Creon.

That had I done, for sure, save that I still
Tremble, and fain would ask Apollo’s will.

Oedipus.

His will was clear enough, to stamp the unclean
Thing out, the bloody hand, the heart of sin.

Creon.

’Twas thus he seemed to speak; but in this sore
Strait we must needs learn surer than before.

Oedipus.

Thou needs must trouble God for one so low?

Creon.

Surely; thyself will trust his answer now.

Oedipus.

I charge thee more … and, if thou fail, my sin
Shall cleave to thee. … For her who lies within,
Make as thou wilt her burial. ’Tis thy task
To tend thine own. But me: let no man ask
This ancient city of my sires to give
Harbour in life to me. Set me to live21
On the wild hills and leave my name to those
Deeps of Kithairon which my father chose,
And mother, for my vast and living tomb.
As they, my murderers, willed it, let my doom
Find me. For this my very heart doth know,
No sickness now, nor any mortal blow,
Shall slay this body. Never had my breath
Been thus kept burning in the midst of death,
Save for some frightful end. So, let my way
Go where it listeth.
     But my children—Nay,
Creon, my sons will ask thee for no care.
Men are they, and can find them everywhere
What life needs. But my two poor desolate
Maidens. … There was no table ever set
Apart for them, but whatso royal fare
I tasted, they were with me and had share
In all. … Creon, I pray, forget them not.
And if it may be, go, bid them be brought,

[Creon goes and presently returns with the two princesses. Oedipus thinks he is there all the time.

That I may touch their faces, and so weep. …
Go, Prince. Go, noble heart! …
If I might touch them, I should seem to keep
And not to have lost them, now mine eyes are gone. …
What say I?
In God’s name, can it be I hear mine own
Beloved ones sobbing? Creon of his grace
Hath brought my two, my dearest, to this place.
Is it true?

Creon.

’Tis true. I brought them, for in them I know
Thy joy is, the same now as long ago.

Oedipus.

God bless thee, and in this hard journey give
Some better guide than mine to help thee live.
    Children! Where are ye? Hither; come to these
Arms of your … brother, whose wild offices
Have brought much darkness on the once bright eyes
Of him who grew your garden; who, nowise
Seeing nor understanding, digged a ground
The world shall shudder at. Children, my wound
Is yours too, and I cannot meet your gaze
Now, as I think me what remaining days
Of bitter living the world hath for you.
What dance of damsels shall ye gather to,
What feast of Thebes, but quick ye shall turn home,
All tears, or ere the feast or dancers come?
And, children, when ye reach the years of love,
Who shall dare wed you, whose heart rise above
The peril, to take on him all the shame
That cleaves to my name and my children’s name?
God knows, it is enough! …
My flowers, ye needs must die, waste things, bereft
And fruitless.
     Creon, thou alone art left
Their father now, since both of us are gone
Who cared for them. Oh, leave them not alone
To wander masterless, these thine own kin,
And beggared. Neither think of them such sin
As ye all know in me, but let their fate
Touch thee. So young they are, so desolate—
Of all save thee. True man, give me thine hand,
And promise.

[Oedipus and Creon clasp hands.

         If your age could understand,
Children, full many counsels I could give.
But now I leave this one word: Pray to live
As life may suffer you, and find a road
To travel easier than your father trod.

Creon.

Enough thy heart hath poured its tears; now back
        into thine house repair.

Oedipus.

I dread the house, yet go I must.

Creon.

             Fair season maketh all things fair.

Oedipus.

One oath then give me, and I go.

Creon.

             Name it, and I will answer thee.

  By PanEris using Melati.

Previous chapter/page Back Home Email this Search Discuss Bookmark Next page
Copyright: All texts on Bibliomania are © Bibliomania.com Ltd, and may not be reproduced in any form without our written permission. See our FAQ for more details.