* 
 
 
 
P/V 3 
 
 . /\xA7 
 

 . 
 
THE ATHENIAN DRAMA 
 
 A Series of Verse Translations from the Greek Dramatic 
 Poets, with Commentaries and Explanatory 
 Essays, for English Readers 
 
 VOL. II 
 
 SOPHOCLE S 
 
UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, gilt top, Js. 6d. each, net. 
 Each Volume Illustrated from ancient Sculptures 
 and Painting. 
 
 Volume I 
 
 AESCHYLUS : The Ores lean Trilogy. By Prof. 
 Warr. With an Introduction on The Rise 
 of Greek Tragedy, and 13 Illustrations. 
 
 Volume III 
 
 EURIPIDES: Hippolytus ; Bacchae; Aristo¬ 
 phanes’ Frogs. By Prof. Gilbert Murray. 
 With an Appendix on the Lost Tragedies of 
 Euripides, and an Introduction on the Signifi¬ 
 cance of The Bacchae in Athenian History, and 
 12 Illustrations and Painting. Fourth Edition. 
 
% 
 
 
 
 
 
Allen & Co. Sc 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 TRANSLATED AND EXPLAINED BY 
 
 JOHN SWINNERTON PHILLIMORE, M.A. 
 
 PROFESSOR OF GREEK IN THE UNIVERSITY OF GLASGOW 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 SECOND EDITION 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO. 
 
 LONDON : GEORGE ALLEN & COMPANY, LTD. 
 
 1912 
 
 [All rights reserved] 
 
 IO f 1 IMIMI LIBRARY 
 
 BILL. W ' - 
 
Printed in Great Britain 
 
 n 
 
 Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson <5r> Co. 
 At the Ballantyne Press, Edinburgh 
 
PREFACE 
 
 “ If, because of the immense fame of the following Tragedy , 1 
 wished to acquaint myself with it, and could only do so by the 
 help oj a translator, I should require him to be literal at every 
 cost save that of absolute violence to our language. ... I 
 would be tolerant for once—in the case of so immensely famous 
 an original—of even a clumsy attempt to furnish me with the 
 very turn of each phrase in as Greek a fashion as English will 
 bear.” —Browning : Preface to the translation of Aga¬ 
 memnon. 
 
 “ Car . . . une methode , seule, exisle, honnete et logique , de 
 traduction : la litteralite impersonnelle a peine attenuee pour juste 
 le rapide pH de paupiere et savourer longuement. . . . Elle 
 produit, suggestive, la plus grande puissance litteraire. Elle 
 fait le plaisir evocatoire. Elle recree en indiquant. Elle est 
 le plus sur garant de verite. Elle plonge , ferme, en sa nudite 
 de pierre. Elle fleure Vdrome primitif et le cristallise. Elle 
 devide et delie. . . . Elle fxe. Certes si la litteralite enchaine 
 Vesprit divaguant et le dompte , elle arrete Pinfernale facilite de 
 la plume.” —Un mot du traducteur a ses amis, J. C. 
 Mardrus. Preface to the Arabian Nights. 
 
 1 HAVE prefixed as the phylactery of this 
 book these two quotations ; but there are 
 one or two other matters of which the reader 
 (or he that keeps the reader’s conscience) may 
 expect that some account be given. Firstly, 
 
 V 
 
VI 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 why rhymed couplets instead of the traditional 
 blank verse ? 
 
 I will not cite Dryden in defence of the 
 rhymed couplet for dramatic verse, because I 
 might be answered with Dryden’s recantation. 
 The great difficulty of English blank verse 
 might be excuse enough ; but if a translator 
 meekly confesses, “ I cannot write blank verse” 
 the critic, unappeased, may retort, “ Then don't 
 translate Sophocles! ” 
 
 But in truth I hold that the rhymed and not 
 the blank verse is nearer the Sophoclean pitch 
 of language. Sophocles moves, by predilection, 
 in the middle diction, which is common ground 
 to the poetical and the prose style; his dia¬ 
 logue is colloquially plain and direct; in King 
 I CEdipus especially his vocabulary resembles that 
 which Antiphon employed in prose to plead his 
 cases, real or imaginary. Now English blank 
 verse must (to my thinking) be always in full 
 dress if it is to succeed—perpetually sonorous, 
 balanced, aloof from the ordinary. True, 
 Byron’s noble dramatic verse is unrhymed, but 
 too rhetorical for Sophocles, who is (with 
 ^ rare exceptions) notably pure from rhetoric. 
 Wordsworth tried to abolish the distinction 
 between verse and prose ; we may bless him for 
 easing poetical diction, but most of his blank 
 verse might conveniently be printed as prose. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 • * 
 
 Vll 
 
 The rhymed couplet gives a perpetual reser¬ 
 vation within which to approximate, as near as 
 may be, to prose. With Chaucer, Dryden, 
 Pope, Keats, Shelley, and the Victorians before 
 us, what bounds can we set to the aptitude of 
 this metre ? The eighteenth century had tied 
 it up in antithetical, epigrammatic bondage, but 
 a hundred years of reaction have freed it again. 
 So Ovid killed the elegiac couplet in Latin for 
 all purposes but wit; only, in Latin, no poet 
 arose to revive it. Between the dry, tense 
 brilliance of Pope’s couplet and the moribund 
 wateriness of William Morris’ archaistic rhym¬ 
 ing, there is room for ease or elevation, flow 
 or retort, argument and narrative, music and 
 cleverness ; the couplet is capable of all the 
 grandeur of blank verse, and yet through all 
 colloquialism of diction or construction the 
 rhyme is present to reassure the ear. Perhaps 
 to confess an ambition is only to offer an 
 estimate of one’s own failure ; however, I will 
 confess that I have often coveted the joyous 
 brilliancy and unembarrassed current of Ros¬ 
 tand’s dramatic verse ; and I still believe that, 
 given our five foot couplet for the French 
 Alexandrine, a like success is feasible in English, 
 though sadly far from realised in these pages. 
 
 Next, the matter of Choruses. The late 
 Mr. Warr in his companion volume of 
 
Vlll 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 Aeschylus adopted the device of “ rhythmical 
 prose.” Perhaps it is foolhardy to attempt 
 more. But I felt that my rhymed couplets 
 prohibited me from leaving the choruses to 
 prose even “ rhythmical ” ; and, I confess, was 
 not content with giving the lyrics of Sophocles 
 the air of an irresponsible canticle modelled 
 on some jingle from Hymns Ancient and Modern 
 interpolated in the midst of dramatic action. 
 
 “ Changing passions , and numbers changing 
 with those passions , make the whole secret of 
 Western as well as Eastern poetry ,” says Gold¬ 
 smith’s ingenious Chinaman. And if the 
 words were married by the poet to a rhythm 
 dochmiac, logacedic, glyconic, anapaestic, as 
 the case may be, surely (in obedience to the 
 text on my phylactery) the translator’s task 
 must be to produce such words as might con¬ 
 veniently be chanted to the poet’s music (if by 
 some divine accident the sands of Egypt should 
 ever restore it), or to a modern music which 
 should observe the same rhythm. It would 
 be idle to hope that my choruses will afford 
 the reader a pleasure bearing any tolerable 
 proportion to the extreme labour spent upon 
 them ; but I felt myself in honesty bound to 
 hazard this system for representing (to such 
 a reader as Browning imagines) what kind of 
 thing a Sophoclean chorus is. I need not 
 
PREFACE 
 
 IX 
 
 weary him by explaining the various treat¬ 
 ments I have experimented upon in the met¬ 
 rical pauses or rests which make the Greek 
 cadence, especially in the penultimate of the 
 lyric period. 
 
 I have sometimes taken the licence to rhyme 
 across from Turn (strophe) to Counter-turn (anti¬ 
 strophe), but after King CEdipus this plan has 
 been abandoned. 
 
 Lastly, obligations. A naturally thievish 
 memory has forbidden me to look at other 
 verse translations of my author; but by the 
 high value of his critical contributions to 
 Sophoclean study, I can judge how great is 
 my loss in the case of Mr. Whitelaw’s version. 
 I owe it to Sir Richard Jebb that so little 
 commentary is needed to this volume; and 
 what little there is, is in great measure a debt 
 to him also. His great edition is so complete 
 and judicious that for many years to come all 
 Sophoclean criticism must be expressed in 
 terms of differing or agreeing with him. I 
 have only departed from his view in three or 
 four passages; and having his translation per¬ 
 force before me, where it offered the one 
 right word to render the Greek or to suit 
 the metre, I have not avoided the sin of plagi¬ 
 arism ; but I hope my loans will not be judged 
 excessive in this particular. 
 
X 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 But (as in sermons) even “ lastly ” is not the 
 end : there is one matter more. 
 
 Goldsmith’s ingenious Chinaman—to quote 
 him once again—is demonstrated by the Eng¬ 
 lish writer of Eastern Tales to be no China¬ 
 man at all, and to “ have nothing of the true 
 Eastern manner in his delivery.” The Orien¬ 
 talist then proceeds to detail the ingredients 
 of the “ true manner,” and among them boasts, 
 “ I have used thee and thou upon all occasions.” 
 So, too, our English classical convention, to 
 the great misappreciation, I believe, of certain 
 Greek authors. 
 
 If I am right in my estimate of the pitch 
 of Sophocles’ manner, then the indiscriminate 
 use of thee and thou is ruled out by his delibe¬ 
 rate approximation to the prose diction of his 
 day; as for the discriminate use, an Age of 
 Progress has unhappily shorn our language 
 of this beautiful resource and given it to the 
 Quakers. There are many verbs quite within 
 the modern poetical range, which become un¬ 
 couth when they are written in the second 
 person singular, from the general disuse of that 
 inflection. In the lyrics the case stands differ¬ 
 ently ; the I wot and I ween style of English 
 not unfairly renders the strange convention of 
 dialect and diction which governs the Tragic 
 Chorus; and any extravagance is justified 
 
PREFACE 
 
 XI 
 
 by the original. “ In no other instance does 
 antiquity appear to me to have played the fool so 
 much as in this sort of choruses , in which eloquence 
 was debased by an excessive affectation of novelty , 
 and in aiming at verbal miracles all grasp of reality 
 was lost." 
 
 A harsh judgment, and conditioned perhaps 
 by defective texts; yet not the judgment of a 
 flippant schoolboy, but of the great Erasmus. 
 
 J. S. P. 
 
 Glasgow, June 1902. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Preface . . 
 
 List of Illustrations 
 Introduction 
 
 Translation— 
 
 CEdipus Tyrannus . 
 CEdipus Coloneus 
 Antigone 
 
 Commentary 
 
 Index . 
 
 PACK 
 
 • e o ft V 
 
 . o . * XV 
 
 ft ft . . xvii 
 
 • • • • x 
 
 • • • • 
 
 • • • • J 37 
 
 • e 1 - 201 
 
 £ o o . 2 13 
 
 xm 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 it 
 
 Types of Greek Cavalry .... Cover 
 
 A group from the Forman Vase in the British 
 Museum. 5th century b.c. 
 
 Sophocles Photogravure Frontispiece 
 
 From a marble bust in the British Museum. The 
 original, of which this is an ancient copy, 
 was probably of the 5th century b.c. 
 
 CEdipus and the Sphinx .... Page 18 
 
 From a painting in the interior of a cup in the 
 Museo Gregoriano in Rome. (The letters 
 KaiTpi[Trovv, issuing from the Sphinx’ mouth, 
 are part of the riddle. 
 
 Teiresias before CEdipus . . . . 34 
 
 From a vase formerly in Naples. 4th century b.c. 
 
 Finding of CEdipus by Euphorbos . . ,, 53 
 
 From a vase formerly in the Beugnot Collection. 
 
 5th century b.c. 
 
 Contest of Athena and Poseidon for the 
 
 Attic Land . . . . . „ 89 
 
 From a vase in the Hermitage Museum, St. Peters¬ 
 burg. 5th century b.c. 
 
 Types of Greek Cavalry . . . . „ 104 
 
 A group from the Forman Vase in the British 
 Museum. 5th century b.c. 
 
 The Seven against Thebes . . 120 and 121 
 
 From a sarcophagus in the Villa Pamfili, show¬ 
 ing the quarrel of Eteocles and Polynices, 
 with Jocaste and Antigone intervening; in 
 the background, blind CEdipus ; Capaneus 
 with storming ladder; Amphiaraus in 
 chariot, and dead chieftains ; Eteocles and 
 Polynices killing each other; Antigone re¬ 
 moving corpse of Polynices from beside the 
 sleeping watchmen. Roman period. 
 
 XV 
 
XVI 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Thanatos 
 
 Page 127 
 
 Portion of drum of sculptured column from 
 Temple of Artemis at Ephesus, in the British 
 , Museum. 4th century b.c. 
 
 Eros ....... 
 
 Terra-cotta statuette in the British Museum. 
 
 Stele with Epitaph of CEdipus . 
 
 From a vase in the Museo Nazionale at Naples. 
 4th century b.c. 
 
 Eagle seizing a Snake .... 
 From a coin of Elis, of about 430 b.c. 
 
 Antigone brought before Creon 
 
 From a vase in the Berlin Museum. 4th cen¬ 
 tury B.C. 
 
 Danae ( Photogravure ) . . . . . 
 
 Bronze Mirror Case in the British Museum. 
 4th century b.c. 
 
 »> 
 
 
 
 
 a 
 
 I36 
 
 I 4 I 
 
 H5 
 
 171 
 
 179 
 
 Lycurgus smitten with Madness destroying 
 
 his Wife and Children . . 180 and 18 1 
 
 On p. 180 are Apollo, Hermes, and (probably) 
 
 Lyssa (“Madness”); on p. 181 Lycurgus 
 destroying his family. From a vase in 
 the British Museum. 4th century b.c. 
 
 Dionysus with his Thiasos of Satyrs and 
 
 Maenads ...... 
 
 From a vase in the British Museum. 4th cen¬ 
 tury B.C. 
 
 “Beehive” Tomb ..... 
 
 From the Kylix painted by Sotades in the British 
 Museum. 4th century b.c. 
 
 
 »» 
 
 189 
 
 197 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 I find no literary artist so difficult to seize 
 in exact mental portraiture as Sophocles: 
 Homer himself is hardly more impersonal. 
 We praise the impersonal; coldly, in obedi¬ 
 ence to critical convention; but the old Adam 
 of curiosity hankers after the autobiographical 
 touch of allusion, the literary egoism which 
 brings our author down into refreshing con¬ 
 tact with earth. Aeschylum laudo , Euripidem 
 lego , said an English scholar of the eighteenth 
 century. Aeschylus is impersonal in a sense; 
 but I distinguish: Aeschylus is impersonal 
 because he is too big for self-consciousness. 
 Not with the impersonality of Sophocles. 
 You can see the difference most clearly in 
 this: that Aeschylus was an open field for 
 parody, even to a satiric poet who loved and 
 admired him. Aristophanes, nay, a much less 
 skilled hand, could catch the external manner 
 of Aeschylus, so that any one must laugh at 
 the mimicry. You could parody Marlowe, but 
 not Shakespeare : why ? 
 
 XYii 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 xviii 
 
 Let me defer the answer for a moment, and 
 go round to another line of approach. 
 
 There are few people who make Sopho¬ 
 cles their favourite among the Triumvirs of 
 Tragedy, few who can echo M. Arnold— 
 
 But be his 
 
 My special thanks , whose even-balanced soul , 
 
 From first youth tested up to extreme old age , 
 
 Business could not make dull , nor passion wild ; 
 
 Who saw life steadily , and saw it whole , 
 
 The mellow glory of the Attic stage , 
 
 Singer of sweet Colonus 1 and its child. 
 
 Partly, perhaps, because w r e love authors no 
 less for their faults than their virtues; we 
 take an easy and satisfying grasp of promi¬ 
 nent characteristics. Once familiar with an 
 author, his mannerisms tickle the sense of 
 initiation. Personality fascinates, even ex¬ 
 pressed in growths which tend towards the 
 extravagant and the grotesque. Self hungers 
 after its own mystery, and seeks for the Self 
 in another communicated by artistic interpre¬ 
 tation. And it is the self which eludes us in 
 
 Sophocles. 
 
 But if most moderns (who care, or who 
 are qualified to care, for any of them) prefer 
 Aeschylus or Euripides, the Greeks themselves 
 did not. His unequalled continuity of suc¬ 
 cess on the stage proves the judgment of his 
 
 / 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 xix 
 
 contemporaries; but even more significant for 
 our purposes is the opinion of Greek posterity. 
 I need not remind the reader that Sophocles* 
 practice is repeatedly Aristotle’s example of 
 some canon in the formulation of dramatic 
 technique. And he was not the favourite of 
 the critics only. Look at Xenophon’s testi¬ 
 mony. -He makes Socrates ask Aristodemus 1 
 who are his chief objects of admiration for 
 artistic skill: Aristodemus replies, “ Homer 
 in Epic , Melanippides in Dithyramb , Sophocles 
 in Tragedy , Polycleitus in Statuary , Zeuxis in 
 Painting .” 
 
 It is the judgment of the man in the street 
 —the street of Athens. Just so his modern 
 analogue would answer ‘ Shakespeare ’; only 
 an exquisite could say ‘ Marlowe .’ Why ? 
 
 Now we can answer both questions at once : 
 because he is the artistic embodiment of an 
 age, of a national spirit in a given age, of— 
 to clench it in a comprehensive term — a 
 civilisation. By that word I mean the whole 
 sum of expression of the passions, fancies, 
 reasonings, principles, aspirations of a people. 
 “A civilisation ,” says a penetrating writer of 
 the school of Taine," “is a balance of qualities 
 and defects .” 
 
 Again : “ There are five or six categories of 
 
 1 Mem. A., iv. a M. Bar res. 
 
XX 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 facts or ideas which are the natural framework , 
 and afterwards continue to he the evidences , for 
 any civilisation worthy of the name . They are: 
 language and grammar , religious dogma and 
 worship , literature and fine-art , philosophy and 
 science , Jor/W organisation and political in¬ 
 stitutions .” 1 
 
 If one man can give the artistic embodiment 
 of a civilisation, he is the Classic of that time. 
 Those who love him, love the Civilisation 
 which he mirrors; if we are coldly affected 
 towards him, it is because we have not realised 
 his message. If we desiderate personality in 
 him, it is because we have not perceived that 
 his personality is the personality of a people 
 and an age, individualised by the artist. If 
 you try to parody Sophocles—except in the 
 merest verbal accidents in him—you will be 
 parodying the Periclean Age; as in Shakespeare 
 the Elizabethan England. 
 
 This is not to say that Sophocles is greater 
 than Aeschylus. I would contest that Milton 
 is not the representative poet of the seven¬ 
 teenth century, though he is its greatest name. 
 Perhaps there are epochs too transitional to 
 admit the representative poet, epochs like the 
 boastful, chaotic century we have just buried, 
 
 1 Taine summarised by Boutmy, Le Parthenon et le Ginie Grec, 
 Pref. xiv. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 XXI 
 
 which are mere preparatory shufflings, irregular 
 dartings and radiatings which precede a new 
 crystallisation. But even in an organised civi¬ 
 lisation the grand eccentric—an Aeschylus or 
 a Milton—may be the paramount figure. And 
 it is then we need to redress a mental bias in 
 order to appreciate duly the representative 
 great poet, great without lawlessness, not by 
 the bursting vehemence of prophetic individu¬ 
 ality, great and normal. 
 
 I believe we might point to an analogy in 
 Painting, but it would detain us too long to 
 elaborate. Modern fancy has turned in the 
 Italian Schools with peculiar admiration to the 
 great Primitives or to the salient personal touch 
 of a Michelangiolo, and declared it humdrum 
 to repeat the praises lavished by the eighteenth 
 century on Raphael. But the eighteenth cen¬ 
 tury was an organic unit, a civilisation in the 
 sense above outlined, and what they saw in 
 Raphael was a perfect artistic embodiment of 
 another civilisation; Raphael is the ripeness of 
 the Italian Renaissance, as Sophocles is the |/ 
 Periclean Age. 
 
 If, then, this is the clue to Sophocles, we must 
 try to form, though only in rough outline, 
 some image of the Periclean Age. Chapters, 
 nay volumes, have been written on it. In short 
 compass I know nothing so rich in penetrative 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 xxii 
 
 enthusiasm as E. Boutmy’s Le Parthenon , &c.; 
 but Beloch has a very telling chapter, highly 
 compressed, but with well-managed emphasis, 
 and calculated to nip certain sentimental ex¬ 
 aggerations which forget the background of 
 savagery in Athens of the fifth century. 
 
 7 The note of the time is Harmony. It is the 
 extraordinary harmonious parity of develop¬ 
 ment in every branch of human activity at once. 
 Sparta after the Persian wars surrenders the 
 headship of Greece ‘from craven fears of being 
 great ’: Athens, full of ambition and conscious 
 power, succeeds. The elements which go to 
 make up her position in the middle of the 
 century are, in abstract, these : a sudden, enor¬ 
 mous increase of population induced by her 
 liberal policy towards immigration; the intoxi¬ 
 cating self-revelation, the awakening of national 
 consciousness, caused by the miraculous achieve¬ 
 ment of defeating Persia; the vast and sudden 
 affluence of wealth from the tribute and from 
 the expansion of commerce—and this at a time 
 when the purchasing power of money was very 
 high. Athens by position was the meeting 
 point of the Dorian and the Ionian world, and 
 now there was added an extraordinary inter¬ 
 mingling of classes, races, and types, stimulat¬ 
 ing every kind of activity. A community of 
 merchant princes has ever been a hotbed of art; 
 
INTRODUCTION xxiii 
 
 they abounded at Athens; and the State itself 
 was collectively a merchant prince, like Genoa 
 or Venice or Florence in their great days. The 
 artistic impulse was deep-seated in the Attic 
 nature; the Pisistratids had fostered it, as 
 Tyranny all over Greece fostered it. But now 
 Athens was to prove that abnegation of political 
 activity is not a necessary condition to its 
 development, but that it can be carried to the 
 highest excellence concurrently with the de¬ 
 ployment of every other energy of the human 
 character. 
 
 She was mistress of Greece for a brief season 
 after the reduction of Boeotia, and though the 
 process of dissolution began within a generation, 
 her spirit was not broken till the Peloponnesian 
 War had run some twenty years. 
 
 She was heiress of the science and philosophy 
 of Ionia; she gathered and absorbed the feeble 
 beginnings of literary art which the Dorian put 
 forth in tragedy and comedy; she borrowed the 
 poetry and rhetoric of Sicily ; she borrowed 
 the sculpture and architecture of her Western 
 neighbours. And all that she borrowed she 
 raised to a new power. Of the sturdy, heavy 
 Doric order of building she made a Parthenon; 
 from the stiff Argive and Aeginetan schools 
 in sculpture she evolved a Phidias. It was 
 reserved for her to actualise the possible graces 
 
XXIV 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 of every form in which man strives to touch 
 the idea of Beauty. 
 
 And at the same time every individual 
 citizen of Athens was a rupawog, despot over 
 half the Greek world in military dominion, 
 and Tvpawos in that for his pride and enjoy¬ 
 ment the greatest masters of Poetry, Sculpture, 
 Architecture, Oratory brought their emulous 
 tribute. The Periclean State Socialism paid 
 him a living wage for condescending to per¬ 
 form his duties; a vast mass of slaves lay 
 crushed to consolidate the foundations of his 
 magnificence. 
 
 He was never long enough at peace to 
 become hebetated ; the glory of Athens began 
 in war and bloomed through war. Ruskin’s 
 splendid denial that Peace is a nurse of arts is 
 exemplified in the Greek States. Look at the 
 barren record of communities which like Argos 
 stood aloof in long periods of sluggishness! 
 Pericles surveying Athens from his height 
 might have said that never had man individu¬ 
 ally and collectively lived so full and rich an 
 existence, with such noble scope and equip¬ 
 ment for the exercise and satisfaction of every 
 aptitude. And the Athenian listening to his 
 Olympian First Citizen could not but see 
 typified in Pericles the perfect norm of the 
 city’s intense and luxuriant being. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 xxv 
 
 I have said that the dissolution of empire 
 began in the same generation which had reared 
 that empire to its extreme height. Brevis in 
 perfecto mora is the text of a tragedy in which 
 nations are actors. A number of various 
 confluent forces crystallise into a civilisation; 
 and no sooner is the organic unit perfected than 
 its undoing begins, its elements fly off into new 
 combinations. The unmaking of Athens begins 
 the making of the Hellenistic civilisation. 
 
 The spiritual dissolution of the Periclean 
 Age is present no doubt in germ from very 
 early in its formation. But it was late before 
 the worm of rationalism became active in the 
 mass. Greece had been inoculated against 
 scepticism by the religious counter-reformation 
 of beliefs, which we see exemplified in Pindar 
 and Aeschylus. The general conscience of 
 Athens was satisfied with its religion as ex¬ 
 pressed by the finer spirits. The solvent 
 voices of Anaxagoras, Euripides, Socrates were 
 still only making disciples in the conventicle. 
 And Athens rejected Anaxagoras in spite of 
 Pericles’ favour, as she rejected the anti¬ 
 national influence of Aspasia ; Euripides could 
 only get his sceptic cup accepted by copiously 
 sweetening the lip with ironical flattery; Socrates 
 was perhaps only known to his fellow towns¬ 
 men as a crank and a bore during the time 
 
XXVI 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 that he was breeding, in an Alcibiades and a 
 Critias, the revolutions of the future. 
 
 The national idea, then, of the day was an 
 active, harmonious enjoyment of the faculties 
 of life. Body and soul were trained pari passu 
 in education ; citizen and individual—each was 
 at his highest power. The true Periclean is too 
 busy fighting, voting, judging, administering, 
 imbibing daily education from Plastic, Music, 
 Rhetoric, Poetry, enjoying the recollections of 
 glory still fresh, the exercise of capacities of 
 self-realisation not yet staled, to trouble him¬ 
 self while he works at his trade (the trade of 
 citizen added to his individual vocation en¬ 
 joined by the Solonian law), as to whether this 
 glorious new-perfected instrument of language 
 is not in truth a garment for inconsistency and 
 self-delusion, or the Pantheon in which every 
 phase of his life and thought is ideally sym¬ 
 bolised, in truth a degrading and obsolescent 
 fiction. 
 
 War favours religious, as Peace favours philo¬ 
 sophical, superstition. Perhaps the very war 
 which began the material downfall, helped in its 
 earlier stage to brace and maintain the frame¬ 
 work of life which we call the Periclean civilisa¬ 
 tion. Till the imminent shadow of disaster 
 darkened the bright confidence in herself which 
 had radiated into such a complete circle of 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 xxv ii 
 
 energies, stress and danger made her more 
 resolutely vindicate herself—evince herself, her 
 national soul and mind in the typical life which 
 had been found to express it. 
 
 Sophocles was born amid the origins of the 
 Athenian greatness: Marathon was a child’s 
 dream to him ; the evacuation and destruction 
 of Athens, the victory of Salamis a boy’s 
 memory illuminated by his own selection to 
 take a leading part in the thanksgiving festival 
 which followed. And his death falls within a 
 few months of the battle which decided the 
 doom of Athenian supremacy. So his life/ 
 coincides with the fifth century. 
 
