ACT V
_Messenger:_ When Oedipus his impious race perceived, 915 And saw the warning fates had been fulfilled; When on a hideous charge he stood condemned; Then, with a deadly purpose in his breast, Did he approach his palace, and in haste Beneath those hated battlements he went. And as a lion rages o'er the sands, And, threat'ning, tosses back his tawny mane; 920 So Oedipus advanced with blazing eyes, And stern, mad face, while hollow groans burst forth, And from his limbs there dripped a chilling sweat. He foams and vents a stream of threat'ning words, And from his heart his mighty grief o'erflows. He in his madness seeks against himself 925 Some heavy penalty and like his fate. "Why do I wait for punishment?" he cries; "Let my guilty heart with hostile sword be pierced, Or overwhelmed with flames or crushing rocks! Oh, for a tiger or some bird of prey, To rend my tender flesh! Do thou thyself, Who hast beheld full many deeds of blood, 930 O cursed Cithaeron, from thy forests send Thy wild beasts 'gainst me or thy greedy dogs. Oh, that Agave were returned to earth! But thou, my soul, why dost thou shrink from death? For death alone can make thee innocent." So spake he, and his impious hand he laid 935 Upon the hilt and drew his glittering sword. "And dost thou, then, with this brief punishment Expect to pay thy mighty debt of guilt, And with one blow wilt balance all thy sins? Thy death would satisfy thy murdered sire; But what to appease thy mother wilt thou do, And those thy children, shamefully begot? What recompense canst make unto thy land, 940 Which for thy sin is smit with pestilence? Such debts as these thou canst not pay by death. Let Nature, who, in Oedipus alone, Strange births devising, hath her laws o'erturned, Subvert herself again to punish him. Let it be mine, in never-ending round, 945 To live and die, and to be born again, That for my crimes by never-ending pain I may atone. Now use thy wit, poor soul. Since by repeated death thou canst not die, Choose then some form of lingering death in life, Some way by which, not numbered with the dead, Nor yet the living, thou mayst linger on. 950 So die, that in thy death thou mayst remain Without the land wherein thy father dwells. O soul, why dost thou hesitate?" And then A sudden stream of tears o'erspread his face, And wet his cheeks. "And can my tears suffice? Too long my eyes these useless showers have poured; 955 Nay, let them follow where the tears have flowed, From out their sockets driven. O gods of wedlock, Is this enough? These eyes must be removed." He spoke with frenzied rage; and all the while His cheeks were flaming with a dangerous light, And his starting eyeballs strained to leave their seats. His face was full of passion, fierce resolve. 960 Groaning he thrust his hands into his eyes; And those fierce eyes stood forth to meet his hands, And eager followed of their own accord Their kindred hands, as courting that deep wound. Deep in with hookéd fingers he explores, 965 And rends his eyeballs from their deepest roots. Still stays his hands within those empty seats, And tears the hollow sockets with his nails, With savage joy, with vain and endless rage; 970 So great[6] his fear and hatred of the light. He lifts his head, and with those empty eyes The heavens surveying, tests his darkened sight. Whatever from his mangled eyes still hangs, He tears away, and now in triumph cries To all the gods: "Oh, spare my country now, 975 I pray; for I have done what must be done, And I have paid the penalty I owed. Now have I found at last a fitting night To match my impious wedlock." As he speaks, His face is watered by a hideous shower, As the blood flows streaming from his ruptured veins.
_Chorus:_ By fate we're driven; then yield to fate. 980 No anxious, brooding care can change The thread of destiny that falls From that grim spindle of the Fates. Whate'er we mortals suffer here, Whate'er we do, all hath its birth In that deep realm of mystery. Stern Lachesis her distaff whirls, 985 Spinning the threads of mortal men, But with no backward-turning hand. All things in ordered pathways go; And on our natal day was fixed Our day of death. Not God himself Can change the current of our lives, Which bears its own compelling force 990 Within itself. Each life goes on In order fixed and absolute, Unmoved by prayer. Nay fear itself Has been by many found a bane; For, while they sought to shun their fate, They came upon it in their flight. But now the palace gates resound, and see, 995 The sightless king himself, with none to guide, Takes hitherward his blind and groping way.
[_Enter_ Oedipus.]
_Oedipus:_ Now all is well and finished; to my sire I've paid the debt I owed. How sweet these shades! What god, at length appeased, hath wrapped my head In a pall of darkness, and my crimes forgiven? 1000 Now have I 'scaped the conscious eye of day; And nothing dost thou owe, O parricide, To thine avenging hand. Thy sight is gone, And such a countenance becomes thee well.
[_Enter_ Jocasta.]
