating eyes, — O find us aid, 
 
 Or from the sure responses of the Gods, 
 
 Or man’s experienced wisdom. Oft we see 
 That prudent counsels, e’en in deadliest ills, 
 
 Impart returning life. Noblest of men 
 Arise, once more the drooping state revive, 
 
 Arise, and wisdom guide thee ! Though our realm 
 
 Hails thee her great Deliverer for the deeds 
 
 Of other days, no more can we recall 
 
 Thy happier sway — if, once by thee preserved, 
 
 Again we sink in ruin. Then restore 
 
 Our rescued state to safety ; and as erst 
 
 With happiest omens thou didst rise and save, 
 
 So be again thyself. Still o’er this land 
 Wouldst thou bear sway, — ’tis better far to rule 
 O’er peopled cities, than deserted realms. 
 
 6 Nought can strong tower or stately ship avail, 
 
 If nobler man, the soul of each, be wanting. 
 
 6 The same thought has been beautifully imitated, we might 
 almost say translated, by Sir William Jones. 
 
 What constitutes a state ? 
 
 Not high-raised battlements, or laboured mound, 
 
 1 hick wall, or moated gate : 
 
 Not cities proud, with spires and turrets crowned, 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 17 
 
 (Ed. O my afflicted people, but too well 
 I know the purport of your prayers ; I know 
 Your common sufferings ; yet, ’mid all your woes, 
 None mourns so deeply as your pitying monarch : 
 Each o’er his own peculiar misery weeps, 
 
 Nor thinks of others’ pain ; — my heart is wrung 
 At once for you, the city, and myself. 
 
 Nor do ye rouse me now from reckless sleep ; 
 Know, many tears your King hath shed for you, 
 And traversed many a path in thought’s wild maze. 
 One remedy alone my search discerned ; 
 
 This I at once applied. The noble Creon, 
 Menceceus’ son, my kinsman , * * * 7 have I sent 
 To Phoebus’ Pythian shrine, charged to demand 
 How I may save the state by word or deed. 
 
 Now, as I reckon the revolving days, 
 
 The strange delay alarms me ; for his stay 
 Hath passed the allotted term. When he arrives, 
 
 Not bays, and broad-armed ports 
 
 Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride : 
 
 No; — men, high-minded men. 
 
 7 The Greeks restrict this term, in its proper and 
 
 peculiar sense, to those who are connected by ties of affinity, 
 but not by blood, though it is occasionally taken, in a 
 general sense, to express both. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 C 
 
18 
 
 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 If I perform not all the God ordains, 
 
 Account your monarch basest of mankind. 
 
 Pr. Well hast thou said, OKing! These youths 
 proclaim 
 
 The wished approach of Creon. 
 
 CEd. Royal Phcebus, 
 
 Grant he return with tidings not less glad, 
 
 Than the fair promise of his brightening eye. 
 
 Pr. He seems indeed exultant, or his brow 
 With the rich laurel were not thus enwreathed . 8 
 (Ed. Soon shall we learn ; our voice can reach 
 him now. 
 
 Enter Creon. 
 
 (EDIPUS, CREON, PRIEST, THEBANS. 
 
 (Ed. Prince, our loved kinsman, great Menceceus’ 
 son, 
 
 What answer bring’st thou from the God to Thebes ? 
 
 Cr. Auspicious tidings ; e’en our present ills, 
 
 If guided well, may yield a prosperous issue. 
 
 8 Those who returned from the oracle of Delphi, with an 
 auspicious answer, were crowned with wreaths of laurel. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 19 
 
 (Ed. What mean thy words? Nor livelier hope 
 I draw, 
 
 Nor added terrors, from a speech like this. 
 
 Cr. If ’mid this concourse thou wouldst hear, I 
 stand 
 
 Prepared to speak ; if not, to pass within. 
 
 CEd. Nay, speak to all. I count not life itself 
 Of equal interest with my people’s sorrow. 
 
 Cr. Let me then tell the bidding of the God, 
 Phcebus hath straitly charged us to expel 
 Our state’s pollution, nurtured in its bosom ; 
 
 Nor harbour guilt that cannot be forgiven. 
 
 (Ed. What, then, is this mysterious guilt, and what 
 The due atonement ? 
 
 Cr. Exile from the land, 
 
 Or death requiting death, since guiltless blood 
 Troubles the state. 
 
 (Ed. To whose disastrous fate 
 Points this response? 
 
 Cr. O King, ere yet thy hand 
 Assumed the helm of empire in our state, 
 
 Laius was lord in Thebes. 
 
 (Ed. Thus fame hath told me : — 
 
 I ne’er beheld the monarch. 
 
 Cr. He was slain ; 
 
 c 2 
 
20 
 
 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 And with no dubious voice the God enjoins 
 On the fell murderers to avenge his death. 
 
 CEd. Where do they lurk ? and where shall we 
 explore 
 
 The path, so hard to trace, of guilt like this ? 
 
 Cr. E’en in this land, he said, pursuit may soon 
 Detect the deed, by slow neglect concealed. 
 
 CEd. Died Laius in the palace, or the field, 
 
 Or by assassins in a foreign land ? 
 
 Cr. To seek a distant oracle, ’tis said, 
 
 He left the home to which he ne'er returned. 
 
 (Ed. Did then no herald, no attendant view 
 His fall, of whom we may demand the truth ? 
 
 Cr. All died, save one, who fled in wild dismay, 
 And of the scene he witnessed could recount 
 One circumstance alone. 
 
 CEd. Repeat that one. 
 
 If the first light of hope be well improved, 
 
 A full disclosure may requite our toil. 
 
 Cr. He said that ruffians met the King, who fell 
 Oppressed by numbers, not by single hand. 
 
 CEd. How could a robber, if unbribed by traitors 
 Within the city, dare this desperate deed? 
 
 Cr. Such was suspicion’s comment ; but there rose 
 No bold avenger, ’mid our ills, to Laius ! 
 
CEDXPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 21 
 
 (Ed. But, when your monarch was thus basely 
 slain, 
 
 What cause withheld you from a strict inquiry ? 
 
 Cr. The Sphynx, propounding charms in mystic 
 verse, 
 
 Turned all our thoughts from dubious ills away 
 To instant evils. 
 
 (Ed. From their very source 
 Soon will I drag to light these deeds of darkness : 
 Such inquisition for a murdered King 
 Is worthy both of Phoebus and of you ; 
 
 I too, confederate in this righteous cause, 
 
 Will vindicate at once the state and heaven. 
 
 Swayed by no distant interests, do I rise 
 To crush this foul pollution,— ’tis my cause; 
 
 Who shed the blood of Laius would embrue, 
 
 With equal daring, his bold hand in mine ; 
 
 Your King avenging, thus I guard myself. 
 
 But from your seats, my children, rise with speed ; 
 Bear hence your suppliant boughs. And let a herald 
 Convoke the Theban people to our presence ; 
 Nought will I leave untraced ; — Phoebus my guide, 
 To gladness will we soar, or sink to ruin. 
 
 Pr. Arise, my sons ; the end for which we came 
 Is now accomplished, for the King hath said it. 
 
22 
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 And may the God, who sent this dark response, 
 Shine forth our saviour, and this plague arrest. 
 
 [Exit CEdipus, 8$c. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 STROPHE I. 
 
 Sweet-breathing voice of Jove, what fateful word 
 Bring’st thou to Thebes from Delphi’s golden shrine? 
 Troubled in soul, I quake with awe divine ! 
 
 O Paean, Power of healing, most adored 
 In Delos’ hallowed isle, thou wak’st my fear ! 
 What dread decree, remote or near, 
 
 Shall thy prophetic voice proclaim ? 
 
 Say, child of golden Hope, imperishable Fame ! 
 
 ANTISTROPHE I. 
 
 Daughter of Jove, immortal Pallas ! hear 
 The suppliant vows that first to thee are paid ; 
 
 Thy sister Dian next, earth-ruling maid, 
 
 Who ’mid the forum her proud throne doth rear ; 
 And the far-darting Phoebus ! Mighty Three ! 
 Appear — avert our misery ! 
 
 If from our Thebes her former woe 
 
 Your guardian-care dispelled, O come to aid us now ! 
 
CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 23 
 
 STROPHE II. 
 
 Alas ! unnumbered ills we bear ; 
 
 Dismay and anguish reign 
 Through all our state ; and wisdom’s care 
 Strives, ’mid dejection and despair, 
 
 To bring relief in vain. 
 
 Nor ripen now the fruits of earth, 
 
 Nor mothers, in th’untimely birth, 
 
 The struggling throes sustain. 
 
 Swift as the wild bird’s rapid flight, 
 
 Or flames that flash through circling night, 
 Unnumbered spectres sink, a joyless train, 
 To the dark shores of Pluto’s dreary reign. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE II. 
 
 Thus doth th’ unpeopled city sigh, 
 
 Wide o’er whose pavements spread 
 The lifeless heaps unheeded lie, 
 
 Ungraced with pious obsequy, 
 
 Or tear in pity shed. 
 
 Matrons and wives, a mournful band, 
 Suppliant around the altars stand ; 
 
 With groans of piercing dread, 
 
 Their votive strains to Heaven ascend, 
 
 And sighs with louder paeans blend. 
 
24 
 
 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Bright daughter of the Mightiest ! fair-eyed Maid, 
 Rise in thy might, and send thy people aid ! 
 
 STROPHE III. 
 
 This ruthless power, who, raging round, 
 
 Clad in no panoply of war , 9 
 Inflicts a deeper, deadlier wound — 
 
 O drive him from our land afar 
 In backward flight, or where the wave 
 Hides Amphitrite’s trackless cave; 
 
 Or where the restless whirlwinds roar 
 On Thracia’s bleak and barbarous shore. 
 
 If aught survives the baleful night 
 ’Tis blasted by the morning-light. 
 
 Oh Thou, who roll’st red lightnings in thine ire, 
 Smite with thy vengeful bolt the foe, Eternal Sire ! 
 
 ANTISTROPHE III. 
 
 And from thy bright and golden bow 
 Speed the keen shafts, Lycsean King ! 
 
 9 Agea, rov fjLuXepov, Martem ustivum, the same with o rrrv^o- 
 0eo?, above-mentioned. J/ A uantiuv , not equipped in 
 panoply ; the ravages of pestilence being more desolating than 
 the violence of war. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS 
 
 25 
 
 The shafts that ever strike the foe, 
 
 These in thy people’s succour wing ; 
 
 Thou, Dian, lift thy beams of light 
 On us, as on Lycseum’s height; 
 
 Thee too, with golden mitre crowned, 
 
 Whose name exalts thy Thebes renowned ; 
 
 Thee, Bacchus, flushed with wine’s deep hue, 
 Whose path th’infuriate Nymphs pursue ; 
 
 On thee I call ; be thy red torches driven 
 To crush this fatalPest,thisPower abhorred in heaven. 
 
 Re-enter (Edipus. 
 
 (EDIPUS. CHORUS. 
 
 CEd. I hear thy prayers, nor are they breathed 
 in vain — 
 
 If thou wilt heed my counsels, and observe 
 Whate’er the crisis claims, thou mayst achieve 
 A remedy or respite from thy ills. 
 
 I, as a stranger to the tale, will speak ; 
 
 A stranger to the deed. I cannot hope 
 To search it far with not a track to guide me ; 
 
 Yet, last enrolled among the sons of Thebes, 
 
 This is my charge to all her citizens : 
 
26 
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Whoe’er is conscious of the murderous hand 
 That shed the blood of Laius, I ordain 
 He do forthwith reveal to me the whole : 
 
 And lest, by fear withheld, he shrink to own 
 His latent guilt, no heavier doom awaits him, 
 Than to retire uninjured into exile ; 
 
 Or if one know th’ assassin, and he draw 
 
 His breath from foreign soil, still let him speak, — 
 
 With gifts and added thanks will we requite him. 
 
 If yet ye all are silent, and there be 
 
 One, for his own life or his friend’s appalled, 
 
 Who still shall slight our mandate, hear ye next 
 The solemn edict we will then proclaim. 
 
 This man, whoe’er he be, let none that owns 
 Our sceptre and our sway presume to grant 
 The shelter of a home ; let none accost him ; 
 
 Let none associate with him in the vows 
 And victims of the Gods, or sprinkle o’er him 
 The lustral stream ; 10 let all, from every roof, 
 
 10 Xepn/3?. This word does not\ as Potter has translated 
 it, imply the layer itself; but denotes, according to Athe- 
 naeus, water in which was dipped a firebrand taken from the 
 altar where the sacrifice had been offered ; sprinkling with 
 this all who were present at the sacrifice, they performed the 
 lustration. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 27 
 
 Chase far the dire pollution, as the word 
 Of Phoebus by his oracle enjoined. 
 
 Thus will I be confederate with the God, 
 
 And with the murdered monarch. On the wretch 
 Who wrought this impious deed, or if alone, 
 
 Or leagued with more, he shroud his head in darkness, 
 I imprecate my curse ; may he consume 
 His joyless years in misery and despair, 
 
 Torn from the common blessings of mankind. 
 
 Yea, on myself , 1 if, conscious of the deed, 
 
 I grant the wretch asylum in my home, 
 
 The same dread curse, in all its vengeance, fall ! 
 Ye too I charge, our solemn word obey, 
 
 Both for your King, the God, and this poor land, 
 Now parched and withering in the wrath of Heaven. 
 Nay, had the Gods their warning voice withheld, 
 It ill became you unatoned to leave 
 A crime like this, — a warrior, and a King, 
 
 Cut off by traitorous guilt. ’Twas then your part 
 
 1 Brunck proposes to read this passage, y&vono ^ a ft/m^oro?, 
 “ I imprecate the same curse upon him. even if resident in 
 my own family ; ” but the common reading, fum^oro?, 
 which we have adopted in the text, seems preferable. 
 
28 
 
 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 To press a strict inquiry, 2 now ’tis mine. 
 
 Mine is tlie realm which once his sceptre swayed ; 
 Mine is his nuptial couch, and mine his wife ; 
 Mine too had been his children, but that Heaven 
 Willed not to bless him with a prosperous seed ; 
 And fate in ruin burst upon his head. — 
 
 Therefore, in his behalf, as in a father’s, 3 
 Will I arise, and every path explore, 
 
 To seize the dark assassin of the son 
 Of Labdacus, the heir of Polydore, 
 
 Cadmus, and old Agenor. And I pray, 
 
 2 It has been objected by the severity of criticism, that so 
 long a period could scarcely have elapsed since the death of 
 Laius, without some inquiry into the circumstances which 
 had occasioned it. We might reply, in defence of the poet, 
 With whom could such an inquiry be expected to originate ? 
 Jocasta, without any violation of probability, may be rather 
 supposed anxious to suppress than to revive the memory of her 
 lormer husband ; and if even CEdipus had been apprized of 
 the circumstances, why should he feel so intense an interest 
 in the fate of a stranger, as to institute an inquiry into a 
 crime, which does not even appear to have been perpetrated 
 within the jurisdiction of Thebes? 
 
 3 We cannot but notice here the consummate address of 
 the poet, in causing (Edipus to assume the character and re- 
 lation which rightfully belong to him, but of which he is so 
 fatally unconscious. 
 
CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 29 
 
 That Earth, though tilled in sorrow, may deny 
 Her kindly fruits to all who slight our charge ; 
 Their marriage-bed be childless ; may they sink 
 In anguish keen as that we now deplore, 
 
 Yea, meet a deadlier doom. To you, my friends, 
 And all the Thebans who approve our will, 
 
 May justice lend her aid, and the good Gods 
 Accord their favouring presence. 
 
 Ch. Mighty King! 
 
 So will I speak, as in thy curse involved ; 
 
 I slew him not, nor yet can I disclose 
 
 The murderer. Phoebus, who this search ordained, 
 
 Alone can guide it to unveil the guilty. 
 
 (Ed. True are thy words; but who can force the 
 Gods 
 
 To swerve from their high pleasure? 
 
 Ch. What my breast 
 Inspires, would I a second time propose. 
 
 CEd. Though it be thrice, forbear not thou to speak. 
 Ch. The seer Tiresias, in prophetic skill, 
 
 Is scarce, I know, by Phoebus self excelled ; 
 
 Ask thou of him, O King, he will resolve thee. 
 
 (Ed. Nor on this hope have I been slow to act. 
 Counselled by Creon, twice have we required 
 His presence, and much marvel why he comes not. 
 
30 
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Ch. Vague and most dubious are the ancient 
 rumours. 
 
 (Ed. What are they? I would weigh e’en rumour 
 well. 
 
 Ch. Tis said some travellers slew him ! 
 
 (Ed. This I heard ; 
 
 But none can say who saw it. 
 
 Ch. If he be 
 
 Alive to fear, he will not calmly bear 
 Thy stern and solemn curse. 
 
 (Ed. Who trembled not 
 To do such deed, will never quake at words. 
 
 Ch. One now draws nigh, whose voice shall soon 
 convict him. 
 
 They lead the reverend prophet, in whose breast 
 Alone of mortals shines inherent truth. 
 
 Enter Tiresias. 
 
 CEDIPUS, TIRESIAS, CHORUS. 
 
 (Ed. Tiresias, whose expansive mind surveys 
 All man can learn, or solemn silence seal, 
 
 The signs of heaven, and secrets of the earth ; 
 
(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 31 
 
 Though sight is quenched in darkness, well thou 
 know’st 
 
 The fatal plague that desolates our Thebes ; 
 
 From which, O Prince, we hope to find in thee 
 Our help and sole preserver. List, if yet 
 Thou hast not heard his mandate, — the response 
 Returned by Phcebus. Never shall this pest 
 Cease its wide desolation, till we seize, 
 
 And on th’ assassins of the murdered King 
 Avenge his fall by exile or by death. 
 
 O then refuse not thou, if thou hast aught 
 Of augury or divination sure, 
 
 To save thyself, thy country, and thy King, 
 
 And ward this foul pollution of the dead. 
 
 We trust in thee. Of all our earthly toils 
 The best and noblest is to aid mankind. 
 
 Ti. 4 Ah ! woe is me ! for wisdom is but woe, 
 When to be wise avails not. This I knew, 
 
 But ill remembered, or I ne’er had come. 
 
 4 We have, in this scene, a fine and impressive comment 
 on the evil consequences of prying into futurity. Tiresias 
 would gladly exchange this baleful knowledge for the bliss of 
 ignorance. 
 
32 
 
 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 CEd. What may this mean ! and whence this 
 strange dismay? 
 
 Ti. Dismiss me to my home : this grace conferred, 
 Thou wilt endure thy griefs, I mine, more lightly. 
 
 (Ed. It were unjust, ungrateful to the state, 
 Which hath sustained thee, to withhold thy counsel. 
 
 Ti. Thy words are most untimely to thyself. 
 
 Let me beware, lest I too swerve from caution. 
 
 Ch. Oh, by the Gods, refuse not what thou canst. 
 In one assenting prayer we all implore thee. 
 
 Ti. For ye are all unwise. Be well assured, 
 
 I will not speak, and publish thy despair. 
 
 CEd. Dost thou then know and wilt not speak 
 the truth? 
 
 Wilt thou betray us, and subvert thy country? 
 
 Ti. I would not injure thee, nor wound myself. 
 Why urge me thus ? Nought shalt thou hear from me. 
 
 CEd. Basest of villains ! for thou wouldst excite 
 The insensate rock to wrath, wilt thou not speak? 
 Still dost thou seem unpitying and unmoved ? 
 
 Ti. Thou hast reproved my warmth, yet little 
 know’st 
 
 What dwells in thine own bosom, though on me 
 Thou heap’st reproach. 
 
CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 33 
 
 (Ed. And who could calmly hear 
 Such words, so shameful to thine injured country? 
 Ti. Soon will these things appear, though I be 
 silent. 
 
 (Ed. Doth it not then behove thee to declare 
 What soon shall come to light ? 
 
 Ti. I’ll speak no more. 
 
 Indulge this lawless passion at thy will. 
 
 (Ed. Nought will I now suppress, since anger 
 prompts 
 
 My unreserved speech. I do suspect thee 
 Accomplice of the deed, save that thy hand 
 Struck not the mortal blow ; had sight been thine, 
 I then had charged thee as the only villain ! 
 
 Ti. Ha! Is it thus? Nay, then, I tell thee, King! 
 Adhere to thine own edict ; from this hour 
 No more hold converse or with these or me. 
 
 Thou art the sole polluter of our land. 
 
 (Ed. Art thou so lost to shame, as to indulge 
 A taunt like this. Think’st thou to ’scape unscathed? 
 Ti. I have escaped : the might of truth is mine. 
 (Ed. By whom informed? — not through thy pre- 
 scient art. 
 
 T i. By thee ; thy will constrained me thus to speak, 
 Though most reluctant. 
 
 VOL. i. 
 
 D 
 
34 
 
 CEDI PUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 (Ed. What ? Repeat thy words, 
 
 That I may learn more clearly. 
 
 Ti. Knew’st thou not 
 
 Before, or wouldst thou tempt me to speak on ? 
 (Ed. I have not caught thy purport. Speak again. 
 Ti. I say thou art the murderer whom thou seekest. 
 (Ed. Thou shalt not vent that slander twice un- 
 punished. 
 
 Ti. Shall I proceed, and fire thy rage to frenzy? 
 (Ed. Speak what thou wilt, it will be said in vain. 
 T i. Thou dost not know what guilty ties unite thee 
 To those thou deenTst most dear ; thou dost not see 
 The ills that close thee round. 
 
 (Ed. And dost thou hope 
 Again to triumph in thy vaunt unharmed ? 
 
 Ti. If there be aught of potency in truth. 
 
 (Ed. There is, but not for thee. Thou hast it not ; 
 Dark in thine eye, in heart and ear yet darker. 
 
 Ti. Wretched art thou in thus upbraiding me, 
 Whom all, ere long, shall urge with like reproach. 
 
 (Ed. Nurtured in night alone, thou canst not harm 
 The man who views the living light of heaven. 
 
 Ti. Tis not thy doom to fall by me ; for this 
 Phoebus is mighty, who will work the whole. 
 
(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 35 
 
 (Ed. Didst thou, or Creon, frame these sage in- 
 ventions ? 
 
 Ti. Not Creon wrongs thee, thou dost wrong 
 thyself. 
 
 (Ed. O wealth, O empire, and thou nobler art , 5 
 Potent o’er all to brighten life with joy, 
 
 What baleful envy on your splendour waits ! 
 
 Since for these regal honours, which the state 
 Confided to my hand, a boon unsought, 
 
 Creon, my first and once most faithful friend, 
 
 By traitorous cunning saps my rightful sway, 
 
 And hath suborned this dark designing wizard, 
 This scheming specious sorcerer, skilled alone 
 To seek his profit, sightless in his art. 
 
 When didst thou ever prove a faithful prophet? 
 Why, when the Monster 6 screamed her mystic charm, 
 
 5 T fan Te^vviq. Literally, the art of arts, ars ceteris artibus 
 prcestans. What are we to understand by this ? The word 
 is conjectured in this passage to denote generally wisdom , 
 and, in particular, that wisdom, or subtlety, which CEdipus 
 had evinced in resolving the enigma of the Sphynx. 
 
 6 PAYftAOE KTI2N. The Greeks applied the term KYfIN to 
 several of their mythological monsters, particularly the Furies, 
 who are called by Orestes, in the Choephori of jEschylus, 
 i uTjrpog eyx-oroi kvv£<; ; so our own Shakspeare, 
 
 “ Cry havoc ! and let slip the dogs of war.” 
 
 D 2 
 
36 
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Didst thou not break it to redeem thy country ? 
 
 To solve th’ enigma was no chance emprize, 
 vYell might such task demand the prophet’s aid ! 
 Yet nought from divination couldst thou learn; 
 Nought did the Gods inform thee : then I came, 
 This inexperienced CEdipus, and, led 
 By reason, not by auguries, quelled the foe ; — 
 Whom now thou seek’st to banish, deeming thus 
 To stand in state usurped near Creon’s throne ; 
 
 But thou, with him who shared thy base designs, 
 Shalt feel our righteous vengeance. Save that age 
 Some reverence claims, now would I teach thee 
 wisdom. 
 
 Ch. If we conjecture right, the prophet spake 
 In vehement wrath; thus too, O King, thou spakest. 
 Such ill beseems our state : ’twere best to seek 
 How we may trace the pleasure of the God. 
 
 TL Though thou art monarch, yet with like 
 reproach 
 
 Thy slanders will I quit, for this I can ; 
 
 To thee I am no vassal, but to Phoebus ; 
 
 Nor will I look to Creon as my patron. 
 
 Know, since my blindness wakes thy keen reproach, 
 Clear-sighted as thou art, thou dost not see 
 What ills enclose thee — where thou hast thy home — 
 
(EDIPUS TYBANNPS. 
 
 37 
 
 With whom that home is shared. Art thou apprized 
 Who gave thee birth ? Thou art th’ unconscious foe 
 Of thine own race on earth, and in the tomb. 
 
 Soon shall thy father’s, soon thy mother’s curse, 
 With fearful stride expel thee from the land ; 
 
 Now blest with sight, — then, plunged in endless 
 gloom. 
 
 Ere long what shore shall not attest thy cries ? 
 
 How will they echo from Cithaeron’s 7 brow, 
 
 When thou shalt learn that marriage, where impelled, 
 As with propitious gales, in evil port 
 Thy heedless bark hath anchored. Seest thou not 
 A gathering storm of miseries, doomed ere long 
 To burst alike on thee and on thy children ? 
 
 Vent now on Creon and my prescient word 
 Thy keen upbraidings. None of mortal race 
 
 7 This, observes Brumoy, is an allusion to the past, which 
 could not be preserved in the translation. Why not? The 
 ignorance of (Edipus does not affect the validity of the pro- 
 phet’s denunciation. The obscurity of Tiresias has been 
 objected to; but obscurity is the necessary and appropriate 
 language of prophecy ; its clearest and most satisfactory ex- 
 planation is the event. 
 
 A^yv, properly, portus, a haven, a strand, should here be 
 used in the sense of £ yop£, as Mount Cithseron was situated 
 inland, between Phocis and Bceotia. 
 
38 
 
 (EDI PUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Hath ever fallen so low as thou shalt fall. 
 
 CEcl. Must I then brook such shameless taunts 
 from thee? 
 
 A curse light on thee, babbler ! to thy home 
 Away, and rid us of thy hateful presence. 
 
 77. But for thy summons, I had never come. 
 
 (Ed. I little deemed that thou wouldst prate so 
 weakly, 
 
 Or never had I sought thy presence here. 
 
 77. Though to thy better wisdom void of sense 
 We seem, thy parents once esteemed us wise. 
 
 (Ed. Who are they ? Stop, and tell who gave 
 me birth. 
 
 T i. This day will show thy birth, and seal thy ruin. 
 (Ed. How wild, and how mysterious are thy words ! 
 77. Art thou not skilled t’ unriddle this enigma ? 
 (Ed. Reproach the path that led me up to greatness. 
 77. That very path hath led thee to perdition. 
 CEd. I reck not that, so I preserved the state. 
 
 77. Then I depart. Thou, boy, conduct me hence. 
 (Ed. Aye, let him lead thee. Thou dost mar 
 our counsels ; 
 
 When absent, thou wilt trouble us no more. 
 
 77. I go ; but first will do mine errand here, 
 
 By thy stern looks unawed. Thou canst not harm me. 
 
CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 39 
 
 I tell thee, King, the man whom thou hast sought 
 With fearful menaces, denouncing death 
 On Laius’ murderer, that man is here. 
 
 In word he seems an alien, yet shall prove 
 
 By birth a Theban, nor in this disclosure 
 
 Shall long exult. From sight reduced to blindness, 
 
 To penury from wealth, he shall go forth 
 
 To foreign climes by a frail staff directed 
 
 Then to his children shall be proved at once 
 
 A brother and a father ; and to her 
 
 Who gave him birth a husband and a son, 
 
 Corrival 8 of the father whom he slew. 
 
 Seek now thy palace, and reflect on this ; 
 
 And, if thou find my bodings unfulfilled, 
 
 Deem me untutored in prophetic lore. 
 
 [Exeunt Tiresias and CEdipus. 
 
 8 'O /xoa-Tropoq, if taken in a passive sense, signifies “ born of 
 the same mother,” and is synonymous with if used 
 
 actively, it denotes a man who has children by the same 
 woman who had children by another person referred to. The 
 present translator, in common with his predecessors, feels 
 and acknowledges his inability to convey the idea adequately 
 in English. The word corrival, used by Shakspeare, can 
 hardly be said to afford even a distant resemblance to the 
 original. 
 
40 
 
 CED1PUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 STROPHE I. 
 
 Whom did the fate-unfolding word 
 From Delphi’s rock-hewn shrine proclaim, 
 The wretch who wrought with ruthless sword 
 The deed we dare not name? 
 
 Now let him seek, in frantic speed, 
 
 To emulate the foaming steed ; 
 
 The Son of Jove, arrayed in arms of light, 
 With vengeful flames is gaining on his flight, 
 And still the Fates, resistless in their wrath, 
 Track the base murderer s path. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE I. 
 
 Bright the prophetic word hath shone 
 From hoar Parnassus’ snow-crowned brow, 
 
 To trace the guilty wretch, unknown, 
 
 And hid in darkness now. 
 
 Aye, let him range the lonely wood, 
 
 Lurk, like the bull, in cavern rude, 
 
 Or with tired steps a weary wanderer roam — 
 Ne er can he shun the presage of his doom 
 
IEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 41 
 
 From Delphi's shrine 9 10 denounced, — where’er he fly, 
 The Living Curse is nigh. 
 
 STROPHE II. 
 
 Dire were the bodings of the seer ; 
 
 And doubt and dread distract my breast, 
 
 Nor all he told, nor all suppressed. 
 
 I yield in turn to hope and fear, 
 
 And trace the present and the past, 
 
 Each with impervious gloom o’ercast. 
 
 No mortal feud arose 
 Between our monarch and the royal line 
 Of Thebes ; nor now, nor then can I divine 
 The Kings were ever foes. 
 
 10 How should I then adopt the Seer’s decree 
 
 9 Delphi’s shrine. In the original r« ^Ba-o^ctXoe, yoiq, lite- 
 rally, umbilicum terrae, the centre of the earth, in which the 
 ancients supposed Delphi to be situated ; so line 889, yoi<; 
 \ir opQu'hovy “ the central shrine.” 
 
 10 Musgrave proposes to read in this passage eTrixapov for 
 tTrixagog, thereby referring the word to CEdipus. But there 
 does not appear any ground for rejecting the version of 
 Brunck, who has, “ unde conjecturam faciens explorem, an 
 propter vatis evulgatum responsum, contra CEdipodem Lab- 
 dacidis auxilium laturus sim, ultionemque caedis obscurae 
 suscepturus.” 
 
42 
 
 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 To aid the house of Lams, and on thee, 
 
 0 CEdipus, avenge this deed of mystery ? 
 
 ANTISTROPHE II. 
 
 Though Jove and Phoebus still are wise, 
 
 And still to them mankind are known, 
 
 Yet that the prophet views alone 
 Things unrevealed to mortal eyes — 
 
 1 cannot judge : in wisdom’s lore 
 Beyond his fellow man may soar ; 
 
 But ne’er, till in my sight 
 
 His truth be proved, on those who slight his word 
 By me can censure or reproach be poured. 
 
 When, with destroying flight, 
 
 To CEdipus the fell Enchantress came, 
 
 His sage response redeemed my country’s shame, 
 Then let my grateful heart such hideous charge 
 disclaim. 
 
 Enter Creon. 
 
 CREON. CHORUS. 
 
 Cr. O citizens, of that atrocious crime 
 
(ED1PUS TyR ANNUS. 
 
 43 
 
 With which the King doth charge me, late apprized, 
 Such charge I cannot brook. If, in the hour 
 Of general suffering, he suspect that I 
 Have sought to wrong him, or in word or act, 
 
 E’en life itself were valueless to me, 
 
 Thus coupled with dishonour ; for this charge 
 Involves no trivial detriment, but seems 
 Of gravest import, were I deemed by thee 
 And by my friends a traitor to my country, 
 
 Ch. Nay, but from vehemence of wrath this charge 
 Burst rashly forth, not cool deliberate thought. 
 
 Cr. Whence could it seem, that, by our wiles 
 suborned, 
 
 The prophet framed these falsehoods? 
 
 Ch. So, indeed, 
 
 The King affirmed ; but on what grounds, I know not. 
 
 Cr. With mind un warped, and unperverted eye, 
 Did he thus charge me ? 
 
 Ch. Sooth I cannot tell; 
 
 I do not scrutinize the acts of princes. 
 
 But lo ! himself approaches from the palace. 
 
 Enter CEdipus. 
 
44 
 
 (EDI PUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 CEDIPUS. CREON. CHORUS. 
 
 (Ed. Ha ! wherefore cam’st thou hither ? Is thy 
 brow 
 
 So armed with bold presumption, that thou dar’st 
 Still tread our courts, a false convicted traitor, 
 Convicted in thy scheme to shed our blood, 
 
 And steal into a throne ? Say, by the Gods, 
 
 What folly, what supineness, hast thou marked 
 In me, to form an enterprise like this ? 
 
 Or didst thou think I had no eye to trace 
 Thy wiles — when traced, no firmness to revenge 
 them ? 
 
 Doth not thy rash attempt proclaim thee senseless, 
 
 Without or friends or forces, to affect 
 
 The throne, by armies and by wealth attained ? 
 
 Cr. Know’st thou what thou wouldst do ? To 
 our reply 
 
 Grant first impartial audience ; learn, then judge. 
 
 CEd. Aye, thou art mighty in the strife of words ; 
 But I am slow to learn of one like thee, 
 
 Whom I have proved rebellious and perverse. 
 
 Cr. First do thou hear what I would fain reply. 
 
CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 45 
 
 (Ed. So thou reply not thus, “ I am no villain.” 
 Cr. If thou dost deem this self-willed senseless 
 pride 
 
 Will aught avail thee, thou art most unwise. 
 
 (Ed. And if thou deem’st to work thy kinsman 
 wrong, 
 
 And ’scape unpunished, thou art most unwise. 
 
 Cr. Thy words have show of justice ; but explain 
 Wherein I thus have wronged thee. 
 
 (Ed. Didst thou then, 
 
 Or didst thou not, persuade me here to summon 
 This holy and most venerable prophet ? 
 
 Cr. I did, and still my counsel is the same. 
 
 (Ed. How long a space hath now elapsed since 
 Laius — 
 
 Cr. What act performed ? I cannot see thy drift. 
 (Ed. Fell thus obscurely by a ruffian hand ? 
 
 Cr. We must retrace a length of years obscure. 
 (Ed. Did this sage prophet then profess his art ? 
 Cr. Unmatched, as now, in wisdom, and esteemed 
 With equal reverence. 
 
 (Ed. Did he, at that time, 
 
 Make mention of my name? 
 
 Cr. Never ; at least, 
 
 Not in my presence. 
 
46 
 
 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 (Ed. 1 Did ye not enforce 
 Strict inquisition for your murdered Lord ? 
 
 Cr. How could we pass it by ? Our search was 
 vain. 
 
 (Ed. Why spake not then this sage diviner thus? 
 Cr. I know not, and strict silence would preserve 
 On points unknown. 
 
 (Ed. One point, at least, thou know’st ; 
 
 And, if true wisdom guide thee, wilt disclose it. 
 Cr. Name it ! I will not aught I know deny. 
 (Ed. Were not the prophet basely leagued with 
 thee, 
 
 He had not charged me with the death of Laius. 
 Cr. If thus he speaks, thou know'st. I claim in 
 turn 
 
 To ask of thee as thou hast asked of me. 
 
 (Ed. Ask what thou wilt, I never shall be proved 
 A base assassin. 
 
 Cr. Is my sister thine, 
 
 Thine by the nuptial tie ? 
 
 1 This passage furnishes another refutation of the objec- 
 tion noticed above. It had never even entered into the mind 
 of (Edipus, that the inquiry into the death of Laius could 
 possibly be neglected ; hence his ardour in the investigation, 
 otherwise inexplicable, is satisfactorily accounted for. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 47 
 
 CEd. To such a question 
 I cannot give denial. 
 
 Cr. Dost thou not 
 
 Divide with her the empire of the land ? 
 
 (Ed. Tis my chief pride to grant her every wish. 
 Cr. Do not I hold an equal rank with both ? 
 
 CEd. Thence dost thou seem indeed a faithless 
 friend. 
 
 Cr. Not if thou weigh my words, as I weighed 
 thine, 
 
 With cool and temperate judgment. First reflect, 
 Who would prefer the terrors of a throne 
 To fearless sleep, with equal power combined ? 
 
 Nor I, nor any whom true wisdom guides, 
 
 Would seek the empty pageant of a crown, 
 
 Before the real potency of Kings. 
 
 Now, void of fears, I gain my wish from thee ; 
 Were I a King, full oft must I renounce it. 
 
 How, then, could empire be to me more dear 
 Than this serene, yet not less potent sway ? 
 
 I am not thus by flattering hope beguiled, 
 
 To quit substantial good for empty honour. 
 
 All now is pleasure ; all men court me now ; 
 
 They who desire thy favour seek my aid 
 To advocate their cause ; through me they gain 
 
48 
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 The boon solicited. And should I then 
 Renounce such pleasures for the pomp of empire ? 
 So wild a scheme the prudent soul discards. 
 
 Such plots I never loved, and would disdain 
 To mingle with the guilty band who frame them. 
 