 We have none of the works of his youth 
 preserved. 
 
 It is a curious fact that of none of the Three 
 Tragedians have we any early work, unless the 
 Cyclops of Euripides: perhaps an evidence to 
 the long apprenticeship required in tragic art 
 before even a master genius could produce a 
 masterpiece. Ars longa. 
 
 Of what survives, the most (and the best) 
 belongs to the period of incipient disintegration 
 in that National Idea which we figure him as 
 symbolising. But he symbolises none the less 
 truly. It has been said that a man’s character 
 becomes set when he is between thirty and forty; 
 by then he has digested the conscious and 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 xxviii 
 
 unconscious influences of his breeding and his 
 studies, and after that his mind is rigid, more 
 apt to react than to receive. But the middle 
 years of Sophocles’ life were such years as might 
 well prolong the period of elastic receptivity. 
 He was not yet forty when the fall of Aegina 
 commenced the career of Athens as a great 
 power in Greece proper ; he was sixty-five when 
 the Peloponnesian War began. Within this space 
 lies the period he represents. Yet, though he 
 write twenty years later still, he is none the less 
 a true witness to the ideas of the dominant 
 date. Subsequent changes reveal to him objec¬ 
 tively the shape of the perfect time they begin 
 to impair. He gives us the spirit of the Peri- 
 clean world, with something of the analytic 
 judgment of one who sees his ideal all the more 
 clearly by comparison with the new times into 
 which he has outlived. Tennyson to the day 
 of his death is still the man of the fifties, 
 appreciating, judging, partially assimilating— 
 but not incarnating the nineties. 
 
 Riches and success contribute not a little 
 perhaps to the making of such a typical 
 person. The struggling, discontented con¬ 
 temporary is thrown forward to anticipate. 
 Sophocles and Euripides are well-nigh coevals, 
 but the unsuccessful ‘ greengrocer’s son ’ is in¬ 
 tellectually and spiritually generations ahead of 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 xxix 
 
 * 
 
 the rich, leisured son of Sophillus the merchant, 
 who liked his times and was liked by them. 
 Perhaps no one but a man of the rich, culti¬ 
 vated mercantile class was so fit to be the 
 literary voice of the commercial aristocracy, 
 which made the earlier party of Pericles, 
 and which he used to enfranchise the full 
 democracy that succeeded it. It is the 
 same class to which Herodotus belongs in 
 Ionia; the same which afterwards produced 
 Lysias (most Philistine of Classics) and Plato. 
 Easy circumstances allowed the development 
 of the artistic instincts natural in the race; 
 and travel, confined in those days to the 
 purposes of war or commerce, brought an 
 enormous influence into the thought of the 
 time. There is a vivid passage in De Quincey’s 
 Essay on Style (p. 174) which depicts the 
 importance of the travelling philosopher in 
 filling the hungry mind of his generation: 
 philosopher, I call him, not as being one who 
 tries to fit all experience into the four corners 
 of a system, but in the Greek sense of one 
 who indulges a methodical curiosity. The ac¬ 
 quaintance between Sophocles and Herodotus 
 is attested ; and were it not, the resemblances 
 of doctrine and diction are too signal to be 
 dismissed as accident. 
 
 When Aristophanes recalls regretfully the 
 
XXX 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 ‘good old times,’ the feature he most accentuates 
 is the highly developed union of religion and 
 patriotism : patriotism exhibited in the policy of 
 Cimon, and religion displayed in the brilliant 
 multitude of festivals. Aristophanes hated 
 nothing in Pericles except his policy: Pericles 
 embodied the old Attic dignity and completeness 
 which departed with the revolution in dress 
 (change from the flowing Ionian purple) and with 
 the campaign waged by democrats against the 
 equestrian, gymnastic, and musical departments 
 of education. 1 The breakers-up of Attic re¬ 
 ligion took two lines—common perhaps to all 
 democratic parties—one attacked the super¬ 
 natural, another sought to abolish the joviality. 
 Each undoes the universality of the religion. 
 The moral, emotional, and aesthetic appeals 
 are harmonious in the religion that Sophocles 
 typifies. 
 
 Concerning Sophocles’ life and character there 
 was plenty of ancient material to hand, some of 
 it deriving from a nearly contemporary source 
 in Ion of Chios. Schneidewin collects the 
 authorities who successively passed down the 
 rolling snowball of anecdotal reminiscence and 
 invention. We do not gather much that is of 
 value in estimating the man. On two points 
 there is agreement of evidence: the sweetness 
 
 1 Aristoph. Eq. Nubes , &c., and Old Oligarch. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 xxxi 
 
 of his character, and the voluptuousness of his 
 nature. “ Figurative and sensuous, as all great 
 thinkers must be,” are the admirable words of 
 De Quincey; and the vehement and disorderly 
 passions may be instanced in almost all the 
 greatest poets from Dante to Byron. “ Serene 
 in life and after life serene,” are the words in 
 Aristophanes which explain his freedom from 
 literary jealousies. But if we apply them to his 
 passions also, we must think of a strong fire 
 which burns clear at last. 
 
 Asceticism is not Attic ; if Greek at all, it 
 is, as in Pythagoras and Plato, the intellectual 
 or semi-political reaction in a decadence. 
 
 Neither is acrimony in character with the 
 Attic of Pericles’ day; it is for disappointed 
 men and futile times: outside a Sophoclean 
 calmness and content, there was room for 
 Olympian passion or gravity of denunciation, 
 and for hatred rioting in the furious mirth of 
 comedy; but the Euripidean carping satire and 
 critical disapprobation is not the Periclean 
 spirit, but rebellion against it in the interests 
 of coming Pan-Hellenism and cosmopolitanism. 
 
 II 
 
 With the common instinct to materialise the 
 ideal conception of beauty in a form, every 
 artist must unite a peculiar sense of the natural 
 
xxxii SOPHOCLES 
 
 beauty inherent in a particular form. The 
 sculptor must be specially sensitive to the 
 glory of marble, even in the block, unhewn 
 —as Michelangiolo used to go and wonder 
 at the masses in the quarries, and imagined 
 the figures to be awakened out of them. A 
 goldsmith must love the metal as such. A 
 poet must love speech, must feel the glory of 
 words, even before the thought they are to 
 incarnate is consciously present in his brain. 
 And he must have a peculiar perception 
 of the beauty and power of some given 
 literary genus—epic, tragedy, comedy, lyric. 
 He must regard that form as something 
 capable of a definite perfection—to which, if 
 not already attained, he must advance it, or in 
 which, if already subsistent, he must exercise 
 it: no artist can accept progress ei 9 onreipov. 
 Beyond a certain thing organically complete, 
 which he sees or foresees, there lies not 
 progress, but dissolution; the dissolution is 
 the formation beginning of something else. 
 Euripides is the beginning of a New Tragedy, 
 but he is the decadence of the essentially 
 Attic Tragedy—not from defect of genius 
 (it may be maintained that he is greater than 
 Sophocles), but from defect of harmony be¬ 
 tween genius and the contemporary form. 
 Such perfect form is always a combination 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 XXXlll 
 
 of elements, each limited in proportion—a 
 balance of tendencies. So soon as one element, 
 one tendency, acquires predominant force, the 
 compromise is at an end, the form begins to 
 dissolve. 
 
 Attic Tragedy was such a compromise 
 between the genera which we classify as 
 Morality, Opera, Drama, perhaps Figure 
 Dancing, Mummery, and Tableaux—all 
 shaped with a religious intention. 
 
 The evolution of Tragedy is a most 
 singular piece of literary history. It begins 
 purely choric : the performance of the goat- 
 singers, the satyr-troupe of Dionysus. It is 
 a kco/jlos, a musical revel; only performed on 
 some sort of primitive stage in the fields, a 
 religious Te Deum sung by the peasants in the 
 enthusiasm of thankfulness for the ingathering 
 of the vintage. This choral hymn could no 
 more resist the influence of the Greek genius 
 for a story, than the original Hymn had re¬ 
 fused to transform itself into the narrative 
 Epic. The Greek has the passion for a story 
 as the Oriental has it : myth, fable, saga feed 
 a perpetual craving in his mind for a story. 
 Kinglake believed that the Tale of Tales, 
 The Thousand and One Nights, came from 
 Greek invention. Fertile wits soon grew 
 luxuriant crops of legend about Dionysus. 
 
XXXIV 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 And any episode in his adventures was enough. 
 The leader of the chorus chanted a tale of 
 some suffering or triumph of the god in the 
 undying popular jingle metre which after¬ 
 wards was the vehicle of Roman soldiers’ songs 
 and of the early plebeian Christian hymns 
 —the trochaic tetrameter. The eighteenth 
 poem of Bacchylides, the Aegeus , is a missing 
 link recovered in the chain of evolution from 
 choric to dramatic: it is a dramatic lyric, 
 dialogue in lyrics between king and chorus. 
 It shows us a moment before the parting of 
 the ways which led to Dithyramb and to 
 Drama. When the serene and tender Ionian 
 discovered the metre which of all others 
 most approached a plain-measured prose, the 
 iambic, another step is taken. The musical 
 and the declaimed parts of the composition 
 fall more distinctly apart; it is a fresh en¬ 
 croachment of the growing dramatic element 
 at the expense of the original choric. In the 
 earliest surviving play of Aeschylus the chorus 
 still predominates. But later either he divined 
 or Sophocles taught him to see what modifi¬ 
 cation was necessary to make the obsolescent 
 form fit the newer taste. And Aeschylus, in the 
 Trilogy, indulges his lyrical genius freely indeed, 
 but as an outside setting to a core of action, 
 within which the amount of pure chorus ode 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 XXXV 
 
 (not counting lyrical dialogue, as in Choephori ) 
 is very small. This core of action stands out 
 so distinctly, that we may regard everything 
 in Agamemnon before the king’s entry, every¬ 
 thing in Choephori before Orestes’ appearance, 
 everything in Eumenides before the change of 
 scene to Athens, as falling without the drama 
 proper, and not governed by the Unities which 
 are absolute within that limit : in fact it serves 
 the purpose of a prologue. It is, you may say, 
 the Old Tragedy carrying the New in its arms, 
 as the old moon carries the new. 
 
 It must have been evident early in the fifth 
 century that Tragedy, being from its origin a 
 thing of heterogeneous elements, must find its 
 perfection in the proportional adjustment of 
 these elements. Sophocles achieved the har-N 
 mony. He had to strike the same balance that 
 the architects and sculptors struck between 
 archaic severity and too facile iroucikla, between 
 the hieratic convention and the imitative realism. 
 His work was to prevent the consecrated con¬ 
 vention from being glaringly in discord with 
 the change of taste, to adjust the convention 
 with the claims of the probable as a new canon 
 of art. He would say to himself, “ Here is 
 Attic Tragedy, the note of which is a blending 
 of lyric and prose dramatic : what is the greatest 
 excellence of which this literary kind admits ? 
 
XXXVI 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 How can I reconcile the play of figures in high 
 relief with figures in low relief, persons fully 
 individualised and a chorus of hardly character¬ 
 ised types ? What is the form into which (as 
 Aristotle was to say later) this means to tends 
 to determine ? ” 
 
 Euripides could not solve the problem; he 
 felt himself pinched by the Attic convention ; 
 he worked for the dissolution of the form. He 
 could not dispense with the chorus, but he 
 could leave it in obedience to convention with¬ 
 out any palliation of its superfluity to the ideal 
 towards which he tended—the pure spoken 
 drama of the New Comedy. 
 
 Ill 
 
 We must never forget—De Ouincey reminds 
 us of it—that to talk of a Greek Play is usually 
 a dangerous misnomer. We invite misconcep¬ 
 tion by speaking of the EccEsia as an Athenian 
 Parliament, the Strategoi as an Athenian 
 Ministry; and just so if by a Play we under¬ 
 stand all that the word has come to denote and 
 connote through ages of usage and modification, 
 then we are describing a parent form in terms 
 of a single developed and specialised offspring. 
 “Greek opera” would be incomplete, but 
 still less misleading, as a description of the 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 XXXVll 
 
 spectacular dramatic composition of Music and 
 Poetry which Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euri¬ 
 pides wrote and scored and staged. The 
 narrative genius of the race had first entered to 
 transmute the old rustic miracle-chorus into 
 an inchoate drama; sophistic and rhetoric were 
 next to pour in transforming influences so 
 strong that after a brief, perfect handling the 
 mould broke. The flood of speculation was 
 let loose. Curiosity pried into religion, morals, 
 politics. And the drama to live in favour 
 must make itself the plastic representation of 
 the public thought and interest. The Sophists 
 were professional educators, and as such pro¬ 
 fessional psychologists: on the old gnome of 
 TNQ 0 I CAUTON had been reared a fabric 
 of character analysis, investigation of motives, 
 calculations how the human mind will be 
 affected by circumstances, by interaction with 
 fellow minds; into what types the human mind 
 may be classified. Rhetoric, strictly the rhetoric 
 of the law courts, gives perhaps the first im¬ 
 pulse to a study of plot, the first interest in 
 the riddle, “ How will a given situation of 
 persons end ? ” “ What must eventually come 
 
 out concerning x to account for this and that 
 behaviour, this and that mysterious happening?” 
 I cannot put it better than in the words of the 
 excellent French critic, who says :— 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 xxxv iii 
 
 “ L’epoque a laquelle appartient Thucydide 
 est celle ou P etude methodique de la psycho- 
 logle se forme et se developpe. Le theitre 
 attique, a partir de Sophocle, vit d’analyse 
 psychologique. La rhetorique judiciaire, avec 
 sa perpetuelle recherche du vraisemblable (ra 
 eiKora) c’est-a-dire notamment des motifs qui 
 avaient pu porter un prevenu a faire ou a ne 
 pas faire l’action dont il etait accuse creusait 
 sans cesse ces problemes de Fame. Les sophistes 
 proprement dits s’y complaisaient. Le mythe 
 d’Hercule entre le vice et la vertu, raconte 
 par Prodicus, etait une etude psychologique; 
 l’eloge d’Helene attribue a Gorgias est rempli 
 de theses psychologiques et morales ; les frag¬ 
 ments d’Antiphon le sophiste sont de m£me 
 nature.”—A. Croiset, Notice sur Thucydide. 
 
 The age required more actuality, to put it in 
 a single word : the Aeschylean tragedy moved 
 too much in an empyrean of its own, alien in 
 scale and diction. There are words of Sopho¬ 
 cles chronicled in Plutarch 1 which are full of 
 information, uncertain though the text is :— 
 
 '0 ' 2 ocf)OK\r}<s e'Aeye, tov Alct^vXov 8 ta7T€7rat^d)S oy/cov, 
 eira to iriKpov kcu KaraTtyvov rrjs a vtov KaTacrKevrjs, 
 TpLTOv rjbr] to ttJs /xeTa/3aAAeu/ e?Sos‘ OTrep ecrrlv 
 
 r)0lK(QTa.TOV KCU /3t\Tl(TTOV. 
 
 “ Sophocles used to say that he had bantered 
 
 1 Mor., p. 79 B. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 away (?) the pomp of Aeschylus; secondly, 
 that he had modified (?) the harshness and 
 artificiality of his arrangement (? or staging); 
 thirdly and lastly, he altered the type of dic¬ 
 tion—which in him (S.) is admirably full of 
 character.” 
 
 Now here compare Boutmy : 1 — 
 
 “The Greeks were the first to discover that 
 beauty is the most determinate thing in the 
 world ; that one may seek it in vain, after 
 the fashion of Oriental art, in the enormous, 
 the indefinite, and the monstrous (with which 
 our aesthetic depravity tends again to confound 
 it); it is made of order, measure, adjustment; 
 in architecture it is realised under three con¬ 
 ditions—unity in the significance or function 
 of each organ, unity in the end proposed by 
 the sum of the work, convergence in the effect 
 of the several details.” 
 
 We may judge Sophocles in terms of this 
 canon. Once at least he rose to a full realisa-\j 
 tion of it, in the work which all posterity has 
 hailed as his masterpiece —CEdipus Rex. 
 
 His first great change was to reduce the 
 unit of composition to a more manageable 
 scope, substituting the single play for the 
 Trilogy. It is a testimony to the extraordinary 
 grandeur of Aeschylus’ genius that the Trilogy 
 
 1 Pref.xxxiv. 
 
xl 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 should be the form in which it naturally moved 
 
 and found its free play. In a Trilogy all the 
 
 effects must be gigantic: characters in huge 
 
 outline displaying the great primary passions 
 
 and beliefs in a simple sequence; some great 
 
 cardinal event in mythology or history, staged 
 
 in a literary form built up of blocks and 
 
 masses of poetry. The convention stood 
 
 far aloof from reality and probability, and 
 
 Aeschylus gloried in it. His improvements 
 
 in scenic trappings and fittings were designed 
 
 to enhance the splendour of the spectacle, 
 
 to make the ocular appeal suit the verbal 
 
 appeal of his magnificent diction. Sophocles 
 
 developed this line of improvement with a 
 
 different purpose: he felt that poverty of 
 
 scenic furniture was a part of the difficulty 
 
 with which he was to struggle—the alienation 
 
 of tragedy from reality. We allow for the 
 
 conventions of every art, but the art perishes 
 
 if the conventions are felt to be ridiculous. 
 
 The “ This lantern doth the horned moon present ” 
 
 style of staging was one stumbling-block the 
 
 more to the ordinary citizen (whose verdict 
 
 he sought to gain, mind you : no writing for 
 
 a succes d'estime). who could not make him- 
 
 / 7 
 
 self at home in the older Tragedy, could not 
 raise and sustain the proper emotions to 
 such a height of aloofness from reality and 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 xli 
 
 probability. Therefore Sophocles welcomed 
 the aid to illusion which he found in the newly- 
 discovered resource of perspective scene-paint¬ 
 ing ; he accepted the Aeschylean embellishments 
 in dress, &c., modifying them with a view to 
 the life-like rather than the pictorially and 
 plastically splendid. The difference between 
 his and Euripides’ handling of these means, is 
 that Euripides makes straight for pure realism, 
 Sophocles for so much realism as will reconcile 
 his public to the convention which required 
 a tragedy to be a dignified tableau, without 
 abandoning the convention. He reduced the 
 pomp, then, and also the harsh and artificial 
 elements in the workmanship of Aeschylus; 
 but, thirdly, comes the most important of all, 
 “ he altered the style of diction.” 
 
 This is the point of view from which we 
 must make our fullest survey of Sophocles: 
 he is essentially the artist in words. * 
 
 I have alluded to the sophist influence. 
 With the sophists begins the study of style 
 as a craft, the study of grammar as a specified 
 art. Rhetoric is the Greek for style. The 
 first philologists are Gorgias and his con¬ 
 temporaries. Self-conscious use of language 
 is visible in the solemn puns which surprise 
 us in Pindar and Aeschylus. But the next 
 generation begins to play with language 
 
xlii 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 analytically. The delight in words for their 
 own sake, their individual sonorousness, their 
 balances and correspondences in formal com¬ 
 position, all the self-conscious craftsmanship in 
 language, is developed by the early school of 
 rhetorical sophists. The Athenians delighted 
 in the full, rounded, leisurely manner of the 
 early prose ; as such style always charms till 
 the secret of it is discovered, and “ all can 
 raise the flower now, for all have got the 
 seed.” The intellect apprehends the meaning 
 long before the ear has done with the pleasure 
 of taking in the elaborate volume of the phrase. 
 You see it in Gorgias, in Thucydides’ highly 
 worked-up passages, rather more rudely in 
 the Old Oligarch, and nauseously imitated in 
 Atticist rhetoricians. It is language striking 
 conscious poses, turning round to admire itself 
 —like the Ovidian versification, nimium amator 
 ingenii sui . Presently it caused a reaction 
 towards the dry brevity of Lysias. Sophocles 
 is much too fine an artist to be content with 
 a style whose beauties can be formulated, laid 
 down in a rule for reproduction when required. 
 With him, as with Plato (and it is only true of 
 the very greatest stylists), ars est celare artem. 
 
 It has been shown that the effects in the 
 architecture of the Parthenon are partly derived 
 from following a very subtle rule of thumb 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 xliii 
 
 instead of exact measurement, slight modifica¬ 
 tions of the mathematically exact. Herein lay 
 the difference between Attic architects and 
 Roman imitators; herein Ruskin taught the 
 difference between genuine Gothic and Sir 
 Gilbert Scott. So in Sophocles it is compara¬ 
 tively rare to find a sentence formally balanced 
 in exact antithetical style. His art is to be 
 never posing, and yet never slipshod ; never on 
 parade, yet always keeping a natural ease of 
 carriage. He differs from Aeschylus and from 
 Euripides in his handling of iambic metre. 
 And the divergence between his earliest and his 
 latest work is notably small. It was many 
 years before he realised the ideal of tragedy 
 which he had set up within himself. CEdipus 
 up at Colonos is a work of his old age. But 
 taking any ordinary base of calculation—in¬ 
 cidence of caesura , position of long words in 
 the line—there is the closest similarity between 
 Ajax zn&CEdipus Coloneus ,though written perhaps 
 at some forty years’ interval. The sweetness, 
 smoothness, and ease are the same. But there 
 are differences. In his earliest work he is not 
 free from the Aeschylean tendency to make the 
 individual line a unit in construction : which 
 contributes to the alienation of the dramatic 
 diction from the common spoken diction. 
 Sophocles does not set up ranges of colossal 
 
xliv 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 statues in word, but must always be adjusting 
 the figure to its precise value in the group, 
 and the group to its function in the edifice. 
 From this splendid Aeschylean intemperance 
 he gradually frees himself, cautiously and 
 with extreme tact drawing the poetical style 
 nearer the conversational, and so assisting in 
 the illusion of reality. The most salient ex¬ 
 ample is the use of elision at the end of the 
 sixth foot, which carries the line into the next 
 without pause (CEdipus Rex , 29, and examples 
 there cited). This was known as eJSos 2 o(po - 
 icXeiov . 1 But without this metrical licence you 
 can see in CEdipus Cnloneus , 495, 577, 737, 
 1311, the way in which he adapts his line to be 
 spoken and not declaimed. To be classed with 
 this is his change of vocabulary: in Ajax (partly 
 because the Epic subject invited it) the diction 
 is coloured with Epic words and phrases; in 
 CEdipus Rex it approximates closely to the voca¬ 
 bulary of Antiphon in prose. He makes no 
 revolution like Euripides with the introduction 
 
 1 “One source of feebleness in this passage, and it is one of 
 frequent occurrence in all Lord Byron’s plays, is his practice of 
 ending his lines with insignificant monosyllables. Of, to, and, till, 
 hd, front, all concur in the course of a very few pages. ... A 
 more inharmonious system of versification, or one more necessarily 
 tending to weight and feebleness, could hardly have been in¬ 
 vented.”—Heber (on Marino Faliero, Act v. sc. i). Doubtless 
 there were episcopally minded critics who rebuked Sophocles in 
 like terms ! 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 xlv 
 
 of those undignified diminutives which shocked 
 an old-fashioned ear like slang. He is 
 never prosaic, in the bad sense; he moves 
 normally in the diction common to poetry and 
 prose—like Coleridge, who refused to differen¬ 
 tiate the two styles. And in chorus, Sophocles, 
 and Sophocles alone, achieved the seemingly 
 impossible compromise of making the odes rich 
 with poetry and at the same time perfectly 
 germane to the play. Euripides failed doubly 
 in the attempt; his chorus degenerates in 
 function into mere musical interlude, and 
 sometimes in essence under the wrappings of 
 sonorous Doric glosses the thought is a mere 
 commonplace—for example, the washerwomen 
 in the first ode of Hippolytus. Sophocles’ 
 equality of style was gained by taking irv 
 much from pure common speech ; Euripides’ 
 cynicism led him into wanton bathos, the 
 more trenchantly seen by contrast with his 
 abuse of the ultra-poetic jargon. 
 
 IV 
 
 My design was to draw some sort of sketch 
 of the times, with their thought and character, 
 their form of art, their attitude toward litera¬ 
 ture and drama; and then to turn round and 
 show Sophocles as representative at each point. 
 
xlvi 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 But it has been hard to outline the position of 
 language and drama as he found it except by 
 comparison with the position as he left them; 
 and so we find ourselves already arrived at the 
 second part of the business without sensible 
 transition. 
 
 My purpose in what remains is twofold: to 
 show Sophocles typifying the characteristics we 
 have detected in the Periclean way of thinking; 
 and, secondly, to follow out the close corre¬ 
 spondence between thought and manner—that 
 is, the real harmony in virtue of which we rank 
 him as the supremely Attic craftsman in his 
 own art. 
 
 First his religious opinions. 
 
 It is the essence of Greek religion that it is 
 universal: not a cloud sitting over one depart¬ 
 ment of the mind, but an atmosphere into 
 which the summits of all the various activities 
 rise. They are sensible of deity every¬ 
 where. 
 
 ovoev TOVTOJV OTL [XT] Zj€V$. l 
 
 The simple, honest Teukros says, 2 
 
 iyu) fJL€V OVV Kdl TdVTd Kdl Td TTdVT del 
 (^dffKOLfX dV dvOpUKOLCTL fl^^dVdV $€OVS. 
 
 Sophoclean though not Sophocles; the 
 
 2 Aj.y 1037. 
 
 ] Track., 1278. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 xlvii 
 
 Scholiast Didymus remarks, eio -1 yap rives erepofio- 
 £ ovvres , to wit, Euripides. 
 
 Philoctetes in the bitterness of his spirit rails 
 against Providence: 1 Neoptolemus answers with 
 a justification of the ways of God to man. 2 The 
 root and base of all religion is humility, the 
 perception of human futility, of the inadequacy 
 of human reasoning to solve or to satisfy 
 everywhere. Athena herself dictates the moral 
 to the hero whom Sophocles loved, 3 as all Greece 
 loved him, for his virtues and his vices, alike 
 characteristically Greek—Odysseus. See also 
 the Scholiast on Aj. 780, 
 
 81 a TravTiov 81 8i8dcrK€i on Kparel twv dvOpiariViov i) 
 elpappevrj Kal yvdivcu pev to , kcropeva 8la rrjs pavn Krjs 
 ecrnv ov prjv koli (f>v\d£acr6ou. 
 
 So again in— 
 
 €Ti peyas ovpav<8 4 
 Zevs, &c. 
 
 And not only the existence of divine law, but 
 its sublimity ; compare the peyiara vopipa 5 with 
 the prophet-like strain of the Chorus— 
 
 €t poi crvve'ir) (faepovTi. 6 
 
 Herodotus had the same perception (see i. 5 ; 
 i. 91 ; and up and down his history). It takes 
 various forms : now it is the orbis quidam rerum 
 
 1 Phil.. 446. 2 Phil.. 1315. 3 Aj.* 119-133. 
 
 4 El., 174. 5 El., 1094. 6 0 . T., 863. 
 
xlviii 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 which was Tacitus’ reading of the world (i. 
 207); now the famous sentence which displeased 
 Plutarch— 
 
 c fyOovepov kou rapa^cuSes to Qclov. 1 
 
 This shapes itself to Sophocles as an irony in 
 things 2 — 
 
 roi>s evycvtLs yap KayaOovs, c5 7rat, 
 
 "Apy]s kvaipeiv, &C. 
 
 which again reminds us of Tacitus— 
 
 Breves et infaustos populi Romani a mores. 
 
