Chapter 20

ANT. O strangers, full of reverent care! Since ye cannot endure my father here, Aged and blind, Because ye have heard a rumour of the deeds He did unknowingly,--yet, we entreat you. Strangers, have pity on me, the hapless girl, Who pray for mine own sire and for none else, --Pray, looking in your eyes with eyes not blind. As if a daughter had appeared to you. Pleading for mercy to the unfortunate. We are in your hands as in the hand of God, Helpless. O then accord the unhoped for boon! By what is dear to thee, thy veriest own, I pray thee,--chattel or child, or holier name! Search through the world, thou wilt not find the man Who could resist the leading of a God.

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

OED. What profit lives in fame and fair renown By unsubstantial rumour idly spread? When Athens is extolled with peerless praise For reverence, and for mercy!--She alone The sufferer's shield, the exile's comforter! What have I reaped hereof? Ye have raised me up From yonder seat, and now would drive me forth Fearing a name! For there is nought in me Or deeds of mine to make you fear. My life Hath more of wrong endured than of wrong done, Were it but lawful to disclose to you Wherefore ye dread me,--not my sin but theirs, My mother's and my sire's. I know your thought. Yet never can ye fasten guilt on me, Who, though I had acted with the clear'st intent, Were guiltless, for my deed requited wrong. But as it was, all blindly I went forth On that dire road, while they who planned my death Planned it with perfect knowledge. Therefore, sirs, By Heaven I pray you, as ye have bid me rise, Protect your suppliant without fail; and do not In jealous reverence for the blessed Gods Rob them of truest reverence, but know this:-- God looks upon the righteousness of men And their unrighteousness, nor ever yet Hath one escaped who wrought iniquity. Take part, then, with the Gods, nor overcloud The golden fame of Athens with dark deeds; But as ye have pledged your faith to shelter me, Defend me and rescue, not rejecting me Through mere abhorrence of my ruined face. For on a holy mission am I come, Sent with rich blessings for your neighbours here. And when the head and sovereign of your folk Is present, ye shall learn the truth at full. Till then, be gracious to me, and not perverse.

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

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

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

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

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

OED. And who will carry that?

CH. 'Tis a long road; But rumour from the lips of wayfarers Flies far and wide, so that he needs must hear; And hearing, never doubt but he will come. So noised in every land hath been thy name, Old sovereign,--were he sunk in drowsiness, That sound would bring him swiftly to thy side.

OED. Well, may he come to bless his city and me! When hath not goodness blessed the giver of good?

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

OED. Daughter Antigone, what is it?

ANT. I see A woman coming toward us, mounted well On a fair Sicilian palfrey, and her face With brow-defending hood of Thessaly Is shadowed from the sun. What must I think? Is it she or no? Can the eye so far deceive? It is. 'Tis not. Unhappy that I am, I know not.--Yes, 'tis she. For drawing near She greets me with bright glances, and declares Beyond a doubt, Ismene's self is here.

OED. What say'st thou, daughter?

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

_Enter_ ISMENE.

ISMENE. Father and sister!--names for ever dear! Hard hath it been to find you, yea, and hard I feel it now to look on you for grief.

OED. Child, art thou here?

ISM. Father! O sight of pain!

OED. Offspring and sister!

ISM. Woe for thy dark fate!

OED. Hast thou come, daughter?

ISM. On a troublous way.

OED. Touch me, my child!

ISM. I give a hand to both.

OED. To her and me?

ISM. Three linked in one sad knot.

OED. Child, wherefore art thou come?

ISM. In care for thee.

OED. Because you missed me?

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

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

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

OED. How in all points their life obeys the law Of Egypt, where the men keep house and weave Sitting within doors, while the wives abroad Provide with ceaseless toil the means of life. So in your case, my daughters, they who should Have ta'en this burden on them, bide at home Like maidens, while ye take their place, and lighten My miseries by your toil. Antigone, E'er since her childhood ended, and her frame Was firmly knit, with ceaseless ministry Still tends upon the old man's wandering, Oft in the forest ranging up and down Fasting and barefoot through the burning heat Or pelting rain, nor thinks, unhappy maid, Of home or comfort, so her father's need Be satisfied. And thou, that camest before, Eluding the Cadmeans, and didst tell me What words Apollo had pronounced on me. And when they banished me, stood'st firm to shield me, What news, Ismene, bring'st thou to thy sire To day? What mission sped thee forth? I know Thou com'st not idly, but with fears for me.