 If thou dost seek a proof, to Delphi send, 
 
 Ask if aright the oracle I brought thee. 
 
 Shouldst thou detect me leaguing with the Seer 
 To work thee wrong, be instant death my meed, 
 Twice doomed, — by thy decree, and by mine own ; 
 But tax me not with guilt on vague suspicion. 
 
 To deem the good unworthy, or account 
 Alike the base and noble, is unjust. 
 
 The man who drives an upright friend to exile, 
 Doth wound himself no less, than if he struck 
 At his own valued life. Of this, in time, 
 
 Shalt thou be well convinced ; long space it asks 
 To prove the stainless honour of the just, 
 
 One day suffices to detect a traitor. 
 
 Ch. Well hath he said, O King, to one forewarned 
 Of falling ; quick resolves are rarely safe. 
 
 CEcL When one is quick to frame insidious plots, 
 I too have need of quickness to repel him. 
 
 If I remain inactive, he will gain 
 
 His traitorous end, while my slow cares avail not. 
 
CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 49 
 
 Cr. What is thy will ? — To force me into exile ? 
 (Ed. Nay, exile shall not be thy doom, but death. 
 Cr. When thou hast proved what merits such a 
 sentence. 
 
 (Ed. Speak’st thou as one who meditates resistance ? 
 Cr. I see thee swerve from wisdom. 
 
 (Ed. Not unwise 
 In mine own cause. 
 
 Cr. Nor shouldst thou be in mine. 
 
 (Ed. Thou art a villain. 
 
 Cr. If thou know’st no crime ? — 
 
 (Ed. Yet will I rule. 
 
 Cr. Thou shalt not tyrannize. 
 
 (Ed. Thebes ! Thebes ! 
 
 Cr. "“And I, too, have a part in Thebes ; 
 
 It is not thine alone. 
 
 Ch. Princes, forbear ! 
 
 In happy moment, lo ! from out the palace 
 
 4 The validity of Creon’s defence will be more duly appre- 
 ciated, if we reflect that he had actually been raised to the 
 throne upon the death of Laius, though he afterwards vo- 
 luntarily resigned the crown in favour of the destroyer of the 
 Sphynx, and deliverer of his country. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS 
 
 Jocasta comes ; her presence may appease 
 The growing rancour of this desperate strife. 
 
 Enter Jocasta. 
 
 JOCASTA, CEDIPUS, CREON, CHORUS. 
 
 Jo. Why, O unhappy princes ! have ye raised 
 This unadvised strife, nor blush to wake 
 Your private feuds when public woes distract us? 
 Wilt thou not home, my lord, and thou, too, Creon, 
 Nor from slight cause excite severer ills ? 
 
 Cr. My sister; (Edipus, thy husband, wills me 
 A dreadful doom. 3 Two ills await my choice ; 
 
 Or death, or exile from my native land. 
 
 (Ed. I own it, Lady, since with basest arts 
 Have I exposed him plotting for my life. 
 
 3 Two ills await my choice. Yet (Edipus had refused the 
 election, and peremptorily denounced the severer penalty; 
 
 Exile shall not be thy doom, but death. 
 
 We must suppose that the fiery arrogance of (Edipus is more 
 strikingly displayed by its contrast to the mildness and for- 
 bearance of Creon. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 51 
 
 Cr. If 1 have done it, if the charge be true, 
 May Heaven’s dread curse descend at once to blast me. 
 
 Jo. Oh, by the Gods, my CEdipus, believe him ; 
 Revere the solemn test that seals his truth ; 
 
 Regard me, too, and these thy faithful friends. 
 
 STROPHE i. 
 
 Ch. 4 5 By prompt reflection swayed, 
 
 O King ! I pray thee, yield. 
 
 CEd. Wherein shall I accord thy prayer? 
 
 Ch. Revere the prince, before 
 Not senseless proved, now bound by solemn oath. 
 CEd. Know’st thou what thou wouldst ask ? 
 
 Ch. I know. 
 
 'CEd. Then speak. 
 
 Ch. Forbear to charge a friend with crimes un- 
 proved, 
 
 5 Who calls the Gods to witness for his truth. 
 
 4 This is the first variation of metre in the original. What 
 difference was hereby occasioned in the recitation, it is per- 
 haps vain to inquire. The probability appears, that the dia- 
 logue was accompanied with music, somewhat analogous to 
 our own serious opera. 
 
 5 Evayv : some read avay*?, purum, labis expertem. The 
 word itself signifies “ qui jurejurando se obstrinxit.” 
 
 E 2 
 
52 
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 (Ed. In such request, know well, thou dost but 
 seek 
 
 Thy monarch’s death, or exile from the land. 
 STROPHE II. 
 
 Ch. No ! by yon radiant Sun, 
 
 6 Prince of the Powers above, 
 
 Low may I fall, a godless, friendless wretch, 
 
 If e’er my bosom harboured thought like this. 
 
 ’Tis my poor country’s woe 
 That rankles in my breast, 
 
 And now must strike a deeper blow, 
 
 If to our common ills be added yours. 
 
 (Ed. Then let him hence, though certain death 
 ensue, 
 
 Or I be thrust with infamy to exile. 
 
 Thy plea awakes my sympathy, not his ; 
 
 Go where he will, my quenchless hate attend him. 
 
 Cr. Even in relenting art thou stern ; thy wrath 
 Too far indulged, most fearful. Souls like thine 
 Are the just authors of their own remorse. 
 
 (Ed. Wilt thou not leave me, and depart? 
 
 6 IIpo^oc, dux, antesignanus. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 53 
 
 Cr. I go, 
 
 Unknown by thee, but still by these deemed righteous. 
 
 [Exit Creon. 
 
 (EDIPUS, JOCASTA, CHORUS. 
 ANTISTROPHE I. 
 
 Ch. Why, Lady, dost thou pause 
 To lead thy lord away ? 
 
 Jo. First tell me what inflamed their wrath ? 
 
 Ch. Suspicion from dark words 
 Arose, and e’en a groundless charge offends. 
 
 Jo. By both preferred ? 
 
 Ch. Even so. 
 
 Jo. And what the cause ? 
 
 Ch. Enough, enough I deem it, when the state 
 Is plunged in grief, to cease where they too ceased. 
 CEd. Mark how thy speech, although I know 
 thee worthy, 
 
 Tends but to trouble and depress my heart ! 
 
 ANTISTROPHE II. 
 
 Ch. My Lord, I spake not once 
 Unmeaning words alone, 
 
 But deem me void of wisdom, and bereft 
 
54 
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Of sage reflection, if I fall from thee, 
 
 Who, when in adverse storms 
 My much-loved country strove, 
 
 Didst steer her to a prosperous port. 
 
 O, if thou canst, be thus our pilot now ! 
 
 Jo. Nay, by the Gods, inform me too, 0 King ! 
 What to such rancour first inflamed thy wrath ? 
 
 CEd. I will, for I revere thee more than these ; 
 ’Twas Creon, who hath framed a treacherous wile. 
 Jo. Say, if thou canst convict him of the crime. 
 CEd. He dares to tax me with the death of Laius. 
 Jo. Himself th’ accuser, or apprized by others ? 
 (Ed. He hath suborned that false malignant seer, 
 Who claims free license for his slanderous tongue. 
 
 Jo. Dispel the thoughts that agitate thy breast. 
 Hear me, and learn, that none of mortal birth 
 Can trace the future by prophetic skill. 
 
 The proof of this concisely will I show. 
 
 An oracle to Laius once came forth, 
 
 (I will not say by Phcebus self denounced, 
 
 But by his ministers,) that fate ordained him 
 To perish by a son whom I should bear;— 
 
 And yet, as rumour tells, where three ways meet, 
 By foreign ruffians was the monarch slain. 
 
 Our child was born, but ere three days had past, 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 55 
 
 Piercing the joints, he bound the infants feet, 
 
 And cast him forth by menial hands to die 
 On an untrodden rock. In nought the word 
 Of Phoebus was fulfilled ; — nor was the child 
 His father's murderer, nor did Laius meet 
 The doom he dreaded from a filial hand ; 
 
 Yet thus the doughty oracles declared. 
 
 Then heed them not. If Phoebus wills the search. 
 He will himself the latent truth disclose. 
 
 (Ed. 0 Lady, as I listen, how my thoughts 
 Distempered wander, and my soul is torn! 
 
 Jo. What strange solicitude prompts words like 
 these ? 
 
 (Ed. I heard, or seemed to hear, that Laius fell 
 Beneath the ruffian-band, where three ways meet. 
 Jo. So rumour whispered then, and still pro- 
 claims. 
 
 (Ed. What region was the scene of this dark 
 deed? 
 
 Jo. 7 Phocis the realm is called, the parted road 
 From Delphi and from Daulia blends in one. 
 
 (Ed. What time hath now elapsed since this befel ? 
 
 7 Delphi and Daulia are separated by Mount Parnassus in 
 Phocis, between the Gulf of Crissa and the Gulf of Opus. 
 
56 
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Jo. ’Twas through the state divulged, short time 
 ere thou 
 
 Didst rise in glory to the throne of Thebes. 
 
 (Ed. Almighty Jove! to what hast thou reserved 
 me ? 
 
 Jo. My CEdipus, what means this wild dismay? 
 (Ed. Oh, ask not, ask not, tell me of this Laius. 
 What was his aspect, what his age, O speak ! 
 
 Jo. His port was lofty, the first snows of age 
 Had tinged his locks, his form resembled thine. 
 (Ed. Wretch that I am, on mine own head, it 
 seems, 
 
 Have I called down this dread destroying curse. 
 
 Jo. How say’st thou, King ! I tremble to behold 
 thee. 
 
 (Ed. I fear the prophet saw, alas ! too clearly. 
 One question more, and all will be disclosed. 
 
 Jo. I tremble — but will truly tell thee all. 
 
 (Ed. Went the King private, or with many guards 
 Encompassed, as became his regal sway ? 
 
 Jo. His followers were but five — a herald one ; 
 Sole rode the monarch in a single car. 
 
 This passage confirms our conjecture, page 28, that the 
 crime was not committed within the territories of Thebes. 
 
(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 57 
 
 (Ed. Alas ! alas ! ’tis all too evident ; 
 
 But, Lady, who this sad narration brought? 
 
 Jo. A slave, the sole survivor of the train. 
 
 CEd. Is he now present in the palace ? 
 
 Jo. No. 
 
 Returning thence, when he beheld thee crowned 
 Monarch in Thebes, and Laius now no more, 
 Clasping my hand, with suppliant prayers, he craved 
 Some rural charge to tend our herds afar, 
 
 Where never more might he behold the city. 
 
 Such charge I gave assenting ; though a slave, 
 
 He well deserved a richer recompense. 
 
 CEd. How can we bid his instant presence hither? 
 Jo. Soon shall he come. Yet wherefore seek’st 
 thou this ? 
 
 (Ed. I tremble, Lady, for myself, and much 
 Hath now been said to wake my wish to see him. 
 Jo. He will arrive ere long. Meanwhile, O 
 King, 
 
 I, too, am worthy to partake thy cares. 
 
 (Ed. I will not this deny thee, to such height 
 Of expectation raised ; to whom more dear 
 Could I confide my fortunes, than to thee ? 
 
 My sire was Polybus, fair Corinth’s Lord, 
 
 My mother Merope, of Doric race ; 
 
58 
 
 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 I, too, was counted noblest of the state, 
 
 Till chanced a strange event that claimed my wonder, 
 Though scarce deserving of the care it caused. 
 
 One at a banquet in a drunken mood 
 Reviled me, as not sprung from Polybus. 
 Oppressed with weighty thoughts, throughout the 
 day 
 
 I scarce could curb my wrath, and on the next, 
 From both my parents warmly asked the truth. 
 They heard my tale, incensed with deepest rage 
 Against th’ inebriate babbler. Though with them 
 I was delighted, yet th’ opprobrious taunt 
 Burnt in my breast, and rankled in my soul. 
 Unknown to both I hastened to the shrine 
 Of Delphi ; Phoebus, reckless of my prayer, 
 Dismissed me thence dishonoured ; but denounced 
 A long, long train of dark and fearful sorrows ; — 
 That I, in wedlock to my mother bound, 
 
 Should bring to light a race accursed of men, 
 
 And in a father’s blood my hands embrue. 
 
 Hearing these bodings dire, I bade farewell 
 To the loved realm of Corinth, by the stars 
 My wandering course directing far away, 
 
 That never, never might I see the shame 
 Of those dread oracles fulfilled in me. 
 
(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 59 
 
 I passed those very regions in my course 
 Where fell the murdered monarch. To thee, Lady, 
 I will reveal the truth. As I pursued 
 My onward journey, nigh the triple path, 
 
 A herald there encountered me, with one 
 Borne, as thou said’st, in single car sublime. 
 
 The leader then, and that old chieftain too, 
 
 With violent impulse thrust me from the path ; 
 
 I struck the rude aggressor in mine anger, 
 
 But the old man observing, when I passed 
 Beside his chariot, with his double goad 
 Smote on my brow. Unequal was the meed 
 My hand returned. 8 1 raised my vengeful staff, 
 And straight he rolled expiring from the car. 
 
 I slew the whole. But if this stranger prove 
 The murdered Laius, who of all mankind 
 Exists more deeply wretched than myself, 
 
 Oh ! who more hateful to th’ avenging Gods ? 
 
 Nor citizen nor stranger to my need 
 
 8 CEdipus though, as we observed, much more unfor- 
 tunate than guilty, cannot be wholly vindicated. When he 
 had been apprised that he was destined to be the murderer 
 of his father, ought he, on so trivial a provocation, to 
 have revenged the insult with death? The plea of self- 
 defence may palliate, but cannot justify, the deed. 
 
60 
 
 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Henceforth may grant the refuge of a home ; 
 
 None may accost, but all must spurn me from them ; 
 And I, O how unconscious, on myself 
 Invoked the withering curse. I, by whose hand 
 His blood was shed, pollute his nuptial couch — 
 Am I not all abandoned, all defiled ? 
 
 If I must fly, and, flying, ne’er behold 
 My best-loved friends, or tread my natal earth, 
 
 Or else am doomed, in most unnatural ties, 
 
 To wed my mother, and my father slay, 
 
 Good Polybus, who gave me life and nurture, 
 Would he not rightly judge who deemed these woes 
 The work of some inexorable God ? 
 
 Never, O never, ye most holy Powers, 
 
 May I behold that day. Oh may I sink 
 To death’s more friendly darkness, ere my life 
 Be marked and sullied by a stain so foul. 
 
 Ch. Thy words, O King ! are fearful ; yet retain 
 Thy hope, till from this herdsman thou hast 
 learned. 
 
 CEcl. I but await his presence, for in him 
 Concentres all the hope that now is left me. 
 
 Jo. When he arrives, what is thy purpose next? 
 
 (Ed. I will inform thee ; if his tale agree 
 With thine in all things, I escape the crime. 
 
CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 61 
 
 Jo. What of such moment did my words imply ? 
 (Ed. Thou saidst, the man ascribed the death 
 of Laius 
 
 To banded ruffians ; if he still adhere 
 To this report, I am at once absolved; — 
 
 The deed of numbers is no deed of one : 
 
 If he but name a single murderer, 
 
 ’Tis but too plain the deadly act was mine. 
 
 Jo. But this, be well convinced, he then affirmed, 
 Nor can he now retract his former tale — 
 
 Not I alone, th’ assembled state is witness. 
 
 If aught he change the tenour of his words, 
 
 Still, my good Lord, it cannot thence appear 
 That Laius fell, as Phoebus’ voice foretold, 
 
 Slain by my son. Alas ! my hapless child 
 Slew not, — but perished ere his father fell. 
 
 9 So lightly do I hold each oracle, 
 
 No longer would I waste a thought on either. 
 
 9 It should here be remarked, that, to this period, nothing 
 has occurred to criminate Jocasta. It was necessary, for the 
 sake of reconciling the audience to her subsequent miseries 
 and death, that she should not be altogether guiltless. With 
 judgement not less discerning than the moral he inculcates is 
 impressive, the poet has represented her indifferent to the 
 
62 
 
 (EDIPUS TYRANNTJS. 
 
 CEd. N or can I blame thee, but with speed despatch 
 A summons to this herdsman, —linger not. 
 
 Jo. Straight will I send. But pass we now within. 
 Nought of thy pleasure shall be left undone. 
 
 [Exeunt Jocasta and CEdipus 
 
 Chorus. 
 strophe r. 
 
 0 ! be the lot for ever mine 
 Unsullied to maintain, 
 
 In act and word, with awe divine, 
 
 What potent laws ordain. 
 
 Laws spring from purer realms above, 
 
 Their father is th’ Olympian Jove ; 
 
 Nor is their heaven-born might controuled 
 By aught of meaner mortal mould. 
 
 Ne’er shall oblivion veil their front sublime; 
 
 Th’ indwelling God is great, nor dreads the waste 
 of time. 
 
 Gods. Characters of unmixed good, as Shakspeare’s Cor- 
 delia, and even our author’s Antigone, have been found too 
 affecting for representation. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 63 
 
 ANTISTROPHE I. 
 
 Pride forms the Tyrant. If elate 
 With power increased in vain, 
 
 On which no prosperous issues wait, — 
 
 Pride leads him on to gain 
 The steep ascent, — then from the brow, 
 
 Hurls him to ruin’s gulf below. 
 
 But ah ! if aught of counsel sage 
 May yet my country’s wound assuage, 
 
 By the kind Gods be favouring issue given — 
 
 I will not cease to ask the bounteous aid of 
 Heaven. 
 
 STROPHE II. 
 
 But if a haughty wretch proceed 
 To vaunting word or daring deed, 
 
 Who nor avenging Justice fears, 
 
 Nor the pure shrines of Heaven reveres, 
 Destruction be his meed, 
 
 To guilt’s ill-omened transports due ; — 
 Unless in justice he pursue 
 Just gains, from impious deeds refrain, — 
 Nor madly grasp, with hand profane, 
 When Heaven forbids the deed. 
 
64 
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 10 Who yet will curb in due controul 
 The wildest wishes of his soul, 
 
 If glory crown the guilty head; 
 
 And why do I this hallowed chorus lead? 
 
 ANTISTROPHE II. 
 
 And never to the central shrine 
 W ill I repair with rites divine, 
 
 Nor bend at Abm’s hallowed fane, 
 
 Nor tread Olympia’s courts again, 
 
 Till this mysterious word 
 To all its certain truth approve. — 
 
 O Lord of Heaven, eternal Jove! 
 
 If by thy sceptre all are swayed, 
 
 Let not Oblivion’s trackless shade 
 Conceal this crime abhorred. — - 
 They spurn the prescient word of Heaven, 
 In years long past, to Laius given, 
 
 10 Ti? STl 7T0T EV TO<V^’ UVY)(> 
 
 OvfAu; (3 eXyi ^e^etoci 
 u^vveiv ; 
 
 Quisnam, si ita se res habet, cupiditatum tela ab animo 
 arcere volet. — Erfurdt. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 65 
 
 No reverence is to Phoebus paid, 
 
 And the due honours of th’ Immortals fade. 
 Re-enter Jocasta. 
 
 JOCASTA. CHORUS. 
 
 Jo. Princes of Thebes, we deemed it meet to seek 
 The temples of the Gods, and in our hands 
 These votive wreaths, this odorous incense bear. 
 The soul of CEdipus on a wild sea 
 Of anxious care is tossed; — nor, as becomes 
 The prudent, weighs by former oracles 
 This late response, but lends a willing ear 
 To all who speak of terrors. Since my voice 
 Avails no more, Lycsean King, to thee 
 I fly, for thou art 1 nearest to our need, 
 
 And come in prayer a suppliant to thy shrine, 
 
 1 *'a yxirog ya.% it. Dr. Francklin renders these words in a 
 metaphorical sense, “ Near to help the wretched.” There 
 is no occasion to depart from the literal sense. The 
 temple of Phoebus was probably situated nearest to the 
 palace. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 F 
 
66 
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 That thou mayst grant us thine auspicious aid ; 
 Since all now tremble, when we thus behold 
 Our very Pilot shuddering and appalled. 
 
 Enter Corinthian. 
 
 JOCASTA, CORINTHIAN, CHORUS. 
 
 Co. Can ye inform me, strangers, where your 
 King, 
 
 Great CEdipus, his regal state maintains ; 
 
 Or, if ye know, where I may find the Monarch ? 
 
 Ch. These are th’ imperial halls — he is within, — - 
 This is his wife, the mother of his children. 
 
 Co. Blest may she be, and ever with the blest 
 Hold glad communion; to her royal lord 
 2 A most accomplished consort. 
 
 1 nocvTEhw rUva. 'lyxea. Perfection in the marriage-state is 
 when the nuptial bed is blessed with children. Hence the 
 
 *Av^o; t ihi\s Supa,, and the Zev reteie of iEschylus. — Potter. 
 
 This is the commencement of that wrsgHrirei* *, so highly ex- 
 tolled by the critics ; nothing can be more finely imagined, or 
 more judiciously executed. 
 
CEDIPUS TYR ANNUS. 
 
 67 
 
 Jo. Equal joy 
 
 Attend thee, stranger, — thy kind greeting claims 
 This due return of courtesy. But say, 
 
 Whence cam’st thou to our Thebes, and what thy 
 tidings? 
 
 Co. Joy to thine house, 0 Lady ! and thy Lord. 
 Jo. What joy? — and from what region art thou 
 come ? 
 
 Co. From Corinth. Atmy words thou wilt rejoice; 
 Why should’st thou not — yet fond regrets will rise. 
 Jo. What dost thou mean, and whence this two- 
 fold influence? 
 
 Co. The assembled states of Isthmus, rumour tells, 
 Will choose thy Lord to mount the vacant throne. 
 Jo. How vacant ? Reigns not Polybus in Corinth ? 
 Co. No more, — his only kingdom is the tomb. 
 
 Jo. Mean’st thou, old man, that Polybus is dead? 
 Co. May I, too, perish if my words be false. 
 
 Jo. Haste, haste, attendant, and convey with speed 
 These tidings to your lord. Vain oracles! 
 
 Where are your bodings now? My CEdipus, 
 Fearing to slay this man, forsook his country; 
 
 Now Fate, and not his hand, hath laid him low. 
 Enter CEdipus. 
 
68 
 
 CEDIPIJS TYRANNUS. 
 
 (EDIPUS, JOCASTA, CORINTHIAN, CHORUS. 
 
 (Ed. Why, my beloved Jocasta, hast thou sent 
 To bid my presence hither ? 
 
 Jo. Hear this man — 
 
 Attend his tidings, and observe the end 
 Of these most true and reverend oracles. 
 
 (Ed. Who is this stranger — with what message 
 charged ? 
 
 Jo. He is from Corinth, thence despatched to tell 
 thee 
 
 That Polybus, thy father, is no more. 
 
 (Ed. What sayst thou, stranger? Be thyself the 
 speaker. 
 
 Co. If in plain terms I first must tell thee, King, 
 Know, he hath gone the pathway to the tomb. 
 
 (Ed. Died he by treason, or the chance of sickness ? 
 
 Co. Slight ills dismiss the aged to their rest. 
 
 (Ed. Then by disease, it seems, the monarch died. 
 
 Co. And bowed beneath a withering weight of 
 years. 
 
 (Ed. Ha! is it thus? Then, Lady, who would 
 heed 
 
 The Pythian shrine oracular, or birds 
 
CEDI PUS TY'RANNUS. 
 
 69 
 
 Clanging in air, by whose vain auspices 
 I was fore-doomed the murderer of my father? 
 
 In the still silence of the tomb he sleeps, 
 
 While I am here — the fatal sword untouched — 
 Unless he languished for his absent child, 
 
 And I was thus the author of his doom. 
 
 Now in the grave he lies, and with him rest 
 Those vain predictions, worthy of our scorn. 
 
 Jo. Did I not tell thee this before ? 
 
 CEd. Thou didst — 
 
 But terror urged me onward. 
 
 Jo. Banish now 
 This vain solicitude. 
 
 CEd. Should I not fear 
 The dark pollution of my mother’s bed ? 
 
 Jo. Oh why should mortals fear, when fortune’s 
 sway 
 
 Rules all, and wariest foresight nought avails. 
 
 Best to live on unheeding, as thou mayst. 
 
 And dread not thou thy mother’s lawless couch ; 
 Oft is the soul dismayed by hideous dreams 
 Of guilt like this, — but life’s rough path is found 
 Smoothest to him, who spurns these wild illusions. 
 CEd. I should admit the justice of thy plea, 
 
70 
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNCJS 
 
 Save that my mother lives ; while she survive, 
 Though thou speak’s t well, I cannot choose but fear. 
 Jo. Proof strong and sure thy father’s fate affords. 
 CEd. Strong, I confess ; — my fears are for the living. 
 Co. And by what woman are these terrors roused ? 
 CEd. By Merope, the wife of Polybus. 
 
 Co. And what, to her relating, thus alarms thee? 
 (Ed. Stranger, a dark and hideous oracle. 
 
 Co. May it be told? — or shouldst thou not dis- 
 close it 
 
 To other ears ? 
 
 CEd. I may and will disclose it. 
 
 Phoebus foretold that I should wed my mother, 
 
 And shed with impious hand a father’s blood. 
 
 For this I fled my own Corinthian towers 
 To seek a distant home — that home was blest; 
 Though still I languished to embrace my parents. 
 Co. This fear then urged thee to renounce thy 
 country? 
 
 (Ed. Old man, 1 would not be a father’s mur- 
 derer. 
 
 Co. Then wherefore, since thy welfare I regard, 
 Should I forbear to rid thee of this terror? 
 
 (Ed. Do so, and rich shall be thy recompense. 
 
OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 71 
 
 Co. This hope impelled me here, that when our 
 state 
 
 Hails thee her monarch, I might win thy favour. 
 (Ed. Ne’er will I seek the authors of my birth. 
 Co. ’Tis plain, my son, thou know’st not what 
 thou doest ! 
 
 (Ed. How ! how ! old man, by Heaven ! unfold 
 thy meaning. 
 
 Co. If this preclude thee from returning home — 
 (Ed. I fear lest Phoebus saw, alas ! too clearly ! 
 Co. If thou dost dread pollution from thy parents — 
 (Ed. That restless dread for ever haunts my soul. 
 Co. Know, then, thy terrors all are causeless here. 
 (Ed. How so? if of these parents I was born? 
 Co. But Polybus is nought allied to thee. 
 
 (Ed. How say ’st thou ? was not Poly bus my father ? 
 Co. No more than I — our claims are equal here. 
 (Ed. Had he who gave me life no nearer claim 
 Than thou, a stranger? 
 
 Co. Nor to him nor me 
 Ow’st thou thy birth. 
 
 (Ed. Then wherefore did he grant 
 A son’s beloved name ? 
 
 Co. He from my hand 
 
72 
 
 CEDIPUS TYR ANNUS. 
 
 Received thee as a gift. 
 
 (Ed. With such fond love 
 How could he cherish thus an alien child? 
 
 Co. His former childless state to this impelled him. 
 (Ed. Gav’st thou a purchased slave, or thine own 
 child ? 
 
 Co. 1 found thee in Cithaeron’s shadowy glades. 
 (Ed. Why didst thou traverse those remoter vales ? 
 Co. It was my charge to tend the mountain herds. 
 (Ed. W ert thou a herdsman, and engaged for hire ? 
 Co. I was, my son, but thy preserver too. 
 
 (Ed. From what afflictions didst thou then pre- 
 serve me? 
 
 Co. This let thy scarred and swollen feet attest. 
 (Ed. Ah ! why dost thou revive a woe long passed? 
 Co. I loosed thy bound and perforated feet. 
 
 (Ed. Such foul reproach mine infancy endured. 
 Co. From this event arose the name thou bear’st. 
 (Ed. Was it a father’s or a mother’s act? 
 
 By the good Gods inform me ! 
 
 Co. This I cannot — 
 
 He may know more, perchance, who gave thee to me. 
 (Ed. Thou didst receive me then from other 
 hands, 
 
(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 73 
 
 Nor find me as by chance? 
 
 Co. No, to my hand 
 Another herdsman gave thee. 
 
 CEcl. Who was he ? 
 
 Canst thou inform me this ? 
 
 Co. He was believed 
 A slave of Laius. 
 
 (Ed. What ! of him who erst 
 Ruled o’er this land ? 
 
 Co. The same — this man to him 
 Discharged a herdsman’s office. 
 
 (Ed. Lives he yet 
 That I may see him? 
 
 Co. Ye — his countrymen — 
 
 Are best prepared this question to resolve. 
 
 (Ed. Is there of you who now attend our presence 
 One who would know the herdsman he describes, 
 Familiar erst or here, or in the field ? 
 
 Speak — for the time demands a prompt disclosure. 
 
 Ch. He is, I deem, no other than the man 
 Whom thou before didst summon from the fields. 
 This none can know more clearly than the Queen. 
 (Ed. Think’st thou, O Queen, the man whose 
 presence late 
 
 We bade, is he of whom this stranger speaks? 
 
74 
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Jo. Who — spake of whom? — Regard him not, nor 
 dwell, 
 
 With vain remembrance, on unmeaning words ! 
 
 (Ed. Nay, Heaven forefend, when traces of my 
 birth 
 
 Are thus unfolding, I should cease to follow. 
 
 Jo. Nay, by the Gods I charge thee ! search no more, 
 If life be precious still. Be it enough 
 That I am most afflicted. 
 
 (Ed. Cheer thee, lady ! 
 
 4 Though my descent were proved e’en trebly servile, 
 No stain of infamy would light on thee. 
 
 Jo. Ah yield, I do conjure thee — seek no more. 
 (Ed. I will not yield, till all be clearly known. 
 Jo. ’Tis for thy peace I warn thee — Yet be wise. 
 (Ed. That very wisdom wounds my peace most 
 deeply. 
 
 Jo. Unhappy — never mayst thou know thy birth. 
 
 4 Though my descent were proved e’en trebly servile. In 
 the original, ia,v rpirvis lyu fAY)T%o$ (pctvu not il I were 
 
 thrice a slave from a third mother; i. e. not if my mother, 
 with her mother and grandmother, for three generations back, 
 had been slaves. — Francklin. 
 
O-DIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 75 
 
 (Ed. Will none conduct this shepherd to our 
 presence ? 
 
 Leave her to triumph in her lordly race. 
 
 Jo. W oe, woe, unhappy ! henceforth by that name 
 Alone can I address thee, and by that 
 Alone for ever. 
 
 [Exit Jocasta. 
 
 Ch. Whither, my good Lord, 
 
 Hath the Queen parted, urged by wild dismay ? 
 
 I fear, I fear, lest this portentous silence 
 Be but the prelude to impending woe. 
 
 (Ed. Let the storm burst, I reck not. I will on 
 To trace my birth, though it be most obscure. 
 
 Pride swells her thus, for in a woman’s breast 
 Pride reigns despotic, and she thinks foul scorn 
 Of my ignoble birth. I deem myself 
 The child of Fortune, in whose favouring smile 
 I shall not be dishonoured. She alone 
 Hath been my fostering parent; from low state 
 My kindred months have raised me into greatness. 
 Sprung from such lineage, none I heed beside, 
 
 Nor blush reluctant to explore my birth. 
 
 [Exit CEdipus. 
 
76 
 
 CED1PUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 STROPHE I. 
 
 If prophetic skill be mine, 
 
 If aright my soul divine, 
 
 By Olympus’ brow I swear, 
 
 Thou, Cithaeron, shalt declare 
 (Soon as mid to-morrow’s sky 
 Shines the rounded moon on high) 
 The mystic word, and proudly own 
 Great CEdipus thy fostered son ! 
 Then would we in sportive measure 
 Lead to thee the dance of pleasure, 
 For thy bounties richly poured, 
 
 On our country’s honoured Lord. 
 Phoebus, Healing Power, to thee 
 Pleasing may my presage be ! 
 
 ANTISTROPHE I. 
 
 Which of all th’ immortal host, 
 
 Can, my son, thy lineage boast? 
 Did some 5 Mountain-Dryad fair, 
 Thee to Pan the wanderer bear, 
 
 5 Svyarnp Gw/amp does not here denote hlia, a 
 
CED I PlIS TYRANNUS. 
 
 77 
 
 Pan who roams the sylvan height ; — 
 
 Or to Phoebus, Lord of Light, 
 
 For the young God delighted roves 
 
 O’er green hills crowned with shadowy groves. 
 
 Did the King, Cyllene swaying, 
 
 Did gay Bacchus ever straying 
 Woods and lofty crags among, 
 
 With the maids of sweetest song, 
 
 Greet thee, his illustrious son, 
 
 From some fair nymph of Helicon ? 
 
 Re-enter CEdipus, Corinthian. 
 
 (EDIPUS, CORINTHIAN, CHORUS. 
 
 (Ed. If aught I may conjecture, friends, of one 
 With whom I ne’er held converse, I behold 
 Th’ expected herdsman : for his lengthened years 
 Accord ; and those who lead him, I discern, 
 
 For mine own menial train. But haply thou, 
 
 To whom familiar erst his face hath been, 
 
 Canst speak with more assurance. 
 
 daughter, but simply a maiden — “ puella.” So aAo^cu, simply 
 mulieres . 
 
78 
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Ch. Yea, I know him — 
 
 The herdsman he of Laius, in his charge 
 Proved to his Lord most faithful. 
 
 (Ed. First, I ask 
 
 Of thee, Corinthian — is this man the same 
 Whom thou didst now describe ? 
 
 Co. This is the man. 
 
 Enter Herdsman. 
 
 CEDIPUS, CORINTHIAN, HERDSMAN, CHORUS. 
 
 (Ed. Approach, old man ! look on me, and reply 
 To my demand. Wert thou the slave of Laius? 
 
 Herd. I was his slave — bred in his house — not 
 purchased. 
 
 (Ed. What office didst thou hold ? what task dis- 
 charge ? 
 
 Herd. My better part of life was passed in 
 tending 
 
 The monarch’s flocks. 
 
 (Ed. What regions wert thou then 
 W ont to frequent ? 
 
 Herd. Cithseron, and the meads 
 Adjacent. 
 
tEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 79 
 
 (Ed. Dost thou e’er remember there 
 To have beheld this man ? 
 
 Herd. What task performing — 
 
 Which man dost thou intend ? 
 
 (Ed. I mean this man 
 
 Here present ; hadst thou converse with him there ? 
 Herd. Not such, that I can instantly retrace it. 
 Co. No marvel this, OKing! But I will soon 
 Revive events forgotten, for I know 
 He cannot but recal what time he fed 
 Two flocks, I one, in green Cithseron’s vales. 
 
 6 Three months we thus consorted, from the Spring 
 Till cold Arcturus brings the wintry blast. 
 
 To mine own stalls I then drove back my herds, 
 
 He to the stalls of Laius led his charge. 
 
 Say, are my words unwarranted by fact ? 
 
 Herd. Thy tale is true, though told of times long 
 passed. 
 
 Co. Then answer. Dost thou recollect the babe 
 
 6 Three months, &c. Yet from Spring to the rising of Arc- 
 turus, which occurs, according to Pliny, eleven days before 
 the autumnal equinox, there is an interval of six months. 
 Can we reconcile this by supposing %p6vtt<; to mean 
 
 seasons ? 
 
80 
 
 CED1PUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Thou gav st me there, as mine own child to cherish ? 
 
 Herd. What wouldst thou? Whither do thy 
 questions tend? 
 
 Co. This is that child, my friend, who stands 
 before thee. 
 
 Herd. A curse light on thee ! wilt thou not be 
 silent ? 
 
 CEd. Reprove him not, old man, for thine own 
 words, 
 
 Far more than his, demand a stern reprover. 
 
 Herd. In what do I offend thee, my good Lord ? 
 
 CEd. In that thou speak’st not plainly of the child 
 Of whom he asks thee. 
 
 Herd. But he speaks in darkness, 
 
 Mere empty babbling. 
 
 CEd. If thou wilt not answer 
 To mild persuasion, force shall soon compel thee. 
 
 Herd. Oh ! for the love of Heaven, respect mine 
 age. 
 
 CEd. W ill ye not seize and instant bind his hands ? 
 
 Herd. Alas ! what is my crime ? what wouldst 
 thou learn ? 
 
 CEd. Didst thou commit to him the child he 
 spake of? 
 
 Herd . I did O, had that moment been my last! 
 
CEDI PUS TYKANNUS, 
 
 81 
 
 CEd. This shall be, if thou wilt not speak the truth. 
 Herd. And if I speak it, I am trebly lost, 
 
 CEd. This man, it seems, still struggles to elude us. 
 Her'd. No, I confessed long since I gave the child. 
 CEd. And whence received ? thine own, or from 
 another ? 
 
 Herd. No, not mine own ; I from another’s hand 
 Bare him. 
 
 CEd. And from what Theban, from what roof? 
 Herd. O, by the Gods ! my Lord, inquire no 
 further. 
 
 CEd. If I repeat th’ inquiry, thou art lost. 
 
 Herd. The palace of King Laius gave him birth. 
 CEd. Sprung from a slave, or of the royal stock ? 
 Herd. Ah ! how I shrink to breathe the fatal truth. 
 CEd. And I to hear it ; yet it must be heard. 
 Herd. The child was called the son of Laius ; here 
 Thy royal consort can inform thee better. 
 
 CEd. Didst thou from her receive him ? 
 
 Herd. Yea, O King! 
 
 CEd. And for what purpose? 
 
 Herd. That I might destroy him. 
 
 CEd. What — the unnatural mother? 
 
 Herd . She was awed 
 By woe-denouncing oracles. 
 