 And yet such is his completeness of soul that 
 along with this deep sense of human futility 
 he delights to think of the power and ver¬ 
 satility of man: see the famous chorus in 
 
 Antigone. 3 
 
 The latter part of the Scholiast above quoted 
 has special importance. 4 Sophocles’ view of 
 /j.dvTi9 and /xavriKYj is of particular interest. 
 The supernatural is always favourable ground 
 for rogues and impostors; and facility of 
 imposture is curiously often taken as evidence 
 against probability of truth. So in the fifth cen¬ 
 tury. The vulgar were freely taken in by quack- 
 prophets and oracle-mongers: take the Knights 
 for witness. And the cheap rationalist held 
 
 1 i. 32. 2 Phil., 436, and Fr., 652. 
 
 3 Ant., 332. 4 Schol. Aj.y 780. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 xlix 
 
 the existence or abundance of quacks to prove 
 the falsity of all prediction; as if one should 
 deny the science of medicine because of the 
 blatant, ubiquitous, quack Pill. 
 
 We can see evidence up and down Herodotus 
 and Thucydides that upon this question of 
 fxavTLKr] was concentrated the chief debate 
 concerning the supernatural. Prophets in 
 Euripides share in the hatred with which he 
 pursues the class of heralds and the female 
 sex. What is Sophocles’ view ? He chooses 
 two characters in his plays for mouthpieces of 
 the unbelieving opinion. 
 
 CEdipus stands for the pride of human 
 wit in CEdipus Rex. He has guessed the 
 riddle of the Sphinx, he is confident he can 
 
 detect the mysterious cause 
 
 Thebes: Teiresias is discredited, because the 
 scientific ingenuity of the King reads political 
 intrigue between the lines of his prophecy. 
 Even the chorus “ are infected with contempt 
 
 for tJLCLVTLKY) ” — 
 
 “ If I may prophesy in virtue of intelligence, 
 for that is the only /xarn/07.” 
 
 And his own words 1 are, “ Why should 
 
 1 O. T., 964. 
 
 d 
 
I 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 any one regard the hearth of Pythian divina¬ 
 tion, or the birds that scream overhead ? ”— 
 but yet there is a secret uneasiness in the 
 corners of his conscience: a man who has 
 come through such extraordinary fortunes can¬ 
 not be free from superstition. His vaunted 
 ingenuity suggests that even the apparent 
 failure of the prophecy may be its fulfilment 
 (969). There it is that Jocasta plays Eve to 
 his Adam; she leads him into downright 
 contempt: “ The man who takes no account 
 of these things carries his life most easily.” 1 
 Within a few lines the revelation begins which 
 is to confound the conceit of human self- 
 sufficiency in horror. The moral of CEdipus 
 is the downfall of vfipis —not the moral or 
 political vftpis, but the intellectual. CEdipus 
 a blind beggar, and Jocasta swinging from the 
 beam of her bedchamber, are the testimony to 
 the truth of fxavriKy /. 
 
 Creon is made to point the same moral in 
 Antigone. He exemplifies not only the moral 
 vppi<s (like Agamemnon and Menelaus in Ajax), 
 which flouts the sacred claims of burial, but the 
 intellectual, which scoffs at the supernatural. 2 
 Look at the ironical repetition of the words 
 /mains, lAavracov, in Creon’s dialogue with 
 Teiresias. It is the same story; the ‘practical 
 1 O. T., 982. 2 Ant., 1053, 1055. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 li 
 
 mind ’ of Creon reads imposture and intrigue 
 between the lines of Teiresias’ warnings. The 
 death of wife and son teaches him the 
 lesson. 
 
 Sophocles has strongly developed the humility 
 which is the bottom of religion—the proud 
 humility; in Aeschylus it is rather a dignified 
 fear— 
 
 ra [xev SiSaKTa [xav6av(o, xa 8’ evperd 
 £rjru) f t a 8’ erepa irapd Oeois yTrjcrdpLrjv — 1 
 
 a justification, says Plutarch, who quotes the 
 words from a lost play, of evfiovXla —precisely 
 the virtue of which Teiresias deplores the lack 
 in Creon; and Creon does not understand his 
 evfiovXla as a religious virtue, but takes him 
 to allege want of (ppowjcrt ?, ‘ common sense.’ 
 opOoftovXla is the attribute of Themis, which 
 contrasts with her ahrv i n ra??, Prometheus, 
 in Aeschylus. 
 
 Sophocles has a more reasoned mysticism 
 in his religion than Aeschylus, less purely 
 symbolic. His mind is of the credo quia 
 impossibile order, as far as is possible for a 
 Greek to be. His dogmatism infuriated the 
 tolerant indifferentism of Plutarch in the 
 famous fragment 2 (Extra Ecclesiam nulla Salus ) 
 about the Sacraments of Eleusis, “ Thrice blessed 
 are they among men who see these mysteries 
 • 1 Fr., 731. z Fr., 753. 
 
lii 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 before they enter into Death: they alone have 
 a life beyond, but for all others there is misery 
 beyond.” He held a priesthood himself, and 
 was thought to be favoured with supernatural 
 intercourse by Asclepius. 
 
 In their whole view of /mavriKt] and the super¬ 
 natural the Sophists were of two schools: 
 Socrates stood apart from the intellectuals who 
 denied all truth in this sphere, and called them 
 madmen—or rather possessed; Saijuovav is the 
 word. In this matter his opinions, as recorded 
 in the first chapter of the Memorabilia , are nearly 
 in agreement with Sophocles. I am not sure 
 he would not have agreed with Sophocles in 
 accepting a supernatural rather than an utili¬ 
 tarian sanction for the moral law. The great 
 contrast between Sophocles and Euripides here 
 is that Sophocles’ whole theory is consistent, 
 given a dogmatic premiss; Euripides halts 
 between two opinions—the poet is fighting 
 with the rationalist; he has no creed to satisfy 
 his moral and his aesthetic sense. 
 
 Sophocles’ doctrine 1 of intercessory prayer 
 would be foolishness to Euripides : it stands on 
 the same humility as fundamental in religion. 
 He holds that by virtue of charity one soul can 
 worship for many : it would be a form of vftpis, 
 intellectual self-conceit, to exclude the efficacy 
 
 1 o. c., 497. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 liii 
 
 of vicarious intercession, evvov ? is Charity , 
 
 here and where he asserts 1 — 
 
 “ A charitable and righteous-minded soul 
 Is more inventive than the subtlest wits.” 
 
 Under his mysticism we must consider also 
 the superstitious fascination which burial, the 
 ceremonies of burial, exercised over him. We 
 judge him of course by about a twentieth part 
 of his work—a caution necessary to be remem¬ 
 bered in all these attempted intuitions of his 
 thought—but it is notable that in three out of 
 the seven plays burial is a leading motive— 
 Antigone and CEdipus Coloneus and Ajax, and 
 present also in a fourth, Electra. We think of 
 the translation of Theseus’ bones from Scyros 
 by Cimon, and of the bones of Orestes giving 
 victory to Sparta against Tegea. 2 But the 
 grave of CEdipus is to be a pledge of victory to 
 Athens—not that he is an Attic hero. Upon 
 some village legend about CEdipus’ tomb 
 Sophocles seems to have fitted the conception 
 that a man guilty of most horrible crimes (not 
 guilty in intention, but not guiltless since hisi 
 pride and self-sufficiency were the means by 
 which Fate overtook him), but repentant and 
 pardoned by Heaven, becomes sanctified. The 
 Euripidean School would have advocated the 
 
 i Fr., 98. 2 Her., i. 68. 
 
liv 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 claims of the ‘ ninety and nine just persons ’— 
 and blasphemed the vengeful gods. So Hippo- 
 lytus. But in CEdipus there is no blaspheming 
 and reproaching. 
 
 ’A-toAAojv raS’ ?}v 'AttoXXcov, 
 
 he cries at the end of CEdipus Rex , but there is 
 no 
 
 TOiOVTO) 6eo) 
 
 L L 
 
 tls av TvpoaevypiT ; 
 
 he is humble. And in CEdipus Coloneus he 
 appears as a person sacred by the protection of 
 Apollo. Aeschylus had softened the doctrine 
 of the implacability of Gods in the reconcilia¬ 
 tion of Prometheus Luomenos; but in a wholly 
 different sense. There it is the suzerainty of 
 Destiny over Zeus and Prometheus which 
 reconciles. Here it is CEdipus repenting, 
 Apollo forgiving; yet repenting is hardly the 
 right word for CEdipus, who firmly maintains 
 that he has done no wilful wrong. He bows to 
 the law ; he is as perfect a type of the abnega¬ 
 tion of spiritual pride as Paganism admits; and 
 holiness attaches to him, stained as he is, and 
 offending in his physical ghastliness against the 
 Greek adoration of beauty everywhere, mani¬ 
 fested whether in form or in spirit—as the 
 selected martyr to the divine law. 
 
 If Sophocles is permeated with the sweet 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 lv 
 
 reasonableness which M. Arnold makes the 
 essence of Atticism, it comes up in his style as 
 the ‘ sweetness and light ’ which M. Arnold 
 borrowed from Swift to express the quality of 
 Hellenism. He has in fulness the temper for 
 want of which men kill themselves or forswear 
 thinking for fear of its consequences; the 
 temper which digests contradictions and har¬ 
 monises all things. This temper takes shape 
 in his favourite virtues. 
 
 evpovXla we have seen is the text of Antigone} 
 to (jypoveiv Trjs evSai/jLovlag 7rpcorov (the same 
 c ppoveiv —‘to have the light’ that Teiresias 
 speaks of in CEdipus Rex). evf3ov\la is a special 
 determination of it; the quality which recon¬ 
 ciles the conflict of State right and individual 
 right, of duty to human law and duty to 
 divine; or, if you prefer, which prevents their 
 collisions. It is like the later conception of 
 eiTLeiKela ; our own equivalent, the constitutional 
 feeling which supplements the deficiencies of 
 law and curtails its extravagances. 
 
 Tolerance is the doctrine eloquently urged by 
 Haemon in Antigone , especially in the passage :— 
 
 “ Wear not within yourself one single mood, 
 
 One rule and one alone of rectitude.” 2 
 
 To the same tune are the praises of Patience 
 inculcated by the Trachinian women, with the 
 1 Ant., 1350. 2 Ant., 705 and 723. 
 
lvi 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 reflection upon that mutability of things which 
 Sophocles repeatedly handled with fresh graces. 1 
 We have them again in the mouth of Neopto- 
 lemus; 2 and akin also is the patient faith in 
 Providence spoken by CEdipus. 3 These are 
 all virtues which suit well with our conception 
 of Sophocles’ temper as a mellow compound of 
 tenderness and right reason. For this note of 
 tenderness or pitifulness there are evidences in 
 plenty : take Deianira for one example. 4 
 
 Sophocles does not call life a disease, but he 
 knows the qualities which make a good patient. 
 Let us return for a moment to the special 
 application of evf 3 ov\[a as the virtue which 
 harmonises the relations of State and Individual. 
 We have seen that the main thought which we 
 may analyse out of Antigone is this conflict 
 between rights of Law and the rights of indi¬ 
 vidual Conscience. The problem—to use our 
 mean analytic word : to Sophocles it is not as a 
 problem to be solved, but a marvel among 
 marvels to be recreated in a form of art—the 
 problem, however, seems to have fascinated his 
 attention. Agamemnon, in Ajax, formulates 
 State right in naked brutality : rov tol rvpavvov 
 evaefielv ov paSiovj “A king cannot well be a 
 saint,” and shortly after he states the duty of 
 
 1 Track., 125 ; Aj 666. 2 Phil., 192. 
 
 3 O. C ., 277 seq. 4 Track , 296 and 436. 5 Ai, 1350. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 lvii 
 
 passive obedience. 1 In this play, comparatively 
 crude in workmanship as it is, Agamemnon is a 
 crude type of what the Athenian detested in 
 tyranny. The Creon of Antigone is no such 
 stage villain: the beauty of the tragedy partly 
 depends upon this, that he is not a bad man nor 
 a bad king, only wanting in the saving grace of 
 ev( 3 ov\ia. Here is his doctrine summarised:— 
 
 “ You cannot understand a man’s heart and 
 temper and wit, 2 until it be proved by familiarity 
 with law and authority. A king must grasp 
 the best counsel; if he keep silence from fear 
 of any man, he is a rogue : nothing so near and 
 dear that it may come between him and public 
 duty.” And public duty is the ground of dis¬ 
 tinction drawn between the funeral honours 
 rendered to Eteocles and the casting-out of 
 Polyneices. 
 
 Creon says to Antigone, “Are you not 
 ashamed to differ from public opinion ? ” 3 Her 
 appeal to the aypairra KacrcpaXrj vo^u^a 4 is mere 
 vftpL? to Creon ; as though one should plead con¬ 
 science to an attorney. Law is absolute, authority 
 infallible: that is his position clearly laid down: 5 
 
 “ What man the State appoints thou shalt obey 
 E’en in the least, be’t right or t’other way.” 
 
 It is only patriotism run mad by contamination 
 
 1 At., 1352. 3 Ant., 180. 3 Ant., 510. 
 
 4 Ant., 454. 5 Ant., 665. 
 
lviii 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 with a narrower egoism: the patriot is part 
 of Creon’s character in all three plays, 1 but we 
 must divest the word of every romantic asso¬ 
 ciation, and clothe it in the significances which 
 the term patriot carries when applied by a party 
 newspaper to a party leader. 
 
 Neoptolemus says— 2 
 
 7roAis yap earn Traca rQ>v rjyovpievuiv 
 (rrparos re cvpiras. 
 
 It is the fault of their governments when 
 men go wrong. Yet later he yields :— 
 
 ru>v yap ev reXei kXvciv 
 to r evSi kov /xe kou to crvp.fyepov iroei . 3 
 
 Right and expediency combine to sanction 
 obedience to authority, and Neoptolemus is 
 Sophocles’ incarnation of the chivalrous spirit 
 in contrast with the politic. 
 
 Fr. 618 is against demagogues who make 
 right and sober-sense to be trampled under foot; 4 
 Fr. 194 argues for freedom of speech. 
 
 Even dismissing the anecdotes related of 
 Sophocles which allege his participation in 
 politics, we may judge that the Periclean 
 system—democracy under a very powerful 
 president—satisfied him as likeliest to keep the 
 human and divine code, the general and the 
 
 1 0. c., 759. 2 Phil., 385. 
 
 8 Phil, 926. 4 Fr., 618. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 lix 
 
 individual charter of right from collision; 
 which only a strong element of personality in 
 government will achieve. He was keenly alive 
 to the dangers of consecrating administrative 
 right—much in the way that M. Arnold re¬ 
 proaches our race for idolising machinery to 
 the neglect of the spirit— 
 
 But he feared the excesses of the later demo¬ 
 cracy more. There is nothing improbable in 
 the story that he approved the reaction of the 
 CCCC as the least of possible evils: it was a 
 revolution made by thinking men. And he 
 says in the speech of Creon before cited, avapyla? 
 yap juLei^ov ovk eanv KaKov : 2 the eloquent heat of 
 the passage seems to show that it is his own 
 thought, though spoken by Creon. 
 
 But his nature was fundamentally unpolitical, 
 too fine for politics, too deeply impregnated 
 with the sense of human futility to take politics 
 seriously at all times. The sum of his political 
 philosophy is— 
 
 and 
 
 The divine law is always more really present 
 
 2 Ant., 668. 
 4 Fr., 840. 
 
lx 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 to his consciousness than any realities, which 
 gives the logical thoroughness to his system 
 that is sometimes called Jesuitical. See his 
 notable assertion of the doctrine that the end 
 justifies the means :— 
 
 “ Alone by God’s preferment man is wise: 
 
 A man must walk, keeping on God his eyes, 
 
 The road he’s bid, tho’ Justice be transgress’d : 
 Nothing is vile of all the Gods suggest.” 1 
 
 M. Arnold’s phrase is perfectly true: that 
 he “saw life whole.” His serenity feels equally 
 the vanity of human wishes and human fears 2 
 {Fr., 62). Few more pessimistic things have 
 ever been said than— 
 
 ouo€F yap aAyos otov rj 7roAAr] £orj. 
 
 — Fr., 509 . 
 
 And yet he is not a pessimist. Only the 
 almost sentimental turn for melancholy which 
 marks the Ionian is strong in him, as in all 
 natures which are hyperaesthetic both of pains 
 and pleasures. 
 
 In no respect is he more purely a Greek than 
 this: his morality is imaginative. Morality 
 inculcated apart from religion is simply un¬ 
 meaning to such minds ; for them there are 
 the two alternatives of piety rendered with 
 
 1 Fr., 227. 
 
 2 A/., 125; O. C., 1211 ; Fr., 12; Fr., 103; Fr., 860. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 lxi 
 
 enthusiasm as service to a personal deity re¬ 
 garded with imaginative love and awe—or pure 
 hedonism. There is no reason to doubt the 
 stories which report sensuousness of Sophocles: 
 
 we expect it of one so richly gifted with the 
 
 power of visualising, one who thinks in images.' 
 The words related by old Cephalus in the 
 opening of the Republic , wcnrep aypiov km \vt- 
 tcovtci Seo-TroTijv, are in the same key with Dante’s 
 confession and Michelangiolo : we could match 
 them in “The expense of spirit in a waste of 
 shame.” 
 
 In the splendid fragment— 
 
 / 
 
 Secvbv TO IIet,#OUS TTp6(T(x)7rOV — 1 
 
 I suspect it is Peitho, the handmaid of Aphro¬ 
 dite. The fragment from Lovers of Achilles is 
 very noteworthy:— 
 
 “ Sickness of love’s a mischief fugitive : 
 
 No bad comparison is this I’ll give— 
 
 Boys when the heavens are frosty, in a trice 
 Will fill their hands with lumps of dripping ice, 
 
 And first ’tis all delight and wonder, then 
 The lump no more will be let go again, 
 
 Nor yet be pretty treasure to retain. 
 
 E’en so with lovers: oft the one desire 
 Shall them to do and not to do require.” 2 
 
 In another fragment it is the Srjy/i* epcoros ; 3 
 
 1 Fr. f 780. 
 
 2 Fr. y 154. 
 
 8 Fr ., 757. 
 
Ixii SOPHOCLES 
 
 in the same context falls to be considered the 
 longer passage:— 
 
 a> 7rou8es yj tol Ku7 rpls ov K.V7rpl<$ fxovov d 
 
 He is extremely sensitive to horrors which 
 shock the imagination : his mastery of language 
 enables him to use such delicacy of euphemism 
 in CEdipus Rex and CEdipus Coloneus that his 
 subject is never repulsive. Shelley matches 
 him in the Cenci. Ford’s handling in 'Tis 
 pity , &c., is deliberately different, as his plot 
 requires. 
 
 And yet on occasion he was no Puritan to 
 shirk calling a spade a spade ( Fr ., 441); the 
 same undignified domestic object plays a part 
 in a fragment of the ’A yaloov SAXo^o?. 2 Ovid 
 speaks of his in obscaenos deflexa tragoedia 
 risusd 
 
 He kept his idealism for ideal spheres. He 
 did not dislike the national aptitude for roguery 
 and cunning ; his partiality for the hero of 
 ingenuity—Odysseus, whom his enemies called 
 a bastard of Sisyphus—is evident. In Ajax it 
 is Odysseus who represents ev/ 3 ov\ia ; in Philoc- 
 tetes he is contrasted, but not unkindly, with 
 the chivalrous temper of Neoptolemus ; the 
 sentiment in Phil. 97 would come home to every 
 Greek hearer as national. So, too, the argument 
 
 1 Fr., 856. 2 Fr., 141. 3 Trist. ii., 409. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 lxiii 
 
 of Orestes, Sokco /nev ovSev prjpia orvv KepSei kcikov , 1 
 and the exclamation— 
 
 ovSev yap avQpunroiciv olov a pyvpos 2 
 KaKov vopucrfi e/3Xa<jT €, 
 
 is put into the unsympathetic mouth of the 
 doctrinaire Creon. 
 
 Fr. 25 is an anticipation of virtus laudatur 
 et alget , but not satirically spoken— 
 
 cru 8’ Oteros cocnrep ol <ro(f)ol ra pXv 
 SiKal e7ra [vet, rov 8e icepSaiveiv £X ov i 
 
 which Athenaeus deprecates as 7 eiprjjuevov. 
 The praises of money are the theme also of ra 
 Xjjrj/jLaT dvOpwTroLcri , 3 &c. Fr. 325 gives a casuist 
 defence of justifiable untruth: so does 327. 
 The didactic Plutarch quotes and disapproves 
 the line— 
 
 to KepSos rj8v Kav airo \J/ev8u)V irjA 
 
 There are several recorded instances, and doubt¬ 
 less our own experience furnishes more ; some¬ 
 times it shows as a racial characteristic—of minds 
 which combined an intensely idealist or mystic 
 disposition with a keen business sense: S. 
 Teresa and Mr. Gladstone, to cite no others. 
 &nd so in Sophocles the two parts of wise man 
 of the world and idealist permeated with 
 
 1 El., 61. 2 Ant., 296. 
 
 8 Fr., 86. 4 Fr., 749. 
 
lxiv 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 mystical consciousness were doubled without 
 incongruity. 
 
 There is one more aspect of his mysticism 
 which I wish to elaborate before leaving this 
 topic. It is his conception of Time. Time, 
 either universally personified, or personified 
 severally in its divisions, presented itself to 
 Sophocles’ imagination not as a mere “within- 
 which,” a setting, a condition, but as an agent 
 effecting those things which take place within 
 its duration. We have quasi personifying 
 expressions for portions of time, as when we 
 say, “ that day was the author of many 
 troubles,” ‘‘that, year saw Queen Victoria’s 
 death; ” but the picturesque value of the 
 language in these is dead; they are rhetorical 
 variations. With Sophocles the personification 
 is bold and lively, and of frequent recurrence— 
 
 Xpovos yap evpiaprjs deos. 1 
 
 (See Wilamowitz’ note on Hercules , 557.) 
 
 It is again Xj° 0 ^ 0? universally in 
 
 6 7ras av 7r pcTTOL TvapO>v evveTve.lv 
 raSe 8 lk<£ \p 6 vos? 
 
 Notice the boldness of the figure when Clytem- 
 nestra describes her anxious life—• 
 
 6 TTpovnarlov xpovos, &c. 3 
 
 “ Time, in whose protection I stood, led me the life of 
 one ever awaiting death.” 
 
 1 El 179. 
 
 2 EL , 1255. 
 
 3 EL , 781. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 lxv 
 
 In Fr. 280 he is 
 
 t / /]) ( a 
 
 o iravv opojv 
 
 kcu TvavT (xkovcov TrdvT } dvaTTTVcrcrei >(/o6vo5. 
 
 For determinations of Time so personified we 
 have aiow 1 represented as “ushering Hercules 
 homeward and from home on somebody’s 
 errand.” We remember old OKdipus’ warning 
 to Theseus of the fickleness of States. First it 
 is Xi oovos , 2 who in his omnipotence confounds 
 all things except gods, then 
 
 “ Time he goes his ways, 
 
 And countless Time breeds countless nights and days .” 3 
 
 But in Antigone 4 he says, “Neither slumber 
 overtakes the pre-eminence of Zeus, slumber 
 which lays traps for all things, nor shall the 
 tireless months disperse it.” And again, in a 
 moment of strange exaltation, kindled by the 1 
 gathering mystery of his birth, CEdipus says:— 
 
 “ Chance is the mother who bare me, the months are my 
 brothers; they have mapped out my seasons of great and 
 lowly estate .” 5 
 
 And lastly, the vvktcs kcu rj^epm are personified 
 as agents. 6 
 
 We can see how this mystical conception 
 suits the serenity and completeness of his view 
 on life: he traces every event back to this 
 
 1 Track 34. 2 O. C., 607. 
 
 3 0 . C., 617. 4 Ant., 607. 
 
 5 O. T., 1082. 6 El. 1365; cf. O. C., 931. 
 
 e 
 
lxvi 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 all-embracing condition (as we think of it) as 
 cause, over which God sits absolute; and by 
 realising Time as a great dimension of Neces¬ 
 sity, he realises the supernatural as present in 
 detail in all things as Time unfolds them in 
 sequence— 
 
 “ Still at the roaring loom of Time I ply, 
 
 And weave for God the garment thou see’st Him by.” 
 
 t 
 
 V 
 
 It is curious to contrast the fewness of his 
 yvcofjLai with the ample Euripidean store; and it is 
 typical of the finish of his work, that he scarcely 
 ever shows the commonplace book; scarcely 
 ever a passage betrays that it has been “got in ” 
 —so thorough is the unity of composition that 
 it is like a natural growth, cut from which no 
 specimen is organically complete. In Euripides 
 we too often see the proverb or the tag of 
 versified popular philosophy which has been 
 composed separately, noted and introduced. 
 But there are just a few proverbs which are 
 worth quoting, if only for their comparative 
 insignificance. 
 
 “Trying to mend mischief with mischief,” 1 
 
 —borrowed maybe from Herodotus. 
 
 airav to xprjcrTov yvrjcrLav cfavcriv , 2 
 
 1 Fr., 75. 
 
 2 Fr. y 85. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 lxvii 
 
 which may bear some relation to the story of 
 his own illegitimate son. 
 
 4k Kapra /3aitov yvwTos av yevoiT avyjp, 1 
 
 a dictum I wish were true in the attempt to 
 decipher the author from his remains! 
 
 Fr, 371 gives his version of— 
 
 “ Heaven helps those who help themselves.” 
 
 Fr, 344 and 345 are substantially found up 
 and down in Pindar ; you may call them antici¬ 
 pations of forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit. 
 In misogynism he does not altogether belie the 
 literary tradition of Greeks, though we think 
 differently of the author of Electra and Antigone. 
 
 / v \ \ y y yf jw v o 
 
 KdKLOV aAA OVK €(TTIV OUO 6CTTCU 7TOT€ A 
 
 yvvai ko<$, €l tl 7rr)pa ylyvercu flpOTols. 
 
 From Epigonoi. 
 
 His Tereus 3 contained a very Euripidean 
 passage of reflection on the lot of woman under 
 the Greek regime. 
 
 Fr. 617, from Phaedra , is more like the Book 
 of Proverbs :— 
 
 ywaiKos ovSev av pel £ov kolkov 
 KdKrjs avrjp KTrjcraiT av, ov8e (Tiocfypovos 
 Kpelaaov’ iraOcov 8’ eKacrros 5v Tvxy \eyet. 
 
