Midway he sat and loosed his beggar’s weeds;
Then calling to his daughters bade them fetch
Of running water, both to wash withal
And make libation; so they clomb the steep,
Demeter’s hill, who waters the green shoots;
And in brief space brought what their father bade,
Then laved and dressed him with observance due.
But when he had his will in everything,
And no desire was left unsatisfied,
It thundered from the netherworld; the maids
Shivered, and crouching at their father’s knees
Wept, beat their breast and uttered a long wail.
He, as he heard their sudden bitter cry,
Folded his arms about them both and said,
“My children, ye will lose your sire today,
For all of me has perished, and no more
Have ye to bear your long, long ministry;
A heavy load, I know, and yet one word
Wipes out all score of tribulations—love.
And love from me ye had—from no man more;
But now must live without me all your days.”
So clinging to each other sobbed and wept
Father and daughters both, but when at last
Their mourning had an end and no wail rose,
A moment there was silence; suddenly
A voice that summoned him; with sudden dread
The hair of all stood up and all were ’mazed;
For the call came, now loud, now low, and oft.
“Oedipus, Oedipus, why tarry we?
Too long, too long thy passing is delayed.”
But when he heard the summons of the god,
He prayed that Theseus might be brought, and when
The Prince came nearer: “O my friend,” he cried,
“Pledge ye my daughters, giving thy right hand—
And, daughters, give him yours—and promise me
Thou never wilt forsake them, but do all
That time and friendship prompt in their behoof.”
And he of his nobility repressed
His tears and swore to be their constant friend.
This promise given, Oedipus put forth
Blind hands and laid them on his children, saying,
“O children, prove your true nobility
And hence depart nor seek to witness sights
Unlawful or to hear unlawful words.
Nay, go with speed; let none but Theseus stay,
Our ruler, to behold what next shall hap.”
So we all heard him speak, and weeping sore
We companied the maidens on their way.
After brief space we looked again, and lo
The man was gone, evanished from our eyes;
Only the king we saw with upraised hand
Shading his eyes as from some awful sight,
That no man might endure to look upon.
A moment later, and we saw him bend
In prayer to Earth and prayer to Heaven at once.
But by what doom the stranger met his end
No man save Theseus knoweth. For there fell
No fiery bold that reft him in that hour,
Nor whirlwind from the sea, but he was taken.
It was a messenger from heaven, or else
Some gentle, painless cleaving of earth’s base;
For without wailing or disease or pain
He passed away—and end most marvellous.
And if to some my tale seems foolishness
I am content that such could count me fool.
Where are the maids and their attendant friends?
They cannot be far off; the approaching sound
Of lamentation tells they come this way.
Strophe 1
Woe, woe! on this sad day
We sisters of one blasted stock
Must bow beneath the shock,
Must weep and weep the curse that lay
On him our sire, for whom
In life, a life-long world of care
’Twas ours to bear,
In death must face the gloom
That wraps his tomb.
What tongue can tell
That sight ineffable?
What mean ye, maidens?
All is but surmise.
Is he then gone?
Gone as ye most might wish.
Not in battle or sea storm,
But reft from sight,
By hands invisible borne
To viewless fields of night.
Ah me! on us too night has come,
The night of mourning. Whither roam
O’er land or sea in our distress
Eating the bread of bitterness?
I know not. O that Death
Might nip my breath,
And let me share my aged father’s fate.
I cannot live a life thus desolate.
Best of daughters, worthy pair,
What heaven brings ye needs must bear,
Fret no more ’gainst Heaven’s will;
Fate hath dealt with you not ill.
Antistrophe 1
Love can turn past pain to bliss,
What seemed bitter now is sweet.
Ah me! that happy toil to miss,
The guidance of those dear blind feet.
Dear father, wrapt for aye in nether gloom,
E’en in the tomb
Never shalt thou lack of love repine,
Her love and mine.
His fate—
Is even as he planned.
How so?
He died, so willed he, in a foreign land.
Lapped in kind earth he sleeps his long last sleep,
And o’er his grave friends weep.
How great our lost these streaming eyes can tell,
This sorrow naught can quell.
Thou hadst thy wish ’mid strangers thus to die,
But I, ah me, not by.
Alas, my sister, what new fate
…
…
Befalls us orphans desolate?
His end was blessèd; therefore, children, stay
Your sorrow. Man is born to fate a prey.
Strophe 2
Sister, let us back again.
Why return?
My soul is fain—
Is fain?
To see the earthy bed.
Sayest thou?
Where our sire is laid.
Nay, thou can’st not; dost not see—
Sister, wherefore wroth with me?
Know’st not—beside—
More must I hear?
Tombless he died, none near.
Lead me thither; slay me there.
How shall I unhappy fare,
Friendless, helpless, how drag on
A life of misery alone?
Antistrophe 2
Fear not, maids—
Ah, whither flee?
Refuge hath been found.
For me?
Where thou shalt be safe from harm.
I know it.
Why then this alarm?
How again to get us home
I know not.
Why then roam?
Troubles whelm us—
As of yore.
Worse than what was worse before.
Sure ye are driven on the breakers’ surge.
Alas! we are.
Alas! ’tis so.
Ah whither turn, O Zeus? No ray
Of hope to cheer the way
Whereon the fates our desperate voyage urge.
Dry your tears; when grace is shed
On the quick and on the dead
By dark Powers beneficent,
Over-grief they would resent.
Aegeus’ child, to thee we pray.
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