 VOL. i. 
 
 & 
 
82 
 
 (EDIPIJS TYRANNUS. 
 
 (Ed. What woe ? 
 
 Herd . That he should prove the murderer of his 
 parents. 
 
 (Ed. Why, then, to this old man thy charge 
 consign ? 
 
 Herd. From pity, O my Lord. I deemed that he 
 To his own land would bear the child afar. 
 
 He saved him to despair. If thou art he 
 Of whom he spake, how dark a doom is thine ! 
 
 (Ed. Woe ! woe ! ’tis all too fatally unveiled. 
 Thou Light ! O may I now behold thy beams 
 For the last time ! Unhallowed was my birth, 
 
 In closest ties united, where such ties 
 
 Were most unnatural; — with that blood defiled, 
 
 From whose pollution most the heart recoils. 
 
 Exit (Edi pus. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 STROPHE i. 
 
 Sad generations of mankind, 
 
 How oft your fleeting date I deem 
 Of vanity and woe combined ! 
 
 For what is transport but a dream 
 
<_ED FPUS TYKANNUS. 
 
 83 
 
 That seems awhile to beam and bless, 
 
 Then wanes away to wretchedness ? 
 
 Thy fortunes, my unhappy lord, 
 
 Thy woes the mournful proof afford ; 
 
 And henceforth never shall my breast 
 Deem mortal blest. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE I. 
 
 Raised by strong hand and daring aim, 
 Sublime to glory’s proudest height, 
 
 Who erst — Eternal Jove! — o’ercame 
 The harpy-taloned Maid of night 
 Chaunting dark strains — and stood the tower 
 Of Thebes in death’s impending hour ; — 
 
 For this, O King, thy wisdom’s meed, 
 
 My country’s crown adorns thy head ; 
 
 For this her stately towers obey 
 Thy regal sway. 
 
 STROPHE II. 
 
 But now thy tale I hear, 
 
 Ah ! who so deeply sunk as thou ? 
 
 What horrors are thy portion now, 
 
 What hopeless toil severe ? 
 
 Alas for thee ! O King renowned ! 
 
 g 2 
 
84 
 
 CEDIPUS TYR ANNUS. 
 
 "To one dark couch the son and sire 
 Alike the nuptial union bound ; — 
 
 How could that couch, in silence so profound, 
 Bear such pollution dire ? 
 
 ANTISTROPHE II. 
 
 Time with all-searching eye 
 Dragged thee reluctant into light, 
 
 And doth on son and sire requite 
 This foul unnatural tie. 
 
 0 had it ne’er been mine to see 
 The son of Laius J — o’er thy doom 
 
 1 pour the plaints of sympathy. 
 
 By thee, O Prince ! I rose to life; — by thee 
 Have closed mine eyes in gloom ! 
 
 Enter Messenger. 
 
 MESSENGER, CHORUS. 
 
 Mess. O chiefs, most honoured of my native 
 land, 
 
 1 In the original, “ Cui anus et idem suffecit portus, quo 
 filius et pater et sponsus exciperentur.” — Brunck. It is 
 trusted, that the classical reader will excuse the absence of a 
 literal translation in this passage, as he will readily appreciate 
 the motives which occasioned its omission. 
 
(ED1PLS TYKANNUS. 
 
 85 
 
 What horrors will ye hear, what woes behold, 
 What pitying anguish suffer, if indeed 
 Ye still revere the house of Labdacus. 
 
 2 Did Phasis blend with Isters mighty flood, 
 
 Both could not wash the deadly taint away 
 Of those dark deeds, which, latent in yon towers, 
 Soon shall burst forth to day’s abhorrent light, 
 Spontaneous, unconstrained. Ills self-imposed 
 With keener anguish wound the bleeding heart. 
 
 Ch. There wanted nought to aggravate the woes 
 We knew already. What remains to tell? 
 
 Mess. What may be quickly told, and learnt as 
 soon. 
 
 Hear, first, — the loved Jocasta is no more. 
 
 Ch. Ill-fated Queen ! what caused her hapless 
 doom ? 
 
 Mess. She was herself the cause. Of these dark 
 deeds 
 
 The worst is latent, since no eye beheld 
 
 2 Crimes were imagined by the ancients to be expiated by 
 river or sea water. So iEneas, in Virgil : 
 
 Me bello e tanto digressum et caede recenti 
 Attrectare nefas, donee me fiumine vivo 
 Abluero. 
 
86 
 
 1EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Its horrors ; yet the tenour of her woes, 
 
 As memory can retrace them, thou shalt hear. 
 
 When, frantic with despair, she wildly rushed 
 Within the portal, to the nuptial couch, 
 
 Rending her hair with ruthless hands, she fled ; 
 Then, entering, closely barred the doors within, 
 And on the long-departed Laius calls, 
 
 Making sad mention of that earlier son 
 By whom her Lord should perish, leaving her 
 To her own child to bear a lawless race; — 
 
 Then o’er that couch bewailed, where she brought 
 forth 
 
 A husband from a husband, sons from sons ; 
 
 And then and there, I know not how, she perished. 
 For with wild clamours CEdipus rushed in, 
 
 Nor longer thought we of the hapless Queen ; 
 
 For every eye on him was riveted. 
 
 On, on he hurried, raving for a sword, 
 
 Raving for her, his wife, — yet not his wife, 
 
 The mother of his children, and himself. 
 
 Infuriate thus, some demon urged him on, 
 
 We, who were present, spake not. With deep groans 
 Led by that viewless guide, he madly rushed 
 Against the two-fold portals, and beat down 
 The massive bolts, and burst into the chamber. 
 
CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 87 
 
 Suspended there his wretched wife we saw, 
 Wreathed in the twisted cord. Soon as he marked 
 Th’ appalling sight, with agonizing groans 
 He loosed the strangling noose ; but when on earth 
 Her breathless corpse was laid, — oh, then ensued 
 A hideous scene of horror. From her robe 
 Tearing the golden clasps that bound her zone, 
 Deep in his eyes the piercing point he plunged, 
 Exclaiming thus, — that never, nevermore, 
 
 Her should they see, the sufferings he endured, 
 
 Or the dire deeds he wrought, — that, henceforth 
 quenched 
 
 In outer darkness, ne’er should they behold 
 Those whom to see beseemed him now no more ; — 
 Nor know the forms he most desired to know. 
 Thus, imprecating curses on his head, 
 
 Again, again, and yet again, he struck, 
 
 Raising his eye-lids, till the bleeding balls 
 His cheek empurpled, nor in scanty flood 
 Gushed the quick drops, but from his brow poured 
 down 
 
 A shower of tears and crimson gore combined. 
 Such storms of fate have burst alike on both — 
 The wife, the husband, in one ruin whelmed — 
 Their former state, which heretofore we deemed, 
 
88 
 
 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 And justly too, most blessed ; — on this day 
 Is changed to wailing, horror, death, and worse 
 Than death, dishonour. Misery hath no name 
 For aught that blends not in his cup of sorrow. 
 
 Ch. Is there no pause of respite from his pangs ? 
 Mess. He calls aloud, with clamours wild and 
 shrill, 
 
 T’ unbar the portals, and to all the Thebans, 
 
 Expose the guilty murderer of his father, 
 
 His mother’s — —Oh, I cannot, dare not breathe 
 His heart-appalling words : he bids them drive him 
 Far, far from Thebes, nor refuge still afford 
 To him, th’ accursed, by himself condemned. 
 
 Yet ah, a guide and added strength he needs ; 
 
 His agony is more than he can bear. 
 
 Soon wilt thou see him. Lo ! the close-barred gates 
 Are bursting now asunder. Thou wilt soon 
 Behold a sight, that well might wake relenting 
 E’en in the bosom of remorseless hate. 
 
 Enter CEdipus. 
 
 CED1PUS, CHORUS. 
 
 Ch. O sight of grief to human eye — 
 
CKDIPUS TYKANNUS. 
 
 89 
 
 The most appalling far of all 
 On which I e’er have gazed. — Ill-fated King ! 
 What frenzy seized thee — what indignant God 
 Hath heaped this sad extremity of woe 
 On thy devoted head ? — 
 
 Alas, alas, unhappy ! But mine eye 
 Recoils to meet thee, though of much I pant 
 To ask, and much to hear and to behold, 
 
 Such dread thy pangs inspire. — 
 
 (Ed. Woe ! woe ! unutterable woe ! 
 
 I am indeed most wretched. Where, oh where 
 Is the lost wanderer borne, and whence that voice 
 That breaks upon mine ear? — 
 
 Where, Fortune, hast thou plunged me now? — 
 
 Ch . In horrors, from which eye and ear recoil. 
 
 STROPHE i. 
 
 (Ed. O thou dense cloud 
 Of black and baleful darkness, deepening round, 
 Boundless, eternal, and by hope uncheered ! 
 
 Oh wretch, wretch, wretch ! How piercing is the 
 sting 
 
 Of frenzy, and the memory of the past ! 
 
 Ch. No marvel if, in agonies like thine, 
 Redoubled ills inflict a double wound. 
 
90 
 
 (EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE I. 
 
 (Ed. What ! thou, my friend, 
 
 Thou only firm and faithful, who art still 
 Regardful of the blind ? — O misery ! 
 
 Though all is dark around me, still I hear, 
 
 I know thy friendly accents through my darkness. 
 
 Ch. O wildly-daring, how couldst thou endure 
 To mangle thus thine eyes, — what God impelled 
 thee ? 
 
 STROPHE II. 
 
 (Ed. ’Twas Phoebus, Phoebus, O my friends, alone 
 Who wrought my doom of woe, 
 
 My hopeless agony 
 
 But this dark deed no hand, save mine, hath dared. 
 3 Yet what were sight to me, 
 
 For whom all Nature wears one hue of blackness? 
 
 Ch. Alas ! I can but own thy words most true. 
 
 . < > 
 
 STROPHE III. 
 
 (Ed. What now remains to court 
 
 3 Shuddering I shrunk from Nature’s face, 
 Where every hue that charmed before, 
 
 The blackness of my bosom wore. — B yron. 
 
(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 91 
 
 My gaze, or wake my love, 
 
 Henceforth what voice shall gladden my dull ear ? 
 Drive me to instant exile from your land, 
 
 Drive me, O friends ! this widely-blasting pest, 
 This most accursed of men, 
 
 And trebly hateful to the Powers above ! 
 
 Ch. Wretched alike in soul as in thy doom! 
 Would to the Gods that I had never known thee ! 
 
 ANTISTROPHE II. 
 
 (Ed. Perdition seize the wretch, in the wild wood, 
 Who first my feet unbound, 
 
 And from impending fate 
 
 Released and rescued me, — unwelcome care ! 
 
 O had I perished then, 
 
 Nor brought this ruin on myself, — my kindred ! 
 
 Ch. Fain must I breathe an echo to thy prayer. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE III. 
 
 CEd. I had not then been doomed 
 The murderer of my sire, 
 
 Nor by mankind for lawless nuptials scorned — 
 
 Now I am most defiled — the child of guilt — 
 
 The sire of sons to her who calls me son. 
 
 Whate’er of heavier woe, 
 
92 
 
 CED1PUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 In woe exists, that CEdipus must bear. 
 
 Ch. I know not how thy counsel to commend ; — 
 Better to die at once than pine in darkness. 
 
 (Ed. If void of wisdom I have done this deed, 
 Spare now reproof and counsel ; both are vain. 
 Descending to the dead, I know not how 
 I could have borne to gaze upon my sire, 
 
 Or my unhappy mother ; for to them 
 Crimes dark as mine, not death can e’er atone. 
 
 And could the sight of my fair budding offspring, 
 Springing from whence they sprung, be sweet to me ? 
 Oh never with these eyes ! I could not gaze 
 On this fair city, these imperial towers, 
 
 Or e’en the hallowed temples of the Gods, 
 
 Of which, though once the noblest in our Thebes, 
 My own stern sentence hath for ever reft me ! 
 
 Myself enjoining all to spurn afar 
 
 The wretch, proclaimed accursed by the Gods, 
 
 And sprung from Laius’ stock. When I disclosed 
 Mine own dishonour, could I still behold 
 These with bold front and firm undrooping eye ? 
 
 Oh never, never ! Could I e’en obstruct 
 The avenues of sound, I would not cease 
 To rend this wretched body, till with sight 
 The power of hearing fled ; tis some relief 
 
(EDI PTJS TYR ANNUS. 
 
 93 
 
 To lose the bitter sense of agony. 
 
 Oh why, Cithaeron, didst thou yield me refuge, 
 Nor grant me swift destruction, that to men 
 I ne’er had shown the secret of my birth ? 
 
 Oh Polybus, oh Corinth, and the home 
 Once fondly deemed my father’s, what a form 
 Of specious glory but of latent ills 
 In me ye cherished, who am now revealed 
 The guilty child of parents not less guilty ! 
 
 Ye triple ways, thou lone secluded dell, 
 
 Thou grove, and dark recess in that trine path, 
 Which from my hand imbibed a father’s blood, 
 
 Ah do ye still remember the foul deeds 
 I wrought in your deep shade ? then, here arriving, 
 What added guilt incurred ? Thou fatal marriage, 
 Alas, most fatal, whence I drew my birth, 
 
 Whence sprung again a vile promiscuous brood, 
 Exposed to light, of fathers, brothers, sons ; — 
 Whence too of kindred blood came sisters, wives, 
 And mothers — all that man accounts most guilty ! 
 Yet, since to speak is evil, where to act 
 Was most unseemly, hide me, by the Gods, 
 
 Far from this land, or doom my instant death, 
 
 Or cast me to the deep — I reck not where — 
 
 So I may never blast your sight again. 
 
94 
 
 CEDIPUS TYK ANNUS. 
 
 Come, nor disdain to touch a hapless wretch ; — 
 Comply, and fear not : these unequalled woes 
 I, I alone, of all mankind, must bear. 
 
 Ch. He comes, to whom thy prayers were best 
 preferred, 
 
 Creon — to counsel and to act are his, 
 
 Who now is left sole monarch of the land. 
 
 (Ed. Ah me ! and in what words shall I accost 
 him ? 
 
 How can he yield due credence to my prayer, 
 
 Who hath himself already proved me worthless ? 
 
 Enter Creon. 
 
 CREON, (EDIPUS, CHORUS. 
 
 Cr. I come not to insult thee, (Edipus, 
 
 Or add recrimination to thy sorrows. 
 
 But you, if nought of reverence ye retain 
 For those of mortal birth, at least respect 
 The all-sustaining flame of yon fair sun, 
 
 Nor drag the dire pollution into light, 
 
 Which nor the earth, nor heaven-descending rain, 
 Nor day’s broad light can evermore endure. 
 
 Haste, and immure him instantly within, 
 
o:dipus tyrannus. 
 
 95 
 
 For decency demands that kindred ears 
 Alone should listen to a kinsman’s woes. 
 
 (Ed. Now by the Gods, sinee thou hast passed 
 my hopes, 
 
 And, best thyself of men, dost freely come 
 To me the most abandoned, grant one boon — 
 
 Not for myself, but thee, I ask.- 1 — 
 
 Cr. What boon 
 
 Would’st thou of me so fervently implore? 
 
 (Ed. Drive me from Thebes afar, where never 
 more 
 
 May I e’er hold communion with mankind. 
 
 Cr. This had I done, be well assured, but first 
 ’Tis meet to ask the pleasure of the God. 
 
 (Ed. That pleasure hath already been declared ; 
 He dooms the impious parricide to death. 
 
 Cr. Thus hath he willed ; yet in so dark a crisis 
 ’Tis better far again to ask his pleasure. 
 
 (Ed. Wilt thou consult him for a wretch like me? 
 Cr. Thy fall hath taught us to revere his truth. 
 (Ed. I charge and will adjure thee to entomb 
 With decent rites the dead who lies within — 
 
 Such office best beseems thy kindred blood. 
 
 Nor longer let my native city deign 
 To grant me refuge in her friendly walls ; 
 
96 
 
 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 But drive me hence, to dwell on that wild mount, 
 My own Cithseron called, which erst my parents, 
 While yet I lived, designed my sepulchre ; — 
 
 As they my death ordained, so let me die. 
 
 Too well I know, nor blight of keen disease, 
 
 Nor other ill could slay me. I was snatched 
 From death, to dare this more than deadly deed. 
 But as our fate began, so let us on. — 
 
 As for my children — for my sons, O Creon, 
 
 Take no solicitude — for they are men — 
 
 Where’er they roam, they cannot feel the pangs 
 Of piercing penury. — But, O ! my daughters ! — 
 My much loved daughters ! — in the weak estate 
 Of virgin helplessness — who never dwelt 
 Apart from their loved father, and with whom 
 I ever shared my pomp — my joy — my all, — 
 
 Be these thy constant care, and grant me now 
 To clasp them, and bewail our common woes. 
 Assent, 0 King ! — 
 
 0 generous Monarch, while my hand may touch them, 
 
 1 seem to hold, as though I saw them still. 
 
 What do I say ? — 
 
 Ye Gods! my much loved children do I hear, 
 Wailing our woes? — hath pitying Creon sent 
 The dearest pledges of my love to bless me? 
 
CLD1PUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 97 
 
 Are my words true? 
 
 Or. They are. My care provided this delight, 
 Assured of old what joy their presence gave thee. 
 
 (Ed. 0 be thou blest for this, and mayst thou find 
 The God a better guard than 1 have found him. 
 Where are ye, my sweet children? Come, O come, 
 To mine embrace, as to a brother’s hands, 
 
 Which yet have quenched a father’s eyes in darkness. 
 Your father, my poor children, (though unseen, 
 Unknown the deed,) by her who gave me life. 
 
 O’er you I weep — though never more, alas ! 
 
 Can I behold you, — yet I know too well 
 That ye must linger on through life in sorrow, 
 While bitterest anguish waits you with mankind. 
 
 To what assembled crowds will ye resort, 
 
 What festive scenes, from which with downcast looks 
 Ye will not steal dejected to your home, 
 
 Youselves more wept than that ideal woe? 
 
 And when in Beauty’s vernal pride ye bloom, 
 
 Ah who, my daughters, who in nuptial tie 
 Will lead you to his house, nor heed the stain 
 Fixed on my wretched parents, and on yours ? 
 What taint is wanting? First, your father slew 
 His father; then, in guilty wedlock linked 
 To his own mother, gave you birth, my children, 
 
 VOL. i. 
 
 H 
 
98 
 
 OEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 From the same source whence his own life he drew. 
 Thus will ye be reproached. Who then will wed 
 you? 
 
 None, none, my daughters — ye must pine, alas ! 
 Deserted, and with nuptial rites unblessed. 
 
 Son of Menceceus, since thou now art left 
 Sole parent to these orphans, (we, who once 
 Bore that beloved name, in ruin whelmed,) 
 
 Ah leave them not, for they are still thy kindred, 
 
 To roam in friendless penury, unwedded ; — 
 
 Let not their misery equal their lost father’s. 
 
 Ah pity them, so young, so innocent, 
 
 By every friend deserted, save by thee. 
 
 Assent, most noble Monarch, pledge thy hand. 
 
 And ye, my children, were your age mature 
 To heed instruction, much would I exhort you. — 
 Now would I breathe alone this parting prayer, 
 Where’er your destined home, may Heaven assign 
 A happier lot than your most wretched father’s. 
 
 TROCHAICS. 
 
 Cr. Hold, for where doth grief transport thee? 
 
 to the palace now retreat. 
 
 (Ed. I obey, though most reluctant. 
 
 Cr. All is well in season meet. 
 
CEDIPUS TYRANNUS, 
 
 99 
 
 (Ed. Knowst thou now my wish? 
 
 Cr. Unfold it — I due audience will accord, 
 
 (Ed. Drive me from this land to exile. 
 
 Cr. To the God this prayer be poured. 
 
 (Ed. To the Gods I am most hateful. 
 
 Cr. Thence thy wish thou soon shalt gain. 
 
 (Ed. Meanst thou thus? 
 
 Cr. The word I mean not, but to speak 
 
 I would disdain. 
 
 (Ed. Lead me hence without delaying. 
 
 Cr. Go — but leave thy children still. 
 
 (Ed. Do not, do not tear them from me. 
 
 Cr. Aim not to achieve thy will, 
 
 What before thou didst accomplish, failed to bless 
 thy waning day. 
 
 Ch. Sons of Thebes, my native city, this great 
 CEdipus survey, 
 
 Who resolved the famed enigma, who for virtue far 
 renowned, 
 
 Nought of favour recked or fortune, with transcen- 
 dant glory crowned. 
 
 Mark him now, dismayed, degraded, tost on waves 
 of wildest woes ; — 
 
 Think on this, short-sighted mortal, and till life’s 
 deciding close, 
 
 H 2 
 
100 
 
 CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 
 
 Dare not to pronounce thy fellow truly happy, truly 
 blest, 
 
 Till the bounds of life passed over, yet unharmed, 
 he sinks to rest. 
 
(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 H: 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 That sublime sentiment of Sophocles, respecting 
 “ Laws,” which occurs in the preceding tragedy, 
 
 Msyuq tv Tarot? @eo?, e yygdo-xei, 
 
 “ The Divinity is mighty within them, and waxes not old,” 
 
 may be applied, with the strictest propriety, to his 
 own admirable genius, as displayed in the plan 
 and execution of the drama now under considera- 
 tion. The “ GEdipus at Colonos” is indeed a 
 phenomenon without rival or parallel in the records 
 of literature. Though composed, if we admit the 
 testimony of Cicero and Valerius Maximus, after 
 the poet had completed his ninetieth year ; — at an 
 
104 
 
 (EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 age, when, in ordinary instances, as the corporeal 
 powers of man become only “ labour and sorrow,” 
 so his mental energies are merged in imbecility and 
 forgetfulness ; this tragedy is inferior to none of 
 our author’s productions in animation and interest, 
 while for unaffected pathos and impressive morality 
 it is superior to all. It constitutes a most satisfac- 
 tory and appropriate sequel to the “ (Edipus 
 Tyrannus,” inasmuch as it supplies that moral effect, 
 in which its precursor is unquestionably deficient. 
 To behold an individual, like (Edipus, suffering 
 on account of crimes into which he had been un- 
 consciously betrayed by the very means which he 
 had taken to avoid them, is a painful, if not an 
 unnatural spectacle ; and we derive little or no in- 
 struction from the calamities of one, who is pu- 
 nished rather from the caprice of the Gods, than 
 for actual and deliberate transgression. But when 
 we contemplate the same individual, as in the suc- 
 ceeding drama, enduring with patient resignation 
 the unmerited anger of the Deities, and looking 
 only to a future state of existence for deliverance 
 and repose, we are admonished in the most for- 
 cible manner, that, as it is the first duty of man to 
 avoid the perpetration of crime, so the most accep- 
 
(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 105 
 
 table expiation of guilt, is a meek and unrepining 
 submission to its penalty. 
 
 it may also be added, that if, according to the 
 trite proverb, example be the most impressive and 
 useful mode of instruction, then is this drama 
 more than commonly instructive. For the charac- 
 ters which it delineates are of universal occur- 
 rence. If there are few monarchs, on whom it can 
 devolve to imitate the dignified magnanimity of 
 Theseus, there are many sufferers, who may prac- 
 tise the resignation of (Edipus, and many daugh- 
 ters, who may emulate the piety of Antigone. In 
 reference to the last-mentioned character, indeed, 
 we may unhesitatingly affirm, that in no one unin- 
 spired composition is there presented a more natu- 
 ral and affecting delineation of filial virtue, than is 
 here depicted in the daughter of (Edipus. 
 
 But though the softer emotions — love, and ten- 
 derness, and pity — are the predominant charac- 
 teristics of this tragedy, the poet, in his manage- 
 ment of the catastrophe, has soared to the loftiest 
 elevation of grandeur and sublimity. As the life 
 of (Edipus had been extraordinary and eventful, 
 
106 
 
 OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 so was his death to be awful and mysterious. He 
 had not lived, neither could he die, like an ordi- 
 nary mortal. He bore a “ charmed life a life 
 exempted, as it were, from the common assaults of 
 mortality, and only to be terminated by some signal 
 and unprecedented interposition of Divinity. Such 
 is indeed the “ dignus vindice nodus” which 
 sanctions supernatural interference. Accordingly, 
 the earth convulsed and trembling, the appalling 
 and incessant thunder, the glare of lightning, 
 and the howling of the storm, the solemn inter- 
 vals of silence, in which the voice of some in- 
 visible messenger is heard to murmur from beneath 
 a summons to the devoted monarch, the conster- 
 nation even of the resolute and intrepid Theseus, 
 all these tend to produce a scene, which, for lof- 
 tiness of conception and magnificence of execu- 
 tion, is not excelled by any relic of the Grecian 
 drama, even in the compositions of the wild and 
 terrific jEschylus. 
 
 This drama is also peculiarly valuable, on ac- 
 count of the light which it throws upon the reli- 
 gious observances of antiquity, of which the ex- 
 piatory homage of CEdipus in the grove of the Fu- 
 
(ED1PUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 107 
 
 ries is a conspicuous instance. Should the English 
 reader consider these descriptions somewhat too te- 
 dious and circumstantial, he may perhaps be con- 
 ciliated by the reflection, that the ancient drama, — 
 how unlike the modern ! — was the popular vehicle of 
 religious as well as moral instruction. He will at 
 least be recompensed for the labour of perusal, if the 
 contemplation of the rigid devotion with which the 
 heathen performed the services of their religion, 
 should furnish him with an additional motive for the 
 more zealous and conscientious fulfilment of the 
 duties of his own. 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONAL 
 
 CEdipus. 
 
 Antigone, ■) 
 
 J Daughters of CEdipus. 
 ISMENE, $ 
 
 Theseus, King of Athens. 
 
 Creon. 
 
 Polynices, Son of CEdipus. 
 
 Athenian. 
 
 Messenger. 
 
 Chorus of aged Inhabitants of Colonos, 
 
(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 (EDIPUS, ANTIGONE. 
 
 (Ed. Say, daughter of a blind and aged sire, 
 Antigone, what region have we reached, 
 
 Or whose the city? Who will here extend 
 
 A scanty pittance for the passing day 
 
 To the poor wandering (Edipus, who asks 
 
 But for a little, and receiving less 
 
 Ev’n than that little, counts the boon enough. 
 
 For stern afflictions, long-protracted years, 
 
 And fortitude of soul, have taught me patience. 
 But now, my child, if haply thou discern 
 One resting on unconsecrated seats, 
 
110 
 
 (EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 Or by the hallowed groves, there rest my steps, 
 And seat me there, that thus we may inquire 
 What land hath given us refuge ? Strangers here 
 We seek the natives of the state, to learn, 
 
 And what we hear, perform. 
 
 Ant. O CEdipus, 
 
 My much-afflicted father, the high towers, 
 
 Which girt the city, rise in distant view : 
 
 The spot on which we stand, I deem, is holy. 
 
 Here laurels, olives, vines, in one green shade 
 Are close inwoven ; and within the grove 
 The nightingales make frequent melody. 
 
 Rest now thy faltering limbs on this rude stone ; 
 Such lengthened wanderings ill befit thine age. 
 
 (Ed. Then seat me here, and watch beside the 
 blind. 
 
 Ant. That mournful office time too well hath 
 taught me. 
 
 (Ed. Canstthou then tell me on what place we stand ? 
 Ant . The land is that of Athens ; but the spot 
 I know not ; this each passing traveller 
 Hath told already. Wilt thou I depart 
 To question of the place? 
 
 (Ed. Yea, if there be 
 Inhabitants, my daughter, to inform thee. 
 
 
CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Ant. There are inhabitants ; but now my task 
 Is needless, for I see a stranger near us. 
 
 (Ed. And with quick pace is he advancing hither? 
 Ant. The man e’en now hath reached us ; what 
 thou wilt 
 
 Demand ; — for he is present to inform thee. 
 
 Enter an Athenian. 
 
 CEDIPUS, ANTIGONE, ATHENIAN. 
 
 (Ed. Stranger, apprised by her, whose sight alone 
 Guides both herself and me, that thou art here 
 Arrived in welcome moment to unfold 
 What much we long to know — 
 
 Ath. Ere thou dost urge 
 Inquiry further, quit that sacred seat ; 
 
 No foot of man may tread this hallowed soil. 
 
 (Ed. What is the place, — devoted to what Power? 
 Ath. From mortal touch and mortal dwelling pure 
 Is that mysterious grove ; 1 the awful Powers, 
 
 1 Efx(po(3oi Qexi, the venerable Goddesses, or Furies ; by 
 name, Alecto, Tisiphone, and Megaera. They were also 
 
112 
 
 OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 Daughters of Earth and Darkness, dwell within. 
 
 (Ed. By what most holy name should I invoke 
 them ^ * sv , ^ t, - 
 
 tllcm * PtK V*/ 
 
 Ath. We call them in this land th’ Eumenides, 
 
 The all-beholding Powers ; in other lands, 
 
 By various lofty titles men adore them. 
 
 (Ed. Propitious now may they receive their 
 suppliant, 
 
 That never may 1 quit their fated seat. 
 
 Ath. What may this mean ? 
 o CEd. A symbol of rny doom, 
 
 Ath. Twere bold in me to force thee from the 
 spot, 
 
 Ere thus the mandate of the state enjoin. 
 
 (Ed. O stranger, by the Gods, disdain thou not 
 To answer all a wretched wanderer asks thee. 
 
 Ath. Speak ; and from me thou shalt not meet 
 disdain. 
 
 (Ed. What is the region, then, which now re- 
 ceives us ? 
 
 styled the Eumenides, or “ Benevolent.” The reader, who 
 is curious to learn in what manner they acquired an appella- 
 tion so incongruous with the offices usually ascribed to them, 
 may consult the <! Eumenides” of iEschylus. 
 
1EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 113 
 
 Ath . Far as I know, thou too shaithear the whole. 
 The place is holy all. Here reigns supreme 
 The mighty Neptune; here the Power of Flame , 2 3 
 The Titan-God, Prometheus ; where thy feet 
 Are resting now, is called the brazen way, 
 
 The bulwark of great Athens ; while the fields 
 Adjacent claim for their illustrious Lord 
 Colonus the equestrian, and from him 
 The circling regions all deduce their name. 
 
 Such are the things I tell thee ; not alone 
 By words ennobled, but familiar use. 
 
 CEd. Do any dwell around this hallowed spot ? 
 Ath. Yes, they who from the God their name derive. 
 CEd. 1 Is there a king, or bear the people sway ? 
 Ath. The King who rules the city rules here also. 
 
 2 Uvp(pofo<; ©so?. This appellation is peculiarly applicable to 
 Prometheus ; because, as we are told by Pausanias, the 
 youths, who contended in the race, called ayuv Aa//,-7ra£a%o?, 
 lighted their torches at his altar here mentioned, and ran 
 towards the city. — Potter. 
 
 3 It may seem surprising, that OEdipus, who had so long been 
 Monarch of Thebes, should not know whether a neighbouring- 
 state was a republic or a monarchy ; but it will afterwards 
 appear, that CEdipus only asks this question for a feint, that 
 he may not be known, and in order to gain fuller intelli- 
 gence. — Brumoy. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 I 
 
114 
 
 CEDTPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 (Ed. Stands his high throne in equity and might? 
 
 ■i 
 
 Ath. His name may answer this. 'Tis Theseus, son 
 Of iEgeus, late our Lord. 
 
 (Ed. Is there of you 
 
 One who will bear our message to his ear ? 
 
 Ath. Aught to recount, or ask his presence hither? 
 (Ed. That for a trivial succour he may reap 
 A rich reward. 
 
 Ath. Reward ! and what reward 
 Can a blind wanderer on a king confer ? 
 
 (Ed. The things we would reveal are not less clear 
 Than if our sight had traced them. 
 
 Ath. Know’st thou, stranger, 
 
 That thou art not deceived ? and yet thou seem’st 
 In all, except thy fortunes, truly noble. 
 
 Remain where now I see thee, till I seek 
 Those who inhabit the encircling meads, 
 
 Not the far city, and relate my tale. 
 
 Be it their task to judge, if in this grove 
 Thou mayst remain, or must again depart. 
 
 [E.vit Athenian. 
 
OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 315 
 
 OEDIPUS, ANTIGONE. 
 
 (Ed. My daughter, is the stranger now departed ? 
 Ant. He is, my father ; all around is still. 
 
 Speak what thou list, for I alone am nigh thee. 
 
 (Ed. Dread Powers of fearful aspect, since your 
 seats 
 
 Have lent my wearied limbs their first repose, 
 
 Be not relentless or to me or Phoebus, 
 
 Who, when his voice my countless woes denounced, 
 Foretold a welcome though a distant end, 
 
 sf 
 
 When I should reach the destined realm — where find 
 A rest and refuge in the sheltering grove 
 Of venerable Powers — that there my course 
 Of sorrow and of agony should close; 
 
 With rich reward to those who should receive me, 
 To those, who thrust me from their land, destruction; 
 And that undoubted signals should proclaim 
 The hour ordained by fate — or earthquakes roar, 
 
 Thunders, or lightnings of Almighty Jove. 
 
 y 
 
 Hence well I know ’twas your own augury, 
 
 That to this hallowed grove my wanderings led. 
 
 I had not else thus lighted first on you, 
 
 i 2 
 
116 
 
 CEDTPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 * The wine-abhorring, pure myself from wine, 
 
 And on this rude yet awful seat reclined. 
 
 Now, gracious Powers, Apollo’s word confirm, 
 
 And grant at length a limit to my woes, 
 
 If I have felt enough of wretchedness, — 
 
 The slave of miseries far beyond the lot 
 
 To man’s sad race assigned. Come, then, O come, 
 
 Propitious daughters of primeval Night; 
 
 And thou, from thine own patron Pallas named, 
 Fair Athens, noblest of our Grecian states ; 
 
 Pity the shade of wretched CEdipus ; 
 
 Alas ! I am not now what I have been. 
 
 Ant. Cease, cease. I see some aged men advance, 
 
 Perchance with purpose to explore thy seat. 
 
 ■ 
 
 (Ed. I will forbear. Conduct me from the path, 
 And screen me in the grove, that I may learn 
 Their secret conference. Knowledge thus obtained 
 May best direct us how to act with prudence. 
 
 [Exeunt (Edipus and Antigone. 
 
 4 ’Aoii/oj?. Wine was never used in the sacrifices offered to 
 the Furies. Hence the Chorus, in enjoining CEdipus to pro- 
 pitiate the Goddesses, expressly command him, fjwfrl '7t£0cr(pi£zw 
 p&v, not to present wine. 
 
CEDI PUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 117 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 STROPHE. 
 
 Look ! look ! who was he ? where abides he now ? 
 Or whither from the spot hath fled, 
 
 5 Restless, most restless of mankind ? 
 
 Dost thou behold him ? Search around, 
 
 And shout on every side. 
 
 Who — who is this sad aged wanderer ? 
 
 Doubtless of foreign land, or his rash foot 
 
 Had never trod the grove 
 
 Of those unconquered Virgin-Powers, 
 
 Whose name we tremble but to breathe, 
 
 Whose mystic shrine we pass v 
 
 With far-averted eye, ^7*®* 
 
 And pondering, silent and devout, 
 
 On happier omens there. 
 
 5 ’Axo^sVaros. Literally, according to Brunck’s interpreta- 
 tion, most insatiable. The translator confesses himself at a 
 loss to comprehend the full meaning of this epithet; he has 
 therefore adopted the rendering of Potter, 44 most restless,” 
 in preference to that of Francklin, who has 44 most pro- 
 phane.” 
 
118 
 
 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 But rumour tells that one hath now arrived, 
 Revering not the laws, 
 
 Whom I h^ve sought with keen observant glance 
 Throughout the sacred grove, 
 
 Yet still he mocks my search. 
 
 Enter (Edipus and Antigone. 
 
 (EDIPUS, ANTIGONE, CHORUS. 
 
 (Ed. Behold him here ; for by your words I know 
 
 ■■ ■ 
 
 I am the man ye seek;* » ' 
 
 Ch. Ah me ! to hear and to behold how fearful ! 
 (Ed. O deem me not a 6 scorner of your laws. 
 
 Ch. Protector Jove, who is this aged man? 
 
 (Ed. One on whose lot no favouring Power hath 
 smiled 
 
 Ye rulers of the land ! 
 
 6 "a vo / xov . The term “ outlaw/’ which Francklin has selected 
 as peculiarly appropriate, does not appear to give the precise 
 signification of the original word. It refers not so much to one 
 “ whom the laws of his country have expelled from all the 
 benefits and privileges of society,” as to one who does not 
 recognise or regard the sanction of the laws. It would, per- 
 haps, be more appropriately rendered by the word “ lawless.” 
 
(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 119 
 
 Be this the proof, — I had not wandered else, 
 
 Led by another’s eye, 
 
 Or leaned, though weighty, on so frail a stay. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE. 
 
 Ch. Woe! woe! unhappy! thou, it seems, art 
 doomed 
 
 To pine with sightless orbs, oppressed 
 By years, and bowed with wretchedness. 
 
 Yet, if my power avail, to woe 
 Thou shalt not add this curse ; 
 
 For thou hast passed, far passed, the bound assigned. 
 Ah ! tread not thou that green and hallowed grove, 
 Where with the honied draught 
 Commingling, its pure limpid stream 
 The full and flowing goblet pours. 
 
 This, hapless stranger, this 
 With cautious step beware. 
 
 Recede — depart — a lengthened space 
 Remains between us still. 
 
 Dost thou not hear, unhappy wanderer ? 
 
