thought
For the blind stranger as to come himself?
CHORUS
Aye, that he will, when once he learns thy name.
OEDIPUS
But who will bear him word!
CHORUS
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.
OEDIPUS
Well, may he come with blessing to his State
And me! Who serves his neighbor serves himself.
[5]
ANTIGONE
Zeus! What is this? What can I say or think?
OEDIPUS
What now, Antigone?
ANTIGONE
I see a woman
Riding upon a colt of Aetna's breed;
She wears for headgear a Thessalian hat
To shade her from the sun. Who can it be?
She or a stranger? Do I wake or dream?
'This she; 'tis not—I cannot tell, alack;
It is no other! Now her bright'ning glance
Greets me with recognition, yes, 'tis she,
Herself, Ismene!
OEDIPUS
Ha! what say ye, child?
ANTIGONE
That I behold thy daughter and my sister,
And thou wilt know her straightway by her voice.
(Enter ISMENE)
ISMENE
Father and sister, names to me most sweet,
How hardly have I found you, hardly now
When found at last can see you through my tears!
OEDIPUS
Art come, my child?
ISMENE
O father, sad thy plight!
OEDIPUS
Child, thou art here?
ISMENE
Yes, 'twas a weary way.
OEDIPUS
Touch me, my child.
ISMENE
I give a hand to both.
OEDIPUS
O children—sisters!
ISMENE
O disastrous plight!
OEDIPUS
Her plight and mine?
ISMENE
Aye, and my own no less.
OEDIPUS
What brought thee, daughter?
ISMENE
Father, care for thee.
OEDIPUS
A daughter's yearning?
ISMENE
Yes, and I had news
I would myself deliver, so I came
With the one thrall who yet is true to me.
OEDIPUS
Thy valiant brothers, where are they at need?
ISMENE
They are—enough, 'tis now their darkest hour.
OEDIPUS
Out on the twain! The thoughts and actions all
Are framed and modeled on Egyptian ways.
For there the men sit at the loom indoors
While the wives slave abroad for daily bread.
So you, my children—those whom I behooved
To bear the burden, stay at home like girls,
While in their stead my daughters moil and drudge,
Lightening their father's misery. The one
Since first she grew from girlish feebleness
To womanhood has been the old man's guide
And shared my weary wandering, roaming oft
Hungry and footsore through wild forest ways,
In drenching rains and under scorching suns,
Careless herself of home and ease, if so
Her sire might have her tender ministry.
And thou, my child, whilom thou wentest forth,
Eluding the Cadmeians' vigilance,
To bring thy father all the oracles
Concerning Oedipus, and didst make thyself
My faithful lieger, when they banished me.
And now what mission summons thee from home,
What news, Ismene, hast thou for thy father?
This much I know, thou com'st not empty-handed,
Without a warning of some new alarm.
ISMENE
The toil and trouble, father, that I bore
To find thy lodging-place and how thou faredst,
I spare thee; surely 'twere a double pain
To suffer, first in act and then in telling;
'Tis the misfortune of thine ill-starred sons
I come to tell thee. At the first they willed
To leave the throne to Creon, minded well
Thus to remove the inveterate curse of old,
A canker that infected all thy race.
But now some god and an infatuate soul
Have stirred betwixt them a mad rivalry
To grasp at sovereignty and kingly power.
Today the hot-branded youth, the younger born,
Is keeping Polyneices from the throne,
His elder, and has thrust him from the land.
The banished brother (so all Thebes reports)
Fled to the vale of Argos, and by help
Of new alliance there and friends in arms,
Swears he will stablish Argos straight as lord
Of the Cadmeian land, or, if he fail,
Exalt the victor to the stars of heaven.
This is no empty tale, but deadly truth,
My father; and how long thy agony,
Ere the gods pity thee, I cannot tell.
OEDIPUS
Hast thou indeed then entertained a hope
The gods at last will turn and rescue me?
