Chapter 21

ANT. O land exalted thus in blessing and praise, Now is thy time to prove these brave words true.

OED. What hath befallen, my daughter?

ANT. Here at hand, Not unaccompanied, is Creon, father.

OED. Dear aged friends, be it yours now to provide My safety and the goal of my desire!

CH. It shall be so. Fear nought. I am old and weak, But Athens in her might is ever young.

_Enter_ CREON.

CREON. Noble inhabiters of Attic ground I see as 'twere conceived within your eyes At mine approach some new engendered fear Nay, shrink not, nor let fall one fretful word. I bring no menace with me, for mine age Is feeble, and the state whereto I come Is mighty,--none in Hellas mightier,-- That know I well. But I am sent to bring By fair persuasion to our Theban plain The reverend form of him now present here. Nor came this mission from one single will, But the commands of all my citizens Are on me, seeing that it becomes my birth To mourn his sorrows most of all the state Thou, then, poor sufferer, lend thine ear to me And come. All Cadmus' people rightfully Invite thee with one voice unto thy home, I before all,--since I were worst of men, Were I not pained at thy misfortunes, sir, --To see thee wandering in the stranger's land Aged and miserable, unhoused, unfed, Singly attended by this girl, whose fall To such a depth of undeserved woe I could not have imagined! Hapless maid! Evermore caring for thy poor blind head, Roving in beggary, so young, with no man To marry her,--a mark for all mischance. O misery, what deep reproach I have laid On thee and me and our whole ill-starred race! But who can hide evil that courts the day? Thou, therefore, Oedipus, without constraint, (By all the Gods of Cadmus' race I pray thee) Remove this horror from the sight of men By coming to the ancestral city and home Of thy great sires,--bidding a kind farewell To worthiest Athens, as is meet. But Thebes, Thy native land, yet more deserves thy love.

OED. Thou unabashed in knavery, who canst frame For every cause the semblance of a plea Pranked up with righteous seeming, why again Would'st thou contrive my ruin, and attempt To catch me where I most were grieved being caught? Beforetime, when my self-procured woes Were plaguing me, and I would fain have rushed To instant banishment, thou wouldst not then Grant this indulgence to my keen desire. But when I had fed my passion to the full, And all my pleasure was to live at home, Then 'twas thy cue to expel and banish me, Nor was this name of kindred then so dear. Now once again, when thou behold'st this city And people joined in friendly bands with me, Thou wouldst drag me from my promised resting-place, Hiding hard policy with courtly show. Strange kindness, to love men against their will! Suppose, when thou wert eager in some suit, No grace were granted thee, but all denied, And when thy soul was sated, then the boon Were offered, when such grace were graceless now; --Poor satisfaction then were thine, I ween! Even such a gift thou profferest me to-day, Kind in pretence, but really full of evil. These men shall hear me tell thy wickedness. Thou comest to take me, not unto my home, But to dwell outlawed at your gate, that so Your Thebe may come off untouched of harm From her encounter with Athenian men. Ye shall not have me thus. But you shall have My vengeful spirit ever in your land Abiding for destruction,--and my sons Shall have this portion in their father's ground, To die thereon. Know I not things in Thebes Better than thou? Yea, for 'tis mine to hear Safer intelligencers,--Zeus himself, And Phoebus, high interpreter of Heaven. Thou bring'st a tongue suborned with false pretence, Sharpened with insolence;--but in shrewd speech Thou shalt find less of profit than of bane. This thou wilt ne'er believe. Therefore begone! Let me live here. For even such life as mine Were not amiss, might I but have my will.

CR. Which of us twain, believ'st thou, in this talk Hath more profoundly sinned against thy peace?

OED. If thou prevail'st with these men present here Even as with me, I shall be well content.

CR. Unhappy man, will not even Time bring forth One spark of wisdom to redeem thine age?

OED. Thou art a clever talker. But I know No just man who in every cause abounds With eloquent speech.

CR. 'Tis not to abound in speech, When one speaks fitting words in season.

OED. Oh! As if thy words were few and seasonable!