 The last comment was just the point of the 
 
 1 Fr ., 262. 
 
 2 Fr ., 188. 
 
 3 Fr ., 521. 
 
lxviii 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 gibe against Euripides. Lastly, one which you 
 parallel by the pageful from Horace and the 
 Latin elegiac poets— 
 
 o/Okods eya) yvvcuKos eis v8(»p ypa<j)(o , 1 
 
 VI 
 
 Strictly personal allusions, of the petty auto¬ 
 biographical kind, such as self-conscious poets 
 indulge in, I know not one in his works for 
 certain ; so consistently is his private self kept 
 under by his artistic self. It is possible there 
 may be a private motive at the bottom of the 
 complaint in Antigone — 
 
 oo'Tts S’ avco^eA^Ta (fuTvei tckv a 2 
 rt tovS av CLTTOig aXXo 7rXrjv avT<£ 7 rovovs 
 (fivcrou 7roA.i/*' re tolctlv egdpolcnv yeXwv j 
 
 The words agree with the story that he had 
 thankless sons; but then, in the want of any¬ 
 thing to gratify curiosity about the poet, it 
 may be that out of such passages as at least 
 suggested a personal touch, were developed the 
 corresponding stories. 
 
 Two fragments on Life 3 are burning with 
 personal conviction, but any poet who lived to 
 be ninety might write them with equal ardour— 
 
 tov ffiv yap ov8el<s d>s 6 yrjpaarKiov £pa. } 
 
 1 Fr . 741. 
 
 2 Ant ., 645. 
 
 3 Fr ., 63 and 64. 
 
INTRODUCTION lxix 
 
 and 
 
 to (rjv yap & irai Travros rjSiov yavos' 
 
 6avc.lv yap ovk c^cart rot? avroicri Sis, 
 
 and yet the same man could say— 
 
 ovk €(TTiv a Ay os oTov rj 7 roWrj fap 
 
 Creon’s reproach to CEdipus’ hot temper 1 
 may be a current proverb aptly introduced, or 
 a touch of introspective analysis by the old poet, 
 which posterity handed about as a proverb. 
 
 Ovpov yap ouSev yrjpas carcv aAAo 7 r\r]v 
 Oavelv. 
 
 The opening sentiment of the chorus in 
 oVrts tov 7rAeovos pepov s 2 
 
 seems likewise inspired by personal feeling; 
 but, as in the greatest poetry always, it is 
 strong personal emotion with the egoism 
 purged out of it, and grown typical and uni¬ 
 versally valid. Even the most finished artist 
 may betray himself by the frequency with 
 which his choice returns to certain subjects, for 
 this is a bias unconscious and hard to check; 
 but still it is only a suspicion that here we have 
 the man himself behind the mask: the mask 
 wears always its bidden expression, but the turn 
 of the head in one direction belongs to the 
 
 1 a c., 954. 2 0. C. f 1211. 
 
lxx 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 man. So with this dwelling upon old age. 
 There is one more passage on the same theme 
 —the temper of age; but the corrupt text 3 
 allows no more than to see what the subject is. 
 
 One more topic and I have done with his 
 matter considered in this artificial abstraction 
 from its form in which we must needs con¬ 
 sider it. 
 
 VII 
 
 A great deal of humbug is current about 
 the classical neglect for Nature. We cannot 
 go into the whole subject, for it is matter for a 
 whole book. It is treated in charming English 
 by Professor Hardie in a printed Inaugural. 
 Briefly, the Greeks had a keen sense of natural 
 beauty. But just as it was a surfeit of civilisa¬ 
 tion which turned aside to idealise the “ noble 
 savage ” {see Leslie Stephen), so the Words¬ 
 worthian view of Nature is in essence an 
 exaggerated reaction from artificiality. The 
 Nature-worship in Wordsworth and Meredith 
 is rather pantheistic than pagan in feeling. To 
 the Greeks, just as the powers of Nature were 
 figured in anthropomorphic gods, so brute 
 Nature was admired and loved in relation to 
 man. The reaction turns to forest and 
 
 1 Fr. t 808. 
 
INTRODUCTION lxxi 
 
 moorland, to the wilderness. Newman has 
 the classical feeling when, in a lovely description 
 of rich, cultivated provincial Africa, he says that 
 the natural beauty is touched with a human 
 sentiment because the mark of human service is 
 upon it all. Man’s labour has turned it to 
 man’s blessing. 
 
 The chorus in CEdipus Coloneus , which sings 
 the beauties of Colonos, is perhaps the most 
 hackneyed thing in Greek literature on the 
 subject; yet, mind you, even here it is the 
 glory of Nature subjugated by Art. Left to 
 bare Nature, the hill of Colonos is to-day a 
 barren earth-heap. Sophocles celebrates the 
 beauties of Nature in luxuriant cultivation— 
 the nightingales of Colonos sing in a grove 
 planted by man; the streams of Ilissos are 
 shepherded by man in order to irrigate. So, 
 too, in a lovely fragment preserved by Cicero, 
 Sophocles —tuus amicus , as Cicero calls him, 
 addressing the bland and genial Atticus— 
 
 <()€v <f>ev tl tovtov yappa fJLtl^ov av \a(3ois 
 tov yrjs ZTrL\pdv<ravTa Kqd' vtto crreyr) 
 noWrjs a.Kov(rai xf/aKaSos ev8ovcry (fapevc ‘ 1 
 
 “ Ah ! is there any greater joy than this ? 
 
 To touch the land, and then, well-roof’d from weather, 
 Drowsily hear the raindrops plash together ? ” 
 
 1 Fr., 574. 
 
lxxii 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Not the beauty of rain for its own sake, coat 
 or no coat, but the same feeling as inspired 
 Lucretius’ Suave, mari magno. The roof makes 
 the charm of the rain. 
 
 VIII 
 
 We have tried to trace the outline of his 
 thought, to extract his opinion upon certain 
 questions, bring out certain conceptions which 
 seemed significant for the reconstruction of his 
 personality. The outline of his thought only : 
 for the language in which thought incarnates 
 itself makes the very colour of the thought. 
 We have observed a certain serenity and com¬ 
 pleteness as the dominant notes in his disposi¬ 
 tion. These qualities correspond exactly in his 
 language. 
 
 But, first, let us note a few judgments of 
 the ancients upon his style. The Anthology 1 
 contains a pretty piece by Simmias the 
 Theban— 
 
 “ Creep softly, ivy-plant, and softly o’er 
 Sophocles’ grave thy tresses green outpour: 
 Bloom roses here at large, and cluster’d vine 
 Her lissom tendril circumfus’d entwine, 
 
 For him who made in honey’d style discreet 
 The influences of Muse and Grace to meet.” 
 
 1 Anth. Palat vii. 22. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Ixxiii 
 
 ev 67 r[tis TriwTocppovog for his writing and 6 
 fieXixpos for himself are Simmias’ words. 
 
 Plutarch, in the essay de gloria Atheniensium , 
 praises Aeschylus for cnro/ia^ “ large utterance,” 
 Euripides for crocpca , “ ingenuity,” and distin¬ 
 guishes Sophocles for Xoyiorrjs, which we may i 
 render “ eloquent facility.” The scholiast' 
 selects the ode in CEdipus Coloneus 1 as an ex¬ 
 ample of 'yXacpvpov kcu wSikou /xeAo?, “ smooth 
 and tuneful poetry.” 
 
 Now Burke says of smoothness that it is “a 
 quality so essential to beauty that I do not 
 now recollect anything beautiful that is not 
 smooth.” Remember that he is distinguishing 
 beautiful from sublime. Uncertainty is sub¬ 
 lime. But where he says, “ A great clearness 
 helps but little towards affecting the passions, 
 as it is in some sort an enemy to all enthusi¬ 
 asms whatever,” he makes a statement which 
 hardly allows for the special requirements of 
 drama. Modern critics have found “ trans¬ 
 parency” to be the great character of Sophocles. 
 And justly : only it is a transparency where the 
 eye penetrates deep and deeper, and yet never 
 finds bottom. Smallness is another of Burke’s 
 attributes for beauty; and, if we are not strain¬ 
 ing his meaning, it is true that the definiteness 
 and neat comprehensibleness of each phrase is 
 
 1 o. c., 668. 
 
lxxiv 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 among Sophocles’ excellences — though it is 
 idle to look for beauty alone and not sublimity, 
 in the face of Longinus’ opinion; and there 
 are moments in the style where precisely the 
 baffling vagueness of the phrase is a virtue. 
 
 It seems to happen that the colloquial ease, 
 the middle diction of Coleridge, the walk of 
 language which lies common to poetry and 
 prose, is only accessible to those whose minds 
 are well nourished with reading and experience 
 of the world. Contrast a Byron or a Shelley 
 even (in many of his pieces) with a Keats. 
 And here again character and circumstances 
 tell upon style : the shyness of a recluse or 
 unpopular poet will draw him into a diction 
 quite removed from that of everyday life, or 
 else draw him into a cynical protest against the 
 dignities of convention. In Euripides we see 
 both. Sophocles found that he could so handle 
 the common speech that with only a rare occa¬ 
 sional stilting it rose high enough for the 
 elevation of poetical thought. He hardly ever 
 puzzles his audience. But we shall see that in 
 some of his phraseologies he appears to enjoy 
 using a peculiar ambiguity—the nature of which 
 is that the language bears a superficial con¬ 
 struction obvious enough to save the plain man 
 from stumbling, whereas to an ear which re¬ 
 tains and weighs the whole sentence, another 
 
 . j 
 
 l 
 
INTRODUCTION Ixxv 
 
 and subtler construction is found to be in¬ 
 volved. 
 
 I have mentioned Longinus. You are 
 familiar with the censure which he pronounces 
 upon Sophocles and Pindar together. Cer¬ 
 tainly each is sinning in good company! 
 
 “There are times when by sheer force their style seems 
 as it were a general conflagration, but there are many times 
 when they sink extinguished unaccountably and fall most 
 disastrously.” 1 
 
 We may not disregard the criticism, because 
 Plutarch also accuses Sophocles of avcojmaXia , 2 
 and Dionys. Halic. 3 has this sentence: “And 
 often he falls from full grandeur to hollow 
 pretension ; I mean he ends by being quite 
 mean and homely.” This might be Dr. John¬ 
 son on Wordsworth! Or for a better ex¬ 
 ample how far a critic may be misled by the 
 contemporary fashion, think of Dr. Johnson 
 describing the metre of Lycidas as “harsh and 
 unpleasing.” Plutarch’s judgments in pure 
 literature are to be taken with a caution, 
 because he is infected with the didactic and 
 moralising bias of a decadence. But the author 
 of the Trepl ihj/ou? is generally appreciative ; and 
 in order to justify his remark, we must suppose 
 that Sophocles did not always write on the 
 
 1 De Subl xxxiii. 5. 2 De Red. Aud. Poet ., 13. 
 
 3 Veit. Script. Cetts ii. 11. 
 
lxxvi 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 level of our seven plays. Particularly, it may 
 be supposed that in the period when he was 
 consciously reforming the diction of drama, he 
 may have been guilty of too violent contrasts 
 between the Aeschylean tradition and the new 
 protesting manner. I think we could point to 
 plenty of cases in the poetry of the Wordsworth 
 epoch where an echo of the eighteenth century 
 tradition, rhetorical and conventional, offends 
 sharply against the tones of the new plain style. 
 
 Therefore I do not feel that we need be 
 disturbed in the conclusion that the note of 
 Sophocles’ style is smoothness and evenness. 
 And it is a smoothness and evenness secured 
 quite as much by levelling down as levelling 
 up. Read any whole play through, and you 
 will not fail to be struck by the sobriety of 
 Sophocles in abstaining from purple patches 
 which make the surrounding fabric look homely 
 and dingy. In his best plays he never em¬ 
 broiders ; however rich the fabric, it is self- 
 coloured and woven in one piece. It realises 
 in poetry what Boutmy, as already quoted, says 
 of architecture (see p. xxxix.). I do not say that 
 there are no passages especially stilisirt , but even 
 where, in obedience to the convention, he runs 
 into descriptive bravuras in a pwis (e.g. the 
 chariot race in Electra 1 and the Seven against 
 
 1 El., 680. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 lxxvii 
 
 Thebes in CEdipus Coloneus *), the lines do not 
 stand out as overcharged ornament detracting 
 attention from the general effect. They do not 
 monopolise memory, or figure as set pieces 
 which would be no less effective in a book of 
 elegant extracts than in their own organic place 
 in the work. 
 
 To the same principle or craft belongs his 
 practice in the matter of metaphor. Violent 
 metaphors are retrenched ; where the metaphor 
 is inclined to be too sudden and startling, apt 
 rather to perplex than to please and illuminate, 
 he carefully suits the context in order to abate 
 it. Two examples from Ajax: the hero is 
 described in his moody fit of dejection after the 
 return of his reason : 2 — 
 
 “ Get thee up from thy seat where thou art upreared in 
 this livelong anguished repose, kindling the flame of destruc¬ 
 tion heaven high! Meanwhile the pride of foes runs and 
 spreads unabashed in draughty valley floors.” 
 
 The double metaphor from conflagration is 
 mutually supported and eased. 
 
 Again, the madman is likened to “ a moping 
 herdsman of the mind,” 3 and a little later the 
 same figure is delicately suggested in the words, 
 “ No more he abides in the familiar stock of 
 moods, but consorts aloof.” 4 
 
 1 O. C., 1300. 
 
 3 Ajax , 614 . 
 
 2 Ajax, 195. 
 4 Ajax , 640. 
 
Ixxviii 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Not that this self-restraint in writing debars 
 him from striking hard and boldly at times; 
 but it saves him from the bewildering rapidity 
 with which Aeschylus breaks from one meta¬ 
 phor to another, each rather indicated than 
 developed. Of Sophocles’ force when he lets 
 it go, no better instance than the fragment of 
 Teukros , in which Telamon (or his wife), upon 
 learning Ajax’s death, says—Teukros had per¬ 
 haps celebrated his brother’s heroism before 
 confessing he was dead :— 
 
 “ O vain delight, wherewith I was delighted, 
 
 To hear his praise, as one alive, recited ! 
 
 The fiend of Death in darkness all the while 
 Fawning upon me let the joy beguile .” 1 
 
 So constant is the tone of diction to which 
 metaphor and choice of words conform, that if 
 Sophocles is true to Sophocles, we are safe in 
 rejecting the passage which amplifies the text 
 eyOpwv aScopa Scopa 2 not only on the grounds of 
 its singularities, but its violent over-emphasis 
 of diction. Who knows but that Alexander 
 Aetolus, who recensed the Dramatists for the 
 Museum Library, may not have permitted 
 himself to add such an embellishment ? 
 
 I have said something of the Sophistic influ¬ 
 ence—that they were the first grammarians. 
 Sophocles derived a much more valuable 
 
 1 Fr., 516. 2 Ajax , 1028. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Ixxix 
 
 inheritance from them in cultivating this pro¬ 
 vince than did Euripides. Sophists’ rhetoric, the 
 mere ingenuity of finding pros and cons, and 
 phrasing them with point and neatness, is never 
 perhaps quite absent from Stichomuthia, but 
 passages like Ajax^ 2 65, where Tecmessa 
 sophises over her grief, are rare enough in 
 Sophocles. But as a manipulator of language 
 we compare him with Virgil and Tennyson. 
 In each case it is a serene temperament that 
 takes exact count of the values and origins and 
 associations of words as they pass, and arranges 
 them conformably. He is one of those masters 
 of style who resist in every page the flattening, 
 disfiguring effect of usage upon current speech. 
 The dead picturesqueness in a word is recalled 
 to life by a cunning collocation, the flattened 
 metaphor repointed, the slipshod phrase erected 
 into dignity and significance by some slight 
 repair. He plays with words as only a man 
 with the philologer’s sense of their derivations 
 can play. 1 He loves such expressions as are 
 philologically ambiguous, though usage has de¬ 
 termined them toward one meaning ; these he 
 arranges so as to do duty in another. And 
 often he seems to retain a wilful ambiguity, 
 where either sense suits his context, for love 
 of being doubly (poovaevra a-vverotcn. The genius 
 1 O. C., 46, 1267-70, 189; 0. T.y 338; O. C., 996. 
 
lxxx 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 of the language favoured such finesses, e.g. in the 
 case of compound adjectives. See a phrase like 
 7 r pay os acncoirov : 1 it might mean “a dark business 
 —hard to understand/’ an “ unwatched busi¬ 
 ness,” an “unwatchful business.” Compare here 
 irpoayj}^ dywvos of El. 682; his juggling with the 
 equivoques in di ticttos, d.7r€i0yjg, dmo-TeLVj dmOeiv : 2 
 a'(xe7rT09, Fr. 48 ( cf, \ CE dipus Coloneus , 1022, 
 eyKpareig). 3 The Scholiast’s phrase ISlws ecrgrj/xd- 
 TLcre tov Xoyov 4 is true many times over. The 
 passage is not a bad instance of his technique :— 
 
 w fJ.rj Oavpafc irpos to Xt7ra pes 
 
 tzkv el cfxtvevr deXyrTa prjKvvu) Aoyov. 5 
 
 See how he has quickened an everyday phrase 
 so as to enforce attention, and contrived to 
 indicate in a dozen words all that, expressed 
 fully, would have been said in— 
 
 p 7 ) davpa^e 7r/jos to At7ra/5€s ei Aurapco? 
 deXTTTCDV (f)aV€VT(DV TWV T €KV(OV pTJKVVO) 
 
 TOV Trepl TOVTIOV XoyOV. 
 
 And, above all, notice how the full effect de¬ 
 pends upon the order in which the words strike 
 the ear; the interlinking of members in the 
 phrase, the art of making a word or a member 
 do double duty, consists chiefly in the order 
 of words. I have not time to develop the 
 
 1 Ajax, 21. 2 Ant., 656. 3 O. T. 
 
 4 Schol. on 0 . C.. mg. 6 O. C., 1116. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 lxxxi 
 
 examples in detail: it must suffice to note that 
 the figure government air6 koivov is a favourite 
 resource of his, and leave the student to work 
 out the instances. Here are some references : 
 Ajax, 330, 763, 792. 
 
 No writer cuts his language more exactly to 
 fit his thought, is more free from that degra¬ 
 dation of style to which the newspapers have 
 brought us—I mean the state where we clothe 
 our thought in reach-me-downs , where a single 
 word is never used but it draws after it by 
 association some dead phrase : such a lingo as 
 “ constitutes a leading feature in the situation ” 
 —four dead metaphors bundled together into a 
 phrase which, to any one who is sensitive to the 
 significances of words, is more ludicrous than 
 all the Irish bulls; a phrase irpoo-Oe \ecov oiriOev 
 Se SpaKcov, fjceararr] Se ^ i/aaipa ! Of course the 
 danger of an over-acute sensitiveness to the 
 rights of each word is that it may run into 
 pedantry, which refuses any compromise with 
 usage. Sophocles saves himself from that ex¬ 
 cess by his steady approximation to the ease 
 but. not the laxity of colloquial speech. Natural 
 stylists of the first water are invariably volu¬ 
 minous—Plato, Swift, Newman: Sophocles’ 
 total of composition must have been fully 
 100,000 lines. We cannot believe, then, that 
 his subtlety and pregnancy of diction are the 
 
 / 
 
lxxxii 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 fruits of intense revision and concentration. 
 His ease must have horrified the ancient pedant 
 as much as he has provoked the modern 
 “scientific” critic. For instances of a phrase 
 clear in meaning, but almost baffling analysis, 
 take Electra , 466; Ajax, 176, 475; CEdipus 
 Coloneus , 1019-1020, 967. 
 
 Words must be forced to yield their maxi¬ 
 mum of significance: that is the principle by 
 which he makes a seemingly plain and trans¬ 
 parent style equal to the interpretation of the 
 subtlest thought. Thought must be working 
 in every corner of the phrase. Good writing, 
 of course, postulates a good reader: the tele¬ 
 gram style of composition is worthy of the 
 reader who runs his eye down the page collecting 
 keywords, and only stopping where it meets 
 an obstacle. One of the greatest resources for 
 coercing language into expressing an uncommon 
 thought is the figure called oxymoron—a form 
 contrary to the axioms of verbal logic, but a 
 form alone able to express some of the deepest 
 intuitions of the mind. For one instance of 
 this trick of forcing language to say two things 
 and two contradictory things, both true, at once, 
 take CEdipus Coloneus , 131; or the anguished re¬ 
 pose in the passage {Aj. 195) quoted on p. lxxvii. 
 
 One of his favourite manoeuvres for quick¬ 
 ening those parts of a sentence which would 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 lxxxiii 
 
 otherwise be mere grammatical fillings (cases 
 where thought dispenses with what grammar 
 requires to express) is his treatment of the 
 substantive verb. Greek grammar employs the 
 present participle &v in a number of usages 
 where the thought would be content with its 
 ellipse; so that cov tends to become a dead word 
 in the sentence. Sophocles reinforces its signi¬ 
 ficance by compounding it with <rvv, aVo, eir), 
 irapa, so that it helps out the general sense of 
 the passage. Instances are many: Ajax y 267, 
 338 ( cf also 491), 610, 855 ; CEdipus Rex , 457, 
 863 ; Philo cteteSy 161 ; CEdipus Coloneus, 7, 772, 
 946,498. 
 
 His employment of personification is remark¬ 
 ably restrained in comparison with Aeschylus. 
 To take only the examples in CEdipus Coloneus / 
 you will see that in each case the personifica¬ 
 tion serves to make an otherwise trite sentence 
 vivid, but without being fantastic. But in this 
 particular, as also in the choice of metaphor, 2 
 he is specially admirable in suiting the phrase 
 and the colouring of the phrase, its more or 
 less of poetical and imaged quality, to the 
 character. This is best seen by collecting the 
 figures and metaphors in a Messenger’s speech— 
 
 1 O. C., 240, 267, 612, 658, 855, 1281. 
 
 2 Ajax , 348. 
 
lxxxiv 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 the watchman in Antigone is a good example 1 — 
 and contrasting them with those used by, say, 
 Creon in the same play. 
 
 Evaluation of words, to judge just how a 
 particular phrase struck the contemporary ear, 
 whether this metaphor was felt as a figure or 
 as a dead cipher, what were the associations of 
 this word, what did this particular collocation 
 of words say to the emotions or the intelligence 
 of the Periclean audience : such questions are 
 the highest problems of philology. Our 
 Scholia , silly as they sometimes are, and shirk¬ 
 ing cruces to expatiate on the obvious as they 
 do, are still the best guide to a solution: they 
 are the comments of men who thought in 
 Greek, however debased a Greek. That blood 
 is thicker than water for these purposes, that a 
 living tradition is worth all the industry of a 
 studious barbarian, is sufficiently proved to 
 anybody who observes the essentially different 
 sympathy and finesse with which an Italian or 
 a Frenchman handles a classical matter— 
 Fraccaroli or Croiset compared even with a 
 Wilamowitz v. Moellendorff. 
 
 It is a profitable exercise to go through any 
 
 1 In this character we seem to hear the very voice of the people: 
 mother wit, garrulity, poetical quality in imagery, homely direct¬ 
 ness, and a slightly ludicrous echo of the cleverness, psychological 
 or verbal, of the exquisites of Athens—like the crumbs of learning or 
 science which fall into our modern popular newspapers. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 lxxxv 
 
 given portion of the Scholia and gather the 
 points which the ancient commentators selected 
 for admiration. In the Scholia on Ajax, nothing 
 comes in for so much praise as Sophocles’ skill 
 in observing “ characterising ” ; but the 
 
 critics commended also, in a great many places, 
 the pathos ( TrepnraOrji ?, e/ui7ra0h, iraQriTLKOv, 7 ra@o?); 
 stagecraft ( ohcovo/ua ) is another selected merit ; 
 and the expressions, irpOKOiTTei rj V7r66e(ri$, crvveyeiv 
 rrjv vTroOeo-iv , belong to another class : they refer 
 to the skill with which episodes, dialogues, and 
 all the rest of the machinery are made to 
 subserve the general purpose. 
 
 • • • • • 
 Finally, we come back on M. Arnold : “ he 
 saw life steadily and saw it whole.” An idealist 
 to the bottom of his nature, he still found the 
 best philosophy was to “ keep his place among 
 the living.” Other-worldliness never soured 
 this world for him ; sense of the supernatural 
 did not dry up the natural aptitudes and pas- 
 sions; death did not spoil life for him, Ionian 
 though he was. He could see the world full 
 of contradiction and not turn cynic. His 
 dramatic eye saw the awful conflict between 
 the law of conscience and the law of the State; 
 but the humble sweetness of good temper and 
 good sense found a solution for all doubts. He 
 always appealed from the momentary to the 
 
Ixxxvi 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 total experience. And he was true to himself 
 in his art. The form in which he set him¬ 
 self to work was a compromise, a coalition of 
 elements which tended to fly apart, only main¬ 
 tained by tact of craftsmanship. And as in his 
 view of life, as in his method as a dramatic 
 poet, so in his use of language : he always leads 
 into the large outlook. Every word must be 
 subordinated to the phrase; every sentence to 
 the speech, the dialogue, the total expression of 
 the character to be presented ; and, lastly, no 
 inorganic ornament, nothing that unduly con¬ 
 centrates the attention which should be equally 
 distributed over the whole, nothing that is not 
 a member or feature of the living body into 
 which the whole work grows. 
 
 7roX\a)v koXwv Set to ) koXov tl fico/JLevM i^Fr. 853). 
 
 He speaks for a great era : Renan said that 
 if he had three lives, one of the other two 
 should have been devoted to writing the history 
 of the age of Pericles. I wish this volume 
 might be able to convey to an English reader 
 some indication of the message and the voice— 
 a worthy message and a true voice. 
 
 Note .—References to the Fragments follow the number¬ 
 ing of Nauck’s edition of 1856. 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
KING OEDIPUS 
 
 Scene. —Before the gates of the Palace at Thebes . On 
 the steps are grouped a number of citizens, young and 
 old , in the garb of suppliants ; foremost among them 
 
 a Priest. 
 
 Enter CE dipus from the Palace . 
 
 (Ed. Fresh brood of bygone Cadmus, children dear, 
 What is this posture of your sessions here 
 —Betufted on your supplicating rods ? C 1 ) 
 
 The while with groans and calling on the Gods 
 The city’s filled, and incense^ fumes the while. 
 For this, I, CEdipus, whom all men style 
 The Famous , came in person, and preferred 
 To take no message by another’s word. 
 