 If thou hast aught to ask 
 In conference, quit that sacred spot, 
 
 And where the laws allow 
 Demand ; till then refrain. 
 
120 
 
 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 (Ed. What, O my daughter! should we now 
 resolve ? 
 
 Ant. Father, we must obey the citizens, 
 
 And yield, as fits our state, without reluctance. 
 
 (Ed. Sustain me then. 
 
 Ant. My hand e’en now sustains thee. 
 
 (Ed. O strangers, wrong me not, 
 
 Since, yielding now, I quit the sacred seat. 
 
 Ch. Nay, from that very seat, old man, 
 
 Know, none shall force thee. 
 
 (Ed. Should I yet advance ? 
 
 Ch. Yea, forward. 
 
 (Ed. Forward still? 
 
 X 
 
 Ch. Maiden, do thou his footseps onward guide. 
 Thou seest the bound prescribed. 
 
 Ant. Follow me then, with dark and faltering step ; 
 Follow, my father, whither now I lead thee. 
 
 A stranger in a foreign land, 
 
 O thou of many woes ! 
 
 Whatever the state abhors 
 
 Endure to hate, and what it wills, -revere. 
 
 ■ 
 
 (Ed. Then lead me, O my child, where guiltless ail 
 We may securely speak, 
 
 And unoffending hear, 
 
 Nor strive we more with stern necessity. 
 
1EDIFUS AT COLON OS. 
 
 121 
 
 Ch . Stop ! nor beyond the rocky pavement aught 
 Thy venturous foot advance. 
 
 (Ed. Thus far ? 
 
 Ch. Enough ; thou hear’st — enough ! 
 
 CEd. May 1 now sit? 
 
 Ch. On the crag’s sloping verge 
 Cautious with reverent awe thy form incline. 
 
 Ant. Father, ’tis mine, in silent tenderness, 
 
 Alas ! how sad a task ! 
 
 To guide thy dark and dubious steps. 
 
 On my beloved hand 
 
 Rest thy weak powerless frame. 
 
 (Ed. O doom of abject misery ! 
 
 Ch. Since thou hast now obeyed, ill-fated man, 
 Disclose who gave thee birth, 
 
 What mighty woe constrains thee thus to roam, 
 And where thy country ? — 
 
 (Ed. Strangers, I have no country — Ask no more. 
 Ch. Why thus evade, old man? 
 
 CEd. Ask not, I pray thee, ask not of my race, 
 Nor question aught beyond. 
 
 Ch. Ha ! what means this? 
 
 (Ed. Dire is my race. 
 
 Ch. Yet speak. 
 
 (Ed. Ah me, my daughter, how can I reply ? 
 
122 
 
 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 Ch . Say of what line thou cam’st, 
 
 Who, stranger, was thy sire ? 
 
 (Ed. What shall I do, my daughter? Woe is me ! 
 Ant. Speak ; since the hand of fate lies heavy 
 on thee. 
 
 (Ed. Then will I speak ; concealment ’vails not now. 
 Ch. Thou tarriest long ; but speed — at once reply. 
 (Ed. Know ye a certain child of Laius ? 
 
 Ch. Ha! 
 
 (Ed. Sprung from the race of Labdacus ? 
 
 Ch. Great Jove ! 
 
 (Ed. The hapless CEdipus ? — 
 
 Ch. Art thou that wretch ? 
 
 (Ed. Oh, start not thus appalled. I am, I am. 
 Ch. Alas ! 
 
 (Ed. I am most wretched. 
 
 Ch. Gracious Heaven ! 
 
 (Ed. What darker doom, my daughter, now 
 impends ? 
 
 Ch. Away, away, and quit my land for ever. 
 (Ed. What thou hast promised how wilt thou fulfil? 
 Ch. Nay, Heaven’s avenging justice smites not him 
 Who wreaks but wrong for wrong ; 
 
 And fraud repaid with fraud, 
 
 On the false wretch, who first deceived, 
 
 ✓ fl) * 
 
(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 123 
 
 Brings sorrow, not success. 
 
 Thou from these seats, once more 
 
 An outcast, speed thee — speed thee from the land, 
 
 Lest thine unhallowed presence blast the city. 
 
 Ant. O venerable strangers, though ye shrunk 
 Recoiling from the tale 
 Of my poor aged sire, 
 
 Speaking of dark involuntary deeds ; 
 
 I do conjure you, turn not thus from me, 
 
 Me, while in suppliant anguish, I implore 
 Compassion for a father, and regard 
 Your steadfast gaze with unaverted eye. 
 
 Ah ! deem me now as one 
 
 Of your own kindred, and let pity wake 
 
 To aid the lost. On you, as on the Gods, 
 
 Our hopes depend. Oh! then relent, and grant 
 This unexpected boon. 
 
 I here adjure you by each hallowed tie, 
 
 Your child, your wife, your duty, and your God. 
 Where will ye find the man who can escape, 
 When Fate’s stern hand constrains him to despair 
 Ch . Know, child of GEdipus, we pity thee, 
 Nor gaze relentless on thy woe-worn sire ; 
 
 But we revere the Gods, nor dare rescind 
 The firm decision of our former mandate. 
 
124 
 
 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 (Ed. What then doth Glory’s vaunted name avail, 
 What the fair honours of illustrious fame, 
 
 Unproved by deeds as noble ? Rumour boasts 
 Of Athens, most observant of the Gods, 
 
 Athens alone, of all our states, the first 
 To save the stranger, and the lost to aid. 
 
 What are those vaunts to me ? Ye from those seats 
 Allured, and now expel me from your land, 
 
 Awed by a name alone. It is not me, 
 
 Nor yet my deeds ye fear ; for in those deeds 
 I have but suffered — not inflicted — wrong, 
 
 If I may dare my wretched parents name, 
 
 For whom ye thus contemn me. This I know 
 Full well. And shall I then be foully branded 
 Base e’en by nature, when my sole offence 
 Is — to have borne injustice, and revenged it ? 
 
 Nay, had I e’en been conscious of the crime, 
 
 r 
 
 I were not thus abandoned. But I went, 
 
 Oh how unconscious of the path I trod ! 
 
 But much have I endured from those who knew 
 The fearful wreck they wrought. By the great Gods, 
 I now adjure you, strangers, at your will 
 Hither removed, O save me, save me here, 
 
 Nor, while ye think to venerate your Gods, 
 Contemn their holiest laws. Know, while they gaze 
 
(EDIPIS AT COLONOS. 
 
 125 
 
 Approving on the righteous, they behold 
 The impious too, and guilt shall never win 
 Escape or shelter from the wrath of Heaven. 
 
 0 then forbear to dim the radiant fame 
 
 Of generous Athens, leaguing with the lawless ; 
 But as, relying on thy plighted faith, 
 
 Thou hast received me, save and shield me still, 
 Nor spurn with cold contempt this abject frame, 
 Thus worn and wasted by consuming woes. 
 
 Sacred I come, and pious, charged alone 
 
 With blessings to your state; and when your King, 
 
 Whoe’er he be, is present to my tale, 
 
 1 will inform thee all; — till he arrive 
 Insult me not. 
 
 Ch. Thine arguments, old man, 
 
 Are urged by weighty reasonings, and constrain me 
 Much to revere thee. Things of import high 
 
 Thy words involve. Be it enough for me 
 
 * 
 
 To wait the wise decision of our monarch. 
 
 (Ed. Where, strangers, doth your monarch hold 
 his court ? 
 
 Ch. In his ancestral city ; and the man 
 Who saw thee first, and bade my presence here, 
 Passed with like tidings to the monarch charged. 
 (Ed. Will he then deem me worthy of regard, 
 
126 
 
 (EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 And deign his audience to a blind old man ? 
 
 Ch. Doubtless, when he shall hear thy name. 
 (Ed. And who 
 
 Will be the bearer of a word like this ? 
 
 Ch. 7 Long have thy wanderings been, and tra- 
 vellers soon 
 
 Diffuse their tales afar ; these he will hear, 
 
 And, be assured, will come. Widely, old man, 
 Thy fame is blazoned ; though his step were slow, 
 Thy name would urge him to redoubling speed. 
 
 (Ed. O ! be his coming prosperous to his state, 
 Prosperous to me. What man of virtuous deeds 
 Befriendeth not himself? 
 
 Ant. Almighty Jove ! 
 
 What shall I say, and whither lead my thoughts ? 
 (Ed. What mean’st thou, my Antigone ? 
 
 Ant. I see 
 
 A woman, on a fleet Sicilian steed, 
 
 Advancing hither ; from the sun’s full beams 
 A close Thessalian bonnet shades her brow. 
 
 7 Mcoipa. xetevQos. Potter interprets these words to signify, 
 that (Edipus had advanced far into the Athenian territories. 
 Certainly they cannot refer to the distance between Colonos 
 and Athens, which did not exceed ten stadia. 
 
CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 127 
 
 What shall I say ? Oh ! is it she indeed, 
 
 Or do my fond imaginings deceive me ? 
 
 Again I doubt and am assured by turns, 
 Uncertain what to think. — My doubts are o’er ; 
 I know her now ; that sweet and welcome smile 
 Hath scattered all misgivings, and I see 
 Tis she, my dear, my ever-loved Ismene. 
 
 CEd. What hast thou said, my daughter ? 
 Ant . That I see 
 
 Thy child, my father, my dear sister too ; 
 
 A moment — and her accents will assure thee. 
 
 Enter Ismene. 
 
 CEDIPUS, ANTIGONE, ISMENE, CHORUS. 
 
 Is. O ye, the names most treasured in my heart, 
 My father and my sister, though in pain 
 I traced your wanderings, now a keener grief 
 Dims my sad eye while gazing on your sorrows. 
 CEd. And art thou here, my child ? 
 
 Is. Unhappy father ! 
 
 CEd. Sprung from my blood — 
 
 Is. To share thy miseries ! 
 
128 
 
 (EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 CEd. And art thou come ? 
 
 Is . Not without desperate peril. 
 
 CEd. Embrace me, dearest child. 
 
 Is. In one fond clasp 
 I thus embrace you both. 
 
 (Ed. Her, too, and me. 
 
 Is. Myself the third in sorrow. 
 
 CEd. O my child, 
 
 What brought thee hither ? 
 
 Is. Anxious thought for thee. 
 
 CEd. Concern for me ! 
 
 Is. Yea, fraught with weighty tidings, 
 
 And unattended, save by this true slave, 
 
 Alone of all yet faithful. 
 
 CEd. Where are now 
 
 Thy brothers, nerved by youth for martial toils ? 
 
 Is. They are, where Fate constrains, in darkest 
 peril ! 
 
 CEd. How have they bowed their manners and 
 their mind 
 
 To the base customs of inglorious Egypt ! 
 
 Where men, immured at home, direct the loom, 
 While in the field their women still procure 
 The sustenance of life. Thus too of you, 
 
 My children, those whom best such toil behoved 
 
(EDI PUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 129 
 
 Like timid maids, rest idly in their home ; 
 
 While ye, my daughters, in their stead partake 
 A wretched father’s sorrows. She, indeed, 
 
 [To Antigone. 
 
 Since feebler childhood passed, and blooming youth 
 Breathed vigour through her frame, still on my path 
 Attendant, ever wanders where I roam, 
 
 Guides my weak steps, and oft through pathless wilds 
 Strays with unsandalled foot, bereft of food, 
 Endures the frequent showers and sultry sun, 
 
 Nor heeds the splendours of a kingly board, 
 
 So her fond care may tend a father’s need. 
 
 Thou too, Ismene, oft unknown to Thebes 
 Hast left thy home, to tell thy wandering sire 
 The oracles relating to his doom ; 
 
 And when they thrust me from my native land, 
 Didst thou stand forth, my firm and faithful guide. 
 And now, beloved daughter, to thy sire 
 What errand dost thou bear ? what weighty cause 
 Moved thee to quit thy home ? Thou dost not come, 
 Full well I know, with serious charge unfraught, 
 And much I fear lest new alarms impend. 
 
 Is. I will not tell thee, father, all the toils, 
 
 The ills I bore in seeking thine abode ; 
 
 VOL. i. 
 
 K 
 
130 
 
 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 These now are vanquished, — and ’twere worse than 
 vain 
 
 Once more to waken, by recounting, woes. 
 
 My errand here was to relate the ills 
 In which thy hapless sons are now immersed. 
 
 It seemed at first their only wish to yield 
 The throne to Creon, nor pollute the state, 
 Weighing the curse entailed on all their race, 
 Which plunged in ruin thy devoted house. 
 
 Now by some God, or frenzy of the mind, 
 
 Unhappy pair ! perverted, mutual strife 
 
 Fires them to rancour, struggling for the throne. 
 
 Reckless of natural rights, the younger spurns 
 
 His elder, Polynices, and expels him 
 
 Both from his rightful throne and father-land. 
 
 He, as the voice of Rumour widely tells, 
 
 Fled to the vales of Argos, and contracts 
 A new alliance ; arms his martial friends ; 
 
 And vaunts that Argos shall requite his wrongs 
 On guilty Thebes, and raise his name to heaven. 
 No vague and vain reports are these, my father, 
 But facts too surely proved. But when the Gods 
 Will look in mercy on thy lengthened woes, 
 
 Alas ! I cannot learn. 
 
1EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 131 
 
 CEd. Hast thou then hope, 
 
 That Heaven will yet regard, and save me still ? 
 
 Is. I have, my father ; for I firmly trust 
 The recent voice oracular. 
 
 (Ed. What voice ? 
 
 What, daughter, hath it presaged ? 
 
 Is. That an hour 
 
 Will come when Thebes shall seek thee, living still, 
 Or dead, for her deliverance. 
 
 CEd. Who can look 
 
 For prosperous fortune to a wretch like me ? 
 
 Is. The oracles proclaim thou art their might. 
 CEd. I deemed that I was nothing ; am I then 
 Once more a man ? 
 
 Is. The Gods exalt thee now ; 
 
 Before — they willed thy downfall. 
 
 CEd. What avails it 
 
 To raise in age the wretch whose youth they blasted? 
 Is. Know, for this cause will Creon quickly come. 
 (Ed. With what intent, my daughter? tell me all. 
 Is. That near the Theban confines they may hold 
 thee, 
 
 Though ne’er allowed to pass the sacred bound. 
 (Ed. What can one prostrate at their gate avail 
 them ? 
 
132 
 
 CEDiFUS AT OOLONGS. 
 
 Is. Thy tomb, if reared in other lands, to them 
 Would prove most fatal. 
 
 (Ed. Though the God withheld 
 His certain presage, this were promptly learnt. 
 
 Is. And therefore seek the Thebans to confine thee 
 Near their own realms, not thine own master there. 
 (Ed. Would they inter me too in Theban ground? 
 Is. This must not be ; the kindred blood forbids. 
 (Ed. Then never, never, shall they work their will. 
 Is. An hour must come when Thebes shall rue 
 thy vengeance. 
 
 (Ed. What strange event, my child, shall work 
 this marvel ? 
 
 Is. Thy quenchless wrath, when round thy tomb 
 they stand. 
 
 (Ed. From whom didst thou these oracles receive? 
 Is. From those who late returned from Delphi’s 
 shrine. 
 
 (Ed. Hath then Apollo thus foretold of me ? 
 
 Is. So those declared, who came but now to Thebes. 
 (Ed. Which of my shameless sons heard aught 
 of this? 
 
 Is. Each heard alike, and both must know it well. 
 (Ed. Yet those degenerate wretches, warned of this, 
 Could grasp at empire, and neglect a father. 
 
(EDI PUS AT COLO NOS. 
 
 133 
 
 Is. I grieve to hear such tidings, — yet I bear 
 them. 
 
 (Ed. Ne’er may the Gods extinguish the fierce 
 flames 
 
 Of this dread fatal strife ; but to my will 
 Award the issue of that deadly feud, 
 
 Which now with equal weapons they prepare : 
 
 So should the proud usurper vaunt no more 
 His sceptre and his throne, nor e’er to Thebes 
 Should he, who left his native towers, return. 
 They, they at least, nor succoured nor retained 
 Their wretched father, from his country spurned 
 With foul dishonour; but assenting joined 
 In the stern edict which proclaimed me exile. 
 
 Thou wilt reply, to mine own earnest prayer 
 The state that melancholy boon assigned : 
 
 But ’tis not thus on that disastrous day, 
 
 When frenzy fired my soul, and all I asked 
 Was but to die, and hide my shame for ever, 
 Crushed by o’erwhelming rocks ; — no friendly hand 
 Was stretched to rid me of the life I hated ; 
 
 But when the lenient hand of time had soothed 
 Despair to resignation, and I learned 
 That mine own desperate frenzy had inflicted 
 A wound more piercing than the crime deserved ; 
 
134 
 
 CED1PUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 Then, then, the city thrust me sternly forth 
 To most reluctant exile ; and these sons. 
 
 My noble offspring, who had power to aid 
 Their father in his need, that power withheld, 
 Deigned not to raise a word in my defence ; 
 
 But drove me out a poor unfriended outcast. 
 While by these virgins, far as their weak sex 
 Avails to aid me, all hath been supplied, — 
 
 Meet sustenance, serene though lowly rest, 
 
 And all the tender cares of duteous love; 
 
 8 While my base sons with impious ardour grasp 
 Crowns, sceptres, kingdoms, and forget a father. 
 But never shall they gain support from me, 
 
 Nor shall they flourish on the throne of Thebes 
 In glad and prosperous grandeur ; this I know, 
 Hearing these oracles, and pondering well 
 The sure response by Phcebus breathed of old. 
 And let them send their Creon, or some chief 
 As potent and as base, to seek me here ; 
 
 8 In extenuation of the rancorous malediction of (Edipus, 
 it should be observed, that the godlike doctrine of the for- 
 giveness of injuries obtained no place in the heathen systems 
 of morality, where revenge was accounted natural, or even 
 laudable. 
 
CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 135 
 
 If ye, O strangers, with these awful Powers, 
 
 Your tutelary Gods, will here stand forth 
 To grant me succour, much will ye promote 
 Your country’s welfare and my foes’ despair. 
 
 Ch . Thou, (Edipus, and these thy daughters, claim 
 Our warmest, liveliest pity ; but since thou 
 Hast pledged thyself my country’s saviour, first 
 Would I inform thee what involves thy good. 
 
 CEd. Speak, friend, to one who will in all obey thee. 
 
 Ch. Make due atonement to those awful Powers, 
 Whose hallowed grove thy footsteps first have trod. 
 
 (Ed. And with what rites ? my friends, inform 
 me all. 
 
 Ch. 9 First, from yon sacred ever-gushing stream, 
 Drawn with pure hands, the due libations bring. 
 
 (Ed. What follows, when th’ unsullied stream is 
 drawn ? 
 
 Ch. Goblets are there, by nicest art enchased, 
 Whose brim and double handles thou must crown — 
 
 (Ed. With boughs, or slender threads ? or with 
 what rites ? 
 
 9 This is the commencement of that scene alluded to in our 
 introductory remarks, which so minutely developes the reli- 
 gious ceremonies of the ancients. The reader must endea- 
 vour to judge of it as it would appear to an Athenian audience, 
 not as it appears to himself. 
 
136 
 
 CEDI PUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 Ch. Wreathe round the soft wool of a new- 
 shorn lamb. 
 
 (Ed. Tis well; what next befits me to discharge? 
 Ch. Turn to the orient morn, and pour the stream — - 
 CEd. From the same goblets thou hast just de- 
 scribed ? 
 
 Ch. Yea, pour libations trine; drain with the third 
 The consecrated bowl. 
 
 (Ed. Instruct me yet ; 
 
 What should the bowl contain ? 
 
 Ch. The simple stream 
 
 With honey tempered — wine be absent thence! 
 
 (Ed. And when the soil’s dark verdure drinks the 
 stream ? 
 
 Ch. With both thy hands place fresh-plucked 
 olive-boughs, 
 
 Thrice nine ; — then invocate the Powers in prayer. 
 (Ed. I joy to hear ; for this is solemn all. 
 
 Ch. Since here we call them “ Powers Benevolent,” 
 That with propitious minds they may accept 
 And aid the lowly suppliant, for thyself 
 Implore their mercy, or in thy behalf 
 Another. Let thy prayers be brief, and breathed 
 In low and whispered tone. Then from the spot 
 Retire — and turn not back. These rites performed, 
 I shall stand forth undaunted at thy side ; 
 
(ED1PUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 137 
 
 If not, old man, I can but tremble for thee. 
 
 CEd. Hear ye the natives of this land, my daughters ? 
 Ant. We hear— what should be done do thou 
 command. 
 
 (Ed. These rites / cannot now discharge, debarred 
 By twofold ills — infirmity and blindness. 
 
 Of you, my daughters, one the homage pay. 
 
 I deem one soul, with pious feeling fraught, 
 
 Meet as a thousand for a task like this. 
 
 Then be the hallowed rites discharged with speed. 
 Yet leave me not alone; these faltering limbs 
 Refuse to bear me onward unsustained, 
 
 Nor dare I move without a watchful guide. 
 
 Is. The task enjoined be mine ; but tell me first 
 Where is the spot — where all the rite demands ? 
 
 Ch. Far in the grove retired. There one resides, 
 O virgin, to provide whate’er thou need. 
 
 Is. For this I now depart. My sister, thou 
 Remain to watch our father ; toil is light, 
 
 When we but labour in a parent’s cause. 
 
 {Exit Is MEN E. 
 
 CEDIPUS, ANTIGONE, CHORUS. 
 
 Ch. Stranger, ’tis painful to awake 
 
138 
 
 (EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 Griefs that have long and calmly slept, 
 
 Yet do I long to ask — 
 
 (Ed. Ah ! what? 
 
 Ch. Whence this interminable woe, 
 
 That rankles in thy breast ? 
 
 (Ed. By all the reverence which a guest may claim, 
 Explore it not. Foul deeds have I endured. 
 
 Ch. Wide hath the rumour spread, nor yet hath 
 ceased, 
 
 And I would learn the truth. 
 
 (Ed. Ah me ! 
 
 Ch. Assent, I pray thee. 
 
 (Ed. Woe is me ! 
 
 Ch. Yield, for I too will grant whate’er thou ask. 
 (Ed. Strangers, dire evils have I borne, 
 
 Borne how reluctantly, let Heaven attest ! 
 Involuntary all. 
 
 Ch. And from what cause ? — 
 
 (Ed. To an unhallowed couch 
 The city linked me, guiltless of the crime. 
 
 Ch. And hast thou then profaned 
 The kindred couch I tremble but to name ? 
 
 CB/.’Tis death to hear you, strangers ; — but these two 
 Sprung from my blood — 
 
 Ch. Ha ! whence ? 
 
CED1PUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 139 
 
 (Ed. My daughters these, and pledges of my 
 crime — 
 
 Ch. Almighty Jove ! 
 
 (Ed. Both born of her who gave 
 Their father life — * 
 
 Ch. Are these thy daughters then, 
 
 Daughters at once and sisters of their sire ? — 
 
 (Ed. Alas ! 
 
 Ch. Yes ; thou dost well to weep. 
 
 The woes thou hast endured are infinite. 
 
 (Ed. And e’en oblivion’s solace is denied me. 
 
 Ch. And thou hast done — 
 
 (Ed. I have not done. 
 
 Ch. What then ? 
 
 (Ed. A gift the state conferred, and I received, 
 Wretch that I was ! oh had I ne’er deserved it ! 
 Thence all my woes. 
 
 Ch. How thus, unhappy man! — 
 
 Didst thou not shed the blood ? — 
 
 (Ed. Why this demand ? what dost thou seek to 
 trace ? 
 
 Ch. A father’s blood ? — 
 
 CEd. Alas ! 
 
 Thy words revive the pangs that seemed to sleep. 
 Ch. Didst thou then slay ? — 
 
140 
 
 CEDiPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 (Ed. I slew him, yet I had — 
 
 Ch. What? 
 
 (Ed. A most righteous plea. 
 
 Ch. Speak it. 
 
 (Ed. I will. 
 
 Since all unconscious on the crime I rushed, 
 
 And struck the blow in ignorance, by the law 
 I am absolved, unknowing what I did. 
 
 Ch. But lo ! great Theseus, iEgeus’ royal son, 
 Hastes to the spot, excited by thy fame. 
 
 Enter Theseus. 
 
 THESEUS, CEDIPUS, ANTIGONE, CHORUS. 
 
 Thes. Long by the voice of general fame apprised 
 Of thy sad tale, and that infuriate deed 
 Which quenched thy visual orbs in utter gloom, 
 
 I knew thee, son of Laius ; as I came, 
 
 Much have I heard, and know thee now more surely. 
 Thine abject garb and aspect of despair 
 Too plainly speak thy fortunes. Hapless King, 
 Thou wak’st my pity ; and I would but ask 
 What boon thou seek’st from me or from my state, 
 
OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 141 
 
 Thou and the sad associate of thy. sorrows. 
 
 Unfold thy wish ; and arduous were th’ emprize 
 Where thou shouldst ask my utmost aid in vain. 
 
 10 1 too was nurtured in a foreign land, 
 
 As thou art now ; an exile’s woes to me, 
 
 An exile’s perils, are familiar all. 
 
 Then never, never, from the stranger’s prayer, 
 
 Who comes like thee, relentless will I turn, 
 
 Or needful aid withhold. I am a man, 
 
 As thou art ; and my power to rule th’ events 
 To-morrow may bring forth transcends not thine. 
 (Ed. Theseus ! in these brief words thy generous 
 soul 
 
 Hath shone conspicuous ; hence a brief reply 
 May well suffice me. Who I am, and who 
 My father, what my country, thou hast said. 
 Nought then remains, save to prefer my prayer 
 For all I need, and then our conference close. 
 
 Thes. Speak, then, at once, that I may know thy 
 wish. 
 
 (Ed. I come to proffer thee this withered frame, 
 
 xo Theseus was educated in the court of Pittheus, King 
 of Trcezene. 
 
142 
 
 (EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 A gift to sight unseemly ; yet endowed 
 With costlier treasures than the loveliest form. 
 
 Thes. What rich requital dost thou bring me here ? 
 (Ed. This mayst thou learn in time — thou canst not 
 now. 
 
 Thes . When shall thy proffered good approve its 
 worth ? 
 
 (Ed. When I am dead, and thou hast reared my 
 tomb. 
 
 Thes. The last and saddest boon of life is all 
 Thy prayer regards. The care of all between 
 Is unremembered, or contemned by thee. 
 
 (Ed. In this one prayer are these concentred all. 
 Thes. Yet light and trivial is the grace implored. 
 (Ed. Mark me ! no trivial contest shall ensue. 
 Thes. Of me, or of thy children, dost thou pre- 
 sage ? 
 
 (Ed. They would constrain me to return to Thebes. 
 Thes. If such their wish, it ill becomes thee thus 
 To roam a willing exile. 
 
 CEd. When I sought 
 Such refuge, they refused. 
 
 Thes. Oh, most unwise ! 
 
 How vain is wrath in wretchedness like thine ! 
 
 (Ed. Forbear reproaches, till thou hear my plea. 
 
OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 143 
 
 Thes. Speak — I were wrong to judge thee unin- 
 formed. 
 
 (Ed. O Theseus ! I have suffered woes on woes 
 Exhaustless heaped. 
 
 Thes. Dost thou by this intend 
 The ancient ruin of thy fated house ? 
 
 (Ed. Ah no ! in this the general voice of Greece 
 Hath left me nought to tell thee. 
 
 Thes. Do thy griefs 
 
 Transcend the common sufferings of our race? 
 
 (Ed. They do, indeed. By mine own heartless sons 
 To exile thrust, like some loathed parricide, 
 
 Ne’er may I tread my native soil again. 
 
 Thes. Why, then, recall thee, if consigned to 
 dwell 
 
 For evermore apart? 
 
 (Ed. The voice of Heaven 
 Constrains them thus to act. 
 
 Thes. And of what ills 
 Do these predictions wake the boding dread ? 
 
 (Ed. Discomfiture and death from this fair land. 
 Thes. Whence shall such fatal feud between us rise ? 
 (Ed. Most honoured son of iEgeus, the great Gods 
 Alone the high prerogative may claim 
 To shun the blight of age, the stroke of death ; 
 
144 
 
 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 All else must yield to Time’s unconquered sway. 
 The vigour of the earth, man’s martial might, 
 
 Are doomed alike to fade ; fair faith expires, 
 
 And falsehood springs florescent. So in men 
 By dearest ties united, and in states 
 By firmest leagues to amity constrained, 
 
 The same true soul remains not. What we now 
 Delight to cherish, in the lapse of time, 
 
 Or wakes abhorrence, or revives desire. 
 
 Thus now, though all is peace with thee and Thebes, 
 Thanks to thy generous faith, revolving time, 
 Which in its ceaseless course gives constant birth 
 To countless days and nights, shall yet produce 
 The fated season, when for trivial wrongs, 
 
 Your plighted concord shall dissolve in air : 
 
 Then this cold body, in the sleep of death 
 Entombed, shall drink their warm and vital blood, 
 If Jove be mightiest still, and Jove-born Phoebus 
 Retain his truth unbroken. But I pause — 
 
 Let me not breathe what Heaven has veiled in 
 darkness. 
 
 Guard thou thy proffered faith, nor shalt thou say 
 In CEdipus thy hospitable land 
 A vain and useless habitant received, 
 
 Unless in this the Gods themselves deceive me. 
 
(ED I PUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 145 
 
 Ch. Before, O King! to thee and to the state 
 Such promises he proffered to fulfil. 
 
 Thes. Oh, who would spurn the warm benevolence 
 Of one like him, to whom this altar first, 
 
 Common to all, its friendly refuge lends ? 
 
 Then, though a suppliant to these Powers he came, 
 To me and to my people doth repay 
 No trivial recompense. Whom I, impressed 
 With deepest reverence, never will repulse ; 
 
 But in my realms a safe asylum grant. 
 
 If here it please the stranger to remain, 
 
 To guard him be your charge. If thou prefer 
 With me to quit the spot, O (Edipus, 
 
 Choose which thou wilt, and my assent command. 
 
 (Ed. Pour down thy richest blessings on such men, 
 Almighty Jove ! 
 
 Thes. What, then, dost thou resolve 1 
 Say, wilt thou to the palace ? 
 
 (Ed. Would to Heaven 
 I might attend thee, but the spot is here — 
 
 Thes. Destined for what ? I will in nought oppose 
 thee. 
 
 (Ed. Here shall I triumph o’er the foes who 
 wronged me. 
 
 o 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 L 
 
14G 
 
 1EDTPUS AT C0L0N08. 
 
 Thes. Great recompense thou nam’st for thine 
 abode 
 
 In these our realms. 
 
 (Ed. If to thy purpose true, 
 
 Thou dost remain unchanged, till all be o'er. 
 
 Thes. Distrust me not, I never will betray thee. 
 (Ed. I would not bind thee, like the base, by oath. 
 Thes. I count no oath more binding than a pro- 
 mise. 
 
 (Ed. How wilt thou act ? 
 
 Thes. What terror thus alarms thee ? 
 
 (Ed. Men will approach — 
 
 Thes. That charge belongs to these. 
 
 (Ed. Beware, lest if thou leave me — 
 
 Thes. Tell me not 
 What is my duty. 
 
 (Ed. He who fears must tell thee. 
 
 Thes. Fear is a stranger to my breast. 
 
 (Ed. And yet 
 
 Thou little know’st what threats — 
 
 Thes. One thing I know ; 
 
 No mortal hand shall force thee from this spot, 
 
 In my despite. The impotence of Wrath 
 Vents its wild rage in vain and vehement threats, 
 
(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 147 
 
 Which, when cool Thought its sober sway resumes, 
 Unheeded pass away. Thus, too, for these ; 
 Though now they proudly menace, should they strive 
 To drag thee hence by violence, such emprize 
 Will prove a stormy ocean, where immerged, 
 
 Their shattered bark will sink. Take courage then — 
 If Phoebus hither was indeed thy guide, 
 
 Without my feebler aid his arm can save thee ; 
 
 And though ourselves be distant, yet our name 
 Shall still avail from insult to protect thee. 
 
 CEDIPUS, ANTIGONE, CHORUS. 
 STROPHE I. 
 
 Well did Fate thy wanderings lead, 
 Stranger, to this field of fame, 
 Birth-place of the generous steed, 
 Graced by white Colonus’ name. 1 
 Frequent in the dewy glade 
 
 Here the nightingale is dwelling ; 
 
 1 The sincerity of these encomiums on the beauties of 
 Colonus will not be questioned, if we admit the common no- 
 tion, that it was the birth-place of Sophocles. 
 
148 
 
 (EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 Through embowering ivy’s shade, 
 
 Here her plaintive notes are swelling ; 
 
 Through yon grove, from footsteps pure, 
 
 Where unnumbered. fruits are blushing — 
 
 From the summer sun secure, 
 
 Screened from wintry whirlwinds rushing ; 
 Where, with his fostering nymphs, amid the grove, 
 The sportive Bacchus joys to revel or to rove. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE I. 
 
 Bathed in heaven’s ambrosial dew, 
 
 HereAhe fair narcissus flowers, 
 
 Graced each morn with clusters new, 
 
 Ancient crown of Mightiest Powers ; 
 
 Here the golden crocus blows ; 
 
 Here exhaustless fountains gushing, 
 
 Where the cool Cephisus flows, 
 
 Restless o’er the plains are rushing ; 
 
 Ever as the crystal flood 
 
 Winds in pure transparent lightness ; 
 
 Fresher herbage decks the sod, 
 
 Flowers spring forth in lovelier brightness ; 
 
 Here dance the Muses ; and the Queen of Love 
 Oft guides her golden car through this enchanting 
 
 grove. 
 
CED1PUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 149 
 
 STROPHE II. 
 
 What nor Asia's rich domain, 
 
 Nor, by Pelops’ ancient reign 
 Famed afar, the Doric coast 
 Through its thousand vales can boast,— 
 Here, by mortal hands unsown, 
 
 Here, spontaneous and alone, 
 
 Mark the hallowed plant expand, 
 
 Terror of each hostile band ! 
 
 Here, with kindly fruit mature, 
 
 Springs the azure olive pure ; 
 
 Youth and hoary age combine 
 To revere the plant divine ; 
 
 2 Morian Jove, with guardian care, 
 Watches ever wakeful there ; 
 
 And Athena’s eye of blue 
 Guards her own loved olive too. 
 
 2 The sacred olives in the Academia were called M op'w, 
 hence Jupiter, who had an altar there, as protector of the 
 place, had the name of Morian. — Potter. 
 
150 
 
 OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE II. 
 
 Let me still my country’s fame, 
 
 Still her matchless praise proclaim, 
 
 Sing the wondrous gifts bestowed 
 By her potent Patron-God, 
 
 Steeds in fleetness ne’er outvied, 
 
 And the gallant navy’s pride. 
 
 Son of Saturn, King, whose sway 
 Ocean’s restless waves obey, 
 
 Thou to this transcendant praise 
 Didst thy favoured Athens raise ; 
 
 Taught by thee the courser’s flame 
 By the golden curb to tame- — 
 
 While the light oar, framed by thee, 
 
 Speeds the swift bark o’er the sea, 
 
 Bounding through the foaming main 
 Fleeter than the 3 Nereid train. 
 
 Ant. O most renowned land ! ’tis now the time 
 To prove by action thy transcendant praise. 
 
 (Ed. What wakes new terrors in thy breast, my 
 daughter ? 
 
 3 Literally, follower of the hundred-footed daughters of 
 Nereus. 
 
CEDIPUS AT COLO NOS. 
 
 151 
 
 Ant. Creon approaches, not unguarded, hither- 
 (Ed. Most honoured strangers, in your aid alone 
 My anxious eye must seek the goal of safety. 
 
 Ch. Be calm ; I will not fail thee, though mine arm 
 Be weak and withered by a weight of years, 
 
 Age hath not palsied yet the might of Athens. 
 Enter Creon. 
 
 CREON, CEDIPUS, ANTIGONE, CHORUS. 
 
 Cr. Ye citizens, and children of the soil, 
 
 Your looks, I see, betray at mine approach 
 The sudden impulse of awakening fears. 
 
 Your fears are causeless: — be vain threats forborne. 
 I come not here to compass aught by force, 
 
 For I am old ; and this most potent state 
 Transcends, I know, the mightiest in our Greece ; 
 But, bent with age, I come but to restore 
 This hapless outcast to his native land ; 
 
 A charge no private voice, but the whole state 
 Imposed on me, by kindred blood constrained 
 To feel most deeply for a kinsmans woe. 
 
 List to mine errand then, unhappy King, 
 
 And to thy home return ; the state recalls thee ; 
 
 I beyond all by closest ties impelled, 
 
 Who were indeed the basest of mankind, 
 
152 
 
 1EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 Did not thy miseries wring my inmost soul, — - 
 Viewing thee thus, a friendless, homeless exile, 
 
 A wanderer and a fugitive on earth, 
 
 Led by one feeble guide, and that thy daughter. 
 
 Ah ! never thought I to behold her thus, 
 
 Sunk in the depth of wretchedness and shame, 
 
 On thee attendant, and in thy behalf 
 A scant relief imploring; — in the flower 
 Of ripened youth from nuptial honours torn, 
 
 To scorn and ruffian outrage still exposed. 
 
 What dark and deep reproach, unhappy me ! 
 
 On mine own head, and thine, and all our race, 
 Have I not charged? Yet, since in vain we strive 
 To shroud that shame, which all must know too well, 
 By thy paternal Gods, O (Edipus, 
 
 Yield to my warm persuasions ; hide thy woes 
 In thine own city and ancestral halls. 
 