CR. Not in the dotard's judgement.

OED. Get thee gone! I speak their mind as well--and dog not me Beleaguering mine appointed dwelling-place!

CR. These men shall witness--for thy word is naught; And for thy spiteful answer to thy friends, If once I seize thee--

OED. Who shall seize on me Without the will of my protectors here?

CR. Well, short of that, thou shalt have pain, I trow.

OED. What hast thou done, that thou canst threaten thus?

CR. One of thy daughters I have sent in charge. This other, I myself will quickly take.

OED. Oh, cruel!

CR. Soon thou'lt have more cause to cry.

OED. Hast thou my child?

CR. I will have both ere long.

OED. Dear friends, what will ye do? Will ye forsake me? Will you not drive the offender from your land?

CH. Stranger, depart at once! Thou hast done wrong, And wrong art doing.

CR. (_to attendants_). Now then, lead her away By force, if she refuse to go with you.

ANT. Ah me! unhappy! Whither shall I flee? What aid of God or mortal can I find?

CH. What dost thou, stranger?

CR. I will lay no hand On him, but on my kinswoman.

OED. Alas! Lords of Colonos, will ye suffer it?

CH. Thou art transgressing, stranger.

CR. Nay, I stand Within my right.

CH. How so?

CR. I take mine own.

OED. Athens to aid!

CH. Stranger, forbear! What dost thou? Let go, or thou shalt try thy strength with us.

CR. Unhand me!

CH. Not while this intent is thine.

CR. If you harm me, you will have war with Thebes.

OED. Did I not tell you this would come?

CH. Release The maid with speed.

CR. Command where you have power.

CH. Leave hold, I say!

CR. Away with her, say I!

CH. Come hither, neighbours, come! My city suffers violence. Wrongful men Are hurting her with force. Come hither to me!

ANT. Unhappy, I am dragged away,--O strangers!

OED. Where art thou, O my child?

ANT. I go away Against my will.

OED. Reach forth thy hands, my daughter!

ANT. I cannot.

CR. Off with her!

OED. Alas, undone! [_Exit_ ANTIGONE, _guarded_

CR. Thou shalt not have these staves henceforth to prop Thy roaming to and fro. Take thine own way! Since thou hast chosen to thwart thy nearest kin,-- Beneath whose orders, though a royal man, I act herein,--and thine own native land. The time will surely come when thou shalt find That in this deed and all that thou hast done In opposition to their friendly will, Thou hast counselled foolishly against thy peace, Yielding to anger, thy perpetual bane. [_Going_

CH. Stranger, stand where thou art!

CR. Hands off, I say!

CH. Thou shalt not go, till thou restore the maids.

CR. Soon, then, my city shall retain from you A weightier cause of war. I will lay hands Not on the maidens only.

CH. What wilt thou do?

CR. Oedipus I will seize and bear away.

CH. Great Heaven forfend!

CR. It shall be done forthwith, Unless the ruler of this land prevent me.

OED. O shameless utterance! Wilt thou lay thy hold On me?

CR. Be silent! Speak no more!

OED. No more? May these dread Goddesses not close my lips To this one prayer of evil against thee, Thou villain, who, when I have lost mine eyes, Bereavest me of all that I had left To make my darkness light! Therefore I pray, For this thy wrongful act, may He in heaven Whose eye sees all things, Helios, give to thee Slowly to wither in an age like mine!

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

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

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

OED. Me miserable!

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

CR. I do.

CH. Then Athens is to me no city.

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

OED. Hear ye his words?

CH. He shall not make them good. Be witness, Zeus!

CR. Zeus knows more things than thou.

OED. Is not this violence?

CR. Violence you must bear.

CH. Come, chieftain of our land! Come hither with all speed. They pass the bound.

_Enter_ THESEUS.

THE. Wherefore that shouting? Daunted by what fear Stayed ye me sacrificing to the God[2] Who guards this deme Colonos? Let me know What cause so hastened my reluctant foot.

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

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

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

THE. Can this be possible?

OED. Thou hear'st the truth.