 What means your station ? Tell, old Sir, for here 
 You are the proper spokesman : is it fear, 
 
 Or adoration Never doubt my will 
 To help you freely. Hard the heart that still 
 Unmoved such congregation could withstand ! 
 Priest. Nay, CEdipus, high Sovereign of my land, 
 
 You see us at your altars, what we are : 
 
 Some having yet no strength to flutter far, 
 
 Some heavy in age ; priests, even as I of Zeus, 
 And picked of the youth ;tufted (the sup¬ 
 pliant’s use) 
 
 A 
 
2 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 
 At Pallas’ twofold (5) fanes the populace 
 Sits close, and others keep the Market-place, 
 
 Or hug the oracular Ismenian dust/ 6) 
 
 Because the city, as see it, Sire, you must, 
 
 Rolls rudely on a bloody surge adrift, 
 
 And no strength left her head fro’ the deep to 
 uplift : 
 
 Wasting in the fruitful blossoms of the earth, 
 Wasting in the herds of the field, and barren birth 
 Of women ;—ay, and worse—the God of Fire (7) 
 Pitches and harries in a plague most dire : 
 
 Under whose hand is Cadmus’ house made void, 
 Black Hell with groans and lamentations cloyed. 
 
 ’Tis not because of Gods we make you peer, 
 We and these children crouch, your votaries, here; 
 But by a life’s adventures first of men, 
 
 And dealings with the Power beyond our ken. 
 
 Are you not he who came to Cadmus’ walls 
 And cleared us of the debt we paid as thralls 
 Of the Vixen Bard ? Yet vantage none you had 
 Of us to teach you ; God alone could add 
 The gift by which ’tis said and ’tis believed 
 Our city’s fallen fortunes you retrieved. 
 
 Once more, majestic Lord, the People’s King, 
 All we in suppliant petitioning^ 
 
 Pray you find help—whether in God you can, 
 Whose voice you hear, or know of any in man. 
 I’ve seen the advice of men schooled in events 
 Prove vital truth even in its accidents/ 9 ) 
 
 Up then ! O Prince of men, our State upraise! 
 u P) look ! for loyal help in other days 
 The land acclaims you Saviour : that is well. 
 But leave not of your reign this tale to tell : 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 3 
 
 We stood upright , but we fell down anon. 
 
 Make fast the base you raise the State upon ! 
 
 A bird flew lucky when you blest us then ; 
 
 O be a match for your old self again ! 
 
 If rule the land you must as reign you do, 
 
 Rule it not empty, but with people too : 
 
 For neither ship nor castle’s worth a feather 
 Devoid of men to dwell therein together. 
 
 (Ed. Poor children ! The desire that brings you there 
 Is known, no secret : oh, I’m well aware 
 You suffer all, and suffering as you do, 
 
 I suffer more than any one of you. 
 
 Your anguish comes on one sole self apart/ 10 ) 
 
 On each but not on other ; while my heart 
 Bewails the State, myself, and each and all. 
 
 So not from slumbering indolence at all 
 You stirred me : many are the tears I poured, 
 Many the devious paths of thought explored. 
 One cure I’ve tried—when search could yield 
 no other,— 
 
 Sent Creon, Menoeceus’ son, my own wife’s 
 brother, 
 
 To Phoebus’ Pythian House to question how 
 My act or word may rescue all. And now 
 The day already with the time compared 
 Makes me uneasy how the mission’s fared : 
 
 He’s too long gone, past reasonable date. 
 
 But when he comes, reproach me then—but 
 wait— 
 
 If I perform not all the God dictate. 
 
 [Creon is descried approaching. 
 Priest. Why, opportunely said ! They signify 
 To me this instant Creon drawing nigh. 
 
4 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 O Lord Apollo ! Saving be the chance 
 That guides his foot—bright news to suit his 
 glance ! 
 
 Ed. Why, at a guess, he’s as we’d have him—nay, 
 Else he would never come with berried bay ^ 
 So thickly garlanded. We soon shall know— 
 He’s within scale of earshot now. What ho ! 
 Son of Menoeceus, Prince, my kinsman, say, 
 What news d’you bring us from the God this day? 
 
 Enter Creon in garb of pilgrimage , wearing a wreath 
 
 of bay leaves. 
 
 Cre. Good news. (12) I tell you dark may yet be bright 
 Tho’ ne’er so dark, if all come out aright. 
 
 Ed. But what’s the text ? For all you tell us here, 
 
 I see no cause for confidence or fear. 
 
 Cre. You’re pleased to hear’t in these men’s neigh¬ 
 bourhood ? 
 
 I’m nothing loth ; or if within were good— 
 
 Ed. Speak before all ! Much more for them I make, 
 Mourning than ever for my own life’s sake. 
 
 Cre. Let me proclaim what from the God I heard : 
 Lord Phoebus speaks, with no ambiguous word, 
 Of some defilement, bids Drive out th ’ accurst 
 Tour land has bred , not breed it for the worst. 
 
 Ed. With cleansings ? Of what sort ? How stands 
 the fact ? 
 
 Cre. Scapegoats to make, or blood for blood to exact: 
 
 ’Tis this blood stirs the storm against the State. 
 Ed. Whose should it be, this new-discovered fate ? 
 Cre. Sire, we had once a Sovereign in this land 
 Called Laios, ere we felt your guiding hand. 
 
KING OEDIPUS 
 
 5 
 
 (Ed. I know < 13 >—by name, tho’ not by sight, I own. 
 Cre. He died : ’tis for his death this clear command 
 Bids us requite the felons, yet unknown. 
 
 (Ed. Where in the world are they ? Who at this time 
 Shall hit the baffling trail of ancient crime ? 
 
 Cre. He said, Within the country. Seek is find ; 
 
 He fails to catch who does not give his mind. 
 
 (Ed. At home, or on his lands, or foreign ground 
 Was Laios when this bloody fate he found ? 
 
 Cre. Abroad, supposed on pilgrimage. From when 
 He first set out, he came no more again. 
 
 (Ed. And never word ? No escort there to view ? 
 
 No sure report that might have given a clue ? 
 Cre. Why, no—they died ; save one who ran in fright: 
 
 One thing alone he’d tell of all he might. 
 
 (Ed. What’s that ? One thing may prove the key to 
 much : 
 
 Permit us but the fringe of hope to touch. 
 
 Cre. Robbers, he said, no force of one, assailing, 
 
 Slew him by multitude of hands prevailing. 
 
 CEd. How could this robber, (14) though, so far aspire, 
 Unless by dealings in this place, for hire ?< 16) 
 
 Cre. Such things were in our thoughts. But Lai'os 
 gone, 
 
 Hard times we had and none to champion. 
 
 (Ed. Hard times ? The crown thus fallen, what 
 times so hard 
 
 Stood in the way and full inquiry barred ? 
 
 Cre. The Sphinx it was whose riddle-song inclined us 
 To look to ourselves and leave such doubts 
 behind us. 
 
 (Ed. No ! From the start, anew I’ll bring to light! 
 Rightly did Phoebus, aye, and you were right 
 
6 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 To have regard for his behoof so dead. 
 
 My duty leagues me with you : on his head 
 Of God and Land avenger I’ll appear. 
 
 Not in the cause of one remotely dear, 
 
 But in my own, this blot will I dispel. 
 
 Whoe’er it was, may choose on me as well, 
 Matching that stroke, to wreak his cut-throat 
 spite ; 
 
 My battle, when I take his part, I fight. 
 
 My sons, make haste, from the altar steps begone 
 Taking your votary branches ; and let one 
 Advise the nation all things shall be done 
 By me. For with God’s help we will prevail 
 Before the eyes of all the world, or fail. 
 
 Priest. Let us arise, my sons; for this we came, 
 
 And now we have his promise to the same. 
 
 May Delphi’s God, who sent the message thence, 
 Prove Saviour too to stay this pestilence ! 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 7 
 
 Chorus 
 
 (i st Turn.') 
 
 Welcome, O Word o’ the Lord, from the Pythian 
 treasury coming, 
 
 What news, what news to radiant Thebes ? 
 Heartstrings wrung with alarm, to the dances of terror 
 a-drumming, 
 
 In worship I wait for thee, breathless-: 
 
 Delian, Healer, all hail ! what event shall the hour or 
 the cycle of seasons hereafter 
 Yield to me? Tell it, O heavenly Rumour, O 
 daughter of Expectation, O deathless ! 
 
 (ir/ Counter-turn .) 
 
 Deathless Athena, the daughter o’ Zeus, in a hymn 
 we resound thee 
 
 The first, with Her that guards our glebes ! 
 
 Artemis, high-set in honour, a ring o’ the Market 
 around thee ! 
 
 And Phoebus ! Archer ! appear to me ! 
 
 Succouring Trinity, come, for if Evil arose i* the air, 
 ye were mighty to waft her 
 
 Flame fro’ the border away : ye have helped of old, 
 yet again be you near me ! 
 
8 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 (2nd Turn.) 
 
 Innumerable agony is all my portion ! 
 
 O misery ! All my host are ailing and I want for a 
 blade to the onset, 
 
 Want for a weapon of wit. The fertility 
 
 No longer abounds in a happy dominion ; 
 
 From shrill birth pangs—never health, but a death 
 with abortion. 
 
 One after another, lo! they are seen on an arrowy 
 pinion 
 
 Soar as a flame in a monstrous agility 
 Towards coasts behind the sunset. 
 
 (2nd Counter-turn.) 
 
 Innumerably wasted nation ! 
 
 Progeny pitiless, against the ground, death-dealing, a 
 litter unheeded ! 
 
 Many a wife and a grey-haired mother 
 Moans loud a lament by the side o’ the altars 
 In anguish wearily, votaries one with another. 
 Outflashes Heal us! where the whine of a litany falters. 
 Send us, Athena, the bitterly needed 
 Bright mien of consolation ! 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 9 
 
 (3 rd Turn.) 
 
 Ares, the monster of force, who now without the 
 bronze of shields 
 
 Clamorously round me blazes, make to race his 
 Headlong retreat, wellsped to leave behind our 
 fields 
 
 For vasty chambers Amphitrite hath her abode in under, 
 Or else to the billow of Thrace’s 
 Churlish anchorages ! 
 
 For whatso Night to the tale remit, 
 
 Day comes up to seize on it. 
 
 Then slay thou him, O Zeus, O Sire, 
 
 Master of the lightning’s fire, 
 
 Annihilate in a volley of thy thunder ! 
 
 (3 rd Counter-turn.) 
 
 O Lycian Lord, let us behold dauntless arrows dealt 
 abroad 
 
 From bended bow with gold gut entwined upon it, 
 Ordained for our deliv’rance, and the fiery-shod 
 Artemidean gleams wherewith Lycian hills she scours. 
 And I call to the Golden-Bonnet, 
 
 (Thebes his heritage is), 
 
 Wine-visaged Bacchus, hailed with shouts, 
 Comrade in the Maenad routs, 
 
 To draw near and burn away 
 With bright auxiliar flambeaux’ ray 
 The Power in Heaven disowned of Heavenly Powers ! 
 
10 SOPHOCLES 
 
 (Ed. Praying ! Your prayer—if but my words you 
 note 
 
 To treat your sickness with my antidote, 
 
 Help and alleviation you shall win : 
 
 Which words I now make public, having been 
 Foreign to the act and to the story new 
 (Else I’d not hunted far and found no clue), 
 Among you burghers all a burgher late— 
 
 I make this proclamation in the State. 
 
 Whoso of you knows by whose hand it was 
 That Laios perished, son of Labdakos, 
 
 I charge him signify the whole to me. 
 
 And if he fears, why self-reproach shall be 
 A self-defence forestalled : he shall but leave 
 The land, unscathed, nor any hurt receive. 
 
 Also if any knows the assassin came 
 
 From foreign country, let him speak and claim 
 
 His money and his meed of thanks as well. 
 
 If speak you will not—should a man repel 
 Confession for his friend or self, in fear ; 
 
 What I’ll do then, of me you next shall hear. 
 That man, whoe’er he be, in all this land 
 Where I hold sway and empire, I command 
 That none shall lodge, nor speak with him, nor share 
 With him in sacrifice to Gods, or prayer; 
 
 Nor to the Washing of the Hands (16) admit; 
 
 But from their houses thrust The Curse—to wit, 
 This man of blood: for so the Pythian Chair 
 Of revelation did of late declare. 
 
 Such then my part, so mighty an ally 
 Of God and of the murdered man am I. 
 
 And may the man who did it, the Unknown, 
 Skulking, with more to help him, or alone, 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 ii 
 
 Grind out his sinful days in the curse of sin. 
 Once more I pray : if he be found within 
 My home, beside my hearth, with my consent, 
 Then with this very curse may I be shent! 
 
 All this I charge on you to undertake 
 For my sake, and the Gods’ sake, and the sake 
 Of this sad, God-forsaken, famished land. 
 
 For though it had not come by God’s command, 
 You ought not so to have left this thing unpurged 
 —A good man murdered and a King!—but urged 
 Inquiry. Therefore seeing it is I 
 Hold sovereignty where once he held, and lie 
 Where once he lay ; one wife to both bore seed— 
 Our children had been brothers too to breed 
 A brotherhood betwixt us (had his heirs 
 Not come to grief, but Destiny unawares 
 Swooped down upon his head) : I will contend 
 For him, (17) as for my father, to the end, 
 
 For all these causes. Naught shall baulk my will 
 To find the men who raised a hand to kill 
 The son of Labdakos, and Polydore, 
 
 Old Cadmus, and Agenor, King of yore. 
 
 And may the Gods to all who do not so, 
 Render no increase of their acres, no 
 Fruit of their wives ; but let them be infested 
 With plagues as now, and plagues yet more 
 detested. 
 
 Cadmeans, who say me Ay , the Right befriend 
 you, 
 
 And all the Gods for evermore attend you! 
 
 L . of Ch. As caught in the curse, I will in conscience 
 say, 
 
 Sire, that I slew him not, and cannot lay 
 
12 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 My finger on the assassin : Phoebus best 
 Could tell us who it is—he sent the quest. 
 
 Ed. ’Tis rightly said, but none with words like these 
 Can force the Gods to what they do not please. 
 Gho. Then I could say what seems the second best— 
 Ed. Wer’t even a third, yet spare not to suggest. 
 Cho. None sees so eye to eye with Phoebus as 
 —Master with master—great Teiresias : 
 
 To ask of him were not to learn amiss. 
 
 Ed. Why, neither had I disregarded this. 
 
 I sent, at Creon’s word, two emissaries ; 
 
 And all this while I wonder how he tarries. 
 
 Cho. Aye, all beside’s dull gossip, long since heard. 
 Ed. What’s that ? I keep an eye on every word. 
 
 Cho. Travellers killed him—so the story went. 
 
 Ed. Hearsay ! Who’s seen eyewitness to the event ? 
 Cho. Well doubtless if he has his share in fear, 
 
 This curse of yours he’ll not endure to hear. 
 
 Ed. Words will not fright who did not fear the deed. 
 Cho. Yet there is one to unmask him! Look, they lead 
 The saintly prophet hither, in whose mind 
 Truth dwells inbred alone of all mankind. 
 
 Enter Teiresias, led by a serving-boy. 
 
 Ed. Dealer in all known arts and arts profound, 
 
 Truths in the sky and truth that walks the 
 ground; 
 
 Altho’ you cannot see, you understand 
 The pestilence that lies upon the land. 
 
 Master ! Her only help and stay we hold you. 
 Phoebus—perhaps the messengers have told 
 you ?— 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 
 Sent answer to the question that we sent, 
 
 One thing alone can make this plague relent , 
 
 If Lazos’ slayers we could ascertain ; 
 
 They be despatched to banishment , or slain. 
 
 Your hints of augury do not now refuse, 
 
 Nor any other means diviners use. 
 
 Rescue yourself, your country, rescue me ! 
 Rescue for all our blood-pollution be ! 
 
 We’re in your hand: no nobler task for man 
 Than doing good by all the means he can ! 
 
 Tei. Well, well! 
 
 It is an awful thing to have the light 
 
 When light pays not. And though I grasped ittight 
 
 I let that slip me ! Better not have come. 
 
 (Ed. Heigh, what can make your comings-in so glum ? 
 Tei. Let me go home ! So you and I alone 
 
 Shall each go through the easier with his own. 
 (Ed. This is an answer neither kind nor right 
 
 By Thebes that bred you—to refuse your light. 
 Tei. Truth flies away from lips that try to breathe her, 
 Like yours. No speaking is no blundering either. 
 (Ed. If you have light, I charge you let us see’t: 
 
 We all adore you suppliant at your feet. 
 
 Tei. Yes, for you have it not. I’ll not proclaim 
 My secret that I may not blab your shame. 
 
 (Ed. What’s that? You know, and will not tell? 
 You plan 
 
 To wreck the State, betray us every man ? 
 
 Tei. I wish to spare myself, and spare you, pain. 
 
 Why probe me idly ? You shall ask in vain. 
 (Ed. Arch villain ! Such a man as you would pique 
 A very stone to rage—you will not speak ? 
 Impassive and impracticable as ever ? 
 
14 
 
 Tei. 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 You chide my temper ?d8) Look at home: you 
 never 
 
 Have seen what’s there—but I must be reproved! 
 (Ed . Well, who could hear you speak and not be moved 
 To anger, that you flout your country so ? 
 
 Tel ’Twill come, whether I keep it dark or no. 
 
 (Ed. If come it must, then tell me : ’tis my right. 
 
 Tel I’ll speak no further : you may vent your spite ; 
 
 Give if you like your wildest anger play ! 
 
 Ed. I’ll out with all my anger bids me say. 
 
 I see it all! I tell you, I believe 
 This plot’s your planting—you were chief to 
 achieve 
 
 Save but in th’ act of killing ; had you sight 
 I’d call it yours and yours alone outright ! 
 
 Tel Is it so ? I hereby hold you to obey 
 
 Your proclamation—never from this day 
 To speak a word to these or me : ’tis you, 
 
 The sinner whom the tainted Thebans rue ! 
 
 Ed. Such insolence ! You startle a sudden shape 
 
 Of words from covert, and you think to escape ? 
 Tel I stand escaped. My strength is in the truth. 
 Ed . Who put that in your mouth ? The Craft 
 forsooth ? 
 
 Tel You. I was loth, until you made me tell. 
 
 Ed. What tale ? Repeat : I wish to learn it well. 
 Tei. Did you not take me, or is this a lure ? 
 
 Ed. Repeat: I did not understand for sure. 
 
 Tei. You murdered him whose murderer you seek. 
 Ed. Not twice such crimes unpunished shall youspeak! 
 Tel Oh ! shall I tell you more, for more provoking ? 
 Ed. Yes, all you will ! It weighs no more than 
 joking. 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 15 
 
 Tei. You stand most foully to your kith and kin 
 Unknown : you see not where you are in sin. 
 Ed. Say on, say on—but you shall smart at length ! 
 Tei. Not if so be the truth has any strength. 
 
 (Ed. Yes, save for you ; but not for you—and why ? 
 
 You’re blind alike in ear and mind and eye. 
 
 Tei. I pity you for that reproach, for who 
 Will not retort it presently on you ? 
 
 Ed. Since Night is all the nurse you have to rear you, 
 Nor I nor any who sees the light, need fear you. 
 Tei. True : it is not your fate by me to fall. 
 
 Apollo is enough. He’ll work it all. 
 
 Ed. Are these inventions Creon’s or your own ? (19) 
 Tei. He’s not your bane, but you yourself alone. 
 
 Ed. O Wealth, and Kingship, art supreme in art/ 20) 
 What envy do you treasure against the part 
 Men covet so to play ! For just this power, 
 Which Thebes unasked, a nation’s proffered 
 dower, 
 
 Put in my hands, this friend of long ago, 
 
 This trusty Creon seeks my overthrow— 
 
 Steals marches on me, hires yon charlatan 
 Stitch-plot, a rogue o’ the wayside preacher 
 clan,( 21) 
 
 Blind in the art, sharp-eyed in gains alone ! 
 When—tell me—was your prophet’s title 
 shewn ? 
 
 Where was your word of liberation which 
 Should rid us of the Balladmonger Bitch ? (22) 
 
 Ah ! ’Twas not every passer-by could read 
 Aright that riddle, mind you ! Here was need 
 Of inspiration : nothing proved your claim 
 To be inspired of birds or Gods. I came, 
 
i6 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 CEdipus, knowing nothing, and succeeded 
 By stroke of wit—no lore of birds I needed ! 
 
 See who it is whose overthrow you plan, 
 
 And think to stand King Creon’s righthand man ! 
 I think that you and he who framed the attempt, 
 Shall find such scapegoats as you little dreamt ! 
 But for the doting eld I see in you, 
 
 You should have learned the taste of what you 
 brew ! 
 
 L. of Cho. If we may judge, his words and yours no 
 less 
 
 Are spoken, CEdipus, in bitterness : 
 
 Not such we want, but how to read the mind 
 Of God’s response—’tis that we have to find. 
 Tei. King tho’ you be, one charter of speech unites 
 The lord and liege: there I’ve my sovereign 
 
 rights. 
 
 My life’s not slave to you,< 23 ) but Loxias’ word. 
 Not Creon’s creature I’ll be registered. 
 
 I’m blind : you found yet one more taunt 
 therein. 
 
 You’ve sight, and see not where you are in sin, 
 Nor where you dwell, nor whom you have to mate. 
 Of whom are you ? You know not; and the hate 
 Of yours in death, and yours on earth in life— 
 You little guess it :—like a two-edged knife, 
 Mother’s and father’s grim pursuing ban 
 Shall drive you far from here, an outlawed man ; 
 When eyes now strong have darkness for their 
 beam, 
 
 Then where will not be haven to your scream ? 
 And what Cithaeron will not ring, when soon 
 You catch the burden of the nuptial tune 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 l 7 
 
 Which played you homeward bound, full sail, to 
 wreck ? 
 
 Of many horrors little now you reck 
 
 Which self with self and self with sons combine. 
 
 So now on Creon and these lips of mine 
 Heap your reproaches. When the day shall 
 come 
 
 No man alive shall match your martyrdom. 
 
 CEd. This, and from him ! And must I tolerate ? 
 
 Damnation catch you quick ! From out my 
 gate 
 
 Get you gone home, return your road, and rid me ! 
 Tei. I never would have come, had you not bid me. 
 CEd. Could I foresee your foolish talking, eh ? 
 
 Long might you wait for word to pass my way ! 
 Tei . Such is my sort : a fool in your esteem, 
 
 Tho’ to your parents wise I used to seem. 
 
 CEd. Parents ? Hold ! Who of mortals got me— 
 who ? 
 
 Tei. This day shall prove your birth and ruin too. 
 CEd. Ever this over-riddling phrase obscure ! 
 
 Tei. Such you excel at solving, to be sure. 
 
 CEd. Taunt as you will, ’tis there you’ll find me 
 great. 
 
 Tei . Yet, from your luck in that your troubles date. 
 CEd. It saved the land, I cannot count it bad. 
 
 Tei . Well, I’ll be going : fetch me home, my lad. 
 CEd. Fetch you he shall ! Annoy and hindrance your 
 Presence has been; sped,you’ll not tease me more. 
 Tei. I will begone, but speak my errand first, 
 
 Nor fear your face: you cannot—do your worst— 
 Kill me. I tell you he whom all this time, 
 With threats and proclamations of the crime, 
 
 B 
 
i8 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 You seek,—he’s in this place : a man who’s 
 passed 
 
 For foreign, but shall be declared at last 
 Theban true-born ; and little cause shall find 
 To bless his luck. Seeing no more, but blind ; 
 Instead of rich—a beggar, he shall range, 
 
 A stick to mark his steps, where all is strange. 
 
 He shall be found own brother to his own 
 Sons, and their father; husband he shall be 
 shewn 
 
 And son of her who bore him—a father’s wife 
 Served for the son who took his father’s life. 
 
 Go, think on that ! And if in aught you find 
 Me false, deny me the prophetic mind. 
 
 [Exit, led. 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 i9 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 (1st Turn.) 
 
 O who’s the man 
 
 The Delphian Rock proclaims, the Rock sooth¬ 
 saying, 
 
 Of crimes dared plan 
 
 Most bloody-handed crime of that manslaying ? 
 ’Tis time that he ply his pace 
 More lustily e’en than race 
 The coursers of Hurricane ! 
 
 For, with lightnings to don him 
 
 And mailed in fire, 
 Cometh leaping upon him 
 
 The Son of the Sire : ( 24 > 
 And Keres unerring follow ever anear his train ! 
 
 (ij/ Counter-turn.) 
 
 From new-revealed 
 
 Voice where a crest of snow Parnassus raises, 
 In every field 
 
 Track ye the nameless man the message blazes. 
 For wild in the woods he roams, 
 
 In antres alone he homes, 
 
 A bull on a lonely scaur. (25) 
 
 Very woeful and moping 
 
 In woeful walk, 
 
 Dooms dog him, yet hoping 
 
 The Dooms he shall baulk: 
 Alive from the Navel-shrine they flit on him 
 evermore! 
 
20 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 ( 2nd Turn.)W 
 
 Grim in the heart 
 Grim is the doubt; 
 
 Augural art 
 Puts me about. 
 
 Not to believe 
 Nor to deny : 
 
 How to receive 
 Helpless am I ! 
 
 Up in air 
 
 Flown with surmise 
 Present nor past 
 I realise. 
 
 Was it feud—Poly bus’ son 
 And Labdakidai ? 
 
 Nay at the time 
 News had I none, 
 
 No nor have I 
 
 E’en at this season 
 Any proof wherewithal 
 Tried as a test, 
 
 I for the clan 
 Of the Labdakidai 
 
 Shall attack such a man 
 (All love him best!) 
 
 At the call of an untraceable crime 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 2r 
 
 ( 2nd Counter-turn .) 
 
 One thing I know : 
 
 Zeus, he is wise, 
 
 Phoebus also ; 
 
 All’s to their eyes 
 Open on earth. 
 
 Seers are but men. 
 
 My ken is worth 
 Less than his ken ? 
 
 Why of that 
 Proof there is none 
 Sure. For a hit 
 One may outrun 
 As a man t’other in wit: 
 
 Tho’ I’ll never say 
 Ay y ay to it, 
 
 Chide tho’ they may, 
 
 I will abide 
 
 Story and reason. 
 
 We did see, we did prove: 
 
 There was the maid 
 On a day, with her wings. 
 
 Then, when all eyed, 
 
 Tried wit of the King’s 
 Gained him our love. 
 
 Felon ? here is a heart, still shall acquit 
 
22 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Enter Creon. 
 
 Cre. Sirs, countrymen, a great complaint I bring. 
 Grim charges, say they, CEdipus the King 
 Lays at my door. The time’swith trouble fraught, 
 And if he thinks that I have done him aught 
 By act or word to work him prejudice, 
 
 I care not, carrying such reproach as this, 
 
 For length of life. The damage of his charge 
 Tends not to single reference, but large 
 And general—traitor to the State proclaimed, 
 Traitor by you and those I care for, named. 
 
 L. of Cho. Ah, but perhaps to this reproach gave vent 
 The pinch of passion, not the heart’s intent. 
 
 Cre. The word’s abroad, by my intent the seer 
 Spoke, and the thing he spoke was insincere. 
 
 L. of Cho. That was the phrase, but the intent not 
 clear. 
 
 Cre. Tell me, this accusation was it let 
 
 Fly from straight eyes and from a heart straight- 
 set ? 
 
 L . of Cho. Ah ! I’ve no eyes for what my betters do. 
 Look! from the house he comes himself in view. 
 