ISM. Father, I will not say what I endured In searching out the place that sheltered thee. To tell it o'er would but renew the pain. But of the danger now encompassing Thine ill starred sons,--of that I came to speak. At first they strove with Creon and declared The throne should be left vacant and the town Freed from pollution,--paying deep regard In their debate to the dark heritage Of ruin that o'ershadowed all thy race. Far different is the strife which holds them now, Since some great Power, joined to their sinful mind, Incites them both to seize on sovereign sway. Eteocles, in pride of younger years, Robbed elder Polynices of his right, Dethroned and banished him. To Argos then Goes exiled Polynices, and obtains Through intermarriage a strong favouring league, Whose word is, 'Either Argos vanquishes The seed of Cadmus or exalts their fame' This, father, is no tissue of empty talk, But dreadful truth, nor can I tell where Heaven Is to reveal his mercy to thy woe.

OED. And hadst thou ever hoped the Gods would care For mine affliction, and restore my life?

ISM. I hope it now since this last oracle.

OED. What oracle hath been declared, my child?

ISM. That they shall seek thee forth, alive or dead, To bring salvation to the Theban race.

OED. Who can win safety through such help as mine?

ISM. 'Tis said their victory depends on thee.

OED. When shrunk to nothing, am I indeed a man?

ISM. Yea, for the Gods uphold thee, who then destroyed.

OED. Poor work, to uphold in age who falls when young!

ISM. Know howsoe'er that Creon will be here For this same end, ere many an hour be spent.

OED. For what end, daughter? Tell me in plain speech.

ISM. To set thee near their land, that thou may'st be Beyond their borders, but within their power.

OED. What good am I, thus lying at their gate?

ISM. Thine inauspicious burial brings them woe.

OED. There needs no oracle to tell one that.

ISM. And therefore they would place thee near their land, Where thou may'st have no power upon thyself.

OED. Say then, shall Theban dust o'ershadow me?

ISM. The blood of kindred cleaving to thy hand, Father, forbids thee.

OED. Never, then, henceforth, Shall they lay hold on me!

ISM. If that be true, The brood of Cadmus shall have bale.

OED. What cause Having appeared, will bring this doom to pass?

ISM. Thy wrath, when they are marshalled at thy tomb.

OED. From whom hast thou heard this?

ISM. Sworn messengers Brought such report from Delphi's holy shrine.

OED. Hath Phoebus so pronounced my destiny?

ISM. So they declare who brought the answer back.

OED. Did my sons hear?

ISM. They know it, both of them.

OED. Villains, who, being informed of such a word, Turned not their thoughts toward me, but rather chose Ambition and a throne!

ISM. It wounds mine ear To hear it spoken, but the news I bring Is to that stern effect.

OED. Then I pray Heaven The fury of their fate-appointed strife May ne'er be quenched, but that the end may come According to my wish upon them twain To this contention and arbitrament Of battle which they now assay and lift The threatening spear! So neither he who wields The sceptred power should keep possession still, Nor should his brother out of banishment Ever return:--who, when their sire--when I Was shamefully thrust from my native land, Checked not my fall nor saved me, but, for them, I was driven homeless and proclaimed an exile. Ye will tell me 'twas in reason that the State Granted this boon to my express desire. Nay; for in those first hours of agony, When my heart raged, and it seemed sweetest to me To die the death, and to be stoned with stones, No help appeared to yield me that relief. But after lapse of days, when all my pain Was softened, and I felt that my hot spirit Had run to fierce excess of bitterness In wreaking mine offence--then, then the State Drove me for ever from the land, and they, Their father's sons, who might have saved their father, Cared not to help him, but betrayed by them, For lack of one light word, I wandered forth To homeless banishment and beggary. But these weak maidens to their nature's power Have striven to furnish me with means to live And dwell securely, girded round with love. My sons have chosen before their father's life A lordly throne and sceptred sovereignty. But never shall they win me to their aid, Nor shall the Theban throne for which they strive Bring them desired content. That well I know, Comparing with my daughter's prophecies Those ancient oracles which Phoebus once Spake in mine ear. Then let them send to seek me Creon, or who is strongest in their State. For if ye, strangers, will but add your might To the protection of these awful Powers, The guardians of your soil, to shelter me, Ye shall acquire for this your State a saviour Mighty to save, and ye shall vex my foes.

