The Seven Plays in English Verse Part 74

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 pa.s.sionate 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 pa.s.sion 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.

OED. Child, your dear pleading to your hard request Hath won me. Let this be as ye desire.

Only, my lord, if he is to come near, Let no man's power molest my liberty.

THE. I need no repet.i.tion, aged friend, Of that request. Vaunt will I not, but thou Be sure, if Heaven protect me, thou art free.

CHORUS.

Who, loving life, hath sought I 1 To outlive the appointed span, Shall be arraigned before my thought For an infatuate man.

Since the added years entail Much that is bitter,--joy Flies out of ken, desire doth fail, The longed-for moments cloy.

But when the troublous life, Be it less or more, is past, With power to end the strife Comes rescuing Death at last.

Lo! the dark bridegroom waits! No festal choir Shall grace his destined hour, no dance, no lyre!

Far best were ne'er to be, I 2 But, having seen the day, Next best by far for each to flee As swiftly as each may, Yonder from whence he came: For once let Youth be there With her light fooleries, who shall name The unnumbered brood of Care?

No trial spared, no fall!

Feuds, battles, murders, rage, Envy, and last of all, Despised, dim, friendless age!

Ay, there all evils, crowded in one room, Each at his worst of ill, augment the gloom.

Such lot is mine, and round this man of woe, II --As some grey headland of a northward sh.o.r.e Bears buffets of all-wintry winds that blow,-- New storms of Fate are bursting evermore In thundrous billows, borne Some from the waning light, Some through mid-noon, some from the rising morn, Some from the realm of Night.

ANT. Ah! Who comes here? Sure 'tis the Argive man Approaching hitherward, weeping amain.

And, father, it is he!

OED. Whom dost thou mean?

ANT. The same our thoughts have dwelt on all this while, Polynices. He is here.

POLYNICES. What shall I do?

I stand in doubt which first I should lament, My own misfortune or my father's woe, Whom here I find an outcast in his age With you, my sisters, in the stranger land, Clothed in such raiment, whose inveterate filth Horridly clings, wasting his reverend form, While the grey locks over the eye-reft brow Wave all unkempt upon the ruffling breeze.

And likewise miserable appears the store He bears to nourish that time-wasted frame.

Wretch that I am! Too late I learn the truth, And here give witness to mine own disgrace, Which is as deep as thy distress. Myself Declare it. Ask not others of my guilt.

But seeing that Zeus on his almighty throne Keeps Mercy in all he doth to counsel him, Thou, too, my father, let her plead with thee!

The evil that is done may yet be healed; It cannot be augmented. Art thou silent?

O turn not from me, father! Speak but once!

Wilt thou not answer, but with shame dismiss me Voiceless, nor make known wherefore thou art wroth?

O ye his daughters, one with me in blood, Say, will not ye endeavour to unlock The stern lips of our unrelenting sire?

Let him not thus reject in silent scorn Without response the suppliant of Heaven!

ANT. Thyself, unhappy one, say why thou camest.

Speech ofttimes, as it flows, touching some root Of pity or joy, or even of hate, hath stirred The dumb to utterance.

POL. I will tell my need:-- First claiming for protector the dread G.o.d From whose high altar he who rules this land Hath brought me under safe-guard of his power, Scatheless to speak and hear and go my way.

His word, I am well a.s.sured, will be made good, Strangers, by you, and by my sisters twain, And by our sire.--Now let me name mine errand.

I am banished, father, from our native land, Because, being elder-born, I claimed to sit Upon thy sovereign throne. For this offence Eteocles, thy younger son, exiled me, Not having won the advantage in debate Or trial of manhood, but through guileful art Gaining the people's will. Whereof I deem Thy Fury the chief author; and thereto Prophetic voices also testify.

For when I had come to Dorian Argolis, I raised, through marriage with Adrastus' child, An army bound in friendly league with me, Led by the men who in the Apian land Hold first pre-eminence and honour in war, With whose aid levying all that mighty host Of seven battalions, I have deeply sworn Either to die, or drive from Theban ground Those who such wrongs have wrought. So far, so well.

But why come hither? Father, to crave thine aid With earnest supplication for myself And for my firm allies, who at this hour, Seven leaders of seven bands embattled there, Encompa.s.s Thebe's plain. Amphiaraus, Foremost in augury, foremost in war, First wields his warlike spear. Next, Oeneus' son, Aetolian Tydeus; then Eteoclus Of Argive lineage; fourth, Hippomedon, Sent by his father Talaus, and the fifth Is Capancus, who brags he will destroy Thebe with desolating fire. The sixth, Parthonopaeus, from the Arcadian glen Comes bravely down, swift Atalanta's child, Named from his mother's lingering maidenhood Ere she conceived him. And the seventh am I, Thy son, or if not thine, but the dire birth Of evil Destiny, yet named thy son, Who lead this dauntless host from Argolis Against the Theban land. Now one and all We pray thee on our knees, conjuring thee As thou dost love these maids and thine own life, My father, to forgive me, ere I go To be revenged upon my brother there Who drave me forth and robbed me of my throne.