 Enter CEdipus. 
 
 (Ed. You, fellow ! How came you here ? You have 
 such face 
 
 Of impudence you seek my dwelling-place, 
 When yours, confest, is the hand that struck him 
 down, 
 
 And you the redhanded robber of my crown ! 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 23 
 
 In God’s name, say, was’t folly and cowardice 
 You saw in me could egg you on to this ? 
 
 I should not see your stealthy, crawling plot ? 
 
 —And if I did detect, resist it not ? 
 
 The folly lies in your attempt—with you 
 To go a-kingdom-hunting, poor and few : 
 
 To bag such game needs men and money too. 
 Cre. D’you know what you must do ? Hear word for 
 word 
 
 My answer fair, and judge when you have heard. 
 CEd. You’re sharp to speak, but I to hear am slow 
 From you, my bitter ascertained foe. 
 
 Cre. Just that one thing you’ll hear me now refute. 
 CEd. Just one name, villain ! you will not dispute. 
 Cre. ’Struth ! If you reckon stubbornness is prized 
 Apart from sense, you are not well advised. 
 
 CEd. ’Struth ! If you reckon that you shall not rue 
 Wrong done to kinsmen, ill-advised are you ! 
 Cre. I cry you Aye to the justice of that word : 
 
 Explain what wrong by fault of mine’s incurred. 
 CEd. Were you or were you not, in sending for 
 That solemn fool the Seer,—my counsellor ? 
 
 Cre. And I am still the same, and minded thus. 
 
 CEd. How long ago is’t now since Lai'os-? 
 
 Cre. Did what ? I do not know of what you spoke. 
 CEd. Obscurely perished by a mortal stroke ? 
 
 Cre. ’Twere long and ancient dates to measure when. 
 CEd. Ha ! Was this prophet in the business then ? 
 Cre. Yes, wise as now, nor less esteemed was he. 
 
 CEd. Then at the moment, did he mention me ? 
 
 Cre. Never—or never in my neighbourhood. 
 
 CEd. Made you no inquisition then for blood ? 
 
 Cre. We did, most surely : and without avail. 
 
24 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Ed. Why did our sage not then proclaim his tale ? 
 Cre. I know not: uninformed, I do not prate. 
 
 Ed. One thing you know, and well-informed could 
 state. 
 
 Cre. What ? If reply I can I’ll not decline. 
 
 Ed. That, never, did not you with him combine, 
 
 He would have named this Lai'os’ murder mine. 
 Cre. Yourself you best know if he so did name it. 
 
 Your right of question, I myself now claim it. 
 Ed. Question away ! No murderer I’ll be seen. 
 
 Cre. Say, then : you have my sister for your queen ? 
 Ed. That question will admit no answer Nay. 
 
 Cre. Your rule is one with hers, an equal sway? 
 
 Ed. She gets whatever she desires of me. 
 
 Cre. And I am equalised, to make you three ? 
 
 Ed. Yes, ’tis in that you manifest your treason. 
 
 Cre. No—if as I do, with yourself you’d reason. 
 
 Now first consider this : Who’d choose to reign 
 —Think you—with terrors rather for his train 
 Than drowsy and secure, with powers the same ? 
 King in my acts, to be a King in name— 
 
 My nature never lusted after it, 
 
 And no man else who keeps a sober wit. 
 Without alarm, I’ve all my will from you; 
 King, I’d have much against my will to do : 
 How could a throne be sweeter to possess 
 Than sovereignty and rule without distress ? 
 
 I’m not yet so beguiled as to be fain 
 Of glory saving what consists with gain. 
 
 I’ve every man’s Good-day, they all salute, 
 
 Your suitors ask for me to push their suit, 
 
 For all success for them comes only so. 
 
 Shall I, to gain that other, let this go ? 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 25 
 
 No sober sense will e’er disloyal prove ; 
 
 With such designs I’m not myself in love, 
 
 Nor would I follow did another move. 
 
 Proof of my words, go first to Pytho, learn 
 Whether a message true I did return ; 
 
 Next, if you prove that there was any plot 
 ’Twixt me and the soothsayer, kill me, not 
 By one vote, but by two, both yours and mine ; 
 On blind surmise—no more—do not malign. 
 
 It is no justice lightly to conclude 
 A good man bad, nor yet a bad man good. 
 
 To lose an honest friend I count as bad 
 As if one lost the dearest thing he had, 
 
 The life lodged in his bosom. Time alone 
 Declares the just: in time shall all be shewn, 
 But villains in a single day are known. 
 
 L. of Cho. Well said—to one that’s wary of a slip : 
 
 Quick thinking is a path where many trip. 
 
 Ed. Quick steals the plotter upon me : must I not 
 Be quick to parry with my counterplot ? 
 
 If I must bide his time—the end is this, 
 
 His game is won and mine is all amiss. 
 
 Cre. What would you have ? Will you exile me 
 then ? 
 
 (Ed. No, no : I must have dead, not banished, men. 
 Cre. Not ere you shew the quality of your spite ! 
 
 (Ed. You speak defiant, unsubmissive quite. 
 
 Cre. You want your sober sense. 
 
 (Ed. I see so far. 
 
 Cre. Farther I’d have you ! 
 
 (Ed. Villain that you are! 
 
 Cre. You do not understand. 
 
 (Ed. I’ll keep my crown ! 
 
26 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Cre. And wear it in misuse ? 
 
 Ed. My town, my town ! 
 
 Cre. I too have part in Thebes, not only you. 
 
 L. of Ch. Hold, princes. In good time comes here to 
 view 
 
 Jocasta from the doors. 
 
 With her you must 
 Your present quarrel happily adjust. 
 
 Enter Jocasta from the Palace. 
 
 Joe. Unhappy men, what ailed you to proclaim 
 
 These factions of the tongue ? Have you no 
 shame, 
 
 The land thus plagued, to start new woes of 
 yours ? 
 
 [To CEdipus. 
 
 I pray you, home : and Creon, within doors, 
 And do not aggravate a grief so null. 
 
 Cre. Sister, your husband claims the right to cull 
 And wreak on me a choice of monstrous ill 
 —To thrust me from my country, or take and kill. 
 Ed. I say him Ay ; for I have found him use 
 Foul fraud my person foully to abuse. 
 
 Cre. Curses for blessings, self-invoked, I choose, 
 
 If e’er I did at all as you accuse. 
 
 Joe. Oh, in the name of God, accept his word— 
 
 His oath ! For God’s sake (that is first preferred), 
 But my sake too, and these your friends who’ve 
 heard! 
 
KING GEDIPUS 
 
 27 
 
 Trio: CEdipus, Jocasta, Chorus. 
 
 (irt Turn.) 
 
 Cho. Sire, hear me preach 
 
 Admonishment! 
 
 O relent, 
 
 I beseech ! 
 
 (Ed. What is’t you beg me to concede ? 
 
 Cho. Respect him, both 
 
 No fool before, 
 
 And all the more 
 Mighty now he takes the oath ! 
 
 (Ed. This plea . . . you mean ? 
 
 Cho. I do! 
 
 (Ed. Say ! what indeed ? 
 
 Cho. Friend that accepts a curse, 
 
 Never in disregard 
 Fling when the cause is hard 
 To read, better or worse ! 
 
 CEd. Rest well assured, in pleading so you need 
 My ruin or my banishment to plead. 
 
 ( 2nd Turn.) 
 
 V the Sun’s name, his 
 
 That’s prince among divinities, 
 
 No ! God forsaken, forsaken of every friend— 
 
 If such be my purpose— 
 
 Dire prove my end ! 
 
 But my poor heart is sore for my country 
 
 So waste and vext: 
 
 Sore to think that, bad to bad, 
 
 She needs must next 
 This your quarrel superadd. 
 
 (Ed. Then ev’n if I must absolutely die, 
 
 Or else be flung from home in contumely— 
 Yet let him go !—altho’ your lips, not his, 
 Move me, detested foe where’er he is ! 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 28 
 
 Cre. A churlish grace in yielding, and a sore 
 
 Heart when you leave your angry fit: none more 
 Than their own selves such characters deplore. 
 Ed. Then go, and leave me ! 
 
 Cre. I will, misunderstood 
 
 By you, but in their eyes my right is good. 
 
 - [Exit. 
 
 (l5^ Counter-turn?) 
 
 Cho. Why more delay, 
 
 Lady ? Bring 
 Home the King ! 
 
 Lead, away ! 
 
 Joe. I first will hear the circumstance. 
 
 Cho. Imaginings! 
 
 Tales misconceived ! 
 
 A spirit grieved 
 
 By the sense of wrong that stings. 
 
 Joe. From both ? 
 
 Cho. Oh yes ! 
 
 Joe. What rumour so did chance ? 
 
 Cho. Enough for me at least— 
 
 Is not the land in pain ?— 
 
 To let it there remain 
 At rest where it ceased ! 
 
 (Ed. See where you stand ! For all your sound intent, 
 You fail my cause, your loyal edge is bent! 
 
 ( 2 nd Counter-turn?) 
 
 Cho. Not once alone, 
 
 I’ve said it, Sire, and be it known : 
 Lunatic were I utterly if I parted from thee, 
 
 A bankrupt in reason, 
 
 All men could see ! 
 When my dear country labour’d in trouble, 
 
 Nigh founder’d quite, 
 
 Thou didst waft her home to shore : 
 
 O that thou might 
 
 Prove our saving convoy now once more ! 
 
KING GEDIPUS 
 
 29 
 
 Joe. Tell me , my King, in God’s name, tell me too 
 What made so vast an anger rise in you ? 
 
 (Ed. I’ll tell you. Madam, I prize you more than them. 
 
 ’Tis Creon : his disloyal stratagem. 
 
 Joe. Speak! Can you not explain your grievance 
 further ? 
 
 Ed. He calls me guilty of King La'fos’ murder. 
 
 Joe. Of his own cognisance or by hearsay ? 
 
 Ed. Oh no ! he sends a prophet rogue this way : 
 
 And keeps his own lips wholly out of play. 
 
 Joe. Now take yourself away from what you’ve said : 
 Listen to me, and learn of me instead. 
 
 No flesh and blood the prophet’s gift can share ; 
 A proof of that I briefly will declare. 
 
 Word came to Lai'os—nobody avers 
 From Phoebus’ self, but from his ministers,— 
 Such child as might be born to him and me 
 Should take his life : such was his doom to be. 
 Well, him for his part, common rumour says, 
 Strange robbers murdered at the Three Cross- 
 ways. 
 
 The child, not three days from his birth yet run, 
 He pitched, first fastening his two feet in one, 
 (By hand of others) on a lonely hill. 
 
 Now neither did Apollo here fulfil 
 His doom to slay his father, nor the grim 
 Fate Lai'os dreaded—to be slain by him. 
 
 See how these prophet-voices mapped it out ! 
 Regard them not: what God will bring about, 
 Discovered due, such aids he’ll work without. 
 Ed. What did I hear just now, my wife, to start 
 This reeling spirit in me—this heaving heart. 
 
3 o SOPHOCLES 
 
 Joe . Why talk you so ? What anxious thought can ail ? 
 Ed. Lai'os—yes, I think I caught the phrase, 
 
 Was murdered at a place of Three Crossways. 
 Joe. Yes, so they said : and so still runs the tale. 
 
 (Ed, And where’s the spot where fell this cruel case ? 
 Joe, The land’s called Phocis: at forked highways run 
 The Delphi and the Daulia road in one. 
 
 Ed. What length of time’s expired since this took place ? 
 Joe. Little before the time you rose to sit 
 
 Upon this throne, the crier published it. 
 
 CEd . O Zeus, what dost thou mean to do with me ? 
 Joe. What cause for care, CEdipus, here can be ? 
 
 CEd. Ask me not yet. Describe the man, his air, 
 
 The flower of what life-season did he wear ? 
 
 Joe. Tall : first white bloom began his hair to strew. 
 
 In looks not greatly different from you. 
 
 (Ed. Ah, wretch ! I ran myself an hour ago 
 Into a grim curse, and I did not know ! 
 
 Joe. What’s that ? My King, I gaze at you and start. 
 Ed. O grim misgiving ! If the seer can see ! 
 
 Say one thing yet, ’twill more enlighten me. 
 
 Joe. I start. Yet ask ; I’ll do my best to impart. 
 
 Ed. Whether he travelled few, or half a mile 
 Of men-at-arms for train, in royal style ? 
 
 Joe. But five in all: a herald, one—at that; 
 
 And in the only carriage Lai’os sat. 
 
 Ed. Good God ! By now ’tis plain as day. But who 
 Came here to tell the tale, my wife, to you ? 
 
 Joe. A slave, the sole survivor of the band. 
 
 Ed. Is he by chance now present and to hand ? 
 
 Joe. Oh no ! For when, returned from there, he 
 found 
 
 Lai'os dead and you successor crowned, 
 
KING GEDIPUS 
 
 3i 
 
 He clasped my hand, beseeching me to send 
 Him out afield, the flocks of sheep to tend, 
 Farthest removed from town and out of sight; 
 
 I sent him, for if slaves have rights, he might 
 Call even greater boon than that, his right. 
 
 (Ed. How can we forthwith get him back again ? 
 
 Joe. Quite well. But what do you expect to gain ? 
 
 (Ed. I fear myself, wife—and a tongue that ran 
 Too fast: that’s why I want to see the man. 
 
 Joe. And come he shall : but, surely, I have too 
 
 The right, my King, to hear what ails with you ? 
 
 (Ed. I never will deny you : now my guess 
 
 Has pushed so far. In such a strange distress, 
 To whom more natural could I confess ? 
 
 Corinthian Polybus my father was, 
 
 By Dorian Merope. I used to pass 
 For chief among the burghers of the place 
 Until a certain thing befel. The case 
 Was worth surprise, not worth grave thought 
 of mine. 
 
 A man o’ercharged with liquor over the wine 
 At supper called me feigned my father’s son. 
 
 And I was sore, but till that day was done 
 Hardly refrained, and went and brought to book 
 My parents on the morrow. And they took 
 It much amiss of him who shot the taunt, 
 
 And I was pleased with them. But it would haunt 
 Me, galling still : for word went all abroad. 
 Therefore, unknown to them, I took the road 
 For Pytho. Disappointed of my quest, 
 
 Phoebus dismissed me, but was manifest 
 In words grim, cruel, dismal, I must mate 
 With my own mother , raising {such my fate ) 
 
32 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 A race the world should not endure to see y 
 And murder him who had begotten me. 
 
 This when I’d heard (resolved no more to know 
 Of Corinth save by stars ( 27) ), I turned to go 
 Where I might ne’er the accomplishment behold 
 Of all the shame that ill Response foretold. 
 
 And as I walked, just such a point I gain 
 As that where you describe the King was slain. 
 
 \JVith growing agitation. 
 My wife, to you I will confess, when near 
 These Three Crossways my journey brought me 
 —here— 
 
 Met me a herald, and another mounted 
 Upon a carriage, such as you recounted. 
 
 The old man and the guide who cleared his course 
 Offered to drive me from the road by force. 
 
 And I in fury caught the driver a blow 
 Because he hustled me. The old man though, 
 Watching until I passed him on the road, 
 
 From where he sat, brought down his two-pronged 
 goad 
 
 Fair on my head. Aha ! but dear he paid ! 
 
 One cudgel from this arm and quick ! he’s laid 
 Face upwards, tumbled from the carriage, clean ! 
 I killed them all. 
 
 Now if he can have been, 
 This stranger, aught to Laios akin, 
 
 Was ever man so marked with curse of sin ? 
 Native or strange, forbid are all and each 
 To house me, no man may with me have speech, 
 But thrust me out. And ’twas no other man 
 But I myself laid on myself this ban. 
 
 The dead man’s wife these hands of mine defile, 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 33 
 
 By which he fell. Was I created vile ? 
 
 Am I not whole corruption ? I must be 
 An exile, and exiled may never see 
 My own, nor tread upon my native land— 
 
 Or else be coupled with my mother and 
 Murder my father. Let one say, ’Twas fated 
 Cruelty so ; and is my case not stated ? 
 
 Not so, pure worship of the Gods, not so ! 
 
 Let me not see that day, but sooner go 
 Out of the world in darkness ere I see 
 Such blot of horror overtaking me ! 
 
 L. of Cho. Sir, ’tis a frightful doubt : but do not ere 
 You hear the eye-witness of the fact, despair. 
 (Ed. Ay, true. There’s just this much of hope yet 
 holds— 
 
 Just to await this fellow from the folds. 
 
 Joe. What’s your desire of him when he’s appeared ? 
 (Ed. I will inform you. Of the crime I’m cleared, 
 Suppose his tale be found with yours to agree. 
 Joe. What special point was this you heard from me ? 
 (Ed. Robbers you said that he reported—men— 
 Killed him. That number let him say again, 
 
 I killed him not: can several be the same 
 As one ? but if one lonegirt man he name, 
 
 Then clearly towards me dips the deed of shame. 
 Joe. The word was published so, beyond a doubt; 
 
 He can’t go back and strike that matter out: 
 The town was there, not I alone, to observe. 
 Yet should he from his former story swerve, 
 
 He proves not truly and duly brought to pass 
 Your murder of King Lai'os. Loxias 
 Foretold in terms his death by child of mine. 
 Poor child 1 too soon he did himself resign 
 
 c 
 
34 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 His life! he never was the murderer. 
 
 And so from now my eye I’ll never stir 
 This way or that, for all the seers aver. 
 
 (Ed. A sound belief. But send a man to hail 
 
 This man o’ the field to come, and do not fail. 
 Joe . Let us come in—I’ll send, nor wait to strike : 
 I would not do a thing that you dislike. 
 
 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 35 
 
 Chorus/ 28 * 
 
 (i st Turn,) 
 
 I pray my luck in life be ever 
 To persever 
 
 Still devout in word and deed 
 Maintaining holy use, which stands for us decreed 
 In heavenly Testimonies 
 
 That travel aloft the air, skyborn, whose Father is 
 Olympus alone, and no creation of humankind. 
 
 Oblivion lacks the power to fold 
 These in his slumber out of mind : 
 
 For a God is mighty in them, and ne’er grows old. 
 
 (nr Counter-turn,) 
 
 The Sin of Pride too high aspirant 
 Breeds a tyrant. 
 
 Wanton, after surfeitings 
 On profitless, unseasonable things, 
 
 To the extreme precipice 
 
 Pride mounteth on high, and down towards the dire 
 abyss 
 
 He leapeth of Needs-must-be, where footing is 
 none for feet. 
 
 I pray that God th’ ordeal of old < 29 
 Happily waged, may not defeat. 
 Evermore my mighty defence the Lord I’ll hold. 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 (2nd Turn.) 
 
 Whoso walks in high presuming 
 
 Or of handiwork or speech, 
 
 Nor standeth in awe of Justice, 
 
 Nor to sainted image bows ; 
 
 Calamity catch him, dooming 
 
 Wretched pride to reck’ning sore— 
 Whose gains are not the gains of lawful treasure, 
 But after things impure must reach, 
 
 And all for handling things forbid his lust is. 
 Shall any man more 
 Boast his soul in proof to house 
 ’Gainst the bolts of Gods defended ? 
 
 Where such evil dealing goes not uncommended 
 Why tread we a measure ? < 30) 
 
 (2nd Counter-turn.) 
 
 Pilgrim never again I’ll linger 
 
 By the holy Navel-Stone ; < 31 > 
 
 No more the Abantian portal 
 
 Nor th’ Olympian I’ll frequent— 
 
 If pointing of all men’s finger 
 
 Testify not This fell true. 
 
 Zeus ! Potentate !—if rightly Zeus thou’rt 
 hailed— 
 
 Almighty, let this thing be known 
 To thee and thy dominion aye immortal ! 
 
 The prophecy due 
 Wanes long since without event, 
 
 And they scoff at Lai'os’ story. 
 
 Nowhere shines Apollo magnified in glory : 
 And Worship is failed. 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 37 
 
 Enter Jocasta, furnished for a sacrifice , and attended 
 
 by waiting women. 
 
 Joe. Lords of the land, there came to me the thought 
 To seek the shrines of godhead ; I have brought 
 These chaplets in my hand with frankincense. 
 My husband’s heart is flown in such suspense 
 Of vague uneasiness : a man of sense 
 Judges new things by old— hes mastered quite 
 By every speaker, if he speaks to affright. 
 
 So when I found no help in argument, 
 
 To thee, Lycean Apollo, I present 
 These intercessions—none so near as thou : 
 
 A pure deliverance to us allow. 
 
 For seeing him afraid we start and shudder; 
 Shipmates, but his the hand that guides the rudder. 
 
 Enter a foreign Shepherd as Messenger. 
 
 Mes. Strange Sirs, perhaps you can enlighten me 
 Where CEdipus’ abode, the King’s, may be ? 
 
 Or better, if you know it—where is he ? 
 
 Cho. Strange Sir, he is within—this house is his: 
 
 The mother of his children—there she is. 
 
 Mes. Blest be among surroundings blest your life! 
 
 Since by that consummation you’re his wife/ 32 ) 
 Joe. To you the same, Sir ! For it is the due 
 
 Of such fair speech. But what request have you 
 Or news for errand ? 
 
 Mes. Madam, ’tis a thing 
 
 Good for your house and lord, the news I bring/ 33 ) 
 Joe. What may that be ? From whom do you bring 
 us word ? 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 38 
 
 Mes. From Corinth. It is news that when you’ve heard 
 Will please you, doubtless, yet may bring you 
 trouble. 
 
 Joe. What is it ? Can it have a force so double ? 
 Mes. The people of the land will make him King 
 Of Isthmia—’tis the talk of the place I bring. 
 Joe. Old Polybus no more sovereign ? In his room ? 
 Mes. Far from it; Death’s his master in the tomb. 
 
 Joe. What’s that ? Polybus dead ? 
 
 Mes. He is : if I 
 
 Speak false, / ask no better than to die. 
 
 Joe. (to her attendant ). Here, woman : run with utmost 
 swiftness shod 
 
 And tell your master. Oracles of God, 
 
 See where you are! Him all this while in dread 
 Of murder CEdipus shunned; and now he’s dead, 
 Not by his hand, but natural doom instead! 
 
 Enter CEdipus from the Palace. 
 
 CEd. Darling Jocasta, tell me, consort dear, 
 
 Why you have fetched me out and brought me 
 here ? 
 
 Joe. Listen to him, and judge you, listening, how 
 Apollo’s precious oracles stand now! 
 
 (Ed. But who is this ? What does he want of me ? 
 Joe. From Corinth. Polybus your father lives 
 
 No more—he’s perished: that’s the news he gives. 
 CEd. What’s that ? Strange Sir, your own informer be. 
 Mes. If I must first report upon that head, 
 
 Be well assured his place is with the dead. 
 
 (Ed. By treason, or visitation of disease ? 
 
 Mes. A touch of the scale sets aged bones at ease. 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 39 
 
 CEd . Poor man, it was disease—I understand ? 
 
 Mes. Yes, and the lengthy date of years he spanned. 
 Ed. Well, well, my wife, why study any more 
 The hearth of Pythian divination, or 
 The birds that scream aloft! By them for guide 
 I was to kill my father! Now he’s died! 
 
 —Deep under-ground ! and here am I, my blade 
 Unhandled—unless it were my absence preyed 
 Upon his life : that would be killed by me. 
 Response and all, as such responses be, 
 
 He’s lodged with Death, and they are vanity. 
 
 Joe . Did I not tell you of it long ago ? 
 
 (Ed. You did ; but my alarm misled me so. 
 
 Joe . Take it no more henceforth into your head. 
 
 (Ed. Must I not shudder at my mother’s bed ? 
 
 Joe . What should he fear who reckons Chance supreme, 
 And all foreknowledge nothing but a dream ? 
 Best live from hand to mouth, as best one might! 
 These bridals with your mother—take no fright 
 For them. Before now, many a man, in dreams 
 Slept with his mother. He to whom it seems 
 All nothing, has the life that’s easiest led. 
 
 (Ed. This were as soundly as ’tis boldly said, 
 
 Were not my mother living : till she’s dead, 
 Well said or no, I still am bound to dread. 
 
 Joe. A great eye opens to us in his decease. 
 
 (Ed. ’Tis great,I know. But while she lives—no peace. 
 Mes. This woman you so dread—who may she be ? 
 (Ed. Old man, ’tis Polybus’ consort, Merope. 
 
 Mes. What is it causes you such dread in her ? 
 
 (Ed. A frightful oracle from Heaven, sir. 
 
 Mes. Communicable ? Or not for other ears ? 
 
 (Ed. Oh, surely ! Loxias foretold me, years 
 
40 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Ago, that I must share my mother’s bed 
 And with these hands my father’s blood must shed. 
 Corinth, my home, has called me absentee 
 On that account so long : best so, may be— 
 
 [.Looking full at Jocasta. 
 But oh how sweet to see your parent’s face. 
 
 Mes . Was it this fear that made you shun the place ? 
 Ed. And, sir, I wished no parricide to be. 
 
 Mes. Why have I not released you from this fear, 
 When ’twas to do you pleasure I came here ? 
 (Ed. Be sure you should not want your proper fee. 
 Mes. Well, to be sure, I chiefly came for it— 
 
 That your return might make me gain a bit. 
 
 (Ed. Never ! Return to meet my parents’ touch ! 
 Mes. My son, ’tis pretty plain you don’t know much. 
 Ed. How so, old man ? In God’s name let me know. 
 Mes. If for their sake you shun home-coming so. 
 
 Ed. It is my fear that Phoebus may prove true. 
 
 Mes. Pollution from a parent fall on you ? 
 
 Ed. Just that, old man, that frights me all day long. 
 Mes. Now do you know your terrors are all wrong ? 
 Ed. How can I help it ?— They've, my stock and stem. 
 Mes. You were nothing in blood, my son, to them. 
 Ed. He’s not my father whom I took for such ? 
 
 Mes. No more at all than I, but just so much. 
 
 Ed. No more ? A father than a God-knows-what ? 
 Mes. You’re not by him and not by me begot. 
 
 Ed. What did he mean then when he called me so ? 
 Mes. Gift from my hands he took you long ago. 
 
 Ed. Loved me so dearly—from another’s hand ? 
 
 Mes. Childless, he could not such appeal withstand. 
 Ed. By chance or purchase yours, you gave me then ? 
 Mes. Found by Cithaeron in a winding glen. 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 4i 
 
 (Ed. Why should you walk the region there at large ? 
 Mes . The flocks at upland pasture were my charge. 
 (Ed, A shepherd, just a menial serf—a stray ! 
 
 Mes. Yes, and, my child, your saviour on that day. 
 (Ed. A timely rescue ? What amiss had I ? 
 
 Mes. Two ankle-bones of yours could testify. 
 
 (Ed. What trouble’s this you hint at, so long ceased ? 
 Mes. Sharp spikes transfixed your feet which I released. 
 (Ed. What a reproach for birthmark was my share ! 
 Mes . On that account they gave the name you bear. 
 CEd. Mother or father ? In God’s name, I beseech you! 
 Mes. I know not: he that gave you me could teach you. 
 (Ed. Gave me ? I was not yours by right of trover ? 
 Mes. No : ’twas another herd did hand you over. 
 