CH. Thou art worthy of all compassion, Oedipus, Thyself and these thy daughters. Now, moreover Since thou proclaim'st thyself our country's saviour I would advise thee for the best.

OED. Kind sir, Be my good guide. I will do all thou biddest.

CH. Propitiate then these holy powers, whose grove Received thee when first treading this their ground.

OED. What are the appointed forms? Advise me, sirs.

CH. First see to it that from some perennial fount Clean hands provide a pure drink-offering.

OED. And when I have gotten this unpolluted draught?

CH. You will find bowls, formed by a skilful hand, Whose brims and handles you must duly wreathe.

OED. With leaves or flocks of wool, or in what way?

CH. With tender wool ta'en from a young ewe-lamb.

OED. Well, and what follows to complete the rite?

CH. Next, make libation toward the earliest dawn.

OED. Mean'st thou from those same urns whereof thou speakest?

CH. From those three vessels pour three several streams, Filling the last to the brim.

OED. With what contents Must this be filled? Instruct me.

CH. Not with wine, But water and the treasure of the bee.

OED. And when leaf-shadowed Earth has drunk of this, What follows?

CH. Thou shalt lay upon her then From both thy hands a row of olive-twigs-- Counting thrice nine in all--and add this prayer--

OED. That is the chief thing,--that I long to hear.

CH. As we have named them Gentle, so may they From gentle hearts accord their suppliant aid;-- Be this thy prayer, or whoso prays for thee, Spoken not aloud, but so that none may hear; And in departing, turn not. This being done, I can stand by thee without dread. But else, I needs must fear concerning thee.

OED. My daughters, Have ye both heard our friends who inhabit here?

ANT. Yea, father; and we wait for thy command.

OED. I cannot go. Two losses hinder me, Two evils, want of strength and want of sight. Let one of you go and perform this service. One soul, methinks, in paying such a debt May quit a million, if the heart be pure. Haste, then, to do it. Only leave me not Untended. For I cannot move alone Nor without some one to support me and guide.

ISM. I will be ministrant. But let me know Where I must find the place of offering.

CH. Beyond this grove. And, stranger maid, if aught Seem wanting, there is one at hand to show it.

ISM. Then to my task. Meantime, Antigone, Watch by our sire. We must not make account Of labour that supplies a parent's need. [_Exit_

CH. Thy long since slumbering woe I would not wake again, I 1 But yet I long to learn.

OED. What hidden lore?

CH. The pain That sprang against thy life with spirit-mastering force.

OED. Ah, sirs, as ye are kind, re-open not that source Of unavoided shame.

CH. Friend, we would hear the tale Told truly, whose wide voice doth hourly more prevail.

OED. Misery!

CH. Be not loth!

OED. O bitterness!

CH. Consent. For all thou didst require we gave to thy content.

OED. Oh, strangers, I have borne an all-too-willing brand, I 2 Yet not of mine own choice.

CH. Whence? We would understand.

OED. Nought knowing of the curse she fastened on my head Thebe in evil bands bound me.

CH. Thy mother's bed, Say, didst thou fill? mine ear still echoes to the noise.

OED. 'Tis death to me to hear, but, these, mine only joys, Friends, are my curse.

CH. O Heaven!

OED. The travail of one womb Hath gendered all you see, one mother, one dark doom.

CH. How? Are they both thy race, and-- II 1

OED. Sister branches too, Nursed at the self-same place with him from whom they grew.