THE. Then one of you run to the altar-foot Hard by, and haste the people from the rite, Horsemen and footmen at the height of speed To race unto the parting of the roads Where travellers from both gorges wont to meet. Lest there the maidens pass beyond our reach And I be worsted by this stranger's might And let him laugh at me. Be swift! Away! --For him, were I as wroth as he deserves, He should not go unpunished from my hand. But now he shall be ruled by the same law He thought to enforce. Thou goest not from this ground Till thou hast set these maids in presence here; Since by thine act thou hast disgraced both me And thine own lineage and thy native land, Who with unlicensed inroad hast assailed An ancient city, that hath still observed Justice and equity, and apart from law Ratifies nothing; and, being here, hast cast Authority to the winds, and made thine own Whate'er thou wouldst, bearing it off perforce,-- Deeming of me forsooth as nothing worth, And of my city as one enslaved to foes Or void of manhood. Not of Thebe's will Come such wild courses. It is not her way To foster men in sin, nor would she praise Thy doing, if she knew that thou hast robbed Me and the gods, dragging poor suppliant wights From their last refuge at thy will--I would not, Had I perchance set foot within thy land, Even were my cause most righteous, have presumed, Without consent of him who bore chief sway, To seize on any man, but would have known How men should act who tread on foreign soil. Thou bring'st disgrace on thine own mother state All undeservedly, and the lapse of years Hath left thee aged, but not wise--Again I bid those maids now to be brought with speed, Unless thou would'st be made a sojourner In Athens by compulsion. This I speak Not with my lips alone, but from my will.

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

CR. Great Aegeus' son! Not as misprising this thy city's strength In arms, or wisdom in debate, I dared This capture, but in simple confidence Thy citizens would not so envy me My blood relations, as to harbour them Against my will,--nor welcome to their hearths A man incestuous and a parricide, The proved defiler of his mother's bed Such was the mount of Ares that I knew, Seat of high wisdom, planted in their soil, That suffers no such lawless runaways To haunt within the borders of your realm. Relying on that I laid my hands upon This quarry, nor had done so, were it not That bitterly he cursed myself and mine. That moved me to requital, since even Age Still bears resentment, till the power of death Frees men from anger, as from all annoy. Being sovereign here thou wilt do thy pleasure. I, Though I have justice on my side, am weak Through being alone. Yet if you meddle with me, Old as I am, you'll find me dangerous.

OED. O boldness void of shame! Whom dost thou think Thy obloquy most harms, this aged head Or thine, who hast thus let pass thy lips the crimes I have borne unwittingly. So Heaven was pleased To wreak some old offence upon our race. Since in myself you will find no stain of sin For which such ruinous error 'gainst myself And mine own house might be the recompense. Tell me, I pray thee, if a word from Heaven Came to my father through the oracle That he should die by his son's hand,--what right Hast thou to fasten that reproach on me, The child not yet begotten of my sire, An unborn nothing, unconceived? Or if, Born as I was to misery, I encountered And killed my father in an angry fray, Nought knowing of what I did or whom I slew, What reason is't to blame the unwitting deed? And, oh, thou wretch! art not ashamed to force me To speak that of my mother, thine own sister, Which I will speak, for I will not keep silence, Since thou hast been thus impious with thy tongue. She was my mother, oh, the bitter word! Though neither knew it, and having borne me, she Became the mother of children to her son, An infamous birth! Yet this I know, thy crime Of speech against us both is voluntary. But all involuntary was my deed In marriage and is this mine utterance now. No,--that shall not be called a bosom-sin, Nor shall my name be sullied with the deed, Thy tongue would brand on me, against my sire. For answer me one question. If to-day, Here, now, one struck at thee a murderous stroke,-- At thee, the righteous person,--wouldst thou ask If such assailant were thy sire, or strike Forthwith? Methinks, as one who cares to live, You would strike before you questioned of the right, Or reasoned of his kindred whom you slew. Such was the net that snared me: such the woes Heaven drew me to fulfil. My father's spirit, Came he to life, would not gainsay my word. But thou, to whom, beneath the garb of right, No matter is too dreadful or too deep For words, so rail'st on me, in such a presence. Well thou dost flatter the great name of Theseus, And Athens in her glory stablished here, But midst thy fulsome praises thou forgettest How of all lands that yield the immortal Gods Just homage of true piety, this land Is foremost. Yet from hence thou would'st beguile Me, the aged suppliant. Nay, from hence thou would'st drag Myself with violence, and hast reft away My children. Wherefore I conjure these powers, With solemn invocation and appeal, To come and take my part, that thou may'st know What men they are who guard this hallowed realm.