 Bid to this generous state a kind farewell, 
 
 She well deserves it ; but the land that bore 
 And gave thee nurture claims superior love. 
 
 (Ed. 0 thou in all audacious, basely skilled 
 E’en from the words of truth to frame deceit, 
 
 Why seek to lure me to those scenes again, 
 
 Where, if beguiled, severest woes await me ? 
 When, sunk and struggling with domestic ills, 
 
 My only solace was the hope of exile, 
 
(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 153 
 
 Thou wouldst not then that mournful boon bestow ; 
 But when the frenzy of my soul was calmed, 
 
 And I had joyed to linger out my days 
 In my once happier home ; then didst thou drive, 
 And spurn me forth to exile. Where was then 
 The kindred tie so much regarded now ? 
 
 Now, when thou seest this hospitable state 
 And her kind sons concede a welcome refuge, 
 Wouldst thou delude me hence, veiling thy fraud 
 In smooth dissembling words. Thy proffered love, 
 What joy imparts it to the heart that loathes thee ? 
 If from thy prayer, in utmost need preferred, 
 Unheeding one should turn, nor will to aid, 
 
 But, when thy soul were sated with its wish, 
 Should then obtrude his slow and worthless help, 
 Say — would such empty succour aught delight thee? 
 Such grace thou bring’st to me ; specious in word, 
 False in itself, and fruitless. I will speak, 
 
 That to these strangers I may prove thee villain. 
 Thou corn st to lure me — not to mine own home, 
 But to your confines, there to pine, that Thebes 
 May shun th’ impending vengeance of this land. 
 
 It shall not be ; such vengeance still awaits thee. 
 There shall my spirit dwell, a blighting curse 
 To your devoted state. And for my sons, 
 
154 
 
 CED1PUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 Of all the rich domain their father swayed, 
 
 Be the scant tomb their sole inheritance. 
 
 Is not my presage of the doom of Thebes 
 More sure than thine ; — yea, ’tis e’en trebly sure. 
 As drawn from truer prophets, Phcebus ’self, 
 
 And his dread sire, the all-controlling Jove ! 
 
 And hither hast thou come with specious words 
 And most delusive ; but, for thy smooth tongue, 
 Defeat and shame, not safety, shalt thou reap. 
 Since, then, thy toils are spread in vain, away ! 
 Leave us to sojourn here ; sunk as we are, 
 
 Here to reside, we were not wholly wretched. 
 
 Cr. And dost thou think severer woes impend 
 O’er me from these wild ravings, or thyself ? 
 
 CEd. Much will it glad me, if in vain thou seek’st 
 Me to persuade, or these my friendly guards. 
 
 Cr. Thou wretch, not time itself can teach thee 
 wisdom ; 
 
 But frenzy makes thee hateful e’en in age. 
 
 CEd. Practised art thou in eloquence ; but one 
 Who smoothly talks on right and wrong alike — 
 Can such a man be virtuous ? 
 
 Cr. To speak much, 
 
 And speak in fitting season, differ widely. 
 
 CEd. How briefly and how wisely dost thou speak. 
 
(ED1PUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 155 
 
 Cr. Not so to one whose soul is warped like thine. 
 (Ed. I charge thee, hence ! nor thus observe 
 where most 
 Befits me sojourn. 
 
 Cr. I attest, not thee, 
 
 But these most friendly strangers, in what terms 
 Thou dost reply. If I should force thee ! — 
 
 (Ed. Ha! — 
 
 And who dare force me, if my guards assent not ? 
 Cr. Nay, though I use no force, thou shalt 
 repent. 
 
 (Ed. From what base deed arise these menaces ? 
 Cr. One of thy daughters is my captive now, 
 And this shall be ere long. 
 
 (Ed. Unhappy me ! 
 
 Cr. Ah ! thou shalt soon have cause for heavier 
 sorrow. 
 
 (Ed. Hast thou my child ? 
 
 Cr. Aye ; and design ere long 
 To force the other from thee. 
 
 (Ed. Oh ! my friends, 
 
 What will ye do ? Will ye, too, thus betray me ? 
 Will ye not spurn the villain from your land? 
 
 Ch. Stand off, bold stranger ; — justice disallows 
 The deeds thou late hast done, and still art doing. 
 
156 
 
 OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 Cr. This is the moment ; do your office, slaves ; 
 Quick, — force her hence, if she refuse to follow. 
 
 Ant. Ah ! whither shall I fly ? where shall I look, 
 To earth or heaven for rescue ? 
 
 Ch. Wretch ! what dost thou ? 
 
 Cr. The man I shall not touch, the maid is mine. 
 (Ed. O Princes of the land ! 
 
 Ch. Presumptuous stranger, 
 
 Thy deeds are most unjust. 
 
 Cr. Most just. 
 
 Ch. And say, 
 
 Where is their justice ? 
 
 Cr. I but seize mine own. 
 
 Ant. O Athens ! Athens ! 
 
 Ch. Stranger, how is this ? 
 
 Wilt thou not loose her? quickly shalt thou feel 
 The vengeance of mine hand. 
 
 Cr. Off with thine hand ! 
 
 Ch. Never from thee, if such thy venturous aim. 
 (Ed. If thou wrong me, thou dost incense the 
 state. 
 
 Ch. Have I not told thee thus ? 
 
 Cr. Straight from thy clasp ; 
 
 Release the virgin. 
 
 Ch. Dictate not to those 
 
CEDI PUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 157 
 
 Who do not own thy power. 
 
 Cr. Again I bid thee loose her. 
 
 Ch. And again 
 
 I bid thee swift depart. Haste, hither haste, 
 
 O citizens ! the state is foully wronged ; 
 
 My country’s rights are outraged ; haste to help me ! 
 Ant. Oh strangers, strangers, I am torn away. 
 (Ed. My child, my child, where art thou ? 
 
 Ant. Hurried hence 
 By lawless violence. 
 
 (Ed. Stretch forth thy hand, 
 
 My hapless child ! 
 
 Ant. Alas ! I have no power. 
 
 Cr. Will ye not drag her hence ? 
 
 (Ed. Unhappy me ! 
 
 Cr. Henceforth, unaided by these props at least, 
 Shalt thou roam forth, since thus thy stubborn mood 
 Rejects thy country,, and thy friends, and me, 
 Commissioned forth, although a King, to bring thee. 
 Time will, I know, convince thee, that such deeds 
 Will ne’er conduce to work thy lasting good, 
 Spurning thy friends, and nurturing that wild rage 
 Which plunged, and still doth plunge thee, in 
 despair. 
 
 Ch . Hold, stranger, hold! 
 
158 
 
 (EDIPUS AT COLQNOS. 
 
 Cr. I warn thee, touch me not. 
 
 Ch. I will not loose thee, while of these bereft. 
 Cr. Then on thy state wilt thou entail revenge 
 For heavier wrongs ; I seize not these alone. 
 
 Ch. What is thy purpose now ? 
 
 Cr. To drag him hence. 
 
 Ch. High words are these. 
 
 Cr. Like deeds will soon ensue, 
 
 Unless the monarch of this land prevent me. 
 
 (Ed. Oh ! shameless boaster ! wilt thou seize 
 me too ? 
 
 Cr. Silence ! I charge thee. 
 
 (Ed. Did these Awful Powers 
 Enjoin me silence from the curse that now 
 Is trembling on my lips, I would not then 
 Forbear to curse thee, ruffian ! who hast rent 
 From the blind wanderer his last dearest guide. 
 
 For this, on thee and thy devoted race 
 May yon bright Sun, All-seeing God, repay 
 A dark and dreary age, fraught to the last 
 With miseries keen as mine. 
 
 Cr. Behold ye this, 
 
 Ye natives of the land? 
 
 (Ed. Thee they behold 
 
 And me ; they know what wrongs I have endured, 
 
CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 159 
 
 While but in words I vent my powerless vengeance. 
 
 Cr. I will not curb my anger ; but alone, 
 Though age-enfeebled, straight will drag thee hence. 
 (Ed. Unhappy me ! 
 
 Ch. What insolence is thine, 
 
 If thou but deem’st to dare a deed like this ! 
 
 Cr. I deem. 
 
 Ch. Then Athens is no more a city. 
 
 Cr. In a just cause the weak subdue the mighty. 
 (Ed. Hear you his vaunts ? 
 
 Ch. They shall not end in action. 
 
 Cr. This Jove may know, thou canst not. 
 
 Ch. Is not this 
 Atrocious wrong ? 
 
 Cr. Tis wrong ; yet thou must bear it. 
 
 Ch. Ho citizens ! — ho rulers of the land ! 
 Advance with speed, — advance ; far, far e’en now 
 They pass the bounds of right. 
 
 Enter Theseus. 
 
I GO 
 
 1EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 THESEUS, CEDIPUS, CREON, CHORUS. 
 
 Thes. 3 Why this clamour ? what the outrage ? 
 Urged by what unwonted dread, 
 
 Call ye thus your King adoring where the votive 
 steer hath bled 
 
 To the Ocean-King whose altar decks Colonus ? 
 Quickly say, 
 
 Wherefore from the shrine ye urge me with un- 
 welcome speed away ? 
 
 (Ed. O noble friend, for well thy voice I know, 
 Foul wrongs from this base ruffian have I borne. 
 Thes. What are those wrongs, — how hath he 
 injured thee ? 
 
 3 Though the abrupt transition in the metre may sound 
 harshly to the reader, it would have been inconsistent with 
 the main principle of the present translation to have rendered 
 these four lines in heroic measure, as they are trochaics in 
 the original. If, however, according to Pope’s celebrated 
 canon, 
 
 The sound must seem an echo to the sense, 
 
 it must be acknowledged, that no metre is better adapted to 
 convey the idea of hurried indignation and impetuous surprise. 
 
CEDI PUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 161 
 
 CEd. This Creon, whom thou seest, hath forced away 
 My last and only comfort, my loved daughters. 
 Thes. What dost thou say ? 
 
 CEd. My sufferings thou hast heard. 
 
 Thes. Let one of those who in our presence wait 
 Speed instant to the altars, and proclaim 
 This mandate to our people, horse and foot, 
 
 To quit the sacred rites, and with all haste 
 Secure the passage where the double ways 
 Converge in one, ere the lost virgins pass, 
 
 And I, by lawless force discomfited, 
 
 Be held in scorn by my much-injured guest. 
 
 Away, as I have charged thee ! For this wretch, 
 Did I but feel the wrath his guilt deserves, 
 
 He should not ’scape uninjured from my vengeance. 
 Now, by the very laws himself imposed, 
 
 By those same laws, impartial will I judge him. 
 Hence never shalt thou part, till thou restore 
 The ravished virgins to our presence here ; 
 
 For thou hast done a deed, that shames not me 
 Alone, but thine own lineage, and thy country ; 
 Since on a state, by law and justice swayed, 
 
 And of its faith observant — on this state, 
 
 • Thou hast intruded with unlicensed might, 
 
 To work thy will, and bear away the spoil, 
 
 VOL. i. 
 
 M 
 
162 
 
 (EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 Deeming our land, perchance, of manly hearts 
 Devoid, — some haughty despot’s crouching slave, 
 Or me an abject and degenerate coward. 
 
 Thebes never taught thee this degrading lesson, 
 She is not wont to form and nurture baseness ; 
 
 Nor will she praise nor vindicate the deed, 
 
 When she shall learn, that on the sacred rights 
 Of me and of my Gods thou hast transgressed, 
 Forcing the wretched suppliant from our altars. 
 
 I had not thus intruded on thy state, 
 
 (Though rigid justice sanctified the deed,) 
 
 And lured, or led, a wretched captive thence, 
 Without the King’s assent, whoe’er he were, 
 Knowing too well what to the sheltering state 
 Becomes a stranger in a foreign land. 
 
 Thy deeds have shamed thy country, of such shame 
 Most undeserving, and protracted years 
 Have left thee aged and bereft of wisdom. 
 
 But now our former menace we repeat ; 
 
 Let the lost virgins be at once restored, 
 
 Or in this land will I detain thee, bound 
 A slave reluctant — till thou set them free. 
 
 Our will in this accords but with our words. 
 
 Ch. Seest thou thy peril, stranger? first I thought 
 thee 
 
CEDI PUS AT COLO NOS. 
 
 163 
 
 Generous and noble, as became thy race ; 
 
 Now in thy guilt thou art at once convicted. 
 
 Cr . It was not, Theseus, that I deemed thy state 
 Devoid of martial might or counsel sage, 
 
 As thou hast said, that I have done this deed ; 
 
 But from my firm conviction, of thy realms 
 That none would will to harbour and retain 
 In my despite a kinsman ; — for I deemed 
 Ye could not cherish a polluted wretch 
 Stained with a father s blood, from whose dark couch 
 Sprung an incestuous progeny. And I knew 
 The long-revered tribunal of your land, 
 
 Throned on the Mount of Mars, would never deign 
 To grant asylum in her sheltering walls 
 To such degraded outcasts. Urged by this, 
 
 I came confiding to arrest my prey ; 
 
 Nor had I gone thus far, save that on me 
 And on my race a bitter curse he poured, 
 
 Whence, having suffered wrong, I thus repaid it. 
 Resentment knows no soothing balm of age, 
 Calmed but in death, it only fails to rouse 
 The long departed. Act, then, as thou wilt ; 
 
 I am alone before thee, with no plea 
 
 But justice ; — that in weakness nought avails me — 
 
 m 2 
 
164 
 
 (EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 Yet know, whate’er thy deeds, thus weak with age, 
 With equal deeds will I essay to quite thee. 
 
 (Ed. Unblushing villain ! dost thou think to pour 
 Contempt on mine old age or on thy own 
 With these upbraidings, while thou teil’st a tale 
 Of murder, incest, misery, and despair, 
 
 Which I, oh how unwillingly ! endured. 
 
 Such was the will of Heaven, against my house 
 Incensed, perchance, for unrepented crimes. 
 
 Thou canst not prove, that by a wilful deed 
 
 I merited such evil, or involved 
 
 Myself, my race, in guilt so dark as this. 
 
 Say, if thou canst, since by the voice divine 
 I was foredoomed a father’s murderer, — 
 
 Say, how can Justice brand me with such deed, 
 Whose doom was presaged ere my life began ? 
 
 If — born to woe — as I, alas ! was born, 
 
 * 
 
 In chance encounter met, I slew my sire, 
 Unknowing what I did, or whom I slew, 
 
 Canst thou revile me for unconscious crimes ? 
 
 And, oh thou wretch ! doth it not shame even thee 
 Thus to constrain me but to speak of her, 
 
 My wife, my mother, and thy sister too. 
 
 Now I will speak no longer will I veil 
 
(EDiPIJS AT COLONOS. 
 
 165 
 
 The tale in silence, 'since thy shameless tongue 
 Hath forced it from me. Yes — she gave me birth ; 
 I here avow it — Oh accursed doom ! 
 
 Unthinking of her fate as 1 of mine 
 
 She gave me birth ; then to her son she bore 
 
 Fresh sons, and to herself eternal shame. 
 
 This too I know, though thou with willing mind 
 On me and her hast heaped this keen reproach, 
 Unwillingly I wedded her, and tell 
 This tale with like reluctance. Not for this 
 Shall infamy for ever brand my name ; 
 
 Nor for my father’s blood, though at this deed 
 Are aimed the keenest arrows of thy wrath. 
 
 And answer truly what I now demand 
 Should one rush forward to attempt thy life, 
 
 Thou paragon of justice, wouldst thou ask 
 If he who sought to slay thee were thy father ? 
 
 Or take an instant vengeance ? Sooth I deem, 
 
 If thou lov’st life, thou wouldst repel the assault 
 With equal force, and think of justice after ! 
 
 To these unconscious crimes the will of Heaven 
 Constrained my path ; and couldst thou from the 
 grave 
 
 Evoke the spirit of my murdered sire, 
 
 This plea he would not question. But for thee, 
 
166 
 
 CEDIPUS AT COJLONOS. 
 
 # " 
 
 Oh lost to justice ! thou hast dared to speak 
 While Honour warned to silence ; and to charge 
 Me in this presence with calumnious blame ; 
 
 Yet hast thou deemed it worthy on this state, 
 Renowned Athens, and her generous King, 
 
 To fawn with hollow and unmeaning praise ; 
 
 How is it thou hast passed her worthiest fame, 
 
 Her proud pre-eminence, of all our states 
 In virtue first and reverence to the Gods ? 
 
 Yet from this noble land hast thou essayed 
 Meanly to steal a wretched suppliant, 
 
 And bear to bondage my unhappy daughters. 
 Wherefore I now implore the potent arm 
 Of these dread Powers, and bend in earnest prayer 
 For their resistless aid, that thou mayst learn 
 What manly hearts defend this generous city. 
 
 Ch. The stranger is most worthy, good my Lord, 
 And though his woes are countless, they but lend 
 A stronger title to thy friendly succour. 
 
 Thes. Enough of words; — the lawless ruffians 
 speed, 
 
 While we, the injured, stand inactive here. 
 
 Cr. What task to my weak age wouldst thou 
 prescribe ? 
 
 Thes. That thou precede, and guide me to the spot, 
 
(EDI PUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 167 
 
 That if the captive # riiaidens near this grove 
 Are yet detained, thou mayst at once reveal them, 
 Though, if thy band be fled, this toil avails not. 
 Others are now abroad, whose sure pursuit 
 They never shall escape — to thank the Gods 
 For villany successful. Go before ; 
 
 The doom for others destined now is thine, 
 
 And Fate, at length, in thine own toils hath snared 
 thee ; — 
 
 Brief are the triumphs gained by guilty fraud. 
 
 Nor rest on other aid. I know full well, 
 
 By thine insulting vaunts, thou didst not come 
 Unarmed or unattended to this outrage ; 
 
 Some power upholds thee in this bold emprize. 
 
 But this demands our care, nor must we leave 
 Our state thus baffled by a single villain. 
 
 This dost thou comprehend, or is it said 
 In vain, as when this insult first was planned ? 
 
 Or. Nay, spare thy threats, I cannot beard thee 
 here ; 
 
 At home we too shall know what best beseems us. 
 
 Thes. Away, and, threaten as thou wilt. Do thou, 
 O CEdipus, undaunted here remain ; 
 
 And, save in death, I will not cease mine aid 
 Till thou again embrace thy rescued daughters. 
 
168 
 
 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 (Ed. Most honoured Theseus, for thy generous soul, 
 And ready succour to our helpless age, 
 
 May the Gods crown thee with their choicest 
 blessings. 
 
 [Exeunt Theseus arid Creon. 
 
 (EDIPUS, chorus. 
 
 strophe i. 
 
 4 Oh ! were I present ’mid the fray 
 Where warriors meet in stern array, 
 And clanging arms resound, 
 
 Or by the hallowed Pythian shrine, 
 Or where unnumbered torches shine 
 The gleaming shores around ; 
 
 4 The chorus, concluding that an engagement must ensue, 
 wish themselves with their brave countrymen, when they 
 should overtake the forces of Creon, whether it were in the 
 plains of Marathon, characterised by the temple there dedi- 
 cated to the Pythian Apollo, or on the shores of Eleusis, or 
 near Leucogeos, the domain of the tribe of CEa. The latter 
 part of the strophe is an allusion to the silence observed in 
 the Eleusinian mysteries ; the priests were called Eumolpidae, 
 from Eumolpus, the first hierophant.— Potter. 
 
CED1PUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 169 
 
 Where Awful Powers in mystery 
 Veil the dread rites, whose golden key 
 Locks deep in silent awe divine 
 Their priests, Eumolpus’ honoured line. 
 
 Thither were borne the virgin pair. 
 
 There led the King his martial band, 
 There, sword to sword, and hand to hand. 
 The strife they soon shall dare. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE I. 
 
 £ 
 
 Or westward do the warriors speed, 
 
 Where high o’er CEa’s fertile mead 
 The white rock rears its brow ? 
 
 On fiery steed or rolling car, 
 
 Say, flock they to the deepening war ? 
 
 For Mars is wakening now 
 His legions ardent for the fight, 
 
 And Athens pours her martial might. 
 
 From every rein the lightnings glance, 
 
 As high on glittering steeds advance 
 The youthful bands, who proudly own 
 Athena, thy superior sway, 
 
 Or, grateful, votive homage pay 
 To Rhea’s honoured son. 
 
170 
 
 OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 STROPHE II. 
 
 Say, do they fight, or linger still ? 
 
 Glad hopes my bounding breast inflame ; 
 The virgins, wronged by causeless ill, 
 Wronged by a haughty kinsman’s will, 
 Soon shall my King reclaim. 
 
 Jove, Jove, to-day will aid the right, 
 
 And I forebode a prosperous fight. 
 
 Oh ! could I seize the wild dove’s wing, 
 And to yon clouds my pinions fling, 
 
 That my glad eye might beam to see 
 The combat and the victory ! 
 
 ANTISTROPHE II. 
 
 Thou of the all-pervading eye ! 
 
 In Heaven by subject Gods adored, 
 
 Jove ! from thy radiant throne on high 
 Send might, and joy, and victory, 
 
 To grace my country’s Lord ! 
 
 Daughter of Jove, Athena ! hear ; 
 
 Thou, Phoebus, lift thy fatal spear, 
 
 With thy chaste sister, skilled to slay 
 With certain aim the forest-prey, 
 
 Oh come, with prompt and potent hand, 
 To aid my people and my land. 
 
(TDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 171 
 
 Thou wilt not, wandering stranger, in this hope 
 Count me a faithless prophet ; for I see 
 Thy rescued daughters swift advancing here. 
 
 (Ed. Where, where, what say’st ? — what said’st 
 thou ? 
 
 Enter Antigone and Ismene. 
 
 THESEUS, ANTIGONE, ISMENE, (EDIPUS, CHORUS. 
 
 Ant . Oh, my father ! 
 
 My dearest father ! would some pitying God 
 Grant thee to gaze on this most generous monarch, 
 Who hath restored us to thy welcome arms. 
 
 (Ed. My child — and are ye near me ? 
 
 Ant. Yea ; the hands 
 
 Of Theseus and his gallant band have saved us. 
 
 (Ed. Come, O my children, to a father’s arms, 
 Who never, never, thought again to feel 
 Your loved embrace. 
 
 Ant. That transport, then, be thine ; — 
 
 With equal joy we share it. 
 
 (Ed. Where, indeed, 
 
 Where are ye ? — 
 
 Ant. Here, together we approach thee. 
 
172 
 
 CEDIPUS AT COLONGS. 
 
 (Ed. My dearest blossoms ! 
 
 Ant. To a father’s breast 
 His offspring all are dear. 
 
 (Ed. Ye loved supports 
 Of my weak age ! 
 
 Ant. Sad guardians of the wretched ! 
 
 (Ed. I clasp my best-beloved, nor can die 
 Hapless in ad, while ye are left to bless me. 
 
 Press, then, my daughters, to a father’s side ; 
 Grow to the parent-breast ; and close, at length, 
 My dark and dreary pilgrimage in peace. 
 
 But first the manner of your rescue tell ; 
 
 Brief be the tale, as fits your modest years. 
 
 Ant. Here stands our great preserver. Ask of him, 
 So will my tale be brief, and quickly told. 
 
 (Ed. O marvel not, dear stranger ! though I dwell 
 With prolix transport on my children, saved 
 Beyond my hope ; — well do I know from thee 
 Springs this delight, the boon is only thine, 
 
 Thou hast preserved them ; yea, and thou alone. 
 For this, on thee and on thy state may Heaven 
 Pour down such blessings as my warm heart prays,, 
 Since in your state alone of all mankind 
 Have I discerned unsullied piety, 
 
 Justice unwarped, and sacred truth unstained. 
 
CEDTPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 173 
 
 Oh could my grateful thanks attest thy worth ! 
 
 For all my blessings flow from thee alone. 
 
 Stretch forth, oh noble King, the hand that saved us, 
 That I may clasp it, and confess thy grace 
 With the warm kiss of ardent gratitude. 
 
 Yet what have I implored 1 should a lost wretch 
 Dare but to touch the unpolluted form 
 Of virtue pure as thine ? It may not be ; 
 
 Didst thou assent, I would not thus defile thee. 
 They, they alone, whom bitterest woes have wrung, 
 Aright can pity wTetchedness like mine. 
 
 Farewell, my Lord ; yet, while I linger here, 
 
 Still let thy friendship, still thine aid be mine. 
 
 Thes. I marvel not, that in the first warm thrill 
 Of heartfelt transport for thy rescued daughters, 
 Thou didst not promptly speak the thanks our aid 
 Might seem to merit, nor doth such delay 
 In aught displease us. Not from empty words 
 Would we seek honour, but from manly deeds. 
 
 I prove it thus : in all our promise pledged, 
 
 That pledge hath been redeemed ; I here restore 
 Thy daughters, living, from his threats unharmed. 
 And why should I recount, in vaunting words, 
 
 How conquest crowned our arms, when thou mayst 
 learn 
 
174 
 
 CEDTPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 From these thy daughters ? But direct thy thoughts 
 To what befel me as I hasted hither ; 
 
 Brief to recount, yet worthy of surprise. 
 
 Events, though trivial, prudence duly weighs. 
 
 (Ed. What is it, son of iEgeus ? for thy words 
 Are dark to me, nor can I guess their import. 
 
 Thes . They say a man, no citizen of Thebes, 
 Yet to thy blood allied, in suppliant guise 
 At Neptune’s altar sits, where I performed 
 The sacred rites, when summoned to the rescue. 
 (Ed. Whence doth he come ? what boon implore 
 of me ? 
 
 Thes. I know but this ; they tell me — at thy hand 
 He seeks brief audience, and no greater grace. 
 
 (Ed. Why this? nought trivial doth that seat 
 portend ! 
 
 Thes. They say he asks but to confer with thee 
 A few brief moments, and return in safety. 
 
 (Ed. Who can he be, thus suppliant at the altar? 
 Thes. Bethink thee, is there none of kindred blood 
 At Argos, who may crave a boon like this ? 
 
 (Ed. Cease, cease, most honoured Monarch. 
 Thes. What means this ? 
 
 (Ed. Entreat me not. 
 
 Thes. And wherefore not entreat thee ? 
 
CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 175 
 
 (Ed. Too well I know the stranger-suppliant now. 
 Thes. And who is he ? and why should I rebuke 
 him ? 
 
 (Ed. My son, my foul abhorrence : but to hear 
 His voice, O King ! would deeply gall my breast 
 Thes. Yet wherefore? Though thou hear his 
 prayer, thy will 
 
 Is free to spurn it ; can it harm thee aught 
 To grant him audience ? 
 
 (Ed. O, my Lord, his voice 
 Is harsh and hateful to a father’s ear ! 
 
 Then urge me not to grant request like this. 
 
 Thes. But first beware ; doth not his suppliant seat, 
 And the high sanction of the Gods constrain thee ? 
 
 Ant. O yield to me, my father, though by years 
 Unschooled in wisdom I presume to speak ; 
 
 And to thy suppliant grant the grace he asks. 
 Revere the Power in whose high name he prays thee, 
 Relent to us, and bear my brother’s presence ; 
 
 His words, though uncongenial, are not fraught 
 With power to force thee from thy fixed design. 
 What ill can rise from listening but to words 
 By which the noblest counsels are declared ? 
 
 Art thou not still his father ? For this cause, 
 
176 
 
 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 Though most unnatural were his deeds to thee, 
 
 It is not meet that thou shouldst thus repay 
 Evil for evil. Yield, then, to his prayer ; 
 
 Others have felt the curse of thankless children, 
 And burnt with equal anger,— till, appeased 
 By mild remonstrances of mutual friends, 
 
 Once more the father in their breasts revived. 
 
 Ah ! dwell not now on those unnumbered woes, 
 Which thou hast borne for deeds unconscious wrought 
 Against thy parents, though I know too well, 
 
 If that on these thou look, ’twill prove at once 
 What pregnant sufferings spring from rage indulged; 
 My truth, alas ! is too severely proved 
 By those dark eye-balls, — dark in endless night. 
 Relent, then, to our prayers. It ill beseems 
 That they should ask so oft who ask for justice, 
 
 Or that thine heart, itself by kindness soothed, 
 Knows not by kindness to requite the grace. 
 
 (Ed. Thou hast prevailed, my daughter, though 
 assent, 
 
 While pleasing, is reluctant — take thy wish. 
 
 This I forewarn thee, stranger ; if he come, 
 
 Let not his ruffian-hand attempt my life. 
 
 Thes. Enough — my honour needs no second pledge. 
 
(ED1PUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 17 
 
 Old man, I scorn to boast ; but while the Gods 
 Still grant me life and safety, thou art safe. 
 
 Exit Theseus, 
 
 (EDIPUS, ANTIGONE, ISMENE, CHORUS. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 STROPHE I. 
 
 Estranged from wisdom’s rule appears 
 The man, whose restless mind 
 Aspires to life beyond the years 
 To mortal date assigned. 
 
 Years linger on ; but in their train 
 Lead cares more restless, keener pain ; 
 
 And when beyond Hope’s utmost bound 
 Thy wish is won, ah what can cheer 
 The joyless breast, when hovering near 
 Relentless Death has frowned ? 
 
 No festive dance, or nuptial wreath, 
 
 Or magic of the melting lyre, 
 
 Can wake in age the stifled fire, 
 
 Or charm the sleep of death. 
 
 VOL. i. 
 
 N 
 
178 
 
 (EDIPIJS AT COLONOS. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE I. 
 
 O better were it not. to be ; — 
 
 Or when the infant-eye 
 Opens on light and misery, 
 
 To pass in that first sigh 
 Whence first we came. Youth onward speeds, 
 And in his train of folly leads 
 Delusive pleasures, light and vain — 
 
 What restless toils are absent there, 
 
 What woes, swift darkening to despair ? — 
 In that disastrous train 
 
 Are Strife, Sedition, Envy, Wrath ; — - 
 While Age, morose with countless woes, 
 
 Dark, cheerless, friendless, waits to close 
 The drear and downward path. 
 
 EPODE. 
 
 Nor mine alone these ills to bear, 
 
 Thou, too, the mournful lot must share. 
 
 As the wild billows fiercely roar 
 
 Round the white crags and northern shore ; 
 
 So fierce on thy devoted brow 
 The waves of woe are beating now, 
 
 And sorrows round thee pour ; — 
 
OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 179 
 
 Some from the sinking orb of day, 
 
 Some where he darts his orient ray, 
 
 Some from the sultry noontide beam, 
 
 And some from Midnight’s starry gleam. 
 
 Ant. Hither, it seems, the stranger comes, my 
 father, 
 
 All unattended, and dissolved in tears. 
 
 CEd . Who is he? 
 
 Ant. Tis the same we deemed before, 
 
 And Polynices stands before thee now. 
 
 Enter Polynices. 
 
 POLYNICES, OEDIPUS, ANTIGONE, ISMENE, 
 CHORUS. 
 
 Pol. Ah me ! what shall I do ? Shall my first tears 
 Gush forth for mine own sorrows, or for those 
 Which now I see my aged sire endure ? 
 
 Whom, a sad exile in a stranger-land, 
 
 By you alone, my sisters, have I found 
 Attended, and arrayed in this mean garb, 
 
 Whose squalid vestments, worn by wandering bare, 
 
 n 2 
 
180 
 
 OEDIPUS AT COLGNOS. 
 
 Defile his aged form, while o’er his brow, 
 
 Reft of its visual orbs, the matted locks 
 Stream to each passing gale ; with such vile garb, 
 Too well, it seems, his scanty food accords. 
 
 Late, late I learn the measure of thy woes, 
 
 And, though of men most worthless, I attest 
 The Gods, I come but to relieve thy need. 
 
 Ah ! seek not this from others. By the throne 
 Of mighty Jove, associate of his sway, 
 
 Sits gentle Mercy, judge of human deeds ; 
 
 Let her be present to thy soul, my father. 
 
 The guilt we have incurred may be redeemed, 
 Though keen remorse can nought avail us now. 
 Why art thou silent? — 
 
 Speak to me, O my father, one kind word ; 
 Repulse me not. Wilt thou not deign reply, 
 
 But sternly thrust me forth, dishonoured, shamed 
 With mute contempt, unknowing whence thy wrath 
 Burns thus relentless ? Aid me, O my sisters, 
 
 Ye are his children too ; O seek to move 
 Th’ obdurate sternness of my angry father, 
 
 Nor let him thus, without one answering word, 
 Dismiss in scorn the suppliant of the God. 
 
 Ant. Speak, my unhappy brother, speak thy 
 wish ; 
 
(ED1PUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 181 
 
 Oft words are armed with mild persuasive power ; 
 And if they rouse resentment, or awake 
 The dormant pity, oft compel reply 
 From the closed lips of deep and angry silence. 
 Pol. Then will I speak ; for thou hast counselled 
 well. 
 
 Imploring first the God (from whose dread shrine 
 The King despatched me hither, granting first 
 A free communion and a safe return,) 
 
 To be the great auxiliar of my prayer. 
 
 Such grace, kind strangers, I implore from you, 
 From these, my sisters, from my sire himself. 
 
 Now, O my father, will I tell the cause 
 Why thus I sought thee. From my native land 
 I have been driven to exile ; for no crime, 
 
 Save that I claimed to mount thy royal throne, 
 
 By birth my fair and free inheritance. 
 
 For this Eteocles, thy younger son, 
 
 Forced me from Thebes, not by superior plea 
 Of solid reasoning, or by nobler deeds 
 Of conquering arms triumphant, but the state 
 By fraudful arts persuading. The fell cause 
 Of all our feud was thine avenging curse ; 
 
 This, too, prophetic oracles confirm. 
 
 Then to the Doric Argos I repaired. 
 
182 
 
 OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 Espoused Adrastus’ daughter, and received, 
 
 As friends and comrades in my righteous cause, 
 The best and bravest of the Apian chiefs. 
 
 With these allied, a seven-fold troop I lead 
 To hostile Thebes, in this good cause prepared 
 To die, or hurl th’ usurper from his throne. 
 Enough of this. Then wherefore came I hither ? 
 To breathe, my father, fervent prayers to thee, 
 Both for myself and my confederate friends, 
 
 Who in seven bands, by seven bold chieftains led, 
 Are now encircling all the Theban plain. 
 
 Mighty to wield the spear, and skilled to trace 
 The flight of birds, Amphiaraus is there ; 
 iEtolian Tydeus next, great CEneus’ son ; 
 
 Eteoclus the Argive leads the third ; 
 
 The fourth Hippomedon, sent to the fight 
 By Talaus his sire ; then Capaneus, 
 
 Who vaunts ere long that his victorious arm 
 
 Shall raze to earth the haughty Theban towers ; 
 
 Parthenopaeus of Arcadian birth 
 
 Springs to the contest, from his mother’s fame 
 
 His name deriving, proved the noble son 
 
 Of Atalanta, who so long maintained 
 
 Her virgin-beauty, matchless in the chase ; 
 
 And I, thy son, — or, if not thine, the son 
 
CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 183 
 
 Of angry Fortune, yet who bear thy name, — 
 Conduct to Thebes the fearless Argive band. 
 
 Now, by thy daughters, by thy life, my father, 
 
 We all accord in one assenting prayer ; 
 
 Heap not on me the burthen of thy wrath, 
 
 Seeking due vengeance on a brother’s head, 
 
 Who drove me forth, and robbed me of a throne. 
 
 If faith be due to Heaven’s prophetic voice, 
 
 Whom thou shalt succour, them must victory grace. 
 Now by thy native fountains, by the Gods 
 Who guard the rights of kindred, I implore thee 
 Yield to my prayer, remit thy rooted wrath ; 
 
 I, too, am poor and exiled, e’en as thou. 
 Consigned to equal miseries, both must bow 
 To a strange master in a stranger-land, 
 
 While he, exultant in his royal halls, 
 
 Derides our common doom of bitterness ; 
 
 Whom, so thou aid my purpose, with brief toil 
 Soon will I hurl degraded from his throne. 
 
 Then to thy regal state will I restore thee, 
 
 Restore myself, and drive the wretch to exile. 
 
 This, if thou aid, is no unmeaning vaunt ; — 
 Without thy help I hope not ev’n for safety. 
 
 Cli. Now, for his sake, who sent the suppliant here, 
 Deign, CEdipus, meet answer to his prayer, 
 
184 
 
 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 Whate'er thou wilt, and let him part from hence. 
 (Ed. Save that the honoured Monarch of these 
 realms 
 
 Hath sent him hither, and esteemed it just 
 That we should deign reply, I tell ye, friends, 
 
 He never should have heard my voice again. 
 
 That grace accorded, let him hearken now 
 Our firm response, and triumph as he may. 
 
 Oh most abandoned ! when the very throne 
 Was thine, which now in Thebes thy brother holds, 
 Thou didst thyself expel thy wretched sire, 
 
 Didst spurn me from my country, and consign me 
 To this most abject penury, which now 
 Excites thy tears ; but never did my woes 
 Inflict one pang, till they became thine own. 
 
 Those ills I may not weep, but must endure ; 
 
 And ever, ever must remembrance wake 
 Thy worse than parricide. Thou didst enfold me 
 In all this web of misery ; by thy will 
 Constrained, I wandered sadly forth to crave 
 The slender pittance of my daily food. 
 
 Save that the care of duteous daughters soothed me, 
 Long since, for thee, should I have ceased to live ; 
 But they have saved me, they sustain me still ; 
 Unlike their weaker sex, with manly hearts 
 
IEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 185 
 
 They toil unwearied in a father’s cause ; — 
 
 Ye are not mine, but aliens from my blood. 
 Wherefore with other eyes will Heaven look down 
 On this emprize ere long, when these thy troops 
 Are marched to Thebes. It shall not be thy lot 
 To win the city ; — rather shall thy blood 
 And thy base brother’s stain her fatal plain. 
 
