Oedipus Trilogy Part 32

CHORUS She was sprung of G.o.ds, divine, Mortals we of mortal line.

Like renown with G.o.ds to gain Recompenses all thy pain.

Take this solace to thy tomb Hers in life and death thy doom.

ANTIGONE (Str. 2) Alack, alack! Ye mock me. Is it meet Thus to insult me living, to my face?

Cease, by our country's altars I entreat, Ye lordly rulers of a lordly race.

O fount of Dirce, wood-embowered plain Where Theban chariots to victory speed, Mark ye the cruel laws that now have wrought my bane, The friends who show no pity in my need!

Was ever fate like mine? O monstrous doom, Within a rock-built prison sepulchered, To fade and wither in a living tomb, And alien midst the living and the dead.

CHORUS (Str. 3) In thy boldness over-rash Madly thou thy foot didst dash 'Gainst high Justice' altar stair.

Thou a father's guild dost bear.

ANTIGONE (Ant. 2) At this thou touchest my most poignant pain, My ill-starred father's piteous disgrace, The taint of blood, the hereditary stain, That clings to all of Labdacus' famed race.

Woe worth the monstrous marriage-bed where lay A mother with the son her womb had borne, Therein I was conceived, woe worth the day, Fruit of incestuous sheets, a maid forlorn, And now I pa.s.s, accursed and unwed, To meet them as an alien there below; And thee, O brother, in marriage ill-bestead, 'Twas thy dead hand that dealt me this death-blow.

CHORUS Religion has her chains, 'tis true, Let rite be paid when rites are due.

Yet is it ill to disobey The powers who hold by might the sway.

Thou hast withstood authority, A self-willed rebel, thou must die.

ANTIGONE Unwept, unwed, unfriended, hence I go, No longer may I see the day's bright eye; Not one friend left to share my bitter woe, And o'er my ashes heave one pa.s.sing sigh.

CREON If wail and lamentation aught availed To stave off death, I trow they'd never end.

Away with her, and having walled her up In a rock-vaulted tomb, as I ordained, Leave her alone at liberty to die, Or, if she choose, to live in solitude, The tomb her dwelling. We in either case Are guiltless as concerns this maiden's blood, Only on earth no lodging shall she find.

ANTIGONE O grave, O bridal bower, O prison house Hewn from the rock, my everlasting home, Whither I go to join the mighty host Of kinsfolk, Persepha.s.sa's guests long dead, The last of all, of all more miserable, I pa.s.s, my destined span of years cut short.

And yet good hope is mine that I shall find A welcome from my sire, a welcome too, From thee, my mother, and my brother dear; From with these hands, I laved and decked your limbs In death, and poured libations on your grave.

And last, my Polyneices, unto thee I paid due rites, and this my recompense!

Yet am I justified in wisdom's eyes.

For even had it been some child of mine, Or husband mouldering in death's decay, I had not wrought this deed despite the State.

What is the law I call in aid? 'Tis thus I argue. Had it been a husband dead I might have wed another, and have borne Another child, to take the dead child's place.

But, now my sire and mother both are dead, No second brother can be born for me.

Thus by the law of conscience I was led To honor thee, dear brother, and was judged By Creon guilty of a heinous crime.

And now he drags me like a criminal, A bride unwed, amerced of marriage-song And marriage-bed and joys of motherhood, By friends deserted to a living grave.

What ordinance of heaven have I transgressed?

Hereafter can I look to any G.o.d For succor, call on any man for help?

Alas, my piety is impious deemed.

Well, if such justice is approved of heaven, I shall be taught by suffering my sin; But if the sin is theirs, O may they suffer No worse ills than the wrongs they do to me.

CHORUS The same ungovernable will Drives like a gale the maiden still.

CREON Therefore, my guards who let her stay Shall smart full sore for their delay.

ANTIGONE Ah, woe is me! This word I hear Brings death most near.

CHORUS I have no comfort. What he saith, Portends no other thing than death.

ANTIGONE My fatherland, city of Thebes divine, Ye G.o.ds of Thebes whence sprang my line, Look, puissant lords of Thebes, on me; The last of all your royal house ye see.

Martyred by men of sin, undone.

Such meed my piety hath won.

