Oedipus Trilogy Part 24

OEDIPUS Is the prince coming? Will he when he comes Find me yet living and my senses clear!

ANTIGONE What solemn charge would'st thou impress on him?

OEDIPUS For all his benefits I would perform The promise made when I received them first.

CHORUS (Ant. 2) Hither haste, my son, arise, Altar leave and sacrifice, If haply to Poseidon now In the far glade thou pay'st thy vow.

For our guest to thee would bring And thy folk and offering, Thy due guerdon. Haste, O King!

[Enter THESEUS]

THESEUS Wherefore again this general din? at once My people call me and the stranger calls.

Is it a thunderbolt of Zeus or sleet Of arrowy hail? a storm so fierce as this Would warrant all surmises of mischance.

OEDIPUS Thou com'st much wished for, Prince, and sure some G.o.d Hath bid good luck attend thee on thy way.

THESEUS What, son of Laius, hath chanced of new?

OEDIPUS My life hath turned the scale. I would do all I promised thee and thine before I die.

THESEUS What sign a.s.sures thee that thine end is near?

OEDIPUS The G.o.ds themselves are heralds of my fate; Of their appointed warnings nothing fails.

THESEUS How sayest thou they signify their will?

OEDIPUS This thunder, peal on peal, this lightning hurled Flash upon flash, from the unconquered hand.

THESEUS I must believe thee, having found thee oft A prophet true; then speak what must be done.

OEDIPUS O son of Aegeus, for this state will I Unfold a treasure age cannot corrupt.

Myself anon without a guiding hand Will take thee to the spot where I must end.

This secret ne'er reveal to mortal man, Neither the spot nor whereabouts it lies, So shall it ever serve thee for defense Better than native s.h.i.+elds and near allies.

But those dread mysteries speech may not profane Thyself shalt gather coming there alone; Since not to any of thy subjects, nor To my own children, though I love them dearly, Can I reveal what thou must guard alone, And whisper to thy chosen heir alone, So to be handed down from heir to heir.

Thus shalt thou hold this land inviolate From the dread Dragon's brood. [7] The justest State By countless wanton neighbors may be wronged, For the G.o.ds, though they tarry, mark for doom The G.o.dless sinner in his mad career.

Far from thee, son of Aegeus, be such fate!

But to the spot--the G.o.d within me goads-- Let us set forth no longer hesitate.

Follow me, daughters, this way. Strange that I Whom you have led so long should lead you now.

Oh, touch me not, but let me all alone Find out the sepulcher that destiny Appoints me in this land. Hither, this way, For this way Hermes leads, the spirit guide, And Persepha.s.sa, empress of the dead.

O light, no light to me, but mine erewhile, Now the last time I feel thee palpable, For I am drawing near the final gloom Of Hades. Blessing on thee, dearest friend, On thee and on thy land and followers!

Live prosperous and in your happy state Still for your welfare think on me, the dead.

[Exit THESEUS followed by ANTIGONE and ISMENE]

CHORUS (Str.) If mortal prayers are heard in h.e.l.l, Hear, G.o.ddess dread, invisible!

Monarch of the regions drear, Aidoneus, hear, O hear!

By a gentle, tearless doom Speed this stranger to the gloom, Let him enter without pain The all-shrouding Stygian plain.

Wrongfully in life oppressed, Be he now by Justice blessed.

(Ant.) Queen infernal, and thou fell Watch-dog of the gates of h.e.l.l, Who, as legends tell, dost glare, Gnarling in thy cavernous lair At all comers, let him go Scathless to the fields below.

For thy master orders thus, The son of earth and Tartarus; In his den the monster keep, Giver of eternal sleep.

[Enter MESSENGER]

MESSENGER Friends, countrymen, my tidings are in sum That Oedipus is gone, but the event Was not so brief, nor can the tale be brief.

CHORUS What, has he gone, the unhappy man?

MESSENGER Know well That he has pa.s.sed away from life to death.