 Such were the curses of my first despair ; 
 
 Such now with keener hatred I invoke 
 To wreak my vengeance, that ye late may learn 
 The reverence due to parents ; nor, though blind, 
 With causeless insult wound a powerless father. 
 My gentle daughters never acted thus. 
 
 For this, on thy proud throne and royal seat 
 Shall sit th’ avenging curse, if Justice, famed 
 Of old, by Jove’s august tribunal throned, 
 Maintain the ancient laws unbroken still. 
 
 Hence to thy doom, Accursed ! I disclaim 
 A father’s part in thee, thou scorn of men ; 
 
 And with thee bear the curse I call to blast thee : 
 That thou mayst ne’er thy rightful throne regain, 
 And never to the Argive vales return ; 
 
 But fall unpitied by a kindred hand, 
 
 Requiting first thine exile by his death. 
 
 Thus do I curse thee : and I here invoke 
 
186 
 
 CEDI PUS AT CQLONOS. 
 
 Dark Erebus, the hated Sire of Hell, 
 
 To give thee dwelling in his deepest gloom 
 These venerable Powers, and mighty Mars, 
 
 Whose anger cursed thee with this deadly feud. 
 Depart with this mine answer. Hence, and tell 
 Th’ assembled Thebans and thy bold allies, 
 
 Such is the meed which CEdipus repays 
 To his abhorred and most unnatural offspring. 
 
 Ch. I cannot greet thee for thy prosperous way, 
 
 0 Polynices ! now return with speed. 
 
 Pol. O most ill-omened journey ! fatal close ! 
 Oh my devoted friends ! was it for this 
 We left the Argive towers? Unhappy me ! 
 
 1 will not to my faithful friends impart 
 
 These dire predictions, nor renounce th’ emprize, 
 But rush in silence on my certain doom. 
 
 Oh my beloved sisters ! by the Gods ! 
 
 Since ye have heard my father’s ruthless curse, 
 Should that fell curse in all its fury fall, 
 
 If ere ye visit your paternal Thebes, 
 
 Ah ! spurn me not dishonoured ; but inter 
 My sad remains with due funereal rites : 
 
 So shall the praise ye have most justly earned 
 For duteous labour in a father’s cause 
 Be crowned with added lustre, if ye pay 
 
(EDI PUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 187 
 
 The last kind office to a brother’s corpse. 
 
 Ant. O Polynices, I implore thee yield 
 To mine impassioned prayer. 
 
 Pol. Antigone, 
 
 My best-beloved sister, speak thy will. 
 
 Ant. 0 lead thy bold confederates back to Argos, 
 Nor plunge thy country and thyself in ruin. 
 
 Pol. It cannot be. If here I doubt or pause, 
 
 My gallant friends renounce the cause for ever. 
 
 Ant. My dearest brother ! wherefore wilt thou 
 yield 
 
 To unavailing fury ? Canst thou reap 
 Renown or profit from thy country’s ruin ? 
 
 Pol. To fly were baseness, and I will not fly. 
 Mine is the birth-right ; and I cannot brook 
 The insults of my brother. 
 
 Ant. Seest thou not 
 
 His 3 boding stern ; too plain, alas ! he spake it, 
 That death impends o’er both ? 
 
 Pol. Such was his presage ; 
 
 But never, never shall this feud be staunched. 
 
 Ant. Ah ! woe is me ! — Yet say, will they who 
 hear 
 
 3 The malediction of (Edipus. 
 
188 
 
 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 These fateful omens, aiding still thy cause, 
 
 Rush headlong on destruction ? 
 
 Pol. None shall hear them. 
 
 A prudent general fans enlivening hope, 
 
 But wisely veils the omen of ill-fortune. 
 
 Ant. Is this thy sad and stern resolve, my brother ? 
 
 Pol. Detain me not. To this high enterprise, 
 Though dark and hopeless from a father’s curse, 
 
 Be all my thoughts directed. But may Jove 
 With favouring eye behold you, so ye grant 
 My last request, and honour me in death ; 
 
 In life ye cannot aid me. Now, my sister, 
 
 Now let me go, and take a fond farewell, 
 
 A last farewell ! we meet in life no more. 
 
 Ant. Then am I lost indeed. 
 
 Pol. Mourn not for me. 
 
 Ant. My dearest brother, can I check these tears, 
 If frantic thus thou rush on open death ? 
 
 Pol. If fate so wills, I perish. 
 
 Ant. Yet, — oh yield — 
 
 Yield to a sister’s prayer. 
 
 Pol. Persuade me not 
 To deeds of baseness. 
 
 Ant. But if thou shalt perish, 
 
 1 am most wretched. 
 
CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 189 
 
 Pol. By the hand of Heaven 
 Our doom must be decided. But from you 
 May Heaven, propitious to my prayer, avert 
 Sadness or suffering. Ye are most unworthy 
 To mourn the blighting influence of despair. 
 Exit Polynices. 
 
 CEDIPUS, ANTIGONE, ISMENE, CHORUS. 
 STROPHE I. 
 
 Ch. Redoubling sorrows to me now, 
 
 This sightless stranger bears, 
 
 Laden with heavier doom, 
 
 If fate achieve no remedy. 
 
 But never can I deem Heaven’s high decree 
 Is breathed in vain. 
 
 Time, all-beholding Time, 
 
 Looks on, and hastens still 
 
 To fill the destined measure of his woes— 
 
 Great Jove ! what sudden thunders peal? 
 
 (Eel. My daughters, O my daughters, is there nigh 
 One who will speed to call the noble Theseus ? 
 
 Ant. Why, dearest father, should the King be 
 called ? 
 
190 
 
 CEDTPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 Gild. This winged thunder peals from lofty Jove 
 To bear me to the grave. Send, send with speed. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE I. 
 
 Ch. Lo ! yet again the mighty peal, 
 
 Rolled by the hand of Jove, 
 
 Grows louder ; and mine hair 
 With thrilling horror stands erect. 
 
 My soul is troubled ; for the lightning blaze 
 Again flames high. 
 
 What end is thus foretold? — 
 
 I tremble — Not in vain, 
 
 Nor void of dark event, these thunders roll ; — 
 
 O mighty thunders ! mightier Jove ! 
 
 (Ed. This, O my daughters, is the hour fore- 
 doomed 
 
 To close mine ills ; — there is no respite now. 
 
 Ant. How know’st thou this? whence is such 
 presage drawn ? 
 
 CEd. I know it well ; but haste, once more I bid 
 thee, 
 
 Require thy Monarch’s instant presence hither. 
 
 STROPHE II. 
 
 Ch. Hark!— hark! 
 
CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 191 
 
 Again the ceaseless thunder rolls 
 In unabated wrath. 
 
 Be merciful, dread Power ! be merciful. 
 
 If o’er my mother-land thy wrath impends, 
 
 Avert the wrathful stroke from me, 
 
 Though on this wretch, oppressed with woes, 
 
 I gazed, — and, gazing, pitied his despair. 
 
 Dread Jove, on thee I call. 
 
 CEd. Is not the monarch nigh ? Still will he find me, 
 My children, living, nor of sense bereft ? 
 
 Ant. What secret wouldst thou to his faith confide? 
 (Ed. For all his goodness, I would now repay 
 The proffered recompense I pledged before. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE II. 
 
 Ch. Haste — haste, 
 
 Speed, speed thy pace, my son, my son, 
 
 Though on the utmost shore, 
 
 To the dread Monarch of the Main thy hand 
 Present the votive victim, come, O come ! 
 
 To thee, thy state, and martial friends, 
 
 The grateful stranger would repay 
 A guerdon meet for your kind courtesy. 
 
 Come, my good Lord, O come. 
 
 Enter Theseus. 
 
192 
 
 IED1PUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 THESEUS, CEDIPUS, ANTIGONE, ISMENE, CHORUS. 
 
 Thes. Again this general shout and wild dismay? — 
 I hear your voices, and the stranger’s too. 
 
 Did the red lightnings or tempestuous hail 
 Burst o’er your heads? When Jove’s indignant voice 
 Is heard in thunder, such may well be dreaded. 
 
 C Ed. Well art thou come, my Lord. Some fa- 
 vouring God 
 
 In happy moment sped thy footsteps hither. 
 
 Thes. What new event hath fallen, 0 son of Laius? 
 (Ed. The close of my sad pilgrimage draws on ; 
 But let me first to thee and to thy land 
 Perform my promise ; then I die with honour. 
 
 Thes. What symbols presage thine impending fate? 
 (Ed. The Gods themselves are heralds of my doom, 
 In none of all the former signs proved faithless. 
 Thes. How say’st thou, stranger, these are plainly 
 shown? 
 
 (Ed. The fierce and frequent thunders, the red flames 
 Hurled by th’ unconquered hand of lofty Jove ! 
 
 Thes. Thy words demand my credence ; for I see 
 They have proved false in nought. Declare thou then 
 What duty now demands. 
 
CEDIPUS AT OOLONGS. 
 
 193 
 
 (Ed. Great son of iEge us, 
 
 I will inform thee what awaits thy state. 
 
 What lasting glories, never to decay. 
 
 Now will I lead thee, by no friendly hand 
 Sustained or guided, where my life must close ; 
 
 But never, never breathe to mortal ear 
 The place of that mysterious sepulchre ; — 
 
 Then shall it guard thy land with firmer might 
 Than myriad shields and mercenary spears. 
 
 There too alone, secluded, shalt thou learn 
 Unuttered mysteries, which I dare not breathe 
 To these thy subjects, no, nor my loved daughters, 
 Though dearest to my soul. Do thou maintain 
 Inviolate silence till thine hour is nigh ; 
 
 Then breathe them only to the noblest chief ; 
 
 Bid him disclose them to the next alone ; 
 
 Thus ever shall ye hold your royal seat 
 Impregnable to Thebes. Unnumbered states, 
 Though swayed by wise and righteous laws, decline 
 To wrong and foul oppression. Yet the Gods 
 Behold unerringly, though late, when man 
 Turns from their hallowed awe to lawless pride ; 
 Beware, O Theseus, lest such fall be thine. 
 
 Yet why teach virtue to the heart that loves it? 
 Now the strong impulse of th’ inspiring God 
 
 VOL. i. 
 
 o 
 
194 
 
 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 Leads to the spot ; then let us onward now, 
 
 N or shrink in awe-struck reverence. O my daughters \ 
 Follow me thither ; I am now your guide, 
 
 As ye so long have been your wretched fathers. 
 Advance — yet touch me not ; unaided all, 
 
 That long and last asylum shall I find, 
 
 Where this worn frame is fated to repose. 
 
 This — this way pass ; for Hermes in that path 
 Directs me, and the Queen of those dark realms. 
 
 O light, dear light, long from mine eyes obscured. 
 Thy last, last beam now warms this nerveless frame. 
 Onward I pass to hide life’s waning ray 
 In death’s chill darkness. Most illustrious King, 
 Blessings on thee, thy state, thy faithful friends ; 
 Oft in the hour of conquest and of fame 
 Revere my memory, prosper by my doom. 
 
 [Exeunt (Edipus, Theseus, Antigone, 
 and Ismene. 
 
 Chorus . 
 
 STROPHE. 
 
 If to thee, Eternal Queen, 
 
 Empress of the worlds unseen ; 
 
 Mighty Pluto, if to thee, 
 
 Hell's terrific Deity, 
 
CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 195 
 
 Lips of mortal mould may dare 
 Breathe the solemn suppliant prayer, 
 Grant the stranger swift release, 
 
 Bid the mourner part in peace, 
 
 Guide him where in silence deep 
 All that once were mortal sleep. 
 
 Since relentless Fate hath shed 
 Sorrows o’er thy guiltless head, 
 
 In thy pangs let mercy stay thee, 
 
 In the grave let rest repay thee. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE. 
 
 Powers of Night ! Infernal Maids ! 
 Monster-guardian of the shades ! 
 
 Who, as antique legends tell, 
 
 Keep’st the brazen porch of Hell, 
 
 And with ceaseless yell dost rave 
 Fearful from thy gloomy cave ; 
 
 Thou, whose mighty bulk of yore 
 Earth to sable Tartarus bore ; 
 
 Veil thy terrors, quell thine anger, 
 Gently meet the passing stranger, 
 Sinking now with welcome speed 
 To the dwellings of the dead. 
 
 o 2 
 
196 
 
 (ED l PUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 Thou, the ward of Hell who keepest ! 
 Thou, the guard who never sleepest ! 
 
 Enter a Coloniate. 
 
 COLONIATE, CHORUS. 
 
 Col. Brief words, my countrymen, may tell the 
 tale, 
 
 That CEdipus is dead ; but how he died, 
 
 With what most strange and solemn circumstance, 
 Admits no brief recital. 
 
 Ch. Is he then, 
 
 TV unhappy ! now at rest? 
 
 Col. Yea. Know thou well 
 The sorrows of his heart are hushed for ever. 
 
 Ch. How — by celestial aid and calm release ? 
 Col. Much wilt thou marvel, when this too thou 
 hearest. 
 
 Thou know’st, for thou wert present, how from 
 hence 
 
 He walked, supported by no friendly hand, 
 
 But to us all a sure unfaltering guide. 
 
OEDIPUS AT COLON OS. 
 
 197 
 
 Soon as lie gained the rough and steep descent, 
 With brazen steps deep-rooted in the earth, 
 
 He stood, where varying paths converge in one, 
 Beside the caverned gulf, where yet remain 
 The fixed memorials of that mutual faith 
 Of old by Theseus and Pirithous pledged ; 
 
 And standing midway there, betwixt that spot 
 And the Thorician rock, the hollow thorn 
 And sepulchre of stone — he sate ; and there 
 His squalid weeds ungirding, to his side 
 He called his daughters, charging them to bring 
 A pure libation from the living stream, 
 
 And holy lavers ; they to Ceres’ hill, 
 
 Clad with fresh-glistening verdure, haste with speed 
 To do his bidding ; then with lavers cleanse, 
 
 And in a decent robe their sire array, 
 
 As ancient custom’s funeral rites enjoin. 
 
 These sadly-pleasing rites at length discharged, 
 
 Nor aught unfinished of their sire’s command, 
 
 The Infernal Jove deep thundered from beneath. 
 The timid virgins trembled as they heard, 
 
 Then clasped their father’s knees, dissolved in tears, 
 And smote their breasts with wailings long and loud. 
 He, when he heard that strange and sudden sound, 
 
198 
 
 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 Pressed them in fond embrace ; and “ O my 
 children,” 
 
 He said, “ to-day ye have no more a father ; 
 
 The grave hath closed o’er all that once was mine ; 
 And your long painful task is now fulfilled — 
 Painful I know, my daughters, though one thought 
 Still soothes and sweetens these protracted toils ; 
 For never, never in a father’s breast 
 Glowed fonder love than I have felt for you ; 
 
 Of this bereft, on what remains of life 
 Shall better fortune smile.” With frequent sobs, 
 Locked in each other’s arms, they thus bewailed ; 
 But when their piercing cries an instant ceased, 
 And the first thrill was hushed, silence ensued, — 
 
 A silence, oh how awful ! — From beneath, 
 
 With deep mysterious voice, called one unseen, 
 While our damp hair in stiffening horror stood. 
 Again, and yet again, the God exclaimed, 
 
 “ Come, CEdipus, why pause we to depart? 
 
 Come, CEdipus ; for thou hast tarried long.” 
 
 Soon as he heard the summons of the God, 
 
 He called the royal Theseus to his side, 
 
 And thus addressed him, “ Dear and noble King ! 
 Thy hand, th’ unbroken pledge of spotless faith, 
 
g:jdipus at colonos. 
 
 199 
 
 Give to my children ; ye, my daughters, too, 
 
 Like pledge return ; and promise me, O King, 
 
 That thou wilt ne’er betray them ; but perform 
 Whate’er thy soul, benevolent, may deem 
 Congenial to their welfare.” Our good Lord, 
 
 Like a true King, the promise promptly gave, 
 
 And stamped it with an oath. Accomplished this. 
 Straight in his feeble arms did CEdipus 
 Embrace his daughters, and thus bade farewell ; — 
 “ Ye, my loved children, yield with generous hearts 
 To stern necessity, and hence retire. 
 
 Seek not to see what mortal may not gaze on, 
 
 Or hear what never mortal sense may hear. 
 
 Away with speed ; for to the King alone 
 To rest, and mark the dread event, is given.” 
 
 We heard in wonder, and departed all ; 
 
 And with the sorrowing virgins from the spot 
 Receded ; backward in short space we gazed, 
 
 To seek the stranger ; but he was not there. 
 
 We marked the King alone, with close-pressed hands 
 Shading his brow, as if appalled by forms 
 More terrible than human sight could bear. 
 
 A few short moments ; — and we saw him bowed 
 Prostrate — adoring in one prayer the Earth, 
 
 And high Olympus, dwelling of the Gods. 
 
200 
 
 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 But what the vanished stranger’s wondrous fate, 
 Save royal Theseus, man can never tell. 
 
 For neither red and angry bolts of Jove 
 Consumed him as he stood ; nor maddening storm 
 Hath swept his relics to the rolling sea ; 
 
 Some God conveyed him hence, or yawning earth 
 Oped a new passage through her pathless caves, 
 
 A painless passage to the realms of peace. 
 
 Such doom demands no wailing ; for he fell 
 By slow disease unwithered, of mankind 
 Most w^ondrous in his doom. Though this my tale 
 Excite suspicion of my cooler sense, 
 
 I will not yield to those who count me senseless. 
 Ch. Where are the maidens, with the friends 
 who led them ? 
 
 Col. They are not far ; the sound of wailing wild 
 Proclaims too well that they approach us now. • 
 
 Enter Antigone and Ismene. 
 
 ANTIGONE, ISMENE, COLONI ATE, CHORUS. 
 STROPHE I. * 
 
 Ant. Ah ! ’tis no common or familiar grief 
 That wounds us now— we mourn not now alone 
 
CEDIPU8 AT COLONOS. 
 
 201 
 
 Our guilty birth from that unhappy sire, 
 
 For whose beloved sake, 
 
 Serene and patient, countless toils we bore ; 
 Now are we plunged in ills unspeakable, 
 Which we behold and bear. 
 
 Ch. What is it ? 
 
 Ant. ’Twere vain, my friends, to tell — 
 
 Tis past the imagining of one who feels not. 
 Ch. Hath he departed ? 
 
 Ant. He hath passed as thou 
 Wouldst most desire his miseries should close. 
 And wherefore ? Nor destroying war 
 Nor ocean wrought his doom ; 
 
 But earth in terror opened wide, 
 
 And snatched him to his rest — 
 
 Ah me ! and o’er our eyes 
 A deadly night hath closed. 
 
 Henceforth, alas ! in what far-distant clime, 
 Wandering o’er what wild billowy sea, 
 
 A refuge shall we find? 
 
 STROPHE II. 
 
 Is. Alas ! I know not. 
 
 0 that remorseless death 
 Would grant the hapless child 
 
 ■ 
 
202 
 
 CEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 \ 
 
 To share her father’s tomb. Henceforth, to me, 
 Life is but lingering’ death. 
 
 Ch. Oh best of daughters ! most beloved ! 
 
 In resignation must ye bow 
 
 To Heaven’s high will, nor thus indulge despair. 
 
 Who would contemn your lot ? 
 
 ANTISTROPHE I. 
 
 Ant. Then man, alas ! may long for woe itself 
 What mortals deem most joyless was my joy, 
 While these fond arms his aged form embraced. 
 My father, my beloved, 
 
 Entombed for ever in the cheerless grave, 
 
 Dear to my heart wert thou when bowed in age, 
 And dear shalt ever be ! 
 
 Ch. He hath accomplished— 
 
 Ant. Yea ; he hath indeed 
 Obtained the warmest wishes of his breast. 
 
 Ch. What wished he thus ? 
 
 Ant. He wished to breathe his last 
 In a strange land ; in a strange land indeed 
 He died ; and in eternal gloom 
 Now sleeps beneath the sod, 
 
 Leaving no transient woe ; for long, 
 
 My father, these sad eyes 
 
CED1PUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 203 
 
 Ceaseless shall weep. I know 
 
 No hope that shall erase 
 
 This woe. Alas ! it was not well to die 
 
 In a strange land, and dying leave 
 
 Thy daughter desolate ! 
 
 ANTISTROPHE II. 
 
 Is. Wretched Ismene ! 
 
 What doom awaits me now, 
 
 Forsaken, friendless all ! 
 
 Thee, too, beloved maid, — thee, as myself, 
 
 Of a loved sire bereft. 
 
 Ch. Yet think how blessed was the close, 
 
 Dear virgins, of his dreary course. 
 
 Cease, cease your wailings ; none of mortal birth 
 From wretchedness are free. 
 
 STROPHE III. 
 
 Ant. Once more, dear sister, let us hence. 
 
 Is. And by what aim impelled ? 
 
 Ant. My bosom burns to — 
 
 Is. What? 
 
 Ant. To see the funeral-bed — 
 
 Is. Of whom ? 
 
 Ant . My father ! wretched me. 
 
204 
 
 (EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 Is. Would Heaven thy purpose sanction? Seest 
 thou not — 
 
 Ant. Why thus repress me ? 
 
 Is. Think on this — 
 
 Ant. Why yet deter me ? 
 
 Is. He lies unburied, and apart from all. 
 
 Ant. O lead, and slay me there. 
 
 Is. Woe, woe, unhappy ! where 
 Again, deserted and forlorn, 
 
 Shall I in anguish pine ? 
 
 ANTISTROPHE III. 
 
 Ch. Dear virgins, calm your anxious fears. 
 
 Ant. Ah ! whither shall we fly ? 
 
 Ch. Already have ye fled 
 Where wrong shall never fall. 
 
 Ant. I own it. 
 
 Ch. Wherefore then despond ? 
 
 Ant . I know not how we shall return to Thebes. 
 Ch. Think not of that ; ’tis plunged in ills. 
 
 Ant. It was before ; yet — 
 
 The tide of misery ebbs and flows again. 
 
 Ch. Ah ! ye are tossed upon a shoreless sea. 
 
 Ant. Shoreless indeed ! 
 
 Ch. I know, and pity you. 
 
(EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 205 
 
 Ant . Eternal Jove, ah whither shall we fly ? 
 To what surviving hope 
 Will Heaven direct us now ? 
 
 Enter Theseus. 
 
 THESEUS, ANTIGONE, ISMENE, CHORUS. 
 
 Thes. Cease, oh unhappy virgins, cease your 
 plaints ! 
 
 Ye should not weep for him, who oft invoked 
 Death, ere it came, to soothe him. Tis not well 
 To weep ! 
 
 Ant . Great King, we supplicate thy grace. 
 
 Thes. What grace, poor maidens, would ye crave 
 from me ? 
 
 Ant. We but implore to gaze 
 On our dear father’s tomb once more. 
 
 Thes. It cannot be ; that spot ye must not tread. 
 Ant. What hast thou said, O King ! the Lord of 
 Athens ? 
 
 Thes. Virgins, your dying father bade, 
 
 That none of mortal birth should e’er approach 
 That spot, or breathe funereal vows 
 
206 
 
 1EDIPUS AT COLONOS. 
 
 O’er his mysterious tomb. 
 
 This charge observed with faith, he promised peace 
 And glory to our realm. 
 
 The God was conscious to my vows, 
 
 And the Infernal Jove, attesting all. 
 
 Ant . If such, indeed, be our lost father’s will, 
 Be it his daughters’ too. Yet grant us now 
 Safe conduct to Ogygian Thebes, if yet 
 We may avert the miseries that impend 
 O’er each doomed brother’s head. 
 
 Thes. This will I do ; and all my power can reach 
 To soothe and aid you, for the love 
 Of him who rests late sepulchred in earth ; — 
 
 In such a task no labour will I shun. 
 
 Ch. But cease your sorrows, virgins, nor indulge 
 This wild impassioned woe. — 
 
 All hath been willed by Heaven’s disposing hand. 
 
 [Exeunt Omnes. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
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ANTIGONE. 
 
 In forming our estimate of those productions of 
 poetical genius, which have appeared in various 
 countries and at different periods of time, it should 
 ever be remembered, that similarity of conception 
 and coincidence of design are totally distinct from, 
 and unconnected with, imitation. The same cha- 
 racter may indeed present itself, under the same 
 aspect, to the contemplation of two minds, each 
 gifted with superior powers ; but it does not neces- 
 sarily follow, that the more recent writer has been 
 contented to pursue the track of his predecessor. 
 Though there are several striking features of re- 
 semblance between the Cordelia of Shakspeare and 
 
 VOL. i. 
 
 p 
 
210 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 the Antigone of Sophocles,— both eminent for filial 
 piety, both summoned to evince it under the most 
 trying circumstances, and both, instead of receiving 
 the recompense of virtue, consigned to an early 
 and miserable doom, — it cannot be imagined, that 
 the Prince of the Modern Drama was indebted to his 
 Greek precursor for that idea of female excellence, 
 which he has so beautifully embodied in the 
 daughter of Lear. The simple fact is, that nature 
 is the same at every age and in every clime ; and 
 these great masters of dramatic poetry acknow- 
 ledged no other guide. They knew, that pros- 
 perity is not always the reward of virtue ; and that 
 no spectacle could be at once more natural and 
 affecting, than the sight of beauty and excellence 
 descending prematurely to the tomb. 
 
 To us, however, who are but imperfectly ac- 
 quainted with the customs of the Ancients, and 
 disqualified from allowing them due consideration 
 by the diversity of our own, the Greek poet must 
 necessarily appear under very material disadvan- 
 tage. The very principle on which this drama is 
 founded possesses comparatively little interest to 
 us ; it can neither excite sympathy nor commisera- 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 211 
 
 tion in our minds. It is difficult for us fully to 
 comprehend ; — it is impossible for us adequately to 
 feel ; — why Antigone should be required to sacrifice 
 her own life to the mere interment of her brother’s 
 corpse. We are indeed aware, that the privation 
 of sepulture was esteemed by the Greeks a heavier 
 calamity than the loss of life itself, — that the survi- 
 ving kindred were enjoined, by the most solemn obli- 
 gations, to pay the last sad offices to their departed 
 relative, — and that even the Casual traveller, who 
 should pass a dead body without sprinkling over it 
 three handfuls of dust, subjected himself to a 
 penalty of the most tremendous execration. But, 
 though we know all this, we cannot feel it ; and, 
 consequently, to our minds, the great interest of 
 the drama is irreparably lost. 
 
 These remarks are introduced — not, it is hoped, 
 without some reference to the subject — to obviate 
 any disappointment which might be experienced 
 
 Precibus non linquar inultis; 
 
 Teque piacula nulla resolvent. 
 
 Quanquam festinas, lion est mora longa ; licebit 
 Injecto ter pulvere curras. 
 
 Horat. Lib. I. Od. 23, 
 p 2 
 
212 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 on the perusal of this tragedy, particularly by 
 those whose expectations are founded on the com- 
 mendations of critics, and not derived from ac- 
 quaintance] with the original. Yet, under all its 
 disadvantages, it will be found highly interesting 
 and pathetic. That the Athenians, who were the 
 most competent judges of its excellence, and among 
 whose national defects has never been numbered 
 the faculty of bein g easily pleased, honoured it with 
 peculiar approbation, may be collected from two 
 facts; 1 that it was represented thirty-two times 
 without intermission, and that they requited its 
 author with the government of Samos. 
 
 The chorus, indeed, by their servile submission 
 to the arbitrary commands of the Tyrant Creon, 
 seem to deviate somewhat from the canon prescri- 
 bed by Horace : 
 
 Actoris partes chorus officiumque virile 1 
 
 Defendat ; 
 
 21 The authority for this fact is the expression of the Scho- 
 liast, AeAsKTai to rovro Tgictnorov SsvTepovl which, how- 
 
 ever, may also signify. This drama was the thirty-second 
 in order written by Sophocles. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 213 
 
 Ille bonis faveatque, et concilietur amicis, 
 
 Et regat iratos, et amet peccare timentes ; 
 
 Ille dapes laudet mensae brevis ; ille salubrem 
 Justitiam, legesque, et apertis otia portis; 
 
 Ille tegat commissa ; Deosque precetur et oret, 
 
 Ut redeat miseris, abeat fortuna superbis. 
 
 Horat. Ars Poet. 195-201. 
 
 But this discrepancy is so judiciously accounted for 
 by Potter, that we cannot do better than transcribe 
 his words. “ In the Persian war Thebes had de- 
 serted the cause of glory and of Greece, and was, 
 besides, hostile to the Athenian state ; therefore, 
 to this generous people, animated with resentment, 
 conscious of their own merit, and glowing with all 
 the enthusiasm of civil liberty, nothing could be 
 more pleasing than a representation of their hated 
 enemies, under the most contemptible of all cir- 
 cumstances, as slaves to a tyrant.” 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONAL 
 
 Antigone. 
 
 ISMENE. 
 
 Chorus of aged Thebans. 
 Creon, King of Thebes. 
 Messengers. 
 
 Bjemon, Son of Creon. 
 Tiresias. 
 
 Eurydice, Wife of Creon. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 ANTIGONE, ISMENE. 
 
 Ant. Ismene, sister of my fondest love, 
 
 Know’st thou, of those unnumbered ills that sprung 
 From our devoted father, one which Jove 
 Heaps not on us, who now alone survive him ? 
 There is no grief or suffering, nought of shame 
 Or keen dishonour, which I cannot trace 
 Centred in thy afflictions and mine own. 
 
 E’en now, what new decree doth rumour blaze 
 Through all the city, by the King proclaimed ? 
 Know’st thou its import ? hast thou heard ? or yet 
 
216 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 Are the fresh wrongs, designed by ruthless foes 
 3 Against our dearest friends, concealed from 
 thee ? 
 
 Is. No tidings of our friends, Antigone, 
 
 Have reached me, sad or joyous, since the hour 
 When of our brethren we were both bereft, 
 
 On the same day by mutual rancour slain ; 
 
 Save that to-night the routed Argive host 
 Speeds its reluctant flight ; nought know I more 
 To wake our hopes or aggravate our fears. 
 
 Ant. I knew too well ; and, therefore, summoned 
 thee 
 
 Beyond the palace-gates to hear alone. 
 
 Is. And what? Thy words bespeak a troubled 
 soul. 
 
 Ant . For hath not Creon, honouring with a tomb 
 One of our brethren, in dishonour held 
 Another not less dear ? He hath entombed, 
 
 As Fame reports, with due sepulchral rites, 
 
 3 As Polynices was the elder son of (Edipus, and, conse- 
 quently, the rightful inheritor of the crown of Thebes, he had 
 already been wronged by the opposition which was made to 
 his ascending the throne. Hence the prohibition of Creon, 
 that his remains should be interred, was a new and additional 
 injury. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 217 
 
 Eteocles, among the Gods below 
 An honourable shade. But his decree 
 Sternly enjoins the city not to grace 
 The wretched Polynices with a grave, 
 
 Nor o’er his relics shed the pitying tear ; 
 
 But leave him unlamented, unentombed, 
 
 4 A welcome banquet to the birds of death, 
 
 Fierce swooping to their prey. Such things, ’tis 
 said, 
 
 To you and me, for I must name myself, 
 
 Ordains this worthy Creon, and approaches 
 Here too the same stern edict to proclaim, 
 
 Lest any yet plead ignorance. Nor account 
 This charge of trivial import. Death awaits 
 Him, who shall do the deed, — a public death, 
 
 By stoning from the people. Such is now 
 Our perilous state ; and quickly must thou prove 
 Whether thy soul is noble as thy birth, 
 
 Or thou degenerate from thy lofty line. 
 
 4 The common reading, eio-oguai, rendered by Potter 
 * ‘ whose keen eye marks their prey,” appears altogether in- 
 admissible. The emendation which we have adopted, 
 eic Tofpwaiv, has been proposed and approved by the most eminent 
 commentators. 
 
218 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 Is. What then, unhappy ! could I more avail, 
 
 5 Who cannot sanction, nor repeal the law ? 
 
 Ant. Reflect awhile. Wilt thou partake my toils ? 
 Is. In what emprize ? what is thy wild design ? 
 Ant. Wilt thou unite with me to bear away 
 The lifeless body ? 
 
 Is. And wilt thou presume 
 To give him burial, though the state forbid ? 
 
 Ant. He is my brother ; aye, and thine ; though 
 thou 
 
 Art thus reluctant, I will ne’er betray him. 
 
 Is. Too daring sister ! when the King forbids? 
 Ant. He hath no power to hold me from mine 
 own. 
 
 Is. O think, dear sister ! think on our poor father ; 
 How, by a doom inglorious and abhorred, 
 
 He fell ; — and, maddened by detected crimes, 
 
 5 The common reading, remarks Erfurdt on this passage, 
 “ Xvxq uv y Sawracra,” is evidently incorrect, since the oppo- 
 sition, which ought to exist between the two verbs, does not 
 occur here, ?wsiv rov vo^ov being exactly the same in significa- 
 tion as 0a9T tew. He, therefore, proposes to read Aaao-a. The 
 reader may form his own opinion respecting this emenda- 
 tion, which we have contented ourselves with stating, and 
 not ventured to adopt. 
 
xVNTIGONE. 
 
 210 
 
 Tore out his eyes with self-avenging hand. 
 
 Think how his wife and mother too — she bore 
 That twofold name — by the suspended cord 
 Her course of suffering closed. Reflect, once more, 
 How in one day our hapless brothers slain, 
 
 Each by the other’s spear, received alike 
 From fratricidal hands their common doom. 
 
 We now are left unfriended and alone : 
 
 And oh, bethink thee, how we must incur 
 A doom more dark and fearful, if we dare 
 To spurn by force the mandate of our tyrant. 
 
 And weigh this also ; — nature formed us women, 
 W eak and unfit to cope with mightier man ; 
 
 Since, therefore, we are swayed by stronger lords, 
 Submit we meekly, though to keener wrongs. 
 
 First will I ask forgiveness of the dead, 
 
 That force constrains me to obey the mighty ; 
 
 Then bow to those who hold the sovereign sway. 
 To dare a deed so far beyond our strength, 
 
 What is it but distraction ? — 
 
 Ant. I forbear 
 
 To urge thee more ; nay, did thy spirit burn 
 To share mine enterprise, I would not now 
 Accept thine aid. Act as thy prudence guides thee. 
 I will entomb him. For a deed like this, 
 
220 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 Oh what were death but glory ? I shall rest 
 Beloved with him I love, my last sad duty 
 Boldly discharged. Our latest, longest home 
 Is with the dead ; and therefore would I please 
 The lifeless, not the living. I shall rest 
 For ever there ; but thou, if such thy pleasure, 
 Trample in scorn on those most sacred rites, 
 
 Which the Gods reverence. 
 
 Is. Nay, I do not hold 
 
 Those rites in scorn ; but, when the state forbids, 
 
 I am not framed by nature to resist. 
 
 Ant. Still feign such fair pretences ; I will hence 
 To heap a mound o’er my beloved brother. 
 
 Is. Alas, my sister ! how I tremble for thee. 
 
 Ant. Fear not for me; but look to thine own 
 safety. 
 
 Is. At least, to none impart thy bold design ; 
 Veil it in darkness ; I too will be silent. 
 
 Ant. Nay, but declare it ; I shall hate thee more, 
 If thou forbear my purpose to divulge. 
 
 Is. 6 Thou’rt warm ; and yet methinks a deed 
 like this 
 
 6 QEgfAtiv ett* noc^iuv ; literally, you have a 
 
 warm heart in a cold business. This idiomatic expression is 
 difficult to be preserved in a translation. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 221 
 
 Might damp thy zeal. 
 
 Ant. I know that those I please, 
 
 Whom most to please becomes me. 
 
 Is. Couldst thou do it — 
 
 It far transcends thy power. 
 
 Ant. I will forbear, 
 
 Whene’er my power shall fail me. 
 
 Is. ’Tis unseemly 
 
 To aim at objects which transcend thy reach. 
 
 Ant. Nay, if thou still persist to answer thus, 
 
 I cannot choose but hate thee ; and thy words 
 Will make thee no less hateful to the dead. 
 
 Leave me, and my presumption, as thou deem’st it, 
 To dare the menaced evil. I can suffer 
 No heavier penalty than not to die 
 An honourable death. 
 
 Is. If such thy purpose, 
 
 Go ; void of prudence do I deem the deed, 
 Though fond and faithful to the friends thou lovest. 
 
 [Exeunt Antigone and Ismene. 
 
222 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 STROPHE I. 
 
 Beam of the sun ! the brightest ray 
 That ever shot from yon blue heaven, 
 
 To gild our stately portals seven ; 
 
 Eye of the golden day ! 
 
 At length thine orient splendours glancing 
 O’er Dirce’s hallowed stream are dancing, 
 
 Urging to swifter, wilder flight 
 7 The chief with argent buckler bright ; 
 
 Who, from proud Argos’ distant towers, 
 
 Led to our land his martial powers, 
 
 And to the dubious field of fame 
 With vengeful Polynices came. 
 
 As the swift eagle spreads her snow-white wing, 
 And downward swoops impetuous to the strand ; 
 So, with reverberant arms, and casques that fling 
 Their floating crests in air, he led the Argive 
 band. 
 
 7 Adrastus, King of Argos, and father-in-law of Poly- 
 
 nices. 
 
ANTTGONE. 
 
