ACT III

[_Enter_ Creon, _returned from the rites of necromancy_.]

_Oedipus_: Although thy face displays the marks of grief, Declare whose death an angry heaven demands. 510

_Creon_: Thou bid'st me speak where fear would silence keep.

_Oedipus_: If Thebes, to ruin falling, move thee not, Regard the scepter of thy kindred house.

_Creon_: Thou wilt repent the knowledge which thou seek'st.

_Oedipus_: A useless cure for ills is ignorance. 515 And wilt thou still obstruct the public weal?

_Creon_: Where foul the cure, 'tis grievous to be cured.

_Oedipus_: Thy tidings speak; or, by thy pains subdued, Thou soon shalt know what angered kings can do.

_Creon_: Kings hate the words whose speech they would compel. 520

_Oedipus_: In hades shalt thou pay thy life for all, Unless thou tell the secrets of the fates.

_Creon_: Nay, let me hold my peace. No smaller boon Was ever sought.

_Oedipus_: More often than by speech, Have kingdoms by the boon of silence fall'n. 525

_Creon_: When silence is denied what can be given?

_Oedipus_: He sins who silence holds when speech is best.

_Creon_: Then hear in peace the words which I must speak.

_Oedipus_: Was ever punishment for speech compelled?

_Creon_: Afar from Thebes there is a frowning grove 530 Near the well-watered vale of Dirce's fount. And there a cypress lifts its giant head And holds within its evergreen embrace The trees around. Here stands an ancient oak And spreads its branches dark with clustering mould. One side is torn by time's destructive hand; 535 The rest, with roots decayed and falling, hangs Supported on a neighbor's trunk. Here stand The bitter laurel, rustling linden trees, The myrtle, and the alder destined soon To sweep its oarage on the boundless sea. Midway, a mighty pine its smooth trunk lifts 540 Against the rays of Phoebus and the winds, And with its heavy shade it overwhelms The lesser trees; for, with its spreading boughs, It stands, the giant guardian of the wood. Beneath this pine there springs a gloomy pool 545 That never saw the sun nor light of day. An oozy swamp surrounds the sluggish pool. Here did the agéd priest direct his steps; Nor was there need to wait; the gloomy spot Supplied the shades of night. A trench is dug, Where brands are kindled, pluck'd from funeral pyres. 550 The priest is shrouded in a mourning pall, And waves the bough; his dark robe sweeps the earth. And now, in squalid garb and wrapped in gloom, The priest advances, with his hoary locks 555 Encircled by the yew-tree's deadly leaves. Black sheep and sable oxen, backward driven,[3] Are sacrificed. The fire devours the food, And the living entrails quiver in the flames. The shades he calls, and him who rules the shades, And him who guards the dark Lethaean stream. 560 A magic rune he mutters o'er and o'er And fiercely chants the charm which either lures The shifting ghosts, or forces them to come. He burns the victims whole, and fills the trench With sacrificial blood, and snowy milk, 565 And, with his left hand pouring, mingles wine; Again he chants, and, bending to the earth, With stronger words and frantic, summons up The manes. Loudly bayed the hounds of hell; And thrice the hollows gave a mournful sound; 570 The whole earth trembled and the solid ground Was rent asunder. Then the priest exclaimed: "I have prevailed, for strong the words I spoke; The deep and gloomy realm of chaos yawns, And for the dwellers in the home of Dis A way is opened to the world of light." The whole wood shrank away; its leaves erect In horror stood, the mighty trunks were split, 575 And all the grove was smitten with amaze. The frightened earth crouched back with hollow groans, As if unwillingly she saw the deeps Of Acheron assailed; or else herself, That back to life the dead might find a way, With crashing sound her close-wrought barriers burst; 580 Or threefold Cerberus in angry rage Clanked loud his heavy chains. Then suddenly The earth yawned wide, and at our very feet A deep abyss appeared. I saw, myself, The sluggish pools amidst the dusky shades; I saw the shadowy gods, and that black gloom No earthly night can give. At that dread sight My blood ran cold and froze within my veins. 585 And then there hurried forth a dreadful band, And stood in armed array, that viper brood, The troop of brothers sprung from dragon's teeth; And that fell pestilence, the curse of Thebes. Then grim Erinys raised her piercing cry, Blind Fury, Dread, and all the ghastly forms 590 Which spawn and lurk within the endless shades: Grief, in her madness, tearing out her hair; Disease, scarce holding up her weary head; Age, burdened with itself, and brooding Fear. Our spirits died within us at the sight. 