ISMENE
Yea, so I
For the blind stranger as to come himself?
CHORUS
Aye, that he will, when once he learns thy name.
OEDIPUS
But who will bear him word!
CHORUS
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.
OEDIPUS
Well, may he come with blessing to his State
And me! Who serves his neighbor serves himself.
[5]
ANTIGONE
Zeus! What is this? What can I say or think?
OEDIPUS
What now, Antigone?
ANTIGONE
I see a woman
Riding upon a colt of Aetna's breed;
She wears for headgear a Thessalian hat
To shade her from the sun. Who can it be?
She or a stranger? Do I wake or dream?
'This she; 'tis not—I cannot tell, alack;
It is no other! Now her bright'ning glance
Greets me with recognition, yes, 'tis she,
Herself, Ismene!
OEDIPUS
Ha! what say ye, child?
ANTIGONE
That I behold thy daughter and my sister,
And thou wilt know her straightway by her voice.
(Enter ISMENE)
ISMENE
Father and sister, names to me most sweet,
How hardly have I found you, hardly now
When found at last can see you through my tears!
OEDIPUS
Art come, my child?
ISMENE
O father, sad thy plight!
OEDIPUS
Child, thou art here?
ISMENE
Yes, 'twas a weary way.
OEDIPUS
Touch me, my child.
ISMENE
I give a hand to both.
OEDIPUS
O children—sisters!
ISMENE
O disastrous plight!
OEDIPUS
Her plight and mine?
ISMENE
Aye, and my own no less.
OEDIPUS
What brought thee, daughter?
ISMENE
Father, care for thee.
OEDIPUS
A daughter's yearning?
ISMENE
Yes, and I had news
I would myself deliver, so I came
With the one thrall who yet is true to me.
OEDIPUS
Thy valiant brothers, where are they at need?
ISMENE
They are—enough, 'tis now their darkest hour.
OEDIPUS
Out on the twain! The thoughts and actions all
Are framed and modeled on Egyptian ways.
For there the men sit at the loom indoors
While the wives slave abroad for daily bread.
So you, my children—those whom I behooved
To bear the burden, stay at home like girls,
While in their stead my daughters moil and drudge,
Lightening their father's misery. The one
Since first she grew from girlish feebleness
To womanhood has been the old man's guide
And shared my weary wandering, roaming oft
Hungry and footsore through wild forest ways,
In drenching rains and under scorching suns,
Careless herself of home and ease, if so
Her sire might have her tender ministry.
And thou, my child, whilom thou wentest forth,
Eluding the Cadmeians' vigilance,
To bring thy father all the oracles
Concerning Oedipus, and didst make thyself
My faithful lieger, when they banished me.
And now what mission summons thee from home,
What news, Ismene, hast thou for thy father?
This much I know, thou com'st not empty-handed,
Without a warning of some new alarm.
ISMENE
The toil and trouble, father, that I bore
To find thy lodging-place and how thou faredst,
I spare thee; surely 'twere a double pain
To suffer, first in act and then in telling;
'Tis the misfortune of thine ill-starred sons
I come to tell thee. At the first they willed
To leave the throne to Creon, minded well
Thus to remove the inveterate curse of old,
A canker that infected all thy race.
But now some god and an infatuate soul
Have stirred betwixt them a mad rivalry
To grasp at sovereignty and kingly power.
Today the hot-branded youth, the younger born,
Is keeping Polyneices from the throne,
His elder, and has thrust him from the land.
The banished brother (so all Thebes reports)
Fled to the vale of Argos, and by help
Of new alliance there and friends in arms,
Swears he will stablish Argos straight as lord
Of the Cadmeian land, or, if he fail,
Exalt the victor to the stars of heaven.
This is no empty tale, but deadly truth,
My father; and how long thy agony,
Ere the gods pity thee, I cannot tell.
OEDIPUS
Hast thou indeed then entertained a hope
The gods at last will turn and rescue me?
ISMENE
Yea, so I
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