 223 
 
 ANTISTROPHE I. 
 
 High o’er our towers the chieftain stood, 
 
 With spears in carnage deeply dyed, 
 
 Circling our portals in his pride ; — 
 
 But ere in Theban blood 
 
 His wrath was quenched, ere flames were curling 
 Around the destined turrets furling ; 
 
 In swift retreat, dismayed he fled ; — 
 
 Such wild alarm and withering dread 
 Full on his rear our troops impelled, 
 
 8 And all his dragon-frenzy quelled. 
 
 For Jove, with just abhorrence fired, 
 
 Hears lofty vaunts by pride inspired ; 
 
 He marked, as onward rushed the adverse powers, 
 Radiant with gold, with armour’s echoing clang, 
 And hurled the brandished bolt, as to our towers, 
 With conquest’s maddening shout, th’ infuriate 
 boaster sprang. 
 
 8 ’A vtittolKcij fyaxom. The exact signification of 
 
 theword ^Wp^tpa^a has excited some discussion. It denotes 
 properly, “ res aegre superabilis.” Apaxom is applied by 
 most commentators to the Thebans. There is, however, 
 no necessity for such an application, as the expression may 
 be used, in a general sense, to denote the violent hostility 
 
224 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 STROPHE II. 
 
 9 Armed with devouring flames, at once he fell 
 A blackening corpse to earth, whose rancour past 
 Swift as the winged blast 
 When rising whirlwinds darkly swell. 
 
 But other ills befel ; — 
 
 For mighty Mars the storm of battle guided, 
 
 And still to each his doom divided. 
 
 At the seven gates, seven chiefs of martial might, 
 With seven bold Thebans matched in equal fight, 
 Left their bright spoils to grace Tropaean Jove ; 
 Save that devoted pair — who, from one sire, 
 
 One guilty mother sprung — in mortal ire 
 With ruthless spears in stern encounter strove, 
 Victorious each, and doomed an equal fate to prove. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE II. 
 
 But Conquest comes, with noblest names renowned, 
 To grace her Thebes, whose sons control the car; 
 
 of the Argives against the Thebans. The word bellua 
 occurs among Latin authors in a similar sense. 
 
 9 Capaneus, struck down by a thunderbolt, while attempt- 
 ing to scale the walls. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 225 
 
 Now be the woes of war 
 Henceforth in glad oblivion drowned, 
 
 And let each fane resound 
 
 With joyous vigils, Bacchus first adoring, 
 
 To Bacchus first the glad strain pouring. — 
 
 But lo ! the King whose rule we now revere, 
 Menceceus’ late-crowned son, advances here ; 
 Raised to imperial sway by favouring Fate ; — 
 
 Now weighty cares seem labouring in his breast, 
 And hence I deem the Monarch’s high behest 
 Bade the swift heralds summon to debate 
 This chosen conclave, — these, the sages of the state. 
 
 Eiiter Creon. 
 
 CREON, CHORUS. 
 
 Cr. Thebans, the Gods, who willed our struggling 
 state 
 
 To be the sport of many an adverse wave, 
 
 Once more have reared it vigorous from the storm. 
 
 I sent the heralds to convene you here, 
 
 Apart from all, for well I ever knew 
 Your firm allegiance to the house of Laius ; 
 
 VOL. i. 
 
 Q 
 
226 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 While GEdipus bore sway, ye nobly proved it ; 
 And on the wreck of all his prouder fortunes 
 Firm were ye still, and loyal to his sons. 
 
 Since in one day they met an equal doom, 
 
 By mutual hate destroying and destroyed, 
 
 On me devolve the sceptre and the sway, 
 
 As to the dead by nearest ties allied. 
 
 Vain were the task to trace man’s secret soul, 
 
 The latent thoughts and judgements of his mind, 
 Till proved by empire — practised in the laws. 
 
 For me, the man who guides the helm of state, 
 Nor to the sagest counsels firmly cleaves, 
 
 But curbs the natural current of his thoughts, 
 
 By servile fear constrained ; such do I deem, 
 Such ever deemed, most worthless. Lightly, too 
 That man I value, who regards his friend 
 Beyond his country’s welfare. For myself; — 
 All-seeing Jove attest my stainless truth !— 
 
 I will not tamely and in silence mark 
 Peril and ruin o’er the state impend, 
 
 In place of safety ; never will I deem 
 
 That man my friend who is my country’s foe. 
 
 Experience tells me, on the state alone 
 
 Our weal depends ; and while in steady course 
 
 Her bark is steered, we cannot fail of friends. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 227 
 
 By rules like these will I exalt the city ; 
 
 And now, with these concurring, this decree 
 Have I proclaimed to all our citizens, 
 
 Touching the sons of QEdipus. We will 
 To lay the youth, who in his country’s cause 
 Died nobly fighting, first by valorous deeds 
 Ennobled, in an honourable tomb, 
 
 With all sepulchral splendours, which are wont 
 To grace the mighty dead. But for his brother — 
 
 I speak of Polynices — who, returned 
 To his paternal realms and Patron-Gods 
 From distant exile, panted to subvert 
 His native city with devouring flame ; — 
 
 To sate his vengeful thirst with Theban blood, 
 
 And bear his captive countrymen to bondage ; — 
 We will that none commit him to the tomb 
 With hallowed rites, or mourn above his bier, 
 
 But leave his corpse unburied ; let the dogs 
 And wild birds batten on his loathed remains. 
 
 Such is our will ; for never shall the base 
 Receive from me like reverence with the virtuous ; 
 But the good man, who seeks my country’s welfare, 
 In life or death, shall ever win from me 
 Unvarying honour due. 
 
 q 2 
 
228 
 
 ANTIGONE, 
 
 Ch . If such thy pleasure, 
 
 Son of Menceceus, towards the ruthless foe 
 And gallant friend of Thebes ; enforce the law 
 Thy kingly mandate sanctions, on the dead, 
 
 As on ourselves, whoe’er are living still. 
 
 Cr. Ye then attend to see our will obeyed. 
 
 Ch. A task like this befits more vigorous youth. 
 Cr. Guards are already set to watch the dead. 
 Ch. What more than this wouldstthou command? 
 Cr. That ye 
 
 Concede no grace to those who dare transgress. 
 
 Ch. Who is so senseless as to long for death ? 
 Cr. Aye, death shall be the meed ; but men too oft 
 By hope of treacherous gain are lured to ruin. 
 
 Enter Messenger. 
 
 CREON, CHORUS, MESSENGER. 
 
 Mess. I dare not say, my Lord ! with breathless 
 speed 
 
 And hurried step I sought thy royal presence, 
 
 For ponderings of dark presage long detained me, 
 And oft I turned as to retrace my path, 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 229 
 
 Long unresolved — for various were the pleas 
 My soul suggested; — “ Wherefore dost thou speed, 
 Unhappy man ! where woe and wrath await thee ? 
 Yet what avails to linger ? Should the King 
 Learn thine unwelcome errand from another, 
 
 How wouldst thou rue thy rashness ! ” Musing thus, 
 I came with steps irresolute and slow. 
 
 Thus a short path becomes a lengthened way. 
 
 At length my final sentence here impelled me ; 
 
 And, though mine errand gall thee, I must speak. 
 
 I come confiding in this only hope, 
 
 Nought can I suffer more than Heaven ordains. 
 
 Cr. And what excites this strange solicitude ? 
 Mess. First of myself indulge a brief remark. 
 Nor have I done the deed, nor can I tell 
 Who did it ; vengeance therefore on my head 
 Would fall unjustly. 
 
 Cr. Well dost thou evade, 
 
 And raise a cautious rampart round thy cause ; 
 Thine errand seems of something new and strange. 
 Mess. Unwonted perils wake unusual fear. 
 
 Cr. Wilt thou not speak, and hie thee hence 
 absolved ? 
 
 Mess. Now, then, I speak. Some one hath just 
 interred 
 
230 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 The corpse, and fled; first sprinkling o’er the dead 
 The loose dry dust, all decent rites discharged. 
 
 Cr. Ha ! sayst thou so ? Who, then, hath done 
 the deed ? 
 
 Mess. I know not ; — not a stroke of axe was there, 
 Nor mark of delving spade; the earth around 
 W as solid and unbroken, and by track 
 Of wheel unfurrowed ; not a trace betrayed 
 The viewless workman. When the earliest watch 
 Of morn revealed it, it awoke in all 
 A sad astonishment. No mound was raised, 
 
 And yet the corpse had vanished ; the light dust 
 Was sprinkled o’er it, as by one who shunned 
 Pollution from the dead. No track appeared 
 Of beast or ravening dog, who might have torn 
 The lifeless relics for his bloody fare. 
 
 Then rose the interchange of keen reproach, 
 
 Guard criminating guard. Nay, had the strife 
 Increased to mortal rancour, none was there 
 To quell the rising madness. Each accused 
 His fellow of the deed, yet visible guilt 
 Attached to none, and each repelled the charge. 
 
 10 We stood prepared to lift the glowing mass 
 
 10 This singular allusion proves the antiquity of the trial by 
 ordeal, so prevalent in the monkish ages. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 231 
 
 Of heated metal, through the living flame 
 To pass, and call to witness the great Gods, 
 
 That all were most unconscious of the deed, 
 Unknowing who devised or who performed it. 
 
 At last, when all our scrutiny was vain, 
 
 One spake, whose sentence bowed us to the earth 
 With wild o’ermastering terror, for we could not 
 Refute his reasoning, nor devise a scheme 
 Less fraught with peril : — thus its purport ran : 
 That this bold deed be straight disclosed to thee ; 
 It could not be concealed. His voice prevailed ; 
 The lots were cast ; on me, alas ! it fell, 
 
 To bear these 1 welcome tidings. I am come 
 Unwilling herald to reluctant hearers ; — 
 
 None greet with joy the messenger of ill. 
 
 Ch . O King ! already have my thoughts ascribed 
 This strange event to interposing Gods. 
 
 Cr. Cease, ere mine anger kindle at thy words ; — 
 Lest thou be found at once unwise and aged. 
 
 Who can endure thy babbling, when thou sayst 
 
 1 Spoken ironically. The expression in the original is 
 toSto rayafiov, which might be accurately rendered by “ this 
 precious intelligence/’ a phrase evidently altogether inadmis- 
 sible into tragic poetry. 
 
232 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 The Gods revere a wretch accursed as this ? 
 Would they entomb with honourable rites, 
 
 As of such meed deserving, one who came 
 To fire their columned fanes and costly shrines, 
 Their land to ravage, and subvert their laws ? 
 Seest thou the Gods requiting guilt with glory ? 
 
 It is not thus. A rebel faction lurks 
 Within the state, who murmur at our sway, 
 Muttering their spleen in secret, and disdain 
 To stoop the lofty crest beneath our yoke 
 In due submission. They, I know full well 
 By fraudful arts of bribery have suborned 
 Their hirelings to the deed. Ne’er sprung device 
 So fraught with evils to mankind as gold. 
 
 This lays imperial cities in the dust; — 
 
 Drives men to exile from their native land ; — 
 
 ’Tis this instructs and turns the generous soul 
 From honour’s onward road to deeds of baseness;— 
 This paves a path to artifice and fraud, 
 
 And every nameless ill that shames mankind. 
 
 But they, whom lucre to the deed hath led, 
 
 Have sealed their doom, and shall endure the death ; 
 And oh ! if yet I fear th’ Eternal Jove, 
 
 Be well assured, for by His name I swear, 
 
 Unless ye find, and bring before our presence, 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 233 
 
 The authors of this outrage, death alone 
 Shall not suffice for vengeance ; ye shall hang 
 Alive, till ye reveal th’ atrocious wrong, 
 
 That, well apprised whence profit should arise, 
 
 Ye may hereafter seek it there, and learn, 
 
 That not from every source may gain accrue. 
 
 Far more by lawless lucre wilt thou mark 
 Consigned to ruin, than from ill preserved. 
 
 Mess. May I now speak, or must I thus depart ? 
 Cr. Kno w’st thou not yet how odious are thy words ? 
 Mess. Harsh to thine ear, or hateful to thy soul? 
 Cr. Why dost thou scan the nature of my pain? 
 Mess. The author of the deed hath galled thy soul ; 
 I but offend thine ear. 
 
 Cr. Wretch ! thou wert born 
 A most inveterate babbler. 
 
 Mess. Of this deed, 
 
 At least, I am not guilty. 
 
 Cr. Thou hast bartered 
 Thy life for worthless gold. 
 
 Mess. Alas ! how keenly 
 
 Suspicions, though unfounded, wound the guiltless. 
 
 Cr. Aye, prate upon suspicion ; but unless 
 Ye find the criminal, soon shall ye own 
 On lawless gain a fearful vengeance waits. 
 
234 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 Mess. Soon be the guilty found ; yet be it thus, 
 
 [j Exit Creon. 
 
 Or not, (for this must fate alone decide,) 
 
 No more shalt thou behold me here return ; 
 
 And now, preserved beyond or hope or thought, 
 
 I owe glad praises to protecting Heaven. 
 
 [Ex it Messenger. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 STROPHE I. 
 
 Mid nature’s countless wonders none is found 
 More marvellous than man ! O’er the white wave 
 He speeds his daring course, while foam around 
 The swelling surges, and loud whirlwinds rave, 
 Fearless the billows and the blast to brave. 
 
 Man, year by year, the labouring steed constrains 
 To urge the rolling plough, a docile slave, 
 
 O’er Earth, Supreme of Gods; — whose teeming veins 
 Nor countless years exhaust, nor ceaseless labour 
 drains. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE I. 
 
 The feathered tribes that cut the yielding air, 
 
 The wilder race who prowl the pathless wood, 
 
 Alike can man’s inventive skill ensnare 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 235 
 
 In fine-wove toils ; nor less the watery brood 
 Who sport secure in ocean’s trackless flood. 
 
 Man, by superior art, can curb and chain 
 The brute, wild ranging o’er the mountains rude ; 
 The haughty steed elate with flowing mane, 
 
 And the fierce mountain-bull beneath his yoke 
 restrain. 
 
 STROPHE II. 
 
 The might of eloquence he taught, 
 
 The rapid train of counselled thought, 
 The social ties that link mankind ; — 
 
 He taught the sheltering roof to form, 
 And from the “ 2 arrows of the storm” 
 
 A safe asylum find. 
 
 Skilful in all things, no surprise 
 Finds him unwarned or unprepared 
 One art alone his skill defies, 
 
 The shaft of death to ward : 
 
 Though man for many a woe hath found 
 Relief, and balm for many a wound. 
 
 4 A varo^u, (psvyeiv (3&y. Sophocles terms hail “ the arrows of 
 the storm.” Milton (and after him Gray) has inverted the 
 metaphor, and termed thick flying arrows “ sleet of arrowy 
 shower.” — Potter. 
 
236 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE II. 
 
 Unfettered springs his active mind 
 High o’er the range by Hope assigned ; 
 
 To virtue soars, or sinks to shame ; 
 
 Him who the sacred laws reveres, 
 
 And Heaven’s avenging justice fears, 
 
 His country crowns with fame; — 
 
 But instant from her breast be driven 
 The wretch accursed, whose guilty soul, 
 
 From impious deeds, nor fear of Heaven 
 Nor earthly laws control. 
 
 Far from my hearth let such remove, 
 
 Nor share my counsel and my love. 
 
 Ha ! what new wonders burst upon my sight ? 
 How— known too well — can I deny 
 This is the young Antigone ? — 
 
 Oh, thou unhappy child 
 
 Of an unhappy father ! wherefore thus ? — - 
 
 Why do they drag thee here ? — 
 
 Not as a rebel to the royal laws, 
 
 And in thy rashness seized ? — 
 
 Antigone is brought in by the Messenger. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 237 
 
 CHORUS, MESSENGER, ANTIGONE. 
 
 Mess. This is the daring author of the deed. 
 
 We seized her in the act of sepulture — 
 
 But where is Creon ? 
 
 Ch. At thy need again, 
 
 From out the palace, lo ! the Monarch comes. 
 
 Enter Creon. 
 
 CREON, MESSENGER, ANTIGONE, CHORUS. 
 
 Cr. What make ye here ? What timely chance 
 hath fallen ? 
 
 Mess. Nought, O my Lord, should man by oath 
 forswear, 
 
 Lest calmer thought confute the rash resolve. 
 
 I vowed, by thy stern menaces appalled, 
 
 Long should it be ere hither I returned ; 
 
 But joy is doubly sweet, when hope itself 
 Hath ceased to look for gladness. I am come, — 
 Though bound by strongest oath to come no more, — 
 Leading this virgin, whom we found in act 
 The body to entomb. In this, at least, 
 
238 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 No lot was thrown ; the unexpected prize 
 Is all mine own. Now, Monarch, at thy will 
 Receive — convict — condemn the conscious maid. — - 
 Approve mine innocence, and send me hence 
 Acquitted and absolved. 
 
 Cr. Whence bring’st thou her, 
 
 And wherefore ? — Speak. 
 
 Mess . She hath interred the dead ; 
 
 Thou hear’st the whole. 
 
 Cr. And art thou well assured 
 Of thine assertion ? Canst thou prove the charge ? 
 
 Mess. I saw her hand entomb the corpse, by thee 
 Denied a grave. Speak I not plainly now ? 
 
 Cr. How didst thou see her? — where detect and 
 seize her ? 
 
 Mess. I will recount the whole. Soon as we 
 reached 
 
 The spot, by thine indignant threats appalled, 
 From the pale corpse we swept the covering dust, 
 Laid bare the putrid relics, and sate down 
 Upon a loftier mound, in the free air, 
 
 To shun the fetid odours of the corpse. 
 
 While each his comrade urged with keen reproach, 
 Denounced on him who first shrunk back from toil. 
 Thus rolled the hours, till now the noon-day sun 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 230 
 
 In the mid arch of Heaven resplendent flamed, 
 
 And the full rays beat fiercely on our heads ; 
 
 When sudden from the earth a whirlwind rose — 
 Troubled the clear blue sky, o’er the far plain 
 Impetuous swept, and of their foliage dense 
 The waving woods divested. The hot air 
 Was choked with dusty clouds, and we, with eyes 
 Deep-closed, this Heaven-inflicted pest endured. 
 The blast at length subsided. Then we saw 
 This maid, who wailed with loud and bitter cry, 
 As the poor bird, that hastens to her young, 
 
 And finds her nest deserted, — thus the virgin, 
 
 Soon as uncovered she discerned the corpse, 
 Redoubled her shrill wailings, and invoked 
 Dire imprecations on the heads of all 
 Who wrought this sacrilege. Then in her hands 
 She brought the light dry dust, and from a vase 
 With nicest art ensculptured, on the dead 
 Poured due libations trine. We at the sight 
 Rushed onward and secured her- — nought appalled ; 
 Then straightly taxed her with the former deed, 
 
 As with the present ; she confessed the whole. 
 Welcome, yet painful, was her frank avowal. 
 
 To shun impending evil is most welcome ; 
 
240 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 .Painful to work the woe of those we honour. 
 
 Yet all regrets are fruitless, and must yield 
 To mine own preservation. 
 
 Cr. Answer thou, 
 
 Bending thy head to earth, — dost thou confess, 
 
 Or canst deny the charge? 
 
 Ant . I do confess it 
 Freely ; I scorn to disavow the act. 
 
 Cr. Thou , from the threatened penalty absolved, 
 
 [To Messenger. 
 
 Go where thou wilt, acquitted. But for thee , 
 
 [To Antigone. 
 
 Reply with answer brief to one plain question, 
 Without evasion. Didst thou know the law, 
 
 That none should do this deed ? 
 
 Ant. I knew it well; 
 
 How could I fail to know, it was most plain. 
 
 Cr. Didst thou then dare transgress our royal 
 mandate ? 
 
 Ant . Ne’er did eternal Jove such laws ordain, 
 
 Or Justice, throned amid th’ Infernal Powers, 
 
 Who on mankind these holier rites imposed ; — 
 
 Nor can I deem thine edict armed with power 
 To contravene the firm unwritten laws 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 241 
 
 Of the just Gods, thyself a weak frail mortal ! 
 
 These are no laws of yesterday, — they live 
 For evermore, and none can trace their birth. 
 
 I would not dare, by mortal threat appalled, 
 
 To violate their sanction, and incur 
 The vengeance of the Gods. I knew before 
 That I must die, though thou hadst ne’er pro- 
 claimed it; 
 
 And if I perish ere th’ allotted term, 
 
 I deem that death a blessing. Who that lives, 
 
 Like me, encompassed by unnumbered ills, 
 
 But would account it blessedness to die ? 
 
 If then I meet the doom thy laws assign, 
 
 It nothing grieves me. Had I left my brother, 
 From mine own mother sprung, on the bare earth 
 To lie unburied, that indeed might grieve me ; 
 
 But for this deed I mourn not. If to thee 
 Mine actions seem unwise, ’tis thine own soul 
 That errs from wisdom when it deems me senseless. 
 
 Ch. This maiden shares her father’s stubborn soul 
 And scorns to bend beneath misfortune’s power. 
 
 Cr. Yet thou mightst know, that loftiest spirits 
 oft 
 
 Are bowed to deepest shame ; and thou mightst mark 
 The hardest metal soft and ductile made 
 
 VOL. i. 
 
 R 
 
242 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 By the resistless energy of flame ; 
 
 Oft, too, the fiery courser have I seen 
 
 By a small bit constrained. High arrogant thoughts 
 
 Beseem not one, whose duty is submission. 
 
 In this presumption she was lessoned first, 
 
 When our imperial laws she dared to spurn, 
 
 And to that insolent wrong fresh insult adds, 
 
 In that she glories vaunting in the deed. 
 Henceforth no more deem mine a manly soul ; — - 
 Concede that name to hers, if from this crime 
 She shall escape unpunished. Though she spring 
 From our own sister ; — were she sprung from one 
 3 Dearer than all whom Hercian Jove defends, 
 
 She and her sister shall not now evade 
 A shameful death ; for I accuse her, too, 
 
 And deem her privy to these lawless rites. 
 
 Hencq y call her hither ; late within I marked 
 Her frenzied ravings and distempered mood. 
 
 The mind that broods in darkness o’er its guilt 
 By starts of frenzy is betrayed to light. 
 
 I hate the wretch, who, when convicted, strives 
 
 3 In the original, from one more near of blood than all 
 under the protection of Hercian Jove. This Jupiter was 
 the guardian of the house, in the court of which his altar stood. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 243 
 
 To veil detected guilt in honour’s garb. 
 
 Ant. And wouldst thou aught beyond my death ? 
 Cr. No more ; 
 
 ’Tis all I seek. 
 
 Ant. Then wherefore dost thou pause ? — 
 
 For all thy words are hateful to mine ear, 
 
 And ever will be hateful ; nor my speech 
 To thee is less unwelcome. Whence could I 
 Obtain a holier praise, than by committing 
 My brother to the tomb ? These, too, I knew, 
 Would all approve the action, but that fear 
 Curbs their free thoughts to base and servile silence. 
 But ’tis the noble privilege of tyrants 
 To say and do whate’er their lordly will, 
 
 Their only law, may prompt. 
 
 Cr. Of all the Thebans, 
 
 Dost thou alone see this ? 
 
 Ant. They too behold it ; 
 
 But fear constrains them to an abject silence. 
 
 Cr. Doth it not shame thee to dissent from these? 
 Ant. I cannot think it shame to love my brother. 
 Cr. Was not he too, who died for Thebes, thy 
 brother ? 
 
 Ant. He was; and of the self-same parents born. 
 Cr. Why then dishonour him to grace the guilty ? 
 
 r 2 
 
244 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 Ant. The dead entombed will not attest thy 
 words. 
 
 Cr. Yes; if thou honour with an equal doom 
 That impious wretch — 
 
 Ant. He did not fall a slave ; 
 
 He was my brother. 
 
 Cr. Yet he wronged his country; 
 
 The other fought undaunted in her cause. 
 
 Ant. Still Death at least demands an equal law. 
 Cr. Ne’er should the base be honoured like the 
 noble. 
 
 Ant. Who knows, if this be holy in the shades? 
 Cr. Death cannot change a foe into a friend. 
 
 Ant . My nature tends to mutual love, not hatred. 
 Cr. Then to the grave, and love them, if thou 
 must ; — 
 
 But while I live, no woman shall bear sway. 
 
 Ch. Lo ! at the portal fair Ismene stands, 
 Dissolved in tears at her loved sister’s peril. 
 
 The cloud of heartfelt sorrow lowers 
 O’er her dejected brow, 
 
 And dims the radiance of her loveliness. 
 
 Ismene is brought in. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 245 
 
 CREON, ANTIGONE, ISMENE, CHORUS. 
 
 Cr. O thou false viper ! stealing through my house 
 To prey upon my vitals ; till this hour 
 I knew not I had nurtured two such furies, 
 Leagued to subvert my throne. Approach, and 
 tell me, — 
 
 Art thou accomplice in this venturous deed, 
 
 Or wilt thou swear thine innocence of the charge ? 
 
 Is. The deed, so she deny not, I have shared. 
 
 I shared the crime, and will partake the vengeance. 
 
 Ant. Such an assertion justice will disclaim ; 
 Nor wouldst thou give, nor I accept thine aid. 
 
 Is. Yet in this deep extremity of woe, 
 
 I do not blush to share thy destiny. 
 
 Ant. Whose deed is this, let Hell’s dark Powers 
 attest ; 
 
 I value not a friend who loves in words. 
 
 Is. Ah ! do not — do not spurn me thus, my sister ; 
 Let me partake thy doom ; and thus in death 
 Revere my brother. 
 
 Ant. No ; die not with me, 
 
 Nor claim a deed thou didst not ; ’tis enough 
 That I must perish. 
 
 Is. Yet, bereft of thee, 
 
246 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 What still hath life to charm me ? 
 
 Ant. Ask thy Creon ; 
 
 Thou court’st his royal favour. 
 
 Is. Wherefore thus 
 
 Wound me, dear sister, when it nought avails thee? 
 Ant. I mourn, although I mock thee. 
 
 Is. Is there nought 
 In which I yet may aid thee? 
 
 Ant. Save thyself ; 
 
 I do not envy thine escape. 
 
 Is. Ah me ! 
 
 Am I forbidden e’en to share thy doom ? 
 
 Ant . It was thy choice to live; — ’tis mine to die. 
 Is. Alas ! thou dost not fall unwarned by me. 
 Ant. Thy words to thee seemed weighty ; I es- 
 teemed it 
 
 True wisdom thus to act. 
 
 Is. And yet our share 
 Is equal in this crime. 
 
 Ant. Be of good cheer — 
 
 Thou yet mayst live ; — my life hath long been vowed 
 To reverence thus the dead. 
 
 Cr. Of these two maidens, 
 
 The one hath gone distracted, and the other 
 Was born an idiot. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 247 
 
 Is. Oh, my Lord ! the mind, 
 
 Is bowed by misery from its native strength, 
 
 And changed to utter weakness. 
 
 Cr. Such was thine, 
 
 When thou wert aiding in a deed like this. 
 
 Is. What charm hath life’s bleak solitude for me, 
 If I must lose my sister ? 
 
 Cr. Name her not ; 
 
 She hath already perished. 
 
 Is. Wilt thou slay 
 Thy son’s affianced bride ? 
 
 Cr. Aye ; for a race 
 May spring from other nuptials. 
 
 Is. None, at least, 
 
 So dear to him and her. 
 
 Cr. I scorn to wed 
 My son to a base woman. 
 
 Is. Dearest Hsemon ! 
 
 How doth thy father pour contempt on thee. 
 
 Cr. Thou and thy nuptials are to me most hateful. 
 Is. Wilt thou then rob thy Hsemon of his bride? 
 Cr. Death shall ere long dissolve these hated 
 nuptials. 
 
 Is. Alas ! it seems the stern decree is fixed ; 
 
 And she must perish. 
 
248 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 Cr. So must thou, and I. 
 
 Quick, slaves! — delay no longer — lead them in. 
 
 It ill beseems that maidens thus should roam 
 At large ; and e’en the boldest will recede, 
 
 When they discern the swift approach of Death. 
 
 [Exeunt Antigone and Ismene, guarded . 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 STROPHE i. 
 
 What blessedness is theirs, whose earthly date 
 Glides unembittered by the taste of woe ! 
 
 But when a house is struck by angry Fate, 
 
 Through all its line what ceaseless miseries flow ! 
 As when from Thrace rude whirlwinds sweep, 
 
 And in thick darkness wrap the yawning deep, 
 Conflicting surges on the strand 
 Dash the black mass of boiling sand 
 Rolled from the deep abyss ; — the rocky shore, 
 Struck by the swollen tide, reverberates the roar. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE I. 
 
 I see the ancient miseries of thy race, 
 
 O Labdacus ! arising from the dead 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 249 
 
 With fresh despair; nor sires from sons efface 
 The curse some angry Power hath rivetted 
 For ever on thy destined line ! 
 
 Once more a cheering radiance seemed to shine 
 O’er the last relic of thy name ; — 
 
 This, too, the Powers of Darkness claim, 
 
 Cut off by Hell’s keen scythe, combined 
 
 With haughty words unwise, and frenzy of the mind. 
 
 STROPHE II. 
 
 Can mortal arrogance restrain 
 
 Thy matchless might, Imperial Jove ! 
 
 Which all-subduing sleep assaults in vain, 
 
 And months celestial, as they move 
 In never- wearied train ; — 
 
 Spurning the power of age, enthroned in might, 
 Thou dwell’st mid Heaven’s broad light. 
 
 This was, in ages past, thy firm decree, 
 
 Is now, and must for ever be ; 
 
 That none of mortal race on earth shall know, 
 
 A life of joy serene, a course unmarked by woe. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE II. 
 
 Hope beams with ever-varying ray ; 
 
 Now fraught with blessings to mankind, 
 
250 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 Now with vain dreams that lure but to betray ; — 
 And man pursues, with ardour blind, 
 
 Her still deluding way, 
 
 Till on the latent flame he treads dismayed. 
 
 Wisely the Sage hath said, 
 
 And time hath proved his truth, that when by 
 Heaven 
 
 To woe Man’s darkened soul is driven, 
 
 Evil seems good to his distorted mind, 
 
 Till soon he meets and mourns the doom by Fate 
 assigned. 
 
 But lo ! the youngest of thy sons, 
 
 Hsemon advances — comes he wrung with grief 
 
 For the impending doom 
 
 Of his fair plighted bride, Antigone, 
 
 And mourning much his blasted nuptial joys ? — 
 Enter H^emon. 
 
 HiEMON, CREON, CHORUS. 
 
 Cr. We soon shall need no prophet to inform us. — 
 Hearing our doom irrevocably past 
 On thy once-destined bride, com’st thou, my son, 
 Incensed against thy father ? Or, thus acting, 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 251 
 
 Still do we share thy reverence ? 
 
 Ha . I am thine ; 
 
 And thou, my father, dost direct my youth 
 By prudent counsels, which shall ever guide me ; 
 Nor any nuptials can with me outweigh 
 A father’s just command. 
 
 Cr. Tis well, my son. 
 
 A mind like this befits thee, to esteem 
 All else subservient to a father’s will. 
 
 Hence ’tis the prayer, the blessing of mankind, 
 
 To nourish in their homes a duteous race, 
 
 4 Who on their foes may well requite their wrongs, 
 And, as their father, honour friends sincere. 
 
 But he who to a mean and dastard race 
 Gives life, engenders to himself regret, 
 
 And much derision to his taunting foes. 
 
 Then do not thou, my son, by love betrayed, 
 Debase thy generous nature for a woman ; 
 
 But think how joyless is the cold embrace 
 Of an unworthy consort. Is there wound 
 
 4 Like as the arrows in the hand of the giant, even so are 
 young children. Happy is the man that hath his quiver full 
 of them, they shall not be ashamed when they speak with 
 their enemies in the gate. — Ps. cxxvii. 5, 6. 
 
252 
 
 ANTIGONE, 
 
 Which galls more keenly than a faithless friend 
 Spurn, then, this maiden, as a foe abhorred, 
 To seek in Hell a more congenial bridegroom. 
 Since her have I convicted,- — her alone 
 Of all the city daring to rebel, 
 
 My people shall not brand their King a liar ! 
 She dies ! And let her now invoke her Jove, 
 Who guards the rights of kindred. If I brook 
 Rebellion thus from those allied by blood, 
 
 How strong a plea may strangers justly urge ! 
 He who upholds the honour of his house, 
 
 By strict, impartial justice, will be proved 
 True to the public weal. Nor can I doubt 
 The man who governs well, yet knows no less 
 To render due obedience, will be found 
 A just and firm confederate in the storm 
 Of peril and of war. Who dares presume 
 With insolent pride to trample on the laws, 
 Shall never win from me the meed of praise. 
 He whom the state elects should be obeyed 
 In all his mandates, trivial though they seem, 
 Or just or unjust. Of all human ills, 
 
 None is more fraught with woes than anarchy ; 
 It lays proud states in ruin, it subverts 
 Contending households, ’mid the battle strife 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 253 
 
 Scatters the serried ranks, while to the wise, 
 
 Who promptly yield, obedience brings success. 
 Still, then, by monarchs this should be maintained, 
 Nor e’er surrendered to a woman’s will. 
 
 ’Tis better far, if we must fall, to fall 
 By man, than thus be branded the weak prey, 
 
 The abject prey, of female conquerors. 
 
 Ch. To us, unless our soul be dull with age, 
 
 Thy words, O King, seem well and wisely urged. 
 
 Hce. The Gods, my father, have on man bestowed 
 Their noblest treasure — Reason. To affirm, 
 
 That in thy words from prudence thou hast 
 swerved, 
 
 Nor power have I, nor knowledge to maintain. 
 Such task were meeter from a stranger’s lips. 
 
 ’Tis mine to guard thine interests ; — to explore 
 How each may think, and act, and vent on thee 
 His cutting censure. Thine indignant eye 
 Appals the people, when their uttered thoughts 
 Might haply wound thine ear. But to observe 
 These darkly- whispered murmurs is my office. 
 
 “ How the whole state laments this hapless maid, 
 “ Of all her sex least worthy of such doom 
 “ As waits her now for deeds most truly noble ; 
 
 “ Who could not brook to leave her brother, slain 
 
254 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 “ In fight, without a tomb, nor cast his corpse 
 “ A prey to ravening dogs and birds obscene. 
 
 “ Doth she not merit glory’s brightest meed?” 
 
 Such is the general sentence. O my father, 
 
 No treasure can be dearer to thy son, 
 
 Than thine own prosperous honours. What reflects 
 Such pride on children as a generous sire, 
 
 Such joy on parents as a noble offspring ? 
 
 O, then, indulge not thou this mood alone, 
 
 To deem no reasoning cogent save thine own ; 
 
 For he who vaunts himself supremely skilled 
 In speech and judgement o’er his fellow men, 
 
 When weighed in wisdom’s balance, is found 
 wanting-. 
 
 It cannot shame a mortal, though most wise, 
 
 To learn much from experience, and in much 
 Submit. Thou seest the pliant trees, that bow 
 Beneath the rushing torrent, rise unstripped ; 
 
 But all that stem erect its onward course, 
 
 Uprooted fall and perish. So the pilot, 
 
 Who with full sail meets strong-opposing blasts, 
 O’ersets his bark, and on the shivered planks 
 Floats on the random wave. Pause — quell thy 
 wrath — 
 
 Unbend to softer feelings. If one ray 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 255 
 
 Of wisdom’s light my younger breast illume, 
 
 I deem the man, whose vast expansive mind 
 Grasps the whole sphere of knowledge — noblest far ; 
 But, since such boon is rare, the second praise 
 Is this, to learn from those whose words are wise. 
 
 Ch . If he hath spoken wisely, my good Lord, 
 Tis fit to weigh his reasoning. Thou, too, youth, 
 
 [To HiEMON. 
 
 Regard thy father’s. Both have argued well. 
 
 Cr. And must we stoop, in this our cooler age, 
 Thus to be lessoned by a beardless boy ? 
 
 Hce. Not stoop to learn injustice. I am young. 
 But thou shouldst weigh mine actions, not my years. 
 Cr . Thou deem’st it justice, then, to favour rebels ? 
 Hce. Ne’er would I ask thy favour for the guilty. 
 Cr. Is not this maiden stained with manifest guilt? 
 Hce. The general voice of Thebes repels the 
 charge. 
 
 Cr. Shall then the city dictate laws to me ? 
 
 Hce. Do not thy words betray a very youth ? 
 
 Cr. Should I or should another sway the state ? 
 Hce. That is no state, which crouches to one 
 despot ! 
 
 Cr. Is not a monarch master of his state ? 
 
 Hce. How nobly wouldst thou lord it o’er a desert ! 
 
256 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 Cr. Behold, I pray you, how this doughty warrior 
 Strives in a woman’s cause. 
 
 Hce. Art thou a woman ? 
 
 I strive for none, save thee. 
 
 Cr. Oh thou most vile ! 
 
 Wouldst thou withstand thy father? 
 
 Hce. When I see 
 My father swerve from justice. 
 
 Cr. Do I err, 
 
 Revering mine own laws ? 
 
 Hce. Dost thou revere them, 
 
 When thou wouldst trample on the laws of Heaven? 
 Cr. O thou degenerate wretch ! thou woman’s 
 slave ! 
 
 Hce. Ne’er shalt thou find me the vile slave of 
 baseness. 
 
 Cr. Still, as it seems, his words are all for her. 
 Hce. For thee, for me, and for th’ Infernal Gods. 
 Cr. Thou ne’er shalt wed her living. 
 
