Oedipus at Colonus

Enter the blind Oedipus led by his daughter, Antigone.

Oedipus

Child of an old blind sire, Antigone, What region, say, whose city have we reached? Who will provide today with scanted dole This wanderer? ’Tis little that he craves, And less obtains⁠—that less enough for me; For I am taught by suffering to endure, And the long years that have grown old with me, And last not least, by true nobility. My daughter, if thou seest a resting place On common ground or by some sacred grove, Stay me and set me down. Let us discover Where we have come, for strangers must inquire Of denizens, and do as they are bid.

Antigone

Long-suffering father, Oedipus, the towers That fence the city still are faint and far; But where we stand is surely holy ground; A wilderness of laurel, olive, vine; Within a choir or songster nightingales Are warbling. On this native seat of rock Rest; for an old man thou hast travelled far.

Oedipus

Guide these dark steps and seat me there secure.

Antigone

If time can teach, I need not to be told.

Oedipus

Stern-visaged queens, since coming to this land First in your sanctuary I bent the knee, Frown not on me or Phoebus, who, when erst He told me all my miseries to come, Spake of this respite after many years, Some haven in a far-off land, a rest Vouchsafed at last by dread divinities. “There,” said he, “shalt thou round thy weary life, A blessing to the land wherein thou dwell’st, But to the land that cast thee forth, a curse.” And of my weird he promised signs should come, Earthquake, or thunderclap, or lightning flash. And now I recognise as yours the sign That led my wanderings to this your grove; Else had I never lighted on you first, A wineless man on you loathe the grape, Or set me on your seat of native rock. O goddesses, fulfil Apollo’s word, Grant me some consummation of my life, If haply I appear not all too vile, A thrall to sorrow worse than any slave. Hear, gentle daughters of primeval Night, Hear, namesake of great Pallas; Athens, first Of cities, pity this dishonoured shade, The ghost of him who once was Oedipus.

Antigone

Hush! for I see some grey-beards on their way, Their errand to spy out our resting-place.

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 so found it? 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-defence, 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 honour; 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.

Oedipus

Dear son of Aegeus, to the gods alone Is given immunity from eld and death; But nothing else escapes all-ruinous time. Earth’s might decays, the might of men decays, Honour grows cold, dishonour flourishes, There is no constancy ’twixt friend and friend, Or city and city; be it soon or late, Sweet turns to bitter, hate once more to love. If now ’tis sunshine betwixt Thebes and thee And not a cloud, Time in his endless course Gives birth to endless days and nights, wherein The merest nothing shall suffice to cut With serried spears your bonds of amity. Then shall my slumbering and buried corpse In its cold grave drink their warm life-blood up, If Zeus be Zeus and Phoebus still speak true. No more: ’tis ill to tear aside the veil Of mysteries; let me cease as I began: Enough if thou wilt keep thy plighted troth, Then shalt thou ne’er complain that Oedipus Proved an unprofitable and thankless guest, Except the gods themselves shall play me false.

Chorus

The man, my lord, has from the very first Declared his power to offer to our land These and like benefits.

Hence, stranger, hence avaunt! Thou doest wrong In this, and wrong in all that thou hast done.

Creon

To his guards.

’Tis time by force to carry off the girl, If she refuse of her free will to go.

Antigone

Ah, woe is me! where shall I fly, where find Succour from gods or men?

Chorus

What would’st thou, stranger?

Creon

I meddle not with him, but her who is mine.

Oedipus

O princes of the land!

Chorus

Sir, thou dost wrong.

Creon

Nay, right.

Chorus

How right?

Creon

I take but what is mine.

Oedipus

Help, Athens!

Chorus

What means this, sirrah? quick unhand her, or We’ll fight it out.

Creon

Back!

Chorus

Not till thou forbear.

Creon

’Tis war with Thebes if I am touched or harmed.

Oedipus

Did I not warn thee?

Chorus

Quick, unhand the maid!

Creon

Command your minions; I am not your slave.

Chorus

Desist, I bid thee.

Creon

To the guard.

And I bid thee march!

Chorus

To the rescue, one and all! Rally, neighbours to my call! See, the foe is at the gate! Rally to defend the State.

Antigone

Ah, woe is me, they drag me hence, O friends.

Oedipus

Where art thou, daughter?

Antigone

Haled along by force.

Oedipus

Thy hands, my child!

Antigone

They will not let me, father.

Creon

Away with her!

Oedipus

Ah, woe is me, ah woe!

Creon

So those two crutches shall no longer serve thee For further roaming. Since it pleaseth thee To triumph o’er thy country and thy friends Who mandate, though a prince, I here discharge, Enjoy thy triumph; soon or late thou’lt