If aught in prophecy deserves belief, 'Tis certain, whom thou favourest, those shall win.

Now by the wells whereof our fathers drank And by the G.o.ds they worshipped, hear our prayer, Grant this pet.i.tion: since alike in woe, Alike in poverty and banishment, Partakers of one destiny, thou and I Cringe to the stranger for a dwelling place.

Whilst he at home, the tyrant, woe is me, Laughs at us both in soft luxurious pride.

Whose might, so thou wilt favour my design, I will lightly scatter in one little hour; And plant thee in thy Theban palace home Near to myself, hurling the usurper forth.

All this with thy consent I shall achieve, But without thee, I forfeit life and all.

CH. For his sake who hath brought him, Oedipus, Say what is meet, and let him go in peace.

OED. Ay, were it not the lord of all this land Theseus, that brought him to me and desired He might hear words from me,--never again Had these tones fallen upon his ear. But now That boon is granted him: he shall obtain, Ere he depart, such utterance of my tongue, As ne'er shall give him joy,--ne'er comfort thee, Villain, who when possessed of the chief power Which now thy brother holds o'er Theban land, Didst banish me, thy father, who stand here, To live in exile, clothed with such attire, That moves thy tears now that thine own estate Is fallen into like depth of struggling woe.

But tears are bootless. Howsoe'er I live, I must endure, and hold thee still my murderer.

'Tis thou hast girt me round with misery, 'Tis thou didst drive me forth, and driven by thee I beg my bread, a wandering sojourner.

Yea, had these daughters not been born to me To tend me, I were dead, for all thou hast done.

They have rescued, they have nursed me. They are men, Not women, in the strength of ministry.

Ye are another's, not my sons--For this The eye of Destiny pursues thee still Eager to light on thee with instant doom If once that army move toward the town Of ancient Thebes,--the _town_, no dearer name, 'City' or 'Country' shall beseem thy lip Till ye both fall, stained with fraternal gore Long since I launched that curse against you twain Which here again I summon to mine aid, That ye may learn what duty children owe To a parent, nor account it a light thing That ye were cruel sons to your blind sire.

These maidens did not so. Wherefore my curse Prevails against thy prayer for Thebe's throne, If ancient Zeus, the eternal lawgiver, Have primal Justice for his counsellor.

Begone, renounced and fatherless for me, And take with thee, vilest of villanous men, This imprecation:--Vain be thine attempt In levying war against thy father's race, Frustrate be thy return to Argos' vale: Die foully by a fratricidal hand And foully slay him who hath banished thee!

Further, I bid the horror breathing gloom Tartarean, of the vault that holds my sire, To banish thee from that last home: I invoke The Spirits who haunt this ground, and the fierce G.o.d Who hath filled you both with this unnatural hate.-- Go now with all this in thine ears, and tell The people of Cadmus and thy firm allies In whom thou trustest, what inheritance Oedipus hath divided to his sons.

CH. 'Tis pity for thee, prince, to have come at all; And now we bid thee go the way thou camest.

POL. Alas! Vain enterprise, and hope undone!

Oh, my poor comrades! To what fatal end I led you forth from Argos, woe is me!

I may not tell it you,--no, nor return.

In silence I must go to meet my doom.

Daughters of this inexorable sire, Since now ye have heard his cruel curse on me, Ah! in Heaven's name, my sisters, do not you Treat me despitefully, but if, one day, Our father's execration is fulfilled And ye shall be restored to Theban ground, Grace me with funeral honours and a tomb!

So shall this ample praise which ye receive For filial ministration, in that day Be more than doubled through your care for me.

ANT. Brother, I beg thee, listen to my prayer!

POL. Dearest Antigone, speak what thou wilt.

ANT. Turn back thy host to Argos with all speed, And ruin not thyself and Thebe too.

POL. Impossible. If once I shrink for fear, No longer may I lead them to the war.

ANT. But why renew thy rage? What benefit Comes to thee from o'erturning thine own land?

POL. 'Tis shameful to remain in banishment, And let my brother mock my right of birth.

ANT. Then seest thou not how true unto their aim Our father's prophecies of mutual death Against you both are sped?

POL. He speaks his wish.

'Tis not for me to yield.

ANT. O me, unhappy!

But who that hears the deep oracular sound Of his dark words, will dare to follow thee?

POL. They will not hear of danger from my mouth.

Wise generals tell of vantage, not of bale.