CHORUS How? By a G.o.d-sent, painless doom, poor soul?

MESSENGER Thy question hits the marvel of the tale.

How he moved hence, you saw him and must know; Without a friend to lead the way, himself Guiding us all. So having reached the abrupt Earth-rooted Threshold with its brazen stairs, He paused at one of the converging paths, Hard by the rocky basin which records The pact of Theseus and Peirithous.

Betwixt that rift and the Thorician rock, The hollow pear-tree and the marble tomb, Midway he sat and loosed his beggar's weeds; Then calling to his daughters bade them fetch Of running water, both to wash withal And make libation; so they clomb the steep; And in brief s.p.a.ce brought what their father bade, Then laved and dressed him with observance due.

But when he had his will in everything, And no desire was left unsatisfied, It thundered from the netherworld; the maids s.h.i.+vered, and crouching at their father's knees Wept, beat their breast and uttered a long wail.

He, as he heard their sudden bitter cry, Folded his arms about them both and said, "My children, ye will lose your sire today, For all of me has perished, and no more Have ye to bear your long, long ministry; A heavy load, I know, and yet one word Wipes out all score of tribulations--_love_.

And love from me ye had--from no man more; But now must live without me all your days."

So clinging to each other sobbed and wept Father and daughters both, but when at last Their mourning had an end and no wail rose, A moment there was silence; suddenly A voice that summoned him; with sudden dread The hair of all stood up and all were 'mazed; For the call came, now loud, now low, and oft.

"Oedipus, Oedipus, why tarry we?

Too long, too long thy pa.s.sing is delayed."

But when he heard the summons of the G.o.d, He prayed that Theseus might be brought, and when The Prince came nearer: "O my friend," he cried, "Pledge ye my daughters, giving thy right hand-- And, daughters, give him yours--and promise me Thou never wilt forsake them, but do all That time and friends.h.i.+p prompt in their behoof."

And he of his n.o.bility repressed His tears and swore to be their constant friend.

This promise given, Oedipus put forth Blind hands and laid them on his children, saying, "O children, prove your true n.o.bility And hence depart nor seek to witness sights Unlawful or to hear unlawful words.

Nay, go with speed; let none but Theseus stay, Our ruler, to behold what next shall hap."

So we all heard him speak, and weeping sore We companied the maidens on their way.

After brief s.p.a.ce we looked again, and lo The man was gone, evanished from our eyes; Only the king we saw with upraised hand Shading his eyes as from some awful sight, That no man might endure to look upon.

A moment later, and we saw him bend In prayer to Earth and prayer to Heaven at once.

But by what doom the stranger met his end No man save Theseus knoweth. For there fell No fiery bold that reft him in that hour, Nor whirlwind from the sea, but he was taken.

It was a messenger from heaven, or else Some gentle, painless cleaving of earth's base; For without wailing or disease or pain He pa.s.sed away--and end most marvelous.

And if to some my tale seems foolishness I am content that such could count me fool.

CHORUS Where are the maids and their attendant friends?

MESSENGER They cannot be far off; the approaching sound Of lamentation tells they come this way.

[Enter ANTIGONE and ISMENE]

ANTIGONE (Str. 1) Woe, woe! on this sad day We sisters of one blasted stock must bow beneath the shock, Must weep and weep the curse that lay On him our sire, for whom In life, a life-long world of care 'Twas ours to bear, In death must face the gloom That wraps his tomb.

What tongue can tell That sight ineffable?

CHORUS What mean ye, maidens?

ANTIGONE All is but surmise.

CHORUS Is he then gone?

ANTIGONE Gone as ye most might wish.

Not in battle or sea storm, But reft from sight, By hands invisible borne To viewless fields of night.

Ah me! on us too night has come, The night of mourning. Wither roam O'er land or sea in our distress Eating the bread of bitterness?

ISMENE I know not. O that Death Might nip my breath, And let me share my aged father's fate.

I cannot live a life thus desolate.