 (Ed. Who was’t ? Identify him if you can. 
 
 Mes. Oh, to be sure, he passed for Lai'os’ man. 
 
 CEd. That one who had, long since, these sovereignties ? 
 Mes. Yes, yes; that is the one : the man was his. 
 
 (Ed. And is he still alive—for looking at ? 
 
 Mes. ’Tis you, his countrymen, should best know that. 
 (Ed. Can any one of you who stand beside me, 
 
 To find this shepherd whom he speaks of,guideme, 
 From seeing him in the field or hereabout ? 
 Declare ! It is the time the truth were out. 
 Cho. The fellow from the field, I think ’tis he,— 
 
 The very man you sent before to see. 
 
 But, here ! Jocasta knows as much as we. 
 
 (Ed. Wife, is the man of whom you hear him speak, 
 The same as he we lately sent to seek ? 
 
 Joe. Pay no regard. What matter whom he meant? 
 
 Refuse a thought to the tale—’twere vainly spent. 
 (Ed. That is impossible—that with so much light 
 
 Gained, I should fail to bring my birth to sight. 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 42 
 
 Joe. In God’s name—as you love your life—don’t pluck 
 This secret out. {Aside.) Enough that I am struck. 
 (Ed. Take heart ! Though thrice serf to the third 
 degree 
 
 I’m proved, proved baseborn you shall never be. 
 Joe. Yet listen, I beseech you : do not so. 
 
 Ed. I will not listen, and forbear to know— 
 
 Joe. ’Tis for the best I speak, in love’s intent. 
 
 Ed. Oh, well ! too long these for-the-bests torment. 
 Joe. Doomed ! might you never guess your true 
 descent! 
 
 Ed. Will no one bring this shepherd here to me ! 
 
 Leave her to gloat on wealth and pedigree. 
 
 Joe. Poor wretch ! poor wretch ! This only I acclaim 
 you, 
 
 And never otherwise hereafter name you. 
 
 [Exit Jocasta. 
 
 L. of Cho. What is become of her ?—In wild distress 
 Departed! {They listen .) * Silence! and I fear 
 to guess 
 
 In what bad sort this silence she will break. 
 
 Ed. Break as she pleases ! I shall choose to take 
 Sight of my seed, though it be small. I make 
 No doubt—she’s prouder than her sex—withscorn 
 And shame she looks on me as meanly born. 
 Myself to be the child of Chance I claim, 
 
 Of fair occasion : I will take no shame. 
 
 She is my mother: months who shared my birth 
 Mapped me a place with small and great on earth/ 36 ) 
 Born such, I cannot now prove different, 
 
 That I should spare to follow my descent. 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 43 
 
 Dance and Chorus/ 36) 
 
 [Turn.) 
 
 Art of the Seer to me is given, 
 
 Seer enough my wits I count! 
 
 Thou, in the name of yon heaven, 
 
 Thou, Cithaeron Mount, 
 
 Thou shalt hear the secret soon, 
 
 Ere to-morrow’s plenilune ! 
 
 Glory to thee shall CEdipus 
 
 Render, thou art his, none other ! 
 
 He shall hail thee nurse and mother : 
 True to his cause thou hast striven ; 
 
 Dance and song accept of us! 
 
 O Phoebus, on whom we cry, to thee 
 Let it not displeasing be. 
 
 {Counter-turn!) 
 
 Who then of all the folk undying, 
 
 Who of them conceived thee, child ? 
 
 Nigh to the Goat-god a-lying, 
 
 Pan that walks the wild ? 
 
 Paramour of Loxias 
 Mothered thee ? Across the grass 
 Lawn of the moorland oft he’ll rove. 
 
 Did the master of Cyllene, 
 
 Or the Lord of Bacchant meiny 
 (Oft on the hill is he plying) 
 
 Take the jolly treasure-trove 
 
 From Nymph Heliconian, mates at play 
 Whom he most frequents alway ? 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 44 
 
 CEd. If I, sirs, I, that never had to do 
 
 With him, may guess, I think there comes in view 
 Our long-sought shepherd. For he suits the span 
 Of age, and harmonises with this man; 
 
 Besides, I know his escort as my own 
 Household : but you who’ve seen the man and 
 known, 
 
 Your certitude may well my guess outpace. 
 
 Cho. ’Tis Laios’ man—oh yes, I know the face— 
 Loyal as any, in his shepherd’s place. 
 
 Enter a Herdsman, guarded . 
 
 CEd. You first, Corinthian stranger,—is this he 
 You mean ? I ask you. 
 
 Mes . ’Tis the man you see. 
 
 CEd. You there, old man, just turn your eye this way, 
 And tell me. You belonged to La’fos, eh ? 
 
 Shep. I did : no bought slave, homebred from a boy. 
 CEd. What livelihood, what task was your employ ? 
 Shep. Most of my life I followed with the sheep. 
 
 CEd. What was the ground that you would chiefly keep ? 
 Shep. Cithaeron, there or thereabouts I’d wander. 
 
 CEd. This man—d’you know if e’er you knew him 
 yonder ? 
 
 Shep. As doing what ? Nay, which is he you mean ? 
 CEd. This, here. Was e’er a deal you two between ? 
 Shep. No—that is—on the sudden—I forget. 
 
 Mes. And, Sire, it is no wonder. Only let 
 Me now remind forgetfulness. I know 
 That he knows well what time in lands below 
 Cithaeron, he with two flocks, I with one, 
 Thrice we were neighbours till the term was run, 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 45 
 
 Six months from Springtime till Arcturus ftres. (37) 
 Then, winter come, my flock to fold retires, 
 And he to Laios’ farm with what he’d got; 
 
 Is there the fact in this, or is there not ? 
 
 Shep. You speak the truth, but what a while ago ! 
 Mes. Come, tell me now. D’you know that then you 
 gave me 
 
 A child to rear, and as ’twere mine behave me ? 
 Shep. What do you want—to search this story so ? 
 Mes. That baby and this man here, my lad, are one. 
 Shep. Damnation !—Hold your tongue, man, and have 
 done ! 
 
 (Ed. Heigh ! Chide not him, old man ; your own 
 words give 
 
 More cause for chiding than his narrative. 
 
 Shep. For what, my good Lord, am I ta’en to task ? 
 (Ed. Not telling of the child : you hear him ask. 
 
 Shep. Ignorant talk—pains wasted to pursue it. 
 
 (Ed. To please, you won’t—but speak you shall and 
 rue it! 
 
 Shep. No, no, for God’s sake—do grey hairs no harm ! 
 (Ed. Let him be pinioned, quick! Some one—his arm! 
 Shep. Lord help me, why ? What more is there to 
 unmask ? 
 
 (Ed. Gave you the child to him ? You hear him ask. 
 Shep. I gave it: would that I had died that day ! 
 
 (Ed. Oh, if you speak not right, ’twill lead you there ! 
 Shep. Nay, much more I am lost if I declare. 
 
 (Ed. The man ’tis clear is making for delay. 
 
 Shep. No, no, not I ! I gave —have I not said it ? 
 
 (Ed. Whence got ? Your own or had another bred it? 
 Shep. My own ? Not I—the child was given me. 
 
 (Ed. By whom in Thebes? And of what roof was he? 
 
46 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Shep. No ! Sire, for God’s sake, no ! No further seek! 
 (Ed. You’re lost, if I shall ask you twice to speak. 
 
 Shep. Belonged to Laios, if it must be said. 
 
 (Ed. A slave, or of the royal lineage bred ? 
 
 Shep. Ah, I am near to speak the frightful word. 
 
 (Ed. And I to hear it: but it must be heard. 
 
 Shep. Yes, ’tis the truth : the child did pass for his. 
 
 Madam within can best say how that is. 
 
 (Ed. She gave it to you ? 
 
 Shep. Sire, indeed she did. 
 
 (Ed. As for what purpose ? 
 
 Shep. Kill it, I was bid. 
 
 (Ed. The wretched mother ? 
 
 Shep. Prophecies were grim. 
 
 (Ed. Which? 
 
 Shep. That his parents should be killed by him. 
 
 (Ed. Why did you give him to the old man there ? 
 
 Shep. In pity, Sire : I thought he’d go elsewhere 
 
 And take the child to’s home. But for the worse 
 He saved him. If you’re whom he did declare, 
 Then doubt not, from your birth you bear a curse. 
 (Ed. Ay me, ay me. And so ’twill all come true ! 
 
 O Light, this hour’s the last I look on you. 
 
 Proved misbegot, in marriage misallied, 
 
 And misadventured even in homicide. 
 
 [Exit wildly . ^ 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 47 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 (irt Turn.) 
 
 Such, such generation is 
 
 Thine, O man ! as a nullity 
 All your life, I conceive it: 
 Where, where, is a man, O where, 
 Gets of fortune an ampler share 
 Than the seeming alone to wear, 
 Then the droop fro’ the seeming r 
 Of thy Daemon a text I make, 
 
 Thee luckless CEdipodas, I take, 
 Human happiness all mistaken 
 Vanity deeming. 
 
 (15/ Counter-turn!) 
 
 None drew such a bow as his ! 
 
 Wealth’s prime glory, to cull it he 
 Aimed, and straight did achieve it: 
 Zeus ! fall to his hand we saw 
 That maid sorceress hook’d o’ claw, 
 And when Death i’ the land was law, 
 Then uprose he, a tower! 
 
 From which day you be called a King ! 
 And highest honour of all to bring, 
 High Thebes came to the furnishing 
 Your sceptre o’ power. 
 
4 8 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 ( 2nd Turn.) 
 
 But after all 
 
 Who so sad to name as he ? 
 
 With cruellest fall 
 
 Doomed in pains to congregate, 
 With life-in-overthrow to mate ! 
 Ay me ! O majestic CEdipus ! 
 
 One broad harbour, one 
 Was for both a port, 
 
 Proved for sire and son 
 Matrimonial resort. 
 
 Tilth o’ the field where ploughed the sire, 
 
 < How could you serve the son’s desire, 
 Never a cry, thus 
 
 For so long a season ? 
 
 ( 2 nd Counter-turn!) 
 
 In thy despite 
 
 Time, all seeing, traces thee. 
 
 He doth requite 
 
 The unnuptial nuptial bed 
 So long the breeder and the bred. 
 Ay me ! Thou the child of La'ios ! 
 Would that never my 
 Eyes on thee I’d set ! 
 
 Now the deathbed cry 
 
 Loudly o’er thee living yet 
 Will I outpour. Yet truth is plain : 
 Thanks to thy help, I breathed again ; 
 Slumbered my eye thus, 
 
 Thyself wert the reason. 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 49 
 
 Enter a Messenger from within. 
 
 Mes. Sirs, whom the land still honours in the extreme, 
 What deeds you’ll hear, what sights, what grief 
 you’ll find 
 
 Here, if so be you keep your loyal mind 
 Towards the house of Labdakos! I deem 
 That not the Phasis nor the Ister stream 
 Could wash this dwelling clean: such secrets lurk 
 Within, such dreadful voluntary work, 
 
 Unforced, it shall disclose. No foul affair 
 Pains more than such as wanton choice declare. 
 L . of Cho. Nothing of lamentable lacked the bad 
 
 We knew before : what have you more to add ? 
 Mes. Well, soonest understood and soonest said :— 
 Her sacred majesty Jocasta’s dead. 
 
 L. of Cho. Unhappy lady ! What could be the cause ? 
 Mes. Herself the cause. But oh, my tale withdraws 
 The saddest part of the matter—’tis not seeing 1 
 Yet to the best of recollection, being 
 But what I am, I’ll tell her piteous fate. 
 
 When in her angry mood she passed the gate 
 Straight forward to her bridal bed she bore : 
 
 No sooner entered in, she clapped the door, 
 
 And fell to calling La’fos, long since dead ; 
 Mentioned an old-time seed, whereby she said 
 That he must die, and she be left alone 
 For miscreant engendering with her own ; 
 Bemoaned the bed where fate had made her bear 
 Husband to husband, sons to sons, the pair. 
 
 How then she perished, that I cannot tell; 
 
 For in burst CEdipus with such a yell 
 As would not let us watch her anguish out, 
 
50 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 But made us mark him as he roved about : 
 
 For up and down he begged a blade of us— 
 
 And where to find his wife—not wife !—who thus 
 Proved double field to grow him and his sons. 
 
 And to his madness one of the Heavenly Ones 
 Revealed her—none of us, we all stood by : 
 
 One leap against the doors—one ghastly cry— 
 As if he had the clue (God knows of whom !) 
 
 He buckled homedrawn bolts, and stormed the 
 room ! 
 
 There was the woman hanging, we could see, 
 Noosed in a bight of swinging cord. But he 
 No sooner sees, than with a frightful roar 
 He slacks the hanging knot. When on the floor 
 She lay—ah, then ’twas frightful to behold ! 
 
 Her vesture-clasps, brooches of beaten gold, 
 
 He pulled from her (they deck her as she lies) 
 Uplifts and stabs the members of his eyes, 
 Shouting aloud, u You shall not see me more , 
 
 Nor all the wrongs 1 did , the wrongs I bore ; 
 Henceforth in darkness see what's best unseen , 
 
 And leave unrecognised what should have been l ” 
 
 To such a tune not once but many a time 
 He struck, lids lifted. His eyes, all blood, beslime 
 The while his cheek unceasing with an ooze 
 Of clotted gore, and all the while fell dews 
 Of drizzling blood, dark hail of bloody beads. 
 
 This woe was wrought of two: not one it needs 
 For victim, man and wife conjoint will strike. { 
 Wealth ? The old-time bygone state—that, if 
 you like ' 
 
 Was proper wealth, but now upon this day 
 Doom, lamentation, death, dishonour—nay, 
 Names of all evils, none’s to seek of these ! 
 
 Cho. Poor wretch, and is he now at all at ease ? 
 
 Mes, u Display me,you” —he cries—“ the doorsfling wide , 
 Display me to all Thebes , a parricide y 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 5i 
 
 
 A mother’s —” Foul! I cannot speak of it! 
 He’ll hurl himself abroad, nor longer sit 
 Accursing, self-accurst, the house. And yet 
 He wants for strength, a guide he needs to get : 
 ’Tis greater sickness than a man can brook. 
 
 But he will shew you : closed portals—look ! 
 Roll wide. (The doors are opened.') 
 
 A sight—you have not long to wait !— 
 A sight e’en loathing must compassionate ! 
 
 \Enter CEdipus, blinded and disfigured. 
 
 i 
 
 Lament : CEdipus and Chorus, with overture in 
 
 marching measure . 
 
 Cho. O grim to the sight of a man, such pain ! 
 
 None grimmer of all sights gaze yet of mine 
 In the world has found. O soul, full sad ! 
 
 Did a frenzy assail ? What ill angel’s thine, 
 Who with a leap all fiends outleaping 
 Strikes hard thy days of disaster ? 
 
 I cannot behold thee tho 1 ever so fain 
 
 Of thee to ask much, take thee to task much, 
 Eyes on thee keeping : 
 
 This shudder I still cannot master ! 
 
 Lament. 
 
 - 
 
 CEd. r Aiai! Aiai! How dismal am I! 
 
 Where now in the world am I moving? Anc 
 where / v*} 
 
 Does it hover and scatter abroad, this cry ? 
 
 O Fiend, what a le^p was there ! 
 
 
 
 Cho . To ends too dread for any eye or ear ! 
 
 
52 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 (ij/ Turn.) 
 
 (Ed. Ay me, the dark— 
 
 Enveloping me horrible, voluble, unutterable ! 
 
 O my inability! Windbound for aye ! 
 
 Cry Woe ! 
 
 And once more Woe !—jointly they penetrate, 
 Sting of my spikes and memory of my state. 
 
 L. of Cho. Yes, and no wonder if in this mass of care 
 Doubly you groan and double anguish bear. 
 
 (i st Counter-turn.) 
 
 (Ed. Friends’ voices !—hark ! 
 
 Ministering loyally, true to me yet, indefatigable ! 
 Can you so patiently beside the blind man stay ? 
 Heigho ! 
 
 You cannot baffle me—I recognise 
 
 Your voice despite the darkness of these eyes. 
 
 L. of Cho . O ghastly work ! What made those hands 
 so swift 
 
 To wreck your eyes? What Spirit could so 
 uplift ? 
 
“Found by Cithseron in a winding glen.’* 
 
54 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 [2nd Turn.) 
 
 (Ed. Apollo it was, Apollo, good sirs! 
 
 Did amiss by me, thus amiss, cruelly, cruelly ! 
 Though none but I, own-felon ! dealt the blow, 
 poor wight ! 
 
 Had I a use for sight 
 
 When seeing offered nothing sweet to see ? 
 Cho. True, that was even as you say. 
 
 CEd. Much cause had I, much, to look; 
 
 Much to care for, or salute 
 My ear with sweet accost, good sirs ! 
 
 Away with me, out o’ the land with me, in haste, 
 in haste, 
 
 Up, away with me, O my friends ! Damned 
 am I, disgraced. 
 
 Never a man so accurst; never had Heaven 
 a worse 
 
 Grudge on a man than me ! 
 
 L. of Cho. Sad mind !—to match the stroke that has 
 o’erthrown you : 
 
 O how I would that I had never known you ! 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 55 
 
 [2nd Counter-turn!) 
 
 CEd. Accurst, he that loosed from cruel fetterspurs 
 The waif of the wilderness ! As a deliverer he 
 Rescued, recovered me from death—unkind ! 
 Life had I then resigned, 
 
 Less misery to myself and mine I’d be ! 
 
 Cho. Ay, would it e’en had gone that way ! 
 
 CEd . Instead, my father’s life I took, 
 
 Gained in all the world repute 
 For bridals whence my birth was— hers. 
 Now am I God-forsaken, iniquity-bred ; 
 
 Bed of my birth was made into my marriage-bed. 
 Is there in bad yet a worst ? Foul to more 
 foul defers ? 
 
 QEdipus’ it shall be. 
 
 L. of Cho. I know not how I can approve your mind : 
 Better to be no more than living blind. 
 
56 SOPHOCLES 
 
 (Ed. That this is not the best that did allow 
 
 You need not school me and admonish now! 
 For with what eyes — I know not—could I 
 brook 
 
 Down in the grave upon my sire to look, 
 
 And my poor mother—sinned against past hope 
 Of expiation by the strangling rope ? 
 
 My children’s looks, tho’, could it fail to please, 
 Got where they got them, to contemplate 
 these ? 
 
 Ah, no ! Ah, nevermore with eyes of mine ! 
 Town, tower, and monumental form divine— 
 Never again ! From all these things I stand 
 Self-barred, who knew no peer on Theban land, 
 Self-banned, a miscreant, I whose voice was 
 loud 
 
 u Reject the impious man , the heaven-avowed 
 Impure ! ” And now my evidence has shewn 
 This blot on La'ios’ house to be my own, 
 
 Must I have eyes with which to look on them ? 
 Not that! Why, had there been a means to 
 stem 
 
 The hearing fount in the ear, I’d not have 
 spared 
 
 To lock up this unhappy flesh, prepared 
 For blindness and for hearing nothing. Sweet, 
 If, lodged apart, no griefs the mind could meet! 
 Why didst thou harbour me, Cithaeron? Why 
 Didst thou not take and slay me straight ?—that I 
 Might ne’er have published proof of whence I 
 come. 
 
 Polybus ! Corinth ! The old house, called my 
 home ! 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 57 
 
 What festering mischief, glozed, in me you 
 nurst! 
 
 Now I’m declared the worst and born o’ the 
 worst. 
 
 O Three Crossways, and O sequester’d lea, 
 Covert and pass, where meet the highways three, 
 You drank my blood from father’s veins out¬ 
 poured 
 
 By these my hands! And can you still record 
 What acts I did, what acts I went to do 
 At Thebes thereafter ? Nuptials, nuptials ! You 
 Engendered me and then must breed again, 
 Sprout the same seed, and give to sight of men 
 Fathers, and sons and brothers ; blood of kin, 
 Brides, wives and mothers—all the acts of sin 
 The most abominable a man can wreak ! 
 
 But—things not good to do, are ill to speak— 
 Make haste in God’s name, hide me from the 
 world. 
 
 Away, let me be slain, or seaward hurled, 
 
 Where never eyes of yours may see me more ! 
 Come, deign to touch a man afflicted sore ! 
 Consent, be not afraid!—My guilt and pain 
 None else but I am able to sustain. 
 
 L. of Cho. To Creon, now sole guardian of this nation, 
 Belongs the effecting and consideration 
 Of this request:—and here he comes at need ! 
 (Ed. What words have I to address him, what indeed ? 
 What proper warrant can I now declare, 
 
 Base as I was to him in that affair ? 
 
58 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Enter Creon. 
 
 Cre. Not as a mocker, CEdipus, I’m come 
 
 To make reproaches of that martyrdom. 
 
 [To the Chorus. 
 
 But tho’ of humankind you have no shame, 
 Respect the all-invigorating flame 
 Of our Lord God the Sun at least, and spare 
 Parading such pollution, nude and bare, 
 
 As Earth, and holy Rain, and Light of Day 
 Disowns! Make haste! Within the house 1 " 
 convey! 
 
 Religion bids for eyes and ears of kin 
 Reserve the secret of a kinsman’s sin. 
 
 CEd. Oh, since so noble visiting so base 
 
 Shocks expectation, in God’s name a grace 
 I crave !—for your sake, not for mine indeed! 
 Cre. And what may be the want for which you plead ? 
 (Ed. Fling me abroad with all despatch you can, 
 Where I may perish far from speech of man ! 
 
 Cre. That would I, doubt not, did I not desire 
 Before all else God’s pleasure to inquire. 
 
 (Ed. His word was manifest enough, I’m sure : 
 
 Cut off the parricide , the man impure ! 
 
 Cre. This was so said : but, poorly as we stand, 
 
 ’Tis better ascertain the God’s command. 
 
 CEd. Ask a response about a man so low ? 
 
 Cre . Even you will not dispute him now, I know. 
 
 CEd. Well. And I charge you—ay, I'll supplicate— 
 For her who lies within, to celebrate 
 Such funeral as you please : your right’s un¬ 
 grudged. 
 
KING CEDIPUS 59 
 
 For me—let this my Thebes be ne’er adjudged 
 To have me for a living inmate. Rather 
 Let me abide in the mountains, where my father 
 And mother, living, destined me a tomb— 
 
 Yon hill called my Cithaeron, (38) that my doom 
 May come from them who sought my death. 
 But still, 
 
 One thing I know : nor plague nor other ill 
 Must ever wreck me—else I’d ne’er escaped 
 When dying—till the ghastly doom be shaped. 
 
 But let my fortune take what path it takes. 
 Then, for my children—for the male ones’ sakes 
 Urge no endeavour ; they are men, and so 
 Want not for livelihood where’er they go. 
 
 But these poor girls, my tearful, cheerless pair, 
 Apart from whom my board was never set 
 To separate them from my person yet, 
 
 But still in all I touched they had their share— 
 Take thought for them. And let me, if I may, 
 Touch them, and weep together, weep away. 
 
 O Sir, allow this ! 
 
 O gentle and generous ! Touch them if I might, 
 I'd feel them mine as when I had my sight. 
 
 \Enter Antigone and Ismene. 
 What is it now ? This— 
 
 O Heavens ! No—it cannot be I hear 
 My sweet ones crying, dearest of my dear, 
 
 —Fetched hither to me by King Creon’s kind¬ 
 ness ? 
 
 Inform my blindness! 
 
 Cre. You are informed! I with this boon have 
 blest you 
 
 For this fond love I knew had long possessed you. 
 
6o SOPHOCLES 
 
 CEd. Good luck be yours, and for this errand’s sake 
 The Spirit for you a better guardian make 
 Than e’er for me. Where are you, children ? 
 Please 
 
 Come to these hands; they are your brother’s. 
 These 
 
 Have ministered to make these eyes, once bright, 
 Of your engendering sire have this for sight. 
 Because I would not look, I would not learn ; 
 Where I was digged I fathered you in turn. 
 More tears ... for you—to see you I’ve no 
 strength— 
 
 To think of all the bitter coming length 
 Of life that now the world will make you live. 
 What gatherings or what festivals will give 
 You access, and you will not go away 
 Tearfully home instead of holiday ? 
 
 And when you reach your bridal prime, oh then 
 Who will there be, my children, who of men 
 So bold to take upon himself the shame 
 Which blasts you as it blasts my parents* name ? 
 What crime is missing here ? Your father killed 
 His father, and the mother-ground he tilled 
 Where he himself was sown, and one and all, 
 Getter and got, have one original. 
 
 These will be your reproaches : who will marry? 
 Children, there will be none. ’Tis necessary 
 That you should wither barren and unwed. 
 
 Son of Menoeceus, in a father’s stead 
 They’ve only you ; for we are perished now, 
 The pair who gave them birth. Do not allow 
 Husbandless beggar waifs to bear your name; 
 And level not these girls to match my shame. 
 
 < 
 
KING CEDIPUS 
 
 61 
 
 111 does their age their piteous fortune suit; 
 
 But for your part, they’re wholly destitute. 
 
 Give your assent, Sir,—touch me with your 
 hand. 
 
 Children, were you of years to understand, 
 
 I’d give you much advice: now, just this 
 prayer— 
 
 Manage to live as season may allot you, 
 
 And better luck be yours than his that got you. 
 
 Cre. Far enough in lamentation. Now within the 
 house repair. 
 
 (Ed. Choice is none, and yet 'tis hard consenting. 
 
 Cre . Fit alone makes fair. 
 
 (Ed. Know you now the charter of my going ? 
 
 Cre. Speak : to hear’s to know. 
 
 (Ed. Send me forth to dwell in exile. 
 
 Cre. What you ask must God bestow. 
 
 (Ed. But of Gods I stand abhorred. 
 
 Cre. So shall you the boon obtain. 
 
 (Ed. Say you Ay ? 
 
 Cre. I like not speaking where I know my words 
 are vain. 
 
 (Ed. Well, ’tis time, you must remove me. 
 
 Cre. Come, and let the children go. 
 
 (Ed. Rob me not of them, of them ! 
 
 Cre. You must not think in all to reign. 
 
 Reign you had, and life is left you : honours 
 proved a faithless train. 
 
 [.Exeunt CEdipus, Creon, and the Children, 
 while the Chorus speak the Epilogue. 
 
t 
 
 62 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Cho. O inhabiters of Theb£, look, for this is CEdipus, 
 
 He that guessed the great enigma, he of men all- 
 glorious : 
 
 Him the people never envied, and he kept an 
 eye on doom ; 
 
 Yet what seas of ill engulf him, yet what awful 
 waves entomb ! 
 
 So until a mortal creature sees the final day of all, 
 
 Happy let him while he waits and watches no 
 man living call 
 
 Till the homeward race has touched the barrier 
 free from hurt or fall. [Exeunt omnes . 
 