[Exit ANTIGONE]

CHORUS (Str. 1) Like to thee that maiden bright, Danae, in her bra.s.s-bound tower, Once exchanged the glad sunlight For a cell, her bridal bower.

And yet she sprang of royal line, My child, like thine, And nursed the seed By her conceived Of Zeus descending in a golden shower.

Strange are the ways of Fate, her power Nor wealth, nor arms withstand, nor tower; Nor bra.s.s-prowed s.h.i.+ps, that breast the sea From Fate can flee.

(Ant. 1) Thus Dryas' child, the rash Edonian King, For words of high disdain Did Bacchus to a rocky dungeon bring, To cool the madness of a fevered brain.

His frenzy pa.s.sed, He learnt at last 'Twas madness gibes against a G.o.d to fling.

For once he fain had quenched the Maenad's fire; And of the tuneful Nine provoked the ire.

(Str. 2) By the Iron Rocks that guard the double main, On Bosporus' lone strand, Where stretcheth Salmydessus' plain In the wild Thracian land, There on his borders Ares witnessed The vengeance by a jealous step-dame ta'en The gore that trickled from a spindle red, The sightless...o...b..ts of her step-sons twain.

(Ant. 2) Wasting away they mourned their piteous doom, The blasted issue of their mother's womb.

But she her lineage could trace To great Erecththeus' race; Daughter of Boreas in her sire's vast caves Reared, where the tempest raves, Swift as his horses o'er the hills she sped; A child of G.o.ds; yet she, my child, like thee, By Destiny That knows not death nor age--she too was vanquished.

[Enter TEIRESIAS and BOY]

TEIRESIAS Princes of Thebes, two wayfarers as one, Having betwixt us eyes for one, we are here.

The blind man cannot move without a guide.

CREON Why tidings, old Teiresias?

TEIRESIAS I will tell thee; And when thou hearest thou must heed the seer.

CREON Thus far I ne'er have disobeyed thy rede.

TEIRESIAS So hast thou steered the s.h.i.+p of State aright.

CREON I know it, and I gladly own my debt.

TEIRESIAS Bethink thee that thou treadest once again The razor edge of peril.

CREON What is this?

Thy words inspire a dread presentiment.

TEIRESIAS The divination of my arts shall tell.

Sitting upon my throne of augury, As is my wont, where every fowl of heaven Find harborage, upon mine ears was borne A jargon strange of twitterings, hoots, and screams; So knew I that each bird at the other tare With b.l.o.o.d.y talons, for the whirr of wings Could signify naught else. Perturbed in soul, I straight essayed the sacrifice by fire On blazing altars, but the G.o.d of Fire Came not in flame, and from the thigh bones dripped And sputtered in the ashes a foul ooze; Gall-bladders cracked and spurted up: the fat Melted and fell and left the thigh bones bare.

Such are the signs, taught by this lad, I read-- As I guide others, so the boy guides me-- The frustrate signs of oracles grown dumb.

O King, thy willful temper ails the State, For all our shrines and altars are profaned By what has filled the maw of dogs and crows, The flesh of Oedipus' unburied son.

Therefore the angry G.o.ds abominate Our litanies and our burnt offerings; Therefore no birds trill out a happy note, Gorged with the carnival of human gore.

O ponder this, my son. To err is common To all men, but the man who having erred Hugs not his errors, but repents and seeks The cure, is not a wastrel nor unwise.

No fool, the saw goes, like the obstinate fool.

Let death disarm thy vengeance. O forbear To vex the dead. What glory wilt thou win By slaying twice the slain? I mean thee well; Counsel's most welcome if I promise gain.

CREON Old man, ye all let fly at me your shafts Like anchors at a target; yea, ye set Your soothsayer on me. Peddlers are ye all And I the merchandise ye buy and sell.

Go to, and make your profit where ye will, Silver of Sardis change for gold of Ind; Ye will not purchase this man's burial, Not though the winged ministers of Zeus Should bear him in their talons to his throne; Not e'en in awe of prodigy so dire Would I permit his burial, for I know No human soilure can a.s.sail the G.o.ds; This too I know, Teiresias, dire's the fall Of craft and cunning when it tries to gloss Foul treachery with fair words for filthy gain.

TEIRESIAS Alas! doth any know and lay to heart--

CREON Is this the prelude to some hackneyed saw?