Crown thou the rims and both the handles crown—
With olive shoots or blocks of wool, or how?
With wool from fleece of yearling freshly shorn.
What next? how must I end the ritual?
Pour thy libation, turning to the dawn.
Pouring it from the urns whereof ye spake?
Yea, in three streams; and be the last bowl drained
To the last drop.
And wherewith shall I fill it,
Ere in its place I set it? This too tell.
With water and with honey; add no wine.
And when the embowered earth hath drunk thereof?
Then lay upon it thrice nine olive sprays
With both thy hands, and offer up this prayer.
I fain would hear it; that imports the most.
That, as we call them Gracious, they would deign
To grant the suppliant their saving grace.
So pray thyself or whoso pray for thee,
In whispered accents, not with lifted voice;
Then go and look not back. Do as I bid,
And I shall then be bold to stand thy friend;
Else, stranger, I should have my fears for thee.
Hear ye, my daughters, what these strangers say?
We listened, and attend thy bidding, father.
I cannot go, disabled as I am
Doubly, by lack of strength and lack of sight;
But one of you may do it in my stead;
For one, I trow, may pay the sacrifice
Of thousands, if his heart be leal and true.
So to your work with speed, but leave me not
Untended; for this frame is all too weak
To move without the help of guiding hand.
Then I will go perform these rites, but where
To find the spot, this have I yet to learn.
Beyond this grove; if thou hast need of aught,
The guardian of the close will lend his aid.
I go, and thou, Antigone, meanwhile
Must guard our father. In a parent’s cause
Toil, if there be toil, is of no account. Exit Ismene.
Strophe 1
Ill it is, stranger, to awake
Pain that long since has ceased to ache,
And yet I fain would hear—
What thing?
Thy tale of cruel suffering
For which no cure was found,
The fate that held thee bound.
O bid me not (as guest I claim
This grace) expose my shame.
The tale is bruited far and near,
And echoes still from ear to ear.
The truth, I fain would hear.
Ah me!
I prithee yield.
Ah me!
Grant my request, I granted all to thee.
Antistrophe 1
Know then I suffered ills most vile, but none
(So help me Heaven!) from acts in malice done.
Say how.
The State around
An all unwitting bridegroom bound
An impious marriage chain;
That was my bane.
Didst thou in sooth then share
A bed incestuous with her that bare—
It stabs me like a sword,
That two-edged word,
O stranger, but these maids—my own—
Say on.
Two daughters, curses twain.
Oh God!
Sprang from the wife and mother’s travail-pain.
Strophe 2
What, then thy offspring are at once—
Too true.
Their father’s very sister’s too.
Oh horror!
Horrors from the boundless deep
Back on my soul in refluent surges sweep.
Thou hast endured—
Intolerable woe.
And sinned—
I sinnèd not.
How so?
I served the State; would I had never won
That graceless grace by which I was undone.
Antistrophe 2
And next, unhappy man, thou hast shed blood?
Must ye hear more?
A father’s?
Flood on flood
Whelms me; that word’s a second mortal blow.
Murderer!
Yes, a murderer, but know—
What canst thou plead?
A plea of justice.
How?
I slew who else would me have slain;
I slew without intent,
A wretch, but innocent
In the law’s eye, I stand, without a stain.
Behold our sovereign, Theseus, Aegeus’ son,
Comes at thy summons to perform his part.
Oft had I heard of thee in times gone by—
The bloody mutilation of thine eyes—
And therefore know thee, son of Laius.
All that I lately gathered on the way
Made my conjecture doubly sure; and now
Thy garb and that marred visage prove to me
That thou art he. So pitying thine estate,
Most ill-starred Oedipus, I fain would know
What is the suit ye urge on me and Athens,
Thou and the helpless maiden at thy side.
Declare it; dire indeed must be the tale
Whereat I should recoil. I too was reared,
Like thee, in exile, and in foreign lands
Wrestled with many perils, no man more.
Wherefore no alien in adversity
Shall seek in vain my succour, nor shalt thou;
I know myself a mortal, and my share
In what the morrow brings no more than thine.
Theseus, thy words so apt, so generous
So comfortable, need no long reply.
Both who I am and of what lineage sprung,
And from what land I came, thou hast declared.
So without prologue I may utter now
My brief petition, and the tale is told.
Say on, and tell me what I fain would learn.
I come to offer thee this woe-worn frame,
A gift not fair to look on; yet its worth
More precious far than any outward show.
What profit dost thou proffer to have brought?
Hereafter thou shalt learn, not yet, methinks.
When may we hope to reap the benefit?
When I am dead and thou hast buried me.
Thou cravest life’s last service; all before—
Is it forgotten or of no account?
Yea, the last boon is warrant for the rest.
The grace thou cravest then is small indeed.
Nay, weigh it well; the issue is not slight.
Thou meanest that betwixt thy sons and me?
Prince, they would fain convey me back to Thebes.
If there be no compulsion, then methinks
To rest in banishment befits not thee.
Nay, when I wished it they would not consent.
For shame! such temper misbecomes the fallen.
Chide if thou wilt, but first attend my plea.