595 Even the prophet's daughter stood amazed, Though well she knew her father's mystic arts. But he, undaunted, since he saw them not, Convoked the bloodless throng of gloomy Dis. Like clouds the shadowy forms come trooping up, And snuff the air of unrestricted heaven. Not lofty Eryx in his mountain glades 600 As many falling leaves, nor Hybla's slopes As many flowers produce, in sunny spring, When greedy bees in teeming bunches swarm; As many waves break not upon the shore; As many birds deserting Strymon's streams, Exchange not wintry blasts and Arctic snows, 605 And seek the milder valley of the Nile; As were the shades the prophet summoned forth. In eager haste the shivering spirits seek The hiding-places of the leafy grove. From out the cave, his right hand by the horns 610 A raging bull restraining, Zethus came, And next Amphion, with that famous shell Whose magic strains insensate rocks allured. Here haughty Niobe, in safety now, Amongst her children lifts her head in scorn And proudly counts her shades. And worse than she, 615 That mother, mad Agave, next appears, With all the impious band who rent the king. Then Pentheus' self, all torn and bleeding, comes, In rage pursuing those wild Bacchanals. At length, when often summoned, Laius comes In shame, and, skulking, flees the shadowy throng, 620 And hides himself away; but still the seer, With unrelenting purpose pressing on, Repeats his strong compelling exorcisms, Until he brings the ghost to open view. I shudder as I tell it. There he stood, A fearful sight, his body drenched with blood, His matted locks o'erspread with horrid filth. 625 And now, with raging tongue, the specter spoke: "O wild and savage house of Cadmus, thou Who ever dost rejoice in brother's blood! The thyrsus wave, in madness rend thy sons. The greatest crime of Thebes is mother's love. O fatherland, 'tis not the wrath of heaven, 630 But sin of man by which thou art undone. No plague-fraught south wind with its deadly blast, Nor yet the parchéd earth with its dry breath, Is harming thee; but 'tis thy bloody king, Who, as the prize of savage murder done, Hath seized his father's scepter and his bed. 635 An impious son (but far more impious, The mother who in most unhallowed womb Bore children once again), he forced his way Back to his source of life, and there begot Upon his mother offspring horrible, Got brothers to himself, a custom base, Whence e'en the very beasts of prey are free. 640 Oh, base entanglement, more monstrous far Than that fell Sphinx which he himself hath slain. Thee, thee, who dost the bloody scepter hold, Thee will thy sire, still unavenged, pursue, With all thy town; and with me will I bring Th' attendant fury of my wedding night-- I'll bring her with her loud-resounding[4] lash! 645 Thy house, polluted, will I overthrow, And thy Penates will I trample down In fratricidal strife! Then quickly drive Thy king, O Thebes, from out thy boundaries! For when his baleful step shall leave the land, In vernal green shall it renew itself, 650 The air shall give again pure springs of life, And to the woods their beauty shall return. Destruction, Pestilence and Death, Distress, Disease, Despair--his fitting company-- Shall all depart with him. And he, indeed, Will seek with eager haste to flee his realm, But him will I hedge round with barriers, 655 And hold him back. Uncertain of his way, And with his staff to guide his faltering steps, He'll creep along his sad and darkened path. Do ye the land deny him; I, his sire, Will take away from him the light of heaven."

_Oedipus:_ A chilling tremor penetrates my bones; The very thing which I have feared to do, 660 They say that I have done it. But the charge That in unholy wedlock I am joined, My mother Merope refutes, for she To Polybus, my sire, is wedded still; And my hands from stain of father's blood are clean, Since Polybus in safety lives and reigns. Since both my parents free me from the guilt Of murder and that base, incestuous crime, What room is there for accusation more? And as for Laius, Thebes his death deplored 665 Long 'ere I set my feet upon her soil. What shall we say then? Was the seer deceived, Or does the hand of God afflict the state? No! now we see these two confederates Deep in a crafty plot: that priest of thine With lying tongue pretends the will of heaven, And promises my sovereignty to thee. 670

_Creon:_ Would I expel my sister from the throne? But if that sacred fealty which I owe Unto my kindred house restrained me not, Yet fortune would herself affright me sore, For with care and danger is she ever fraught. But be thyself content to lay aside, While still thou safely mayst, the cares of state, 675 Lest,[5] borne too long, they may o'erwhelm thee quite. In a humbler state more safely shalt thou dwell.

