Oedipus King of Thebes Part 21

Dark words of G.o.d had made her wild.

OEDIPUS.

What words?

[Sidenote: vv. 1176-1192]

SHEPHERD.

The babe must slay his father; so 'Twas written.

OEDIPUS.

Why didst thou, then, let him go With this old man?

SHEPHERD.

O King, I pitied him.

I thought the man would save him to some dim And distant land, beyond all fear.... And he, To worse than death, did save him!... Verily, If thou art he whom this man telleth of, To sore affliction thou art born.

OEDIPUS.

Enough!

All, all, shall be fulfilled.... Oh, on these eyes Shed light no more, ye everlasting skies That know my sin! I have sinned in birth and breath.

I have sinned with Woman. I have sinned with Death.

[_He rushes into the Palace. The_ SHEPHERD _is led away by the thralls._

CHORUS.

[_Strophe._

Nothingness, nothingness, Ye Children of Man, and less I count you, waking or dreaming!

And none among mortals, none, Seeking to live, hath won More than to seem, and to cease Again from his seeming.

[Sidenote: vv. 1193-1212]

While ever before mine eyes One fate, one ensample, lies-- Thine, thine, O Oedipus, sore Of G.o.d oppressed-- What thing that is human more Dare I call blessed?

[_Antistrophe._

Straight his archery flew To the heart of living; he knew Joy and the fulness of power, O Zeus, when the riddling breath Was stayed and the Maid of Death Slain, and we saw him through The death-cloud, a tower!

For that he was called my king; Yea, every precious thing Wherewith men are honoured, down We cast before him, And great Thebes brought her crown And kneeled to adore him.

[_Strophe._

But now, what man's story is such bitterness to speak?

What life hath Delusion so visited, and Pain, And swiftness of Disaster?

O great King, our master, How oped the one haven to the slayer and the slain?

And the furrows of thy father, did they turn not nor shriek, Did they bear so long silent thy casting of the grain?

[Sidenote: vv. 1213-1235]

[_Antistrophe._

'Tis Time, Time, desireless, hath shown thee what thou art; The long monstrous mating, it is judged and all its race.

O child of him that sleepeth, Thy land weepeth, weepeth, Unfathered.... Would G.o.d, I had never seen thy face!

From thee in great peril fell peace upon my heart, In thee mine eye clouded and the dark is come apace.

[_A_ MESSENGER _rushes out from the Palace._

MESSENGER.

O ye above this land in honour old Exalted, what a tale shall ye be told, What sights shall see, and tears of horror shed, If still your hearts be true to them that led Your sires! There runs no river, well I ween, Not Phasis nor great Ister, shall wash clean This house of all within that hideth--nay, Nor all that creepeth forth to front the day, Of purposed horror. And in misery That woundeth most which men have willed to be.

LEADER.

No lack there was in what we knew before Of food for heaviness. What bring'st thou more?

MESSENGER.

One thing I bring thee first.... 'Tis quickly said.

Jocasta, our anointed queen, is dead.

[Sidenote: vv. 1236-1260]

LEADER.

Unhappy woman! How came death to her?

MESSENGER.

By her own hand.... Oh, of what pa.s.sed in there Ye have been spared the worst. Ye cannot see.

Howbeit, with that which still is left in me Of mind and memory, ye shall hear her fate.

Like one entranced with pa.s.sion, through the gate She pa.s.sed, the white hands flashing o'er her head, Like blades that tear, and fled, unswerving fled, Toward her old bridal room, and disappeared And the doors crashed behind her. But we heard Her voice within, crying to him of old, Her Laus, long dead; and things untold Of the old kiss unforgotten, that should bring The lover's death and leave the loved a thing Of horror, yea, a field beneath the plough For sire and son: then wailing bitter-low Across that bed of births unreconciled, Husband from husband born and child from child.

And, after that, I know not how her death Found her. For sudden, with a roar of wrath, Burst Oedipus upon us. Then, I ween, We marked no more what pa.s.sion held the Queen, But him, as in the fury of his stride, "A sword! A sword! And show me here," he cried, "That wife, no wife, that field of bloodstained earth Where husband, father, sin on sin, had birth, Polluted generations!" While he thus Raged on, some G.o.d--for sure 'twas none of us-- Showed where she was; and with a shout away, As though some hand had pointed to the prey,

[Sidenote: vv. 1261-1286]

He dashed him on the chamber door. The straight Door-bar of oak, it bent beneath his weight, Shook from its sockets free, and in he burst To the dark chamber.

There we saw her first Hanged, swinging from a noose, like a dead bird.

He fell back when he saw her. Then we heard A miserable groan, and straight he found And loosed the strangling knot, and on the ground Laid her.--Ah, then the sight of horror came!

The pin of gold, broad-beaten like a flame, He tore from off her breast, and, left and right, Down on the shuddering orbits of his sight Dashed it: "Out! Out! Ye never more shall see Me nor the anguish nor the sins of me.

Ye looked on lives whose like earth never bore, Ye knew not those my spirit thirsted for: Therefore be dark for ever!"

Like a song His voice rose, and again, again, the strong And stabbing hand fell, and the ma.s.sacred And bleeding eyeb.a.l.l.s streamed upon his beard, Wild rain, and gouts of hail amid the rain.

Behold affliction, yea, afflictions twain From man and woman broken, now made one In downfall. All the riches yester sun Saw in this house were rich in verity.

What call ye now our riches? Agony, Delusion, Death, Shame, all that eye or ear Hath ever dreamed of misery, is here.