CH. O horror!

OED. Ay, not one, ten thousand charged me then!

CH. O sorrow!

OED. Never done, an ever-sounding strain.

CH. O crime!

OED. By me ne'er wrought.

CH. But how?

OED. The guerdon fell. Would I had earned it not from those I served too well.

CH. But, hapless, didst thou slay-- II 2

OED. What seek ye more to know?

CH. Thy father?

OED. O dismay! Ye wound me, blow on blow.

CH. Thy hand destroyed him.

OED. Yes. Yet lacks there not herein A plea for my redress.

CH. How canst thou clear that sin?

OED. I'll tell thee. For the deed, 'twas proved mine,--Oh 'tis true! Yet by Heaven's law I am freed:--I wist not whom I slew.

CH. Enough. For lo! where Aegeus' princely son, Theseus, comes hither, summoned at thy word.

_Enter_ THESEUS.

THESEUS. From many voices in the former time Telling thy cruel tale of sight destroyed I have known thee, son of Laius, and to-day I know thee anew, in learning thou art here. Thy raiment, and the sad change in thy face, Proclaim thee who thou art, and pitying thee, Dark-fated Oedipus, I fain would hear What prayer or supplication thou preferrest To me and to my city, thou and this Poor maid who moves beside thee. Full of dread Must be that fortune thou canst name, which I Would shrink from, since I know of mine own youth, How in strange lands a stranger as thou art I bore the brunt of perilous circumstance Beyond all others; nor shall any man, Like thee an alien from his native home, Find me to turn my face from succouring him. I am a man and know it. To-morrow's good Is no more mine than thine or any man's.

OED. Thy noble spirit, Theseus, in few words Hath made my task of utterance brief indeed. Thou hast told aright my name and parentage And native city. Nought remains for me But to make known mine errand, and our talk Is ended.

THE. Tell me plainly thy desire.

OED. I come to offer thee this woe-worn frame, As a free boon,--not goodly in outward view. A better gift than beauty is that I bring.

THE. What boon dost thou profess to have brought with thee?

OED. Thou shalt know by and by,--not yet awhile.

THE. When comes the revelation of thine aid?

OED. When I am dead, and thou hast buried me.

THE. Thou cravest the last kindness. What's between Thou dost forget or else neglect.

OED. Herein One word conveys the assurance of the whole.

THE. You sum up your petition in brief form.

OED. Look to it. Great issues hang upon this hour.

THE. Mean'st thou in this the fortune of thy sons Or mine?

OED. I mean the force of their behest Compelling my removal hence to Thebes.

THE. So thy consent were sought, 'twere fair to yield.

OED. Once I was ready enough. They would not then.

THE. Wrath is not wisdom in misfortune, man!

OED. Nay, chide not till thou knowest.

THE. Inform me, then! I must not speak without just grounds.

OED. O Theseus, I am cruelly harassed with wrong heaped on wrong.

THE. Mean'st thou that prime misfortune of thy birth?

OED. No. That hath long been rumoured through the world.

THE. What, then, can be thy grief? If more than that, 'Tis more than human.

OED. Here is my distress:-- I am made an outcast from my native land By mine own offspring. And return is barred For ever to the man who slew his sire.

THE. How then should they require thee to go near, And yet dwell separate?

OED. The voice of Heaven Will drive them to it.

THE. As fearing what reverse Prophetically told?

OED. Destined defeat By Athens in the Athenian land.

THE. What source Of bitterness 'twixt us and Thebes can rise?

OED. Dear son of Aegeus, to the Gods alone Comes never Age nor Death. All else i' the world Time, the all subduer, merges in oblivion. Earth and men's bodies weaken, fail, and perish. Faith withers, breach of faith springs up and glows And neither men nor cities that are friends Breathe the same spirit with continuing breath. Love shall be turned to hate, and hate to love With many hereafter, as with some to-day. And though, this hour, between great Thebes and thee No cloud be in the heaven, yet moving Time Enfolds a countless brood of days to come, Wherein for a light cause they shall destroy Your now harmonious league with severing war, Even where my slumbering form, buried in death, Coldly shall drink the life blood of my foes, If Zeus be Zeus, and his son Phoebus true. I would not speak aloud of mysteries. Then let me leave where I began. Preserve Thine own good faith, and thou shalt never say, Unless Heaven's promise fail me, that for nought Athens took Oedipus to dwell with her.