_Oedipus:_ And dost thou bid me, then, of mine own will To lay aside the heavy cares of state?

_Creon:_ Thus would I counsel those to whom the way Is open yet to choose the path he will. 680 But the lot that fortune sends thee thou must bear.

_Oedipus:_ When one desires to reign, 'tis ever thus, That humble life he praises, and the joys Of ease and sleep are ever in his mouth. A peaceful face oft hides a restless heart.

_Creon:_ Does my long loyalty defend me not? 685

_Oedipus:_ To traitors, loyalty's a cloak to crime.

_Creon:_ Free from the burdens of a kingly state, I still enjoy the fruits of royalty; My house is honored by our citizens; And day by day thy royal gifts o'erflow, And fill my kindred home with luxury. 690 Rich food and clothing, gifts of every sort, And safety flow to many through my aid. Why should I think aught lacking to my lot?

_Oedipus:_ Because there is a lack. Prosperity Ne'er halts at any bounds.

_Creon:_ And shall I fall, 695 Prejudged, and have no right to plead my cause?

_Oedipus:_ Hadst thou consideration for _my_ life? Did old Tiresias listen to my cause? And yet I am condemned. My pattern, thou; I do but follow in the way thou lead'st.

_Creon:_ But what if I am guiltless?

_Oedipus:_ Kings are wont To fear alike the doubtful and the true.

_Creon:_ Who quakes at empty fears, hath true in store. 700

_Oedipus_ Who in a fault is taken, and forgiven, Is filled with hate. Let all such dubious faith Be far from me.

_Creon:_ But thus is hatred bred.

_Oedipus:_ Nay, he who feareth hatred overmuch, Knows not the art of ruling like a king; For 'tis by fear that kings are guarded most.

_Creon:_ Who holds the scepter with tyrannic sway, 705 Doth live in fear of those who fear his power; For terror ever doth return to him Who doth inspire it.

_Oedipus_ [_to attendants_]: Hence, away with him; Deep in some rocky dungeon let him stay, While I unto the palace take my way.

[Creon _is led away by the attendants, while_ Oedipus _retires into the palace._]

_Chorus:_ Not thou the cause of these our ills; And not on thy account hath fate Attacked the house of Labdacus; 710 But 'tis the ancient wrath of heaven That still pursues our race. Castalia's grove once lent its shade Unto the Tyrian wanderer, And Dirce gave her cooling waves, What time the great Agenor's son, 715 O'er all the earth the stolen prey Of Jove pursuing, worn and spent, Within these forests knelt him down And adored the heavenly ravisher. Then by Apollo's bidding led, A wandering heifer following, 720 Upon whose neck the dragging plow, Nor the plodding wagon's curving yoke Had never rested, he his quest At last gave over, and his race From that ill-omened heifer named. From that time forth, the land of Thebes Strange monsters hath engendered: first, 725 That serpent, sprung from the valley's depths, Hissing, o'ertopped the agéd oaks And lofty pines; and higher still, Above Chaonia's woods, he reared His gleaming head, though on the ground 730 His body lay in many coils. And next the teeming earth produced An impious brood of arméd men. The battle call resounded loud From the curving horn, and the piercing notes Of the brazen trumpet shrill were heard. Their new-created, nimble tongues, 735 And voices strange, they first employ In hostile clamor; and the fields, The plains, their kindred soil, they fill. This monster brood, consorting well With that dire seed from which they sprung, Their life within a day's brief span 740 Enjoyed; for after Phoebus rose They had their birth, but ere he set They perished. At the dreadful sight Great terror seized the wanderer; And much he feared to face in war His new-born foes. Until, at length The savage youth in mutual strife 745 Fell down, and mother earth Beheld her sons, but now produced, Returned again to her embrace. And Oh, that with their fall might end All impious strife within the state! May Thebes, the land of Hercules, Such fratricidal strife behold No more! 750 Why sing Actaeon's fate, Whose brow the new-sprung antlers crowned Of the long-lived stag, and whom his hounds, Though their hapless master still, pursued? In headlong haste through the mountains and woods, He flees in fear, and with nimble feet 755 He scours the glades and rocky passes, In fear of the wind-tossed feathers hung Among the trees; but most he shuns The snares which he himself has set; Until at last in the still, smooth pool 760 He sees his horns and his features wild, The pool where the goddess, too sternly chaste, Had bathed her virgin limbs.

FOOTNOTES:

[3] Reading, _retro_.

[4] Reading, _sonantem_.

[5] Reading, _ne_.