 
OEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 
 
 Scene. —The Hill of Colonos near Athens. A road from 
 Left leads to the Sacred Grove of the Eumenides , 
 which is fenced with natural rock : at some point 
 in its circuit the rock affords a natural seat. 
 
 Enter CEdipus and Antigone, weary and travel-stained , 
 
 by the road from L. 
 
 CEd. Child of the old man blind, Antigone, 
 
 What lands are these ? In whose domains are we ? 
 Who shall to CEdipus the homeless waif 
 The daily churlish dole to-day vouchsafe ? 
 
 Little enough I ask for, and I gain 
 Less than my little. Let me not complain. 
 SufPring and Time-old comrade now he’s 
 reckoned— 
 
 Teach patience: and noblesse is there to second. 
 But, child, if any place to sit be found 
 Whether in holy acre or common ground, 
 
 Set me and found me, while we ascertain 
 Our whereabouts. Strangers we come to ask 
 Of natives, and perform the bidden task. 
 
 Ant . Poor father, CEdipus, if sight be proof 
 
 The walls that case the town are far aloof. 
 
 But this is holy ground, as I suppose— 
 
 So rich the bay, the vine, the olive grows ; 
 
 63 
 
6 4 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 There chant within it nightingales thick-flown. 
 Here lay you down on this unpolished stone. 
 Long miles for aged limbs you’ve left behind. 
 (Ed. Ay: settle me down here, and watch the blind. 
 
 [Antigone leads him to the seat and composes 
 him there. 
 
 Ant . ’Tis not Time’s fault, if you must tell me that! 
 (Ed, Say, can you teach me what’s the place we’re at ? 
 Ant. Athens (40) —I know so much, but not the spot. 
 (Ed. That much from every passer-by we got. 
 
 Ant. Well, shall I ask direction somewhere near ? 
 
 (Ed. Do so, child—if ’tis habitable here. 
 
 [A Man of the Country is descried approaching 
 quickly. 
 
 Ant. Nay, better, ’tis inhabited. I doubt 
 We need not—for I see a man about. 
 
 (Ed. This way approaching ? He begins to move ? 
 
 Enter the Countryman. 
 
 Ant. Why, no, for now he’s reached us! Speak you can 
 As best the hour advises—here’s the man. 
 
 (Ed. Friend, since a seasonable scout you prove. 
 
 Well met to clear our hesitations—she 
 
 Whose eyes do duty for herself and me- 
 
 C. Before you question further, quit that seat: 
 You’re on forbidden ground for human feet. 
 
 (Ed. What ground is this ? To what God dedicate ? 
 C. Inviolate, uninhabited, the site 
 
 Of dread powers, daughters of the Earth and 
 Night. 
 
 (Ed. Teach me to pray them ! What’s this name so 
 great ? 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 65 
 
 C. The Kindly Ones^ our people here acclaim 
 All-Seeing : place for place likes name for name. 
 Ed. In grace may they their suppliant receive ! 
 
 This local seat I never more will leave. 
 
 C. What is this thing ? 
 
 (Ed, The tally of my Fate ! 
 
 C. Well, I myself am loth, unauthorised, 
 
 To move you, till I tell and be advised. 
 
 (Ed, Disappoint not a vagabond like me, 
 
 In God’s name, sir, of answer to my plea ! 
 
 C. Make it but known—I’ll disappoint you not. 
 (Ed, Tell me, the ground whereon we are is—what ? 
 C. What I’ve to impart, you shall not be denied. 
 This place throughout is holy : in it abide 
 Awful Poseidon, and the Titan God 
 Fire-charged Prometheus; whereyou press the sod, 
 Is called the country’s Threshold Brazenshod,^ 
 The stay of Athens ; neighbouring acres boast 
 Yon knight Colonos patron of their host, 
 
 And bearing every one Colonos’ name 
 Make general addition of the same. 
 
 There, sir, you have the matter : in the telling 
 Less valued than with intimate indwelling. 
 
 (Ed. So there are inmates of these purlieus, then ? 
 
 C. Why, surely ; the God’s namesakes are these men. 
 (Ed. Subjects ? Or with the people lies the word ? 
 
 C. By the King in town are we administer’d. 
 
 (Ed. And who’s this King whose writ and rod’s all one ? 
 
 C. Theseus he’s called : the old King Aegeus’ son. 
 (Ed. Could one of you to him go emissary ? 
 
 C. What to arrange for, and what word to carry ? 
 (Ed. “That little help may gain a mighty prize.” 
 
 C. What help is in a man with sightless eyes ? 
 
 E 
 
66 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 (Ed. The words I speak shall all be words of seeing. 
 
 C. Hark you, sir, how to make no blunder! Being 
 Gentle, as (save this act of God) you seem, 
 
 Bide here where first I found you—I’ll to the d£me 
 And tell our folks the matter, then and there, 
 
 —Not in the city. They shall now declare 
 If you may bide or back again retire. 
 
 [Exit Countryman. 
 
 (Ed. Child, is the Stranger gone, as we desire ? 
 
 Ant. He’s gone ; so, father, you may now speak out 
 In peace, for none but I alone’s about. 
 
 (Ed. (in attitude of prayer). Dread-visaged Ladies, 
 whenas your retreat 
 
 Proves in this land my first unbending seat, 
 
 O cross me not, and cross not Phoebus’ will! 
 Who, while he prophesied me all that ill, 
 
 This resting-place in length of days bespake, 
 
 A final country reached, where I should take 
 Guest’s lodging in the seat of Awful Powers ; 
 There I must homeward turn my weary hours, 
 Settled a prize for them that domiciled me, 
 
 And curse upon my senders, who exiled me : 
 Signs there must come, in warrant of the sam$, 
 Earthquake or thunder, or the Almighty’s flame. 
 Now I perceive that in this journeying 
 Doubtless ’tis your sure auspices that bring 
 Safe home to this your grove my roaming feet; 
 How else should you be first with whom I meet— 
 Abstemious with the wineless, (44) taking place 
 On this unaddiced awful floor ? A grace, 
 
 O Goddesses ! Apollo’s voice confirm ! 
 
 Give me a consummation and a term, 
 
 Unless you find me still too little worth, 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 67 
 
 Ant. 
 
 (Ed. 
 
 Lackeying the highest torment known on earth ! 
 Consent, sweet Daughters of th’ old Dark ! 
 Consent, 
 
 City that bear’st the name pre-eminent 
 Of Pallas, Athens prized above them all ! 
 
 Pity this wretched phantom that they call 
 CEdipus, how unlike the original! 
 
 [ The Chorus of old men of Colonos are seen 
 approaching. 
 
 Hush ! here, I tell you, are men of ancient years 
 Coming towards your seat as overseers. 
 
 I’ll hold my peace, and you my feet shall turn 
 Aside within the precinct while I learn 
 The purport of their words. In learning is 
 The circumspection of activities. 
 
 [She helps him up the rock edge , and he disappears 
 in the Sanctuary. 
 
 Enter the Old Men of Colonos: they scatter and search , 
 
 singing — 
 
 Cho . Look out! Was it—who ? Where hideth he ? 
 Where has he flitted apart to ? Where abideth 
 he ? 
 
 The arch-arch-unappeasable ?< 46 > 
 
 Gaze right hard, peer for him ! 
 
 Search, keep sharp ear for him! 
 
 A wayfaring old man, ’tis a wayfarer, 
 
 None born here ! to approach the glades 
 Never trodden of man, the haunt, 
 
 Holy haunt, of the mighty Maids ! 
 
 Speak not the name, avaunt! 
 
 Never a sound—a glance were sin here ! 
 
68 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Devout souls full of reverence 
 Find speechlessly deliverance 
 While they pass it : (46) —and now be tidings 
 Sacrilege’s within here. 
 
 Yet have I ne'er found tho’ I spy all around 
 In the sanctu’ry ground ; 
 
 I know not the place of his hiding. 
 [CEdipus discovers himself\ slightly above them , 
 within the precinct. 
 
 Duet in March-Measure. 
 
 CEd. I am here, I am he : 
 
 By voice do I see, i’ the phrase of the saw. 
 
 Cho. Oh ! oh ! 
 
 He’s ghastly to see, he’s ghastly to hear ! 
 
 (Ed. Judge me not, I plead, as a breaker of law. 
 
 Cho. Mercy on us, Zeus ! What may the man be ? 
 (Ed. Mine is not all that a destiny can be, 
 
 Meet for a blessing, Lords of the regions. 
 
 Proof of it—how by these alien eyes 
 Had I walked, otherwise— 
 
 Sheer-hulk on a tiny allegiance ? 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Cho. Ay me ! For the eyes blind to see 1 
 
 Wast thou connately a creature of disaster?— 
 Full old too, to the best of guess.— 
 
 Ne’er tho’, while help I can, 
 
 Shalt thou bring down the ban! 
 
 A trespass ! a trespass ! Very warily 
 Guard thy feet fro’ the lawns o’ grass,— 
 
 Silent places wherein the cup, 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 69 
 
 From sweet sources of honey drawn, 
 
 Runs with a welling-up 
 Fountain o’ water. O be heedful! 
 
 Away, stranger, aloof! the path 
 Fends thee amply, O man of wrath ! 
 
 Poor waif, in the woes that haunt thee! 
 
 If a word be needful, 
 
 If with me you have aught, yon sanctu’ry change 
 For the free common range, 
 
 Then speak : ere that tho’ avaunt thee 1 
 
 (Ed. Child, which quarter of mind shall I make for ? 
 Ant. Best to agree, sir, with the rule of the land, 
 
 Both hearken and yield where due is. 
 
 (Ed. Handle me now then. 
 
 Ant. There! I touch thee. 
 
 (Ed. ( hesitating ). O Sir ! I pray no harm may be 
 done me 
 
 When I come loyally yonder. 
 
 Trio sung by CEd. Ant. and Chor. during his descent. 
 
 Cho. Nay, fear not at all, hence never shall hand 
 Force thee again, rudely to wander. 
 
 (Ed. {beginning to clamber down). Advance ? 
 
 Ant. Step it here, proceeding. 
 
 (Ed. Again ? 
 
 Cho. Set him onward, leading : 
 
 Thine, Maiden, it is to see. 
 
 [She helps him down the broken edge , going 
 herself before him and guiding his steps. 
 Ant. Hither away, hither a sightless footing 
 Lift, father, and follow me. 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 70 
 
 Cho. Mind thee, O foreigner, comfortless, 
 In strange country be e’en as we; 
 Abominable our abhorrences, 
 
 Holy our law reputing. 
 
 Ed. Be a guide to me, dear, 
 
 Let us walk in the pathway of righteousness 
 I will say my say, and obey their way, 
 
 The fight with necessity waiving. 
 
 Cho . Just so : bend not again steps beyond here,— 
 The bronze rock-semblance of paving.^ 47 ) 
 (Ed. So ? 
 
 Cho. Better obey my meaning. 
 
 Ed. Here sit ? 
 
 Cho. A bit hither leaning. 
 
 Drop slant by the edge of rock. 
 
 Ant. It is for me, this : a foot to earth place 
 So, step to step gently lock. 
 
 Ed. Ah me ! Ah ! 
 
 Ant. Lovingly upon an arm of mine 
 The old rickety limbs incline. 
 
 Ed. O hard-hearted afflictions ! 
 
 Cho. So rest easy, O weary heart: 
 
 Name thee now—of what human stock ? 
 Who so calamitously led ? Impart, 
 
 And let us hear thy birthplace. 
 
 Ed. O good sirs, 
 
 All homeless am I : refrain ! 
 
 Cho. Nay—a refusal—old man, why ? 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 71 
 
 (Ed. No, no, no ! Never ask my secret, 
 
 Nor question about me idly seeking! 
 
 Cho. What’s this? 
 
 (Ed. Born horribly ! 
 
 Cho. Speak it! 
 
 CEd. Shall I— Child, child !—shall I tell them ? 
 
 Cho. Of what seed gendered art, foreigner, fathered 
 of whom ? 
 
 (Ed. O, my child, what is to become of me ? 
 
 Ant. Tell it out: to the edge thou art driven. 
 
 (Ed. Speak I will : power have I none left to 
 conceal. 
 
 Cho. Ye are long with your loitering : haste thee 1 
 (Ed. Lai’os’ son do you know ? 
 
 Cho. Oh ! oh ! oh ! 
 
 (Ed. And the children of Labdacus ? 
 
 Cho. O Zeus! 
 
 CEd. Miserable GEdipodas ? 
 
 Cho. So it is he ? 
 
 (Ed. Nay, be not alarmed at my story. 
 
 Cho. Oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! Cursed one ! Oh ! oh ! 
 CEd. O daughter of mine, what awaits us ? 
 
 Cho. Out, out! Forth, forth! Quit you the country ! 
 CEd. And the warranty—how will ye keep it ? 
 
 Cho. Never a destiny falls to requite the requiter of 
 infamy done. 
 
 ’Tis a fraud to a fraud and a like to a like, and 
 the other a match for the one. 
 
 Not a grace to repay but a trouble to render : 
 
 aloof from the land and away 
 From the holy retreat with a bound ! 
 
72 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 For I doubt, to my country’s ground 
 No good thy touch will gender ! 
 
 Monody. (48 > 
 
 Ant. Merciful-spirited sirs, here dwelling, 
 
 Tho’ you could not abide to behold 
 Father—his blindness ; because Fame told 
 Those unpurposed acts he fell in, 
 
 Still, we beseech you adoringly, ear to my misery, 
 mine— 
 
 Ear incline,— 
 
 Suppliant here in my wreck’d sire’s cause to 
 you,— 
 
 Cause that I plead with you, eye to eye gaze at 
 you,— 
 
 Eyes not of blindness mine—e’en as if I were a 
 Vision of kindred aris’n to you—O let his 
 Woes find mercy ! on you as a God’s will 
 Hang we in helplessness ; O by a n^iracle, yet be 
 benign ! Give a sign ! 
 
 O by the dearest of thine do I plead with thee,— 
 Child be it, wife be it, chattel or God be it! 
 Scan you the world, you shall never a man 
 behold 
 
 Able to escape 
 Whenso God will lead him. 
 
 Cho. Daughter of CEdipus, be sure we take 
 Pity on both for your affliction’s sake, 
 
 But pious apprehensions must withhold 
 From speaking further than what you’ve been 
 told. 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 73 
 
 (Ed. Ah ! What forsooth does fair opinion boot, 
 
 And idle current of a good repute ? 
 
 Athens they call a most God-fearing land, 
 
 Able alone to rescue, fit to stand 
 Protectress to the stranger’s tribulation : 
 
 Where do I find it ? From my sacred station 
 You dispossess me and rebuff me though : 
 
 Afraid of just a name, because I know 
 Not for my person nor my deeds you care, 
 
 More sinned against than sinning as they were ; 
 —If I must needs of father and mother tell; 
 
 For this you fear me : that I know full well. 
 
 But how can I be naturally vile ? 
 
 I did as done by : had I known the while 
 I acted, where’s the vileness e’en in that ? 
 
 But no : I reached the point I ended at, 
 Unwitting : they were wilful murderers. 
 Therefore in God’s name I beseech you, sirs, 
 
 As you have dispossest me, so restore; 
 
 Make not the Gods, the Gods whom you adore, 
 To be of none account. Be this your creed : 
 
 Of good men in the world they take good heed, 
 Good heed of the evil-doer ; when indeed 
 Did wicked men escape ? I pray you, mark, 
 And blot not blessed Athens with a dark 
 Ministering to practices abhorrent: 
 
 You took me as a votary in your warrant, 
 
 Rescue me also and keep me. Do not see 
 With disregard the unsightliness in me. 
 
 Sacred I come and holy, and I bring 
 A blessing on these burghers. When your King 
 Arrives, the empowered spokesman of the rest, 
 Then while you listen all shall be confest. 
 Meanwhile be not unkind to my request. 
 
74 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Chorus Leader. These cogitations my alarm have 
 raised, 
 
 And cause enough, old sir; no lightly-phrased 
 Announcement this ; but I’m well satisfied 
 To leave it with our master to decide. 
 
 (Ed. And where may be your country’s arbiter ? 
 
 Lea. In the Capital. The same observer hies 
 To fetch him, who my coming did advise. 
 
 Ed. And will he have regard, do you surmise, 
 
 Or care to come and meet with sightless eyes ? 
 [Lea. O surely if he do but hear your name. 
 
 Ed. That word, to him who is there can proclaim ? 
 Lea. The road is long ; and every passenger 
 
 Sets rumour roving, and he’ll hear the same :] (49 ) 
 Take courage ; he will come. For, aged sir, 
 You are much noised abroad ; let him but catch 
 Your name—dull ease will turn to quick de¬ 
 spatch. 
 
 Ed. Luck for his realm and luck for me attend 
 
 His coming ! Self’s an honest man’s good friend ! 
 
 Ant . [ingreat agitation , staring along the road R.). Zeus, 
 give me the word ! O fix my thoughts 
 for me ! 
 
 Ed. What ails you, child, Antigone ? 
 
 Ant . I see 
 
 A woman—she approaches us : she rides 
 A steed of iEtna; but her face she hides 
 Under a shady-brimmed Thessalian beaver/ 60 ^ 
 Heigho ! 
 
 Is’t Yes or No ? Soul says—dare I believe her ? 
 Heaven help me ! 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 75 
 
 It is none other ! Yes, with beaming eyes 
 Greeting me as she nears, she signifies 
 “ Sister Ismene—’tis none else than she ! ” 
 
 CEd. What’s that, my child ? 
 
 Ant. My sister that I see ! 
 
 Your child—and now her voice shall prove it you. 
 
 Enter Ismene as described , but dismounted. The horse 
 
 does not appear. 
 
 Ism. Father and sister, O the sweetest two 
 
 Names of accost ! I’ve hardly the heart, for pain, 
 To look on you, so hardly found again ! 
 
 CEd. O child, you’re there ? 
 
 Ism. O father ! O martyrdom ! 
 
 CEd. Child, you’ve appeared ? 
 
 Ism. And work it was to come ! 
 
 CEd. Handle me, child ! 
 
 Ism. I touch you both as one. 
 
 Ant. O sister ! 
 
 Ism. Two sad lives in unison ! 
 
 CEd. Her life and mine ? 
 
 Ism. I join the unhappy pair. 
 
 CEd. Why came you, child ? 
 
 Ism. Father, in filial care. 
 
 CEd. Love longing ? 
 
 Ism. I’m own-messenger as well 
 
 (With one sole trusty slave) of news to tell. 
 
 CEd. Your brothers, though — where’s their hard¬ 
 working prime ? 
 
 Ism. They’re where they are : for them ’tis no good 
 time. 
 
 CEd. How they are shaped to the similitude 
 
 Of Egypt’s manners/ 61 ) in their life and mood ! 
 
7 6 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 
 That is the country where the males abide 
 Weaving at home ; their helpmates must provide 
 The outdoor work that wins the daily bread. 
 They who should take their duty in your stead, 
 Sit like home-keeping damsels in the home, 
 While you for them accept the wearisome 
 Charge of my misery. One, since first she came 
 From child’s estate to strength matured of frame, 
 Condemned to wait upon my aimless way, 
 
 Plays old man’s nurse ; and many a time astray, 
 Shoeless, unvictualled in the forest wild, 
 
 Oft vexed with rains and burning suns, poor 
 child, 
 
 Counts life at home as but a second good, 
 
 “ My father first must have his livelihood." 
 
 And you, my child, gave Thebes the slip before, 
 And reached me, bringing all the oracular lore 
 About this body of mine. A faithful guard 
 You’ve stood by me when I was banned and 
 barred. 
 
 And now, Ismene, what’s the tale you bring 
 From home ? What errand set you voyaging ? 
 You come not empty—that I know full well; 
 Some word of dread you will not fail to tell. 
 
 Ism . The rude mischances, father, I had to chance, 
 Seeking your whereabouts of maintenance, 
 
 I will let pass, for I desire not pain 
 Twofold, of effort and in story again. 
 
 ’Tis of your luckless sons, their present sort 
 Of trouble, that I travelled to report. 
 
 ’Twixt them and Creon there was first debate 
 To yield the crown and not pollute the state— 
 A strife of reason on the old blood-taint 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 77 
 
 Which grips your hapless house in such con¬ 
 straint ; 
 
 But (God knows why, and their bedevilled mind) 
 Thrice wretched ! now they’re ta'en with strife 
 less kind 
 
 To clutch at sovereignty and royal state. 
 
 The youthful one, that's born of lesser date, 
 Would oust the elder from the government; 
 And Polyneices is to exile sent. 
 
 But he, or so with us obtained the tale, 
 
 A banished man, at Argos in the Vale, 
 
 Accepts a match and banded kinsmen’s shields— 
 “ Or Argosfi thinks he, “or Cadmean fields: ” 
 
 “ Throned conqueror—or my friends the heaven 
 shall walk ! ” 
 
 Father, this is no ciphering-up of talk, 
 
 But dreadful act. Which way the Gods will end, 
 Pitying your pain, I cannot apprehend. 
 
 (Ed. Why, had you any hope the Gods would cast 
 An eye on me, and I be saved at last ? 
 
 Ism . Yes, father ; since the oracle replied. 
 
 (Ed. What’s this reply ? Child, what's been pro¬ 
 phesied ? 
 
 Ism. Search after you your countrymen shall make, 
 Dead or alive, for their well-being’s sake. 
 
 (Ed. Whose welfare can depend on such as me ? 
 
 Ism. They say you hold their royalty in fee. 
 
 (Ed. Am I, a dead man, reckoned among men ? 
 
 Ism. Yes, now the Gods upraise, who wrecked you 
 then. 
 
 (Ed. Fall’n in my prime—upraised in eld—what profit ? 
 Ism. And Creon, I can tell you, comes anon— 
 
 No world-without-end waiting—bent thereon. 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 78 
 
 (Ed. Interpret, daughter—what's the purpose of it ? 
 
 Ism. To have you planted near their land, and yet, 
 Safe-held, no foot within the marches set. 
 
 (Ed. Placed at their gates ?—What good is there in 
 this ? 
 
 Ism. 'Tis their affliction if your grave’s amiss. 
 
 (Ed. So wit may guess, and take God’s word on trust. 
 
 Ism. Therefore they like you not at large, but would 
 Adopt you nearly to their neighbourhood. 
 
 (Ed. And lay me in the shade of Theban dust ? 
 
 Ism. Intestine blood ?—No, father, it could not be. 
 
 (Ed. Then they shall not possess themselves of me. 
 
 Ism. Then heavy shall be Thebes’ punishment. 
 
 (Ed. Daughter, in what conjuncture of event ? 
 
 Ism. Your anger : when they form beside your grave. 
 
 (Ed. [after a pause of meditation). Whence had you heard 
 the tidings that you gave ? 
 
 Ism. A Mission from the Hearth of Delphi came. 
 
 (Ed. Phoebus himself did so of me proclaim ? 
 
 Ism. Such was the message brought to Theban land. 
 
 (Ed. Did any of my sons so understand ? 
 
 Ism. Ay, both alike, and learned the lesson well. 
 
 (Ed. And then the scoundrels, after all they’d heard, 
 A kingdom to their love for me preferred ? 
 
 Ism. ’Tis painful telling, yet I needs must tell. 
 
 (Ed. O that the Gods may never quench that feud 
 Predestined, and O that I were endued 
 With power to rule their issues, in this fight 
 They hanker after and set spears upright;— 
 That neither may the one abide who held 
 Sceptre and sovereignties, and that the expelled 
 Come home no more ! When I was thrust away 
 Thus foully from my home, they would not stay 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 79 
 
 Nor succour him that got them : dispossest 
 They let me go, a vagabond profest. 
 
 You tell me “ so was then supposed my pleasure, 
 Well might the State approve a gracious 
 measure ” : 
 
 Oh no ! for, look you, on the very day 
 And instant when my boiling spirit could pray 
 For nothing else but to be stoned and die, 
 
 Then to abet my passion none was nigh; 
 
 But late, when pain was grown to mellowness 
 And I began to feel that heat’s excess 
 Had proved chastiser ev’n beyond the crime,— 
 Then was it that the people, late in time, 
 Thought to exile me by compulsion ; then 
 When father’s sons were father’s hope, these 
 men 
 
 Refused the endeavour, and for one word’s sake ( 62 > 
 Saw me, an outlawed foreign beggar, take 
 The wanderer’s road. For family comfort, food, 
 And charter of rest (so far as aptitude 
 Of Nature serves) these girls I have to thank. 
 They chose instead of me, their parent, rank 
 And royal sway, the sceptre and the throne. 
 
 But never shall they count me for their own 
 To help them ; never of their Cadmean reign 
 Shall blessing come : I know it, schooled again 
 By her report of the oracles, and schooled 
 By thinking out what long since Phoebus ruled 
 Should be my doom. So now they may despatch me 
 Creon and all their mighty men to catch me. 
 
 [Turning to the Chorus. 
 For, sirs, if you will please with these divine 
 Grave Patronesses^ of the place combine 
 
8o 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 To make a brave defence, your State shall gain 
 A mighty helper, and your foemen pain. 
 
 L. of Cho. Right worthy, CEdipus, of our compassion, 
 You and these girls ! But now that in this 
 fashion 
 
 You introduce yourself our people’s saviour, 
 
 I would advise you of a due behaviour. 
 
 (Ed. Sweet friend, be minister, and I’ll perform. 
 
 L. of Cho. Offer atonement to the Powers whose sod, 
 Your earliest entertainers, you have trod. 
 
 (Ed. What is the manner of it ? Sirs, inform. 
 
 L. of Cho. First with the touch of holy fingers bring 
 Ritual draught from ever-flowing spring. 
 
 (Ed. And after I the unsullied flood have got ? 
 
 L. of Cho. Bowls you will find, of master’s handicraft: 
 Wreathe round the brow and mouthpiece fore 
 and aft. 
 
 (Ed. With blossoms or with yarn of wool, or what? 
 L. of Cho. Put the new-shorn fleece of a yearling ewe. 
 (Ed. So be it: after that what must I do ? 
 
 L. of Cho. Pour a libation facing prime of dawn. 
 
 (Ed. Drink, in the vessels that you speak of, drawn ? 
 L. of Cho. Three streams, I tell you; and the last 
 entire. 
 
 (Ed. Put full of what, this last ? I must inquire. 
 
 L. of Cho. Water—theBee—but no strong liquor add. (54 > 
 (Ed. And when black-leaf’d earth hath such tribute 
 had ? 
 
 L. of Cho. With both your hands put thrice nine 
 branches down 
 
 Of olive, and with prayers your offering crown. 
 (Ed. ’Tis these I fain would hear—they are the chief. 
 Cho. Kindly we call them , that they yield relief 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 81 
 
 JVith kindly bosoms to their votary : 
 
 Pray this, yourself, or else by deputy, 
 
 Unheard in utterance—raising no loud cry ; 
 Then go, but never turn about/ 55 ) And I 
 Will gladly be your friend if so you do ; 
 
 Else, stranger, I’d be ill at ease for you. 
 
 (Ed. Children, d’you hear these worthies of the land ? 
 