 Hce. If she die, 
 
 Her death shall crush another. 
 
 Cr. Daring villain ! 
 
 Dost thou proceed to threats ? 
 
 Hce. And does he threat, 
 
 Who but refutes vain counsels ? 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 257 
 
 Cr. At thy cost 
 
 Shalt thou reprove me, void thyself of sense. 
 
 Htf. Now, but thou art my father, I would say 
 That thou art most unwise. 
 
 Cr. Hence, woman’s slave ! 
 
 And prate no more to me. 
 
 Hce. Wouldst thou then speak 
 Whate’er thou list, and not endure reply ? 
 
 Cr. Aye, is it true ? Then, by Olympian 
 Jove, 
 
 I swear thou shalt not beard me thus unpunished ! 
 Ho ! bring that hated thing, that she may die, 
 
 E’en in the presence of her doting bridegroom. 
 
 j Hce. Believe it not. Before mine eyes, at least, 
 She shall not die, nor thou such dream indulge ; 
 
 I quit thy sight for ever. They who list 
 May stand the tame spectators of thy madness. 
 
 [Exit H^mon. 
 
 CREON, CHORUS. 
 
 Ch. The youth has passed, my Lord, in desperate 
 wrath. 
 
 VOL. i . 
 
258 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 A soul like his may rush from rankling grief 
 To deeds of frenzy. 
 
 Cr. Let him do, and dare 
 Beyond the power of man, he shall not save 
 These virgins from the death. 
 
 Ch . Dost thou then purpose 
 An equal doom for both ? 
 
 Cr. No; not for her 
 
 Who hath not touched the corpse. Thy words 
 are just. 
 
 Ch. What death dost thou design her ? 
 
 Cr. To a spot 
 
 By mortal foot untrodden, will I lead her ; 
 
 And deep immure her in a rocky cave, 
 
 Leaving enough of sustenance to provide 
 A due atonement, that the state may shun 
 Pollution from her death. There let her call 
 On gloomy Hades, the sole Power she owns, 
 
 To shield her from her doom ; or learn, though late, 
 At least this lesson ; ’tis a bootless task 
 To render homage to the Powers of Hell. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 259 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 STROPHE. 
 
 Love ! unsubdued, unconquerable Love ! 
 
 On wealth descending ; s — whose repose 
 Is in the virgin’s cheeks of rose ; — 
 
 Alike o’er trackless ocean dost thou rove, 
 
 Or ’mid the lowly dwellings of the grove. 
 
 None of th’ Immortals throned on high, 
 
 From thy pervading power can fly ; 
 
 Nor man, frail being of a fleeting day ! 
 
 The heart that feels thee yields to frenzy’s sway. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE. 
 
 Thy spells delusive turn the just aside 
 To baseness — and attendant shame ; 
 
 Thine arts this mortal strife inflame 
 In men, by nature’s dearest ties allied. 
 
 From the soft glances of his lovely bride 
 
 5 “ On wealth descending.” In the original, o$ ev) 
 
 TTiTTTeig, the true signification of which has tortured and ex- 
 hausted the ingenuity of the commentators. 
 
 s 2 
 
260 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 Revealed, desire subdues his soul ; 
 
 Desire, usurping high control 
 
 O’er Heaven’s primordial laws ; matchless in might 
 
 6 In sport like this fair Venus takes delight. 
 
 [Antigone is brought in guarded. 
 
 I, too, beyond controlling laws 
 
 Am hurried ; for I cannot check 
 
 The gushing tears, as I behold 
 
 Antigone thus borne away 
 
 To share our common couch, the joyless tomb. 
 
 ANTIGONE, CHORUS. 
 
 STROPHE I. 
 
 Ant. Behold me, Princes of my native land ! 
 Treading the last sad path, 
 
 And gazing on the latest beam 
 Of yon resplendent sun — 
 
 To gaze no more for ever ! The stern hand 
 
 6 Sic visum Veneri; cui placet impares 
 F ormas atque animos sub juga ahenea 
 
 Saevo mittere cum joco. — Hor. Lib. I. Od. 33. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 2G1 
 
 Of all-entombing Death 
 Impels me — living still — 
 
 To Acheron’s bleak shore — unbraced 
 By nuptial rites ; — no hymeneal strain 
 Hath hymned my hour of bliss, 
 
 And joyless Death will be my bridegroom now. 
 
 Ch. Therefore, with endless praise renowned, 
 To those drear regions wilt thou pass ; 
 
 Unwasted aught by slow disease, 
 
 Unwounded by avenging sword. 
 
 Spontaneous, living, sole of mortal birth, 
 
 Shalt thou to Death descend. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE I. 
 
 Ant. Yes ! I have heard by how severe a doom 
 The Phrygian stranger died 
 On Sipylus’ bleak brow sublime ; 
 
 Whom, in its cold embrace, 
 
 The creeping rock, like wreathing ivy, strained. 
 Her, in chill dews dissolved, 
 
 As antique legends tell, 
 
 Ne’er do th’ exhaustless snows desert, 
 
 Nor from her eyes do trickling torrents cease 
 To gush. A doom like her’s, 
 
 Alas, how like ! hath fate reserved for me. 
 
262 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 Ch. A Goddess she, and sprung from Gods ; — 
 We, mortal as our fathers were. 
 
 What matchless fame is thine ! to fall like those 
 Of ancestry divine ! 
 
 STROPHE II. 
 
 Ant. Ah me ! I am derided. Why, oh why, 
 By my ancestral Gods, 
 
 Why do ye mock me, ere the tomb 
 Hath veiled me from your sight ? 
 
 O my loved Thebes ! and ye, 
 
 Her lordly habitants ! 
 
 0 ye Dircsean streams ! 
 
 Thou sacred grove of car-compelling Thebes ! 
 
 1 here invoke you to attest my wrongs, 
 
 How, by my friends unwept, and by what laws, 
 
 I sink into the caverned gloom 
 Of this untimely sepulchre ! 
 
 Me miserable ! 
 
 Outcast from earth, and from the tomb, 
 
 I am not of the living or the dead. 
 
 Ch. Hurried to daring’s wild excess, 
 
 Deeply, my daughter, hast thou sinned 
 Against th’ exalted Throne of Right. 
 
 The woes that crushed thy father, fall on thee. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 263 
 
 ANTISTROPHE II. 
 
 Ant. Ah ! thou hast probed mine anguish to the 
 quick, 
 
 The source of all my pangs, 
 
 My father’s widely-blazoned fate ; 
 
 And the long train of ills, 
 
 Which crushed, in one wide wreck, 
 
 The famed Labdacidse ! 
 
 Woe for the withering curse 
 
 Of those maternal nuptials, which impelled 
 
 My sire, unconscious, to a parent’s couch ! 
 
 From whom I sprung, by birth a very wretch : 
 
 To whom accursed, unwedded, now 
 I sink to share their drear abode. 
 
 Alas, my brother ! 
 
 Ill-omened were thy nuptials ! Thou, 
 
 Though dead, dost hurl me, living, to the tomb. 
 
 Ch . Religion bids us grace the dead ; 
 
 But might, when regal might bears sway, 
 
 Must never, never, be contemned. 
 
 Thine own unbending pride hath sealed thy doom. 
 
 Ant. Unmourned, unfriended, ’reft of bridal joys, 
 Despairingly I tread 
 The path too well prepared. 
 
264 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 No more for ever must I hail thy beams, 
 Thou glad and holy sun ! 
 
 Yet to my doom no sorrowing friend accords 
 The tribute of a tear. 
 
 Enter Creon. 
 
 CREON, ANTIGONE, CHORUS. 
 
 Cr. What, know ye not, that none, ere death 
 arrive, 
 
 Would ever cease their plaints, could words avail 
 them ? 
 
 Instant conduct her hence ; and, as I bade, 
 
 Immure her in the deep sepulchral cave ; 
 
 There leave her lone and desolate, or to die 
 Or live imprisoned in that drear abode. 
 
 We from her death shall thus be pure ; and she 
 Shall hold no more communion with the living. 
 
 Ant. O tomb ! 0 bridal bed ! O dark abode 1 
 My ever-during prison ! whither now 
 I sink to join my kindred, a sad train, 
 
 Whom Proserpine among the silent dead 
 Hath long received ; — of whom the last in time, 
 The first in sorrow, I to Death descend, 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 265 
 
 Ere mine allotted earthly term be past. 
 
 Yet e’en in death I cherish one warm hope, 
 
 That dear to my loved father I shall come, 
 
 Dear to thee, mother ! and most dear to thee, 
 
 My brother ! for in death my hand received you, 
 Your relics laved, your lifeless limbs composed, 
 And o’er your tomb libations poured. And now, 
 Dear Polynices, I have honoured thee 
 With funeral rites, and thus do they requite me. 
 Yet will not justice blame my pious care ; 
 
 Since, had I been a mother or a wife, 
 
 And my loved child or wedded lord had lain 
 Unsepulchred on earth, not e’en for them 
 Would I have braved the state to do this deed. 
 Ask ye what motive sways me thus to think ? 
 Had but my husband or my child been slain, 
 
 7 Haply I might have wed another lord, 
 
 7 Our English ladies are entreated to make allowance for a 
 mode of thinking and reasoning so opposite to their own, A 
 similar principle, according to Herodotus, was acted upon 
 by the wife of Intaphernes, a noble Persian, who, when al- 
 lowed by Darius to save from death whichever of her kindred 
 she preferred, selected her brother, for precisely the same 
 reason as that assigned to Antigone. 
 
266 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 Or joyed in other children ; but the tomb 
 Hath closed above my parents, and from hence 
 A brother could no more be born to me. 
 
 Since, swayed by thoughts like these, I honoured 
 thee 
 
 Beyond all other kindred, dearest brother, 
 
 This Creon counts me guilty and perverse : 
 
 And now he leads me with remorseless hand, 
 Severed from nuptial joys, and bridal hymns, 
 
 And wedlock’s dearest bliss, a mother’s pride, 
 
 In the fond nurture of a smiling offspring ; 
 
 But friendless now, deserted, desolate, 
 
 I seek in life the dwellings of the dead. 
 
 Which of your laws, ye Powers, have I transgressed ?— 
 Yet wherefore do I turn me to the Gods? — 
 
 Whom shall I call to aid me, since I meet 
 For pious deeds the vengeance of the guilty ? 
 
 If acts like these are sanctioned by the Gods, 
 
 I will address me to my doom in silence ; 
 
 If not, and these offend, may Heaven requite 
 On them such evils as they wreak on me. 
 
 Ch. The same wild storms of frenzied rage 
 Distract th’ unhappy maiden still. 
 
 Cr. For this the lingering slaves ere long 
 Shall learn in tears to mourn their vain delay. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 267 
 
 Ant. Alas ! death cannot be dissevered far 
 From that appalling threat. 
 
 Cr. Aye, I would warn thee not to hope 
 The doom, once sealed, may be reversed. 
 
 Ant. O Thebes, proud city of my sires ! 
 
 O tutelary Gods ! 
 
 They force me hence, and respite is denied. 
 Behold, ye rulers of imperial Thebes, 
 
 The last sad daughter of a royal line, 
 
 What fearful wrongs I suffer, and from whom ; — 
 My only crime a pious deed. 
 
 [Antigone is led off. Exit Creon. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 STROPHE i. 
 
 Thus, long in brazen cell immured, 
 
 To change day’s genial light for cheerless gloom, 
 To pine enshrouded in a living tomb, 
 
 Fair Danae erst endured ; — 
 
 Yet, O my child ! my child ! of lineage high 
 She came, and to immortal Jove 
 Cherished the golden pledge of love ; — 
 
 But matchless is the might of destiny : 
 
268 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 8 Nor storm, nor martial might, nor stately tower, 
 Nor wave-repelling fleets escape the tameless Power. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE I. 
 
 So Dryas’ haughty son was bound, 
 
 Edonia’s Lord, for words of wrathful pride, 
 Chained by th ’ 8 9 Avenging Power his taunts defied 
 In rocky cave profound ; — 
 
 And thus the venom of his maddening breast 
 Still flows afresh. Too late he knew 
 How rage had fired him to pursue 
 A God with keen reproach. His wrath repressed 
 
 8 On this passage an ingenious conjectural emendation 
 is proposed by Erfurdt, for gpjSgoc a conjecture, as he 
 justly remarks, not only recommended by its accordance with 
 the general sense of the sentence, but by a parallel passage, of 
 exactly similar construction, in Bacchylides. 
 
 ©varoK $ ovk ctvQaigeroi 
 Ovr ’OABOE, our’ axa/x-ETTo? *A PHE 
 ’’Ovrt nciptpQega-iq aruaiq — «AA’ 
 
 Ng<po$ aAAoT iw’ otAAav yoiv 
 
 A Troiv^u^oq Aiau. 
 
 9 Th’ avenging Power. ’Ey. Aiowax, by Bacchus. The 
 story of Lycurgus, who was punished by Bacchus for expel- 
 ling the Bacchanalians from his territories, is differently rela- 
 ted by various authors. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 269 
 
 The raving Virgins ; — quenched the Evcean fire ; — 
 And mocked with impious taunts the Sisters of the 
 Lyre. 
 
 STROPHE II. 
 
 Where the Cyanean rocks divide 
 In double sea the rushing tide, 
 
 And rise the high Bosphorean shores, 
 
 And Thracian Salmydessus towers; 
 
 There Mars, the guardian of the realms around, 
 Beheld a raging 10 step-dame’s deadly deed. 
 
 He saw your mangled eyeballs bleed, 
 
 O sons of Phineus ! by that fatal wound 
 Consigned to night profound ! — 
 
 That wound, alas ! no spear of warrior brave, 
 
 But woman’s blood-stained hand, and woman’s 
 weapon gave. 
 
 10 Phineus married Cleopatra, the daughter of Boreas and 
 Orithyia, by whom he had two sons, Crambis and Orythus. 
 He afterwards repudiated her, and married Idaia, who put 
 out the eyes of Crambis and Orythus. Cleopatra, to escape 
 her cruelty, concealed herself among the rocks, where she 
 died. To this circumstance the Chorus alludes. — Potter. 
 
270 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE II. 
 
 Pining in anguish and in gloom, 
 
 They mourned their mother’s hapless doom ; 
 Wedded with evil omens she 
 To bear a wretched progeny ! 
 
 She sprung from high Erectheus’ ancient seed, — 
 Yet, ah ! though nursed where wild in dreary cave, 
 Storms of her father Boreas rave, 
 
 Bounding o’er lofty hills, her winged speed 
 Outstripped the fiery steed ; — 
 
 What recked her race of Gods ? Their firm decree, 
 On her the Fates fulfilled, my daughter ! as on thee. 
 
 Enter Tiresias, conducted by a Youth . 
 
 TIRESIAS, CREON, CHORUS. 
 
 Ti. Princes of Thebes, we tread our wonted path, 
 One sight directing both ; this mode alone 
 Remains to guide the wanderings of the blind. 
 
 Cr. Hath aught occurred of import new or strange, 
 Aged Tiresias ? 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 271 
 
 Ti. I will tell thee, King ! 
 
 Do thou obey the Prophet. 
 
 Cr. Never yet 
 Thy warning did I slight. 
 
 Ti. Thence hast thou steered 
 Aright the helm of empire. 
 
 Cr. I confess 
 
 Thy counsels oft have led me to success. 
 
 Ti. Then heed them now. Thou art in desperate 
 peril. 
 
 Cr. What mean’st thou ? — how I tremble at thy 
 words ! 
 
 Ti. List, and the symbols of mine art shall tell 
 thee. 
 
 When on mine ancient stool of augury, 
 
 Where every bird flocks round me, I sat down, 
 Burst on mine ear a strange unwonted sound 
 Of birds, with shrill and dissonant screamings wild, 
 While with ensanguined talons I perceived 
 They tore each other ; this the flapping hoarse 
 Of wings betokened plainly. Struck with awe, 
 
 I next essayed the hallowed fires that burn 
 On the high blazing altars ; but the flame 
 Refused to shine upon the sacrifice ; 
 
 And, oozing from the limbs, the vapour flowed 
 
272 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 Mid the loose ashes, where it fumed and hissed ; 
 The swollen entrails were dispersed ; the thighs, 
 Stripped of tli’ involving caul, lay bare around. 
 These fearful signs of import strange and dire 
 I learned from mine attendant — he recounts 
 To me the symbols I explain to others. 
 
 ’Tis thy relentless soul that plagues thy country. 
 Our sacred altars and domestic hearths 
 Are strewed by dogs and birds with their foul prey, 
 The corpse of CEdipus’ ill-fated son ; 
 
 For this the Gods reject our hallowed rites, 
 
 Our prayers, and votive victims,— while the birds, 
 Sated with human flesh and human blood, 
 
 Can only utter sounds of omen dire. 
 
 Therefore, my son, consider ; since to err 
 Is common to mankind ; nor is that man 
 Unhappy or unwise, who, when betrayed 
 To error, mourns his lapse, and doth not cleave 
 Inflexible to ill. Know, stubbornness 
 Doth ever argue folly. To the dead 
 Give way, nor trample on a fallen foe — 
 
 What courage needs it to insult the lifeless ? 
 
 I speak with soul benevolent to thee ; 
 
 ’Tis sweet to learn from one who counsels well, 
 
 If he regard our welfare. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 273 
 
 Cr. Aye, old man, 
 
 I am your butt ; ye all, like archers, aim 
 Your wily shafts at me. I know you well, 
 
 The venal tribe of prophets, and by them 
 Too oft have I been bartered and betrayed. 
 
 Go on ; pursue your traffic, and acquire 
 The Sard ian amber and the Indian gold, 
 
 If so ye list; but never shall ye shroud 
 This wretch within the tomb, though Jove’s swift 
 bird 
 
 Should bear the mouldering relics as his prey, 
 
 E en to th’ eternal throne. Yea, though I feared 
 Pollution dire as this, I would not yield 
 To honour him with sepulture ; — well I know 
 That none of mortal birth can e’er pollute 
 The holy Gods ! And mark me, old Tiresias ! 
 
 Oft do the sagest of our race incur 
 The vilest shame, when, lured by sordid gain, 
 They clothe base counsels in the garb of honour. 
 Ti. Ha ! is there one who knows — who thinks — 
 Cr. What wouldst thou ? 
 
 Are these thy words addressed alike to all ? 
 
 Ti. How much is wisdom man’s most precious 
 treasure ? 
 
 Cr. So much, as folly is his greatest bane ! 
 
 VOL. i. 
 
 T 
 
274 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 Ti. It is, in truth, a malady which seems 
 Conspicuous in thy conduct. 
 
 Cr. I forbear 
 
 To shame the Prophet with a keen retort. 
 
 Ti . Yet this thou dost in charging me with 
 falsehood. 
 
 Cr. Ah ! ye are fond of gold, ye tribe of prophets. 
 Ti . The tribe of tyrants seems indeed to love 
 Dishonourable gains. 
 
 Cr. Know’st thou thy words 
 Are spoken to thy Monarch ? 
 
 Ti. Aye, I know it ; 
 
 Twas by my counsels thou didst save thine empire. 
 
 Cr. Thou art a skilful prophet, but too prone 
 To deeds of baseness. 
 
 Ti. Wilt thou then provoke me 
 To speak the awful secrets of my soul ? 
 
 Cr. Well, speak them, so thou dost not ask 
 reward. 
 
 Ti. And seem I, in thy judgement, to demand it? 
 Cr. Know first, thou shalt not traffic in my 
 purpose. 
 
 Ti. And know thou, too, proud Monarch, ere 
 the car 
 
 Of yon bright sun shall oft his course fulfil, 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 275 
 
 Thou of thine own loved offspring shalt repay 
 A just and equal ransom, dead for dead, 
 
 For one whom thou hast plunged from upper air 
 To dwell beneath, whom to the dark abodes, 
 
 Yet living, thou hast doomed ; nor less for one, 
 Whom of the honours due to Hell’s dread Powers, 
 Of funeral rites, of sacred obsequies, 
 
 Thou hast bereft. Here no concern hast thou, 
 
 None have the Heavenly Powers ; but thou hast 
 wrought 
 
 These shameless deeds by lawless violence. 
 Wherefore the sure Avengers, who pursue 
 The track of Guilt, the Furies of the Shades, 
 
 Are ambushed round thy path, and soon will plunge 
 thee 
 
 In ruin hopeless as thy rage inflicted. 
 
 Mark now, if gold hath bribed me thus to presage ; — 
 Pass but a few short moments, and the shriek 
 Of men, and wail of women, through thy halls 
 Shall ring ; and all the hostile states, whose slain 
 The dogs, and beasts, and ravening birds, have torn, 
 Wafting their noisome odours o’er the plain, 
 
 Shall rise against thee. Such, then, are the shafts, 
 Which, archer-like, my hand hath now discharged, 
 For thou hast roused my wrath ; and from the wound 
 
 t 2 
 
276 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 These shafts inflict, thou wilt not find relief. 
 
 Boy, lead me to my home ; and leave yon Tyrant 
 To vent his impotent rage on younger heads; 
 
 And let him learn to curb his tongue to silence, 
 And hold a wiser mind than now he holds. 
 
 [. Exeunt Tiresias and Youth . 
 
 CREON, CHORUS. 
 
 Ck. The prophet hath departed, O my Lord, 
 Denouncing dread events ; and well I know, 
 
 Since time’s long round hath silvered my dark locks, 
 The state hath never proved his presage faithless. 
 
 Cr. I know it too; and therefore doubts distractme. 
 To yield bespeaks a coward, yet I fear 
 To rush upon destruction, if I cross him. 
 
 Ch. Son of Menceceus, thou hast need of 
 prudence. 
 
 Cr. Whatwouldst thou have me do? Give thine 
 advice, 
 
 And I will straight obey it. 
 
 Ch. Then away ! — 
 
 Release the virgin from her rock-hewn cave, 
 
 And grace th’ unburied corpse with sepulture. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 277 
 
 Cr. Is this thy counsel? Dost thou bid me yield? 
 Ch. Without delay, my Lord ! Th’ avenging curse 
 Of Heaven is swift to crush the disobedient. 
 
 Cr. O but ’tis hard ; — yet I must fain submit — 
 To war with stern Necessity were madness. 
 
 Ch. Haste, then, perform thy purpose, nor entrust 
 The task to others. 
 
 Cr. With all speed I fly — 
 
 Haste — haste — attendants ! ye who here await, 
 
 And ye too at a distance ; — haste — and bring 
 Keen axes in your hands — fly to the cave — 
 
 I too, since my first sentence is repealed, 
 
 Who bound, will now release her ; for I fear 
 That, while we live, ’twill prove our truest wisdom 
 To venerate th’ eternal laws of Justice. 
 
 [Exit Creon with Attendants . 
 
 Chorus. 
 strophe i. 
 
 1 0 Thou, by countless names renowned, 
 
 1 The names of Bacchus, which were numerous, were de- 
 rived chiefly from his attributes. Thus, he was called Lyaeus, 
 
278 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 Pride of the Theban nymph, and progeny 
 Of Jove, whose thunders rend the sky ! 
 
 Who with thy favouring presence dost surround 
 
 2 Italia’s far-famed clime, and reign 
 
 O’er Ceres’ general bosom, the rich plain 
 Of fair Eleusis — Bacchus, King divine ! 
 
 Who dwell’stin Thebes, thy fair and favoured shrine ; 
 Thebes, mother-town of Bacchanals, where flows 
 Ismenus, and from earth the dragon-seed arose ; — 
 
 ANTISTROPHE I. 
 
 3 Thee saw the heaven-ascending fire, 
 
 Which fierce and far from forked Parnassus glowed ; 
 
 Where to their tutelary God 
 
 * 1 ': 
 
 Roam in wild orgies the Corycian choir, 
 
 And springs the pure Castalian fount; — 
 
 Thee saw the vine-clad slopes of Nysa’s mount 
 Crowned with enwreathing ivy, where to Thee 
 Breathe strains of more than mortal melody; 
 
 from \{ju y because wine opens the heart (aperit praecordia 
 Liber) ; Lenaeus, from Mw, a wine-press, &c. 
 
 z The Tuscans were great observers of the worship of 
 Bacchus. 
 
 3 Euripides also mentions this fire, which was supposed to 
 announce the presence of the God on Mount Parnassus. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 279 
 
 Echoing through groves of rich-empurpled vine, 
 To hail the Lord of Thebes, her honoured King 
 divine ; — 
 
 STROPHE II. 
 
 Thebes, whose illustrious name 
 
 By Thee with noblest honours is approved, 
 
 Nor by thy beauteous Mother less beloved, 
 
 The lightning-stricken dame.-— 
 
 Yet now, alas ! a dire disease pervades 
 The drooping city. Come, O come, 
 
 With life-imparting step, o’er sylvan shades 
 Clothing Parnassus’ sloping sides in gloom, 
 
 Or o’er the sounding gulf where echoing billows 
 foam ! 
 
 ANTISTROPHE II. 
 
 Prince of each silver star, 
 
 That breathes through darkness its celestial light; — 
 Lord of the train, who on the ear of night 
 Swell their wild hymns afar ; — 
 
 Blest youth ! high offspring of Eternal Jove ! 
 Haste, and thy fair attendants bring, 
 
 Those Naxian nymphs the livelong night who 
 
 rove, 
 
280 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 Dancing around thy throne in festive ring, 
 
 And shout Iacchus’ name, their leader and their 
 King. 
 
 MESSENGER, CHORUS. 
 
 Mess. Inhabitants of Thebes, where Cadmus erst 
 And old Amphion reigned, I know not how, 
 Whate’er it be, to censure or to praise 
 The varying life of man ; — since Fortune still 
 Lifts, at her will, th’ unhappy from the dust, 
 
 Or dooms again the prosperous to despair, 
 
 Nor can prophetic skill divine the future. 
 
 I deemed the royal Creon greatly blessed, 
 
 Who from her foes the Theban state preserved ; 
 Assumed the sole dominion of her realms; 
 
 Bore sway, and flourished in a generous race. 
 
 And now all — all is lost. For when the joys, 
 
 The sweet delights of life are reft for ever, 
 
 I scarce can say man lives; — though still be breathe, 
 4 The soul of life is fled. Heap, if thou wilt, 
 
 4 Literally, i^^v^ov vac^ov, I account him a breathing 
 
 corpse. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 281 
 
 Vast treasures in thy house, and live enthroned 
 In regal splendour ; yet to this thy pomp, 
 
 If the heart’s joy be wanting, all beside 
 I would not purchase with th’ illusive cloud 
 Of unsubstantial smoke. 
 
 Ch. Of what new ills 
 Com’st thou a herald to the royal house ? 
 
 Mess. They are no more— those live who caused 
 their ruin. 
 
 Ch. Say, who hath wrought the deed, and who 
 hath perished ? 
 
 Mess. Bathed in his blood, the lifeless Haemon 
 lies. 
 
 Ch. Slain by his own rash hand, or by his father’s? 
 
 Mess. Incensed against his father, for the death 
 Of his loved bride, by his own hand he fell. 
 
 Ch. How true, O prophet, was thy fearful 
 presage ! 
 
 Mess. Since it is thus, the rest demands our 
 thought. 
 
 Ch. But lo ! I see the King’s unhappy wife, 
 Euryclice, approach us; in the palace 
 She heard us name her son, or comes by chance. 
 
 Enter Eurydice. 
 
282 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 EURYDICE, MESSENGER, CHORUS. 
 
 Eu. Your conference we have heard, O citizens, 
 As we came forth, departing to prefer 
 Our suppliant prayers in chaste Athena’s shrine. 
 While yet my hand was loosening the firm bars 
 Which close our palace-gates, the whispered voice 
 Of some domestic evil met mine ear ; — 
 
 Trembling I sunk amidst my maids supine, 
 
 With sudden terror lifeless. Yet again 
 I bid thee tell thy tale — for I shall hear it, 
 
 Not unexperienced in severest woes. 
 
 Mess . As present there, dear Lady, all the tale 
 Will I disclose, nor aught of truth disguise. 
 
 Why should I soothe thee with evasive words, 
 When time must prove their falsehood and mine own? 
 The truth is ever best. Thy royal Lord 
 I, as his guide, attended to the verge 
 Of that far plain, where torn by ravening dogs 
 The corpse of Polynices lay defiled. 
 
 Here, first invoking Hecate, and the King 
 Of Hades, that by prayers propitiate now 
 They would avert their wrath, in the pure stream 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 283 
 
 We laved the relics, — on a recent pyre 
 
 Of boughs consumed them, and upreared a mound 
 
 Of his loved natal earth. We next repaired 
 
 To the sepulchral cave, the bridal couch 
 
 Of her espoused to Death. But of our train 
 
 A murmur of deep wailing from afar 
 
 Round that unhonoured tomb one haply heard, 
 
 And hastening told our Monarch. He approached, 
 And still the muttered moanings on his ear 
 Smote louder and less doubtful, till he groaned 
 In bitter agony, and thus sighed forth — 
 
 “ Unhappy me ! And is my presage true, 
 
 “ And do I tread the most ill-omened path 
 “ Of all my pilgrimage ? It is the voice 
 “ Of mine own son that meets me ! Haste, oh haste, 
 “ Attendants, to the sepulchre, and remove 
 “ The rock's obstructing barrier ; look within ; — 
 
 “ I hear the voice of Haemon, of my son, 
 
 “ Or am by Heaven deluded.” We obeyed 
 The bidding of our half distracted Lord, 
 
 And looked. Soon in the cavern’s dim recess 
 We see the virgin — lifeless — hanging there 
 In noose enwoven of her linen robe. 
 
 There too lay Haemon, clasping his pale bride, 
 Mourning his plighted consort, to the Powers 
 
284 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 Of Hell espoused — his father’s act severe — 
 
 And his most joyless nuptials. When the King 
 Beheld him, deeply sighing — to the tomb 
 Entering, with loud lament he thus exclaimed : 
 
 “ O my unhappy chi i d, what hast thou done ? 
 
 “ What fearful purpose sways thee ? By what woes 
 “ Art thou thus plunged in anguish? O my son 
 “ Come forth, a suppi iant father here conj o res thee.” 
 But on his sire he turned his glaring eyes 
 With the stern air of mingled hate and scorn, 
 
 5 Nor answer deigned, but bared his two-edged brand ; 
 The King by flight evaded, and the blow 
 Fell impotent. Then the distracted youth, 
 Indignant with himself, stretched out the sword, 
 And sheathed it in his bosom. Conscious stid 
 Around the lifeless maid his arms he threw 
 With fond embrace, and, breathing his last sigh, 
 
 5 This act of Haemoa is censured by Aristotle as cause- 
 less and unnatural. May it not, however, be urged in de- 
 fence of the Poet, that a sudden iai pulse, on the first and 
 unexpected sight of the author of his woes, might urge the 
 unhappy youth to a deed of desperation ; particularly since he 
 does not persevere in the attempt, but, as though in ungo- 
 vernable distraction and remorse, immediately turns his fury 
 upon himself? 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 285 
 
 Tinged her pale cheek with crimson, for the blood 
 Came gushing with the fluttering sob of death ; 
 And bfeless now he sleeps beside the dead, 
 
 Jn Hell’s dark gloom his nuptial rites completing, 
 A solemn, sad example to mankind, 
 
 How great an evil is unbridled rashness. 
 
 [Exit Eurydice. 
 
 CHORUS, MESSENGER. 
 
 Cfi. What dost thou judge from this? The Queen 
 is gone 
 
 Without one word of patience, or despair. 
 
 Mess. I too am lost in wonder — but I still 
 Indulge a hope ; that, learning thus the doom 
 Of her lost son, she will not deign to wail 
 Throughout the city, but retired within, 
 
 Will vent her grief in secret with her maidens. 
 
 O 
 
 She is more prudent than to err in this. 
 
 Ch. I know not — vet I like not this deep silence, 
 It bodes some dark resolve — more clamorous grief 
 Vents all its force in words. 
 
 Mess. Soon shall we learn 
 If aught so desperate lurks within her breast, 
 
286 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 By hastening to the palace ; well thou say’st 
 Deep silence is the herald of destruction. 
 
 Ch. And lo ! the King himself appears, 
 Bearing the sad memorials of his woe 
 6 Within his arms ; if we may justly speak, 
 He is the author of his own despair ! 
 
 Enter Creon, bearing his Sons body. 
 
 CREON, MESSENGER, CHORUS. 
 STROPHE I. 
 
 Cr. Woe for the errors of a frenzied mind, 
 Ruthless and fraught with death ! 
 
 O mark, in kindred ties allied, 
 
 The slayers and the slain ! 
 
 Such of my counsels is the bitter fruit ! 
 
 Alas ! for thee, my son, my son, 
 
 Who, in youth’s vernal prime 
 Art perished, and hast fled, 
 
 Through mine insensate rashness, not thine own. 
 
 6 The entrance of Creon, bearing his son’s corpse, will 
 doubtless remind the reader of that scene in Shakspeare, 
 where Lear comes in, carrying in his arms the lifeless body 
 of Cordelia. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 287 
 
 Ch. Alas ! how late dost thou acknowledge, King, 
 The justice of the Gods. 
 
 STROPHE II. 
 
 Cr. Ah me ! I learn it in mine own despair. 
 Then, then upon my head the wrath divine 
 Smote heaviest — to perdition urged me on, 
 
 And trod my joys in dust. Alas ! the toils ! 
 
 The hapless toils of man ! 
 
 Enter Second Messenger. 
 2 d Mess. Sorrows are deepening round thee, O 
 my Lord ; — 
 
 One source of bitterest grief thy hands sustain, 
 One waits within which thou must soon behold. 
 
 Cr. What yet remains to dreg the cup of sor- 
 row? 
 
 2d Mess. Thy Queen, the mother of this lifeless 
 youth, 
 
 Hath died, unhappy, by a recent wound. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE I. 
 
 Cr. Oh ! thou inexpiable home of death, 
 
 Why dost thou crush me thus ? — 
 
 O herald of o’erwhelming woes 
 What horrors dost thou bring ? — 
 
288 
 
 ANT1G0N K. 
 
 Why, why press down a wretch already lost ? 
 What hast thou said ? what new despair, 
 Redoubling woes on woes ? — 
 
 And to a murdered son 
 
 Dost thou then add my wife’s destruction too? — 
 
 2 d Mess, 7 Thou mayst behold her, now no 
 more, within. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE II. 
 
 Cr. Alas ! I gaze upon a second woe. 
 
 What doom, ah ! what awaits the victim still ? 
 
 In these sad hands a lifeless son I bear, 
 
 There mark another recent corpse — Woe ! woe 1 
 Sad mother ! wretched son ! 
 
 2 cl Mess. Before the hallowed altars, in wild wrath 
 She fell — and closed her eyes in Death’s dull 
 night, 
 
 Deploring first indeed th’ illustrious bed 
 Of 8 Megareus — long since to death consigned ; 
 
 7 The scene here opens, and discloses to view the remains 
 of the Queen. 
 
 8 Commentators do not agree respecting this Megareus. 
 Some make him a former husband of Eurydice; others sup- 
 pose him to have been the same with Menceceus, son of Creon 
 and Eurydice, whose patriotism and death are related in the 
 Phcenissae of Euripides. 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 289 
 
 Then this her hapless son, — last on thy head 
 She imprecated curses, and proclaimed thee 
 The murderer of thy child ! 
 
 STROPHE III. 
 
 Cr. Woe ! woe is me ! 
 
 I quake with horror. Will no friendly hand 
 In mercy plunge deep, deep the two-edged sword ? 
 I am a very wretch, 
 
 Condemned to struggle with o’er-mastering woes ! 
 2d Mess. Ere yet she perished, with her parting 
 breath, 
 
 She charged on thee the fatal doom of both. 
 
 Cr. And by what means did death relieve her 
 sorrows ? 
 
 2d Mess. Deep in her side she buried the keen 
 sword, 
 
 Soon as her son’s lamented doom she heard. 
 
 STROPHE IV. 
 
 Cr. Wretch that I am! the guilt is all mine own, 
 None shared the deadly deed ! 
 
 I am alone the blood-stained homicide ; 
 
 Tis all too clear 0 ! lead me hence, 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 V 
 
290 
 
 ANTIGONE. 
 
 Attendants, bear me hence ! away — away — 
 
 For I am nothing now ! 
 
 Ch. Well dost thou judge, if in despair like thine 
 Aught can be well, for heaviest evils press 
 With lighter burden, when from sight removed. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE IIP. 
 
 Cr. Come, then, O come, 
 
 Shine forth, thou last and lightest of my woes, 
 Bringing the final and most welcome hour 
 Of suffering ! Come, O come, 
 
 That I may view the light of Heaven no more. 
 
 Ch. These cares respect the future — first befits 
 To weigh with prudent thought the present crisis. 
 Let those direct on whom such charge devolves. 
 
 Cr. What most my soul desires, I did but make 
 My first and warmest prayer. 
 
 Ch. Pray now for nothing — 
 
 There is no refuge for devoted man, 
 
 When fate consigns him to a doom of woe. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE IV. 
 
 Cr. Lead hence this lifeless shade, far, far away. 
 Who, though unwilling all, 
 
 Slew thee, my son ! thee, too, O wife beloved ! 
 
ANTIGONE. 
 
 291 
 
 Ah ! wretch ! I know not where to look, 
 
 Or whither fly. All are against me now — 
 
 Fate is itself my foe. 
 
 Ch. There is no guide to happiness on earth, 
 Save wisdom ; nor behoves it us to fail 
 In reverence to the Gods ! High-sounding vaunts 
 Inflict due vengeance on the haughty head, 
 
 And teach late wisdom to its dark old age. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
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