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

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

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

THE. Lead us the way they are gone. I too must be Thine escort, that if hereabout thou hast Our maidens, thou mayest show them to my sight. But if men flee and bear them, we may spare Superfluous labour. Others hotly urge That business, whom those robbers shall not boast Before their Gods to have 'scaped out of this land. Come, be our guide! Thou hast and hast not. Fortune Hath seized thee seizing on thy prey. So quickly Passes the gain that's got by wrongful guile. Nay, thou shalt have no helper. Well I wot Thou flew'st not to this pitch of truculent pride Alone, or unsupported by intrigue; But thy bold act hath some confederate here. This I must look into, nor let great Athens Prove herself weaker than one single man. Hast caught my drift? Or is my voice as vain Now, as you thought it when you planned this thing?

CR. I will gainsay nought of what thou utterest here. But once in Thebes, I too shall know my course.

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

CHORUS. Soon shall the wheeling foes I 1 Clash with the din of brazen-throated War. Would I were there to see them close, Be the onset near or far! Whether at Daphne's gorge to Phoebus dear, Or by the torch-lit shore Where kind maternal powers for evermore Guard golden mysteries of holy fear To nourish mortal souls Whose voice the seal of silent awe controls Imprinted by the Eumolpid minister. There, on that sacred way, Shall the divinest head Of royal Theseus, rouser of the fray, And those free maids, in their two squadrons led, Meet in the valorous fight That conquers for the right.

Else, by the snow-capped rock, I 2 Passing to westward, they are drawing nigh The tract beyond the pasture high Where Oea feeds her flock. The riders ride, the rattling chariots flee At racing speed.--'Tis done! He shall be vanquished. Our land's chivalry Are valiant, valiant every warrior son Of Theseus.--On they run? Frontlet and bridle glancing to the light, Forward each steed is straining to the fight, Forward each eye and hand Of all that mounted band, Athena's knighthood, champions of her name And his who doth the mighty waters tame, Rhea's son that from of old Doth the Earth with seas enfold.

Strive they? Or is the battle still to be? II 1 An eager thought in me Is pleading, 'Soon must they restore The enduring maid, whose kinsmen vex her sore!' To-day shall Zeus perform his will. The noble cause wins my prophetic skill. Oh! had I wings, and like a storm-swift dove Poised on some aery cloud might there descry The conflict from above, Scouring the region with mine eye!

Sovran of Heaven, all-seeing Zeus, afford II 2 Unto this nation's lord Puissance to crown the fair emprise, Thou, and all-knowing Pallas, thy dread child! Apollo, huntsman of the wild, --Thou and thy sister, who doth still pursue Swift many-spotted stags,--arise, arise, With love we pray you, be our champions true! Yea, both together come To aid our people and our home!

LEADER OF CH. Ah! wanderer friend, thou wilt not have to accuse Thy seer of falsehood. I behold the maids This way once more in safe protection brought.

OED. Where? Is it true? How say you?

ANT. Father, father! Oh that some God would give thee once to see The man whose royal virtue brings us hither!

OED. My daughters, are ye there?

ANT. Saved by the arm Of Theseus and his most dear ministers.

OED. Come near me, child, and let your father feel The treasure he had feared for ever gone.

ANT. Not hard the boon which the heart longs to give.

OED. Where are ye, where?

ANT. Together we draw near.

OED. Loved saplings of a solitary tree!

ANT. A father's heart hides all.

OED. Staves of mine age!