CH. My lord, long since the stranger hath professed Like augury of blessings to our land.

THE. And who would dare reject his proffered good? Whose bond with us of warrior amity Hath ne'er been sundered,--and to day he comes A God-sent suppliant, whose sacred hand Is rich with gifts for Athens and for me. In reverent heed whereof I ne'er will scorn The boon he brings, but plant him in our land. And if it please our friend to linger here, Ye shall protect him:--if to go with me Best likes thee, Oedipus,--ponder, and use Thy preference. For my course shall join with thine.

OED. Ye Heavens, reward such excellence!

THE. How, then? Is it thy choice now to go home with me?

OED. Yea, were it lawful. But in this same spot--

THE. What wouldst thou do? I'll not withstand thy will.

OED. I must have victory o'er my banishers.

THE. Thy dwelling with us, then, is our great gain?

OED. Yes, if thou fail me not, but keep thy word.

THE. Nay, fear not me! I will aye be true to thee.

OED. I will not bind thee, like a knave, with oaths.

THE. Oaths were no stronger than my simple word.

OED. What will ye do, then?

THE. What is that thou fearest?

OED. They will come hither.

THE. Thy guards will see to that.

OED. Beware, lest, if you leave me--

THE. Tell not me, I know my part.

OED. Terror will have me speak.

THE. Terror and I are strangers.

OED. But their threats! Thou canst not know--

THE. I know that none shall force Thee from this ground against thy will. Full oft Have threatening words in wrath been voluble, Yet, when the mind regained her place again, The threatened evil vanished. So to-day Bold words of boastful meaning have proclaimed Thy forcible abduction by thy kin. Yet shall they find (I know it) the voyage from Thebes, On such a quest, long and scarce navigable. Whate'er my thought, if Phoebus sent thee forth, I would bid thee have no fear. And howsoe'er, My name will shield thee from all injury.

CHORUS. Friend! in our land of conquering steeds thou art come I 1 To this Heaven-fostered haunt, Earth's fairest home, Gleaming Colonos, where the nightingale In cool green covert warbleth ever clear, True to the clustering ivy and the dear Divine, impenetrable shade, From wildered boughs and myriad fruitage made, Sunless at noon, stormless in every gale. Wood-roving Bacchus there, with mazy round, And his nymph nurses range the unoffended ground.

And nourished day by day with heavenly dew I 2 Bright flowers their never-failing bloom renew, From eldest time Deo and Cora's crown Full-flowered narcissus, and the golden beam Of crocus, while Cephisus' gentle stream In runnels fed by sleepless springs Over the land's broad bosom daily brings His pregnant waters, never dwindling down. The quiring Muses love to seek the spot And Aphrodite's golden car forsakes it not.

Here too a plant, nobler than e'er was known II 1 On Asian soil, grander than yet hath grown In Pelops' mighty Dorian isle, unsown, Free, self-create, the conquering foeman's fear, The kind oil-olive, silvery-green, Chief nourisher of childish life, is seen To burgeon best in this our mother-land. No warrior, young, nor aged in command, Shall ravage this, or scathe it with the spear; For guardian Zeus' unslumbering eye Beholds it everlastingly, And Athens' grey-eyed Queen, dwelling for ever near.

Yet one more praise mightier than all I tell II 2 O'er this my home, that Ocean loves her well, And coursers love her, children of the wave To grace these roadways Prince Poseidon first Framed for the horse, that else had burst From man's control, the spirit taming bit And the trim bark, rowed by strong arms, doth flit O'er briny seas with glancing motion brave Lord of the deep! by that thy glorious gift Thou hast established our fair town For ever in supreme renown-- The Sea nymphs' plashing throng glide not more smoothly swift.