Wast thou then sightless from thy birth?
Evil, methinks, and long
Thy pilgrimage on earth.
Yet add not curse to curse and wrong to wrong.
I warn thee, trespass not
Within this hallowed spot,
Lest thou shouldst find the silent grassy glade
Where offerings are laid,
Bowls of spring water mingled with sweet mead.
Thou must not stay,
Come, come away,
Tired wanderer, dost thou heed?
(We are far off, but sure our voice can reach.)
If aught thou wouldst beseech,
Speak where ’tis right; till then refrain from speech.
Daughter, what counsel should we now pursue?
We must obey and do as here they do.
Thy hand then!
Here, O father, is my hand,
Shall I go further?
What further still?
Lead maiden, thou canst guide him where we will.
Follow with blind steps, father, as I lead.
Stay where I now am?
Yes, advance no more.
May I sit down?
This is my office, father, O incline–
Ah me! ah me!
Thy steps to my steps, lean thine aged frame on mine.
Woe on my fate unblest!
Strangers, I have no country. O forbear–
What is it, old man, that thou wouldst conceal?
Forbear, nor urge me further to reveal–
Why this reluctance?
Dread my lineage.
What must I answer, child, ah welladay!
Say of what stock thou comest, what man’s son–
Ah me, my daughter, now we are undone!
Speak, for thou standest on the slippery verge.
I will; no plea for silence can I urge.
Will neither speak? Come, Sir, why dally thus!
Know’st one of Laius’–
Seed of Labdacus–
The hapless Oedipus.
Whate’er I utter, have no fear of me.
O wretched me!
O daughter, what will hap anon?
Forth from our borders speed ye both!
How keep you then your troth?
Heaven’s justice never smites
Him who ill with ill requites.
But if guile with guile contend,
Bane, not blessing, is the end.
Arise, begone and take thee hence straightway,
Lest on our land a heavier curse thou lay.
O what avails renown or fair repute?
Are they not vanity? For, look you, now
Athens is held of States the most devout,
Athens alone gives hospitality
And shelters the vexed stranger, so men say.
Have I found so? I whom ye dislodged
First from my seat of rock and now would drive
Forth from your land, dreading my name alone;
For me you surely dread not, nor my deeds,
Deeds of a man more sinned against than sinning,
As I might well convince you, were it meet
To tell my mother’s story and my sire’s,
The cause of this your fear. Yet am I then
A villain born because in self-defense,
Striken, I struck the striker back again?
E’en had I known, no villainy ‘twould prove:
But all unwitting whither I went, I went–
To ruin; my destroyers knew it well,
Wherefore, I pray you, sirs, in Heaven’s name,
Even as ye bade me quit my seat, defend me.
O pay not a lip service to the gods
And wrong them of their dues. Bethink ye well,
The eye of Heaven beholds the just of men,
And the unjust, nor ever in this world
Has one sole godless sinner found escape.
Stand then on Heaven’s side and never blot
Athens’ fair scutcheon by abetting wrong.
I came to you a suppliant, and you pledged
Your honor; O preserve me to the end,
O let not this marred visage do me wrong!
A holy and god-fearing man is here
Whose coming purports comfort for your folk.
And when your chief arrives, whoe’er he be,
Then shall ye have my story and know all.
Meanwhile I pray you do me no despite.
Where is he, strangers, he who sways the realm?
Aye, that he will, when once he learns thy name.
But who will bear him word!
The way is long,
And many travelers pass to speed the news.
Be sure he’ll hear and hasten, never fear;
So wide and far thy name is noised abroad,
That, were he ne’er so spent and loth to move,
He would bestir him when he hears of thee.