_Chorus:_ See where with hurried step Jocasta comes, Beside herself and overcome with grief; 1005 As when in maddened rage that Theban dame Her son's head tore away and realized What she had done. She wavers, longs to speak To that afflicted one, and fears to speak. Now shame at last has yielded to her grief, And with a faltering tongue she speaks to him.
_Jocasta:_ What shall I call thee? Son? Dost shun that name? Thou art my son; thy shame confesseth it. 1010 And yet, O son, though all unwilling, speak. Why dost thou turn away thy sightless face?
_Oedipus:_ Who now forbids me to enjoy my night? Who gives me back mine eyes? My mother's voice! Oh, awful sound! Now is my labor vain. Stay where thou art! Each step is impious. Let boundless seas our guilty souls divide, 1015 And lands remote; and if beneath this land Some other hangs, beholding other stars, May that far country one of us receive.
_Jocasta:_ What thou deplorest is the fault of fate. A fated crime can leave no stain of sin.
_Oedipus:_ Now cease thy words, O mother, spare my ears, 1020 By these poor remnants of my mangled form, By that unhallowed offspring of my blood, And all that in the double names we bear Is right and wrong!
_Jocasta [to herself]:_ Why art thou listless now, O soul of mine? Since thou hast shared his guilt, Why hesitate to share his punishment? 1025 The beauty of all human intercourse Has fallen into ruin for thy sake, Confused and lost, O wretch incestuous. Not if the father of the gods himself Should hurl at me his glittering thunderbolts, Could I for my foul crimes atonement make, 1030 Since I the name of mother have profaned. Now death is welcome, but the way of death Must I consider. [_To_ Oedipus.] Come, thou parricide, And lift thy hand against thy mother too. This act is wanting to complete thy work. [_To herself._] Now let the sword be drawn. By this good blade Was Laius, my husband, slain--not so; 1035 My husband's father, by his rightful name! Shall I this weapon plunge into my breast, Or thrust it deep within my waiting neck? Nay, nay: thou know'st not how to choose a place. Strike here, O hand, through this capacious womb, Which (horrible!) the son and husband bore.
[_She stabs herself and falls dead._]
_Chorus:_ She lies in death, her failing hand relaxed; 1040 And spouting streams of blood drive out the sword.
_Oedipus:_ O fate-revealer, thee do I upbraid, Thou god and guardian of the oracles. My father only was I doomed to slay; But now, twice parricide and past my fears, Have I been guilty, and my mother slain. For 'tis by sin of mine that she is dead. 1045 O lying Phoebus, now have I outdone The impious fates. With apprehensive feet Let me go out upon my darkened way, Planting my footsteps with a faltering tread, And through the darkness grope with trembling hands. Stay not thy flight, speed thy uncertain steps-- 1050 But hold! lest on thy mother's corse thou tread. O Thebans, weak and smitten sore with ills, Whose hearts are fainting in your breasts, behold, I flee, I go: lift up your drooping heads. A milder sky and sweeter air shall come When I am gone. Whoever still retains 1055 His feeble life may now inhale the air In deep, life-giving draughts. Go, lend your aid To those who were to certain death resigned; For with me in my exile do I bear All pestilential humors of the land. Then come, ye blasting Fates and mad Despair, Thou deadly Pestilence, come, come with me; 1060 With such a company 'tis sweet to flee!
[_Exit._]
FOOTNOTES:
[6] Reading, _tantum_.
PHOENISSAE, OR THEBAÏS
A FRAGMENT
PHOENISSAE, OR THEBAÏS
A FRAGMENT DRAMATIS PERSONAE
_Oedipus_ Late king of Thebes.
_Antigone_ Daughter of Oedipus, constant to him in his misfortunes.
_Jocasta_ Wife and mother of Oedipus.
_Polynices_ } _Eteocles_ } Sons of Oedipus and rivals for the throne.
_Messenger_
THE SCENE is laid, first in the wild country to which Oedipus, accompanied by Antigone, has betaken himself; then in Thebes, and lastly in the plain before Thebes.
THE TIME is three years after the great tragedy of Oedipus.
_The stroke of fate, that has been threatening Oedipus since long before his birth, has fallen at last, and he has done the thing he feared to do. And now, self-blinded and self-exiled from his land, he has for three years wandered in rough and trackless places, attended by Antigone, his daughter, who, alone of all his friends, has condoned his fated sins and remained attached to him._
_Meanwhile his sons, though they agreed to reign alternate years, are soon to meet in deadly strife; for Eteocles, although his year of royal power is at an end, refuses to give up the throne; and now Polynices, who has in exile wed the daughter of Adrastus, king of Argos, is marching against the gates of Thebes, with seven great armies, to enforce his rights._
[_By a different version from the "Oedipus," Jocasta did not slay herself at once as in that tale, but still is living on in grief and shame, and strives to reconcile her sons._]