ANT. Forlorn supporters of an ill-starred life!

OED. I have all I love; nor would the stroke of death Be wholly bitter, with you standing by. Press close to either side of me, my children; Grow to your sire, and ye shall give me rest From mine else lonely, hapless, wandering life. And tell your tale as briefly as ye may, Since at your age short speaking is enough.

ANT. Here is our saviour. He shall tell thee all, And shorten labour both for us and thee.

OED. Think it not strange, dear friend, that I prolong The unhoped-for greeting with my children here. Full well I know, the joy I find in them Springs from thee only, and from none beside. Thou, thou alone hast saved them. May the Gods Fulfil my prayer for thee and for thy land! Since only in Athens, only here i' the world, Have I found pious thought and righteous care, And truth in word and deed. From a full heart And thankful mind I thus requite thy love, Knowing all I have is due to none but thee. Extend to me, I pray thee, thy right hand, O King, that I may feel thee, and may kiss, If that be lawful, thy dear head! And yet What am I asking? How can one like me Desire of thee to touch an outlawed man, On whose dark life all stains of sin and woe Are fixed indelibly? I will not dare-- No, nor allow thee!--None but only they Who have experience of such woes as mine May share their wretchedness. Thou, where thou art Receive my salutation, and henceforth Continue in thy promised care of me As true as to this moment thou hast proved.

THE. I marvel not at all if mere delight In these thy daughters lengthened thy discourse, Or led thee to address them before me. That gives me not the shadow of annoy. Nor am I careful to adorn my life With words of praise, but with the light of deeds. And thou hast proof of this. For I have failed In nought of all I promised, aged King! Here stand I with thy children in full life Unharmed in aught the foe had threatened them. And now why vaunt the deeds that won the day, When these dear maids will tell them in thine ear? But let me crave thy counsel on a thing That crossed me as I came. Small though it seem When told, 'tis worthy of some wonder, too. Be it small or great, men should not let things pass.

OED. What is it, O son of Aegeus? Let me hear, I am wholly ignorant herein.

THE. We are told One, not thy townsman, but of kin to thee, Hath come in unawares, and now is found Kneeling at great Poseidon's altar, where I sacrificed, what time ye called me hither.

OED. What countryman, and wherefore suppliant there?

THE. One thing alone I know. He craves of thee Some speech, they say, that will not hold thee long.

OED. His kneeling there imports no trivial suit.

THE. All he desires, they tell me, is to come, Have speech with thee, and go unharmed away.

OED. Who can he be that kneels for such a boon?

THE. Think, if at Argos thou a kinsman hast Who might desire to obtain so much of thee.

OED. Dear friend! Hold there! No more!

THE. What troubles thee?

OED. Ask it not of me!

THE. What? Speak plainly forth.

OED. Thy words have shown me who the stranger is.

THE. And who is he that I should say him nay?

OED. My son, O King,--hateful to me, whose tongue Least of the world I could endure to hear.

THE. What pain is there in hearing? Canst thou not Hear, and refuse to do what thou mislikest?

OED. My Lord, I have come to loathe his very voice. I pray thee, urge me not to yield in this.

THE. Think that the God must be considered too, The right of suppliants may compel thy care.

ANT. Father, give ear, though I be young that speak. Yield to the scruple of the King, who claims This reverence for his people's God, and yield To us who beg our brother may come near. Take heart! He will not force thee from thy will. What harm can come of hearkening? Wisdom's ways Reveal themselves through words. He is thy son. Whence, were his heartless conduct against thee Beyond redemption impious, O my sire, Thy vengeance still would be unnatural. Oh let him!--Others have had evil sons And passionate anger, but the warning voice Of friends hath charmed their mood. Then do not thou Look narrowly upon thy present griefs, But on those ancient wrongs thou didst endure From father and from mother. Thence thou wilt learn That evil passion ever ends in woe. Thy sightless eyes are no light argument To warn thee through the feeling of thy loss. Relent and hear us! 'Tis a mere disgrace To beg so long for a just boon. The King Is kind to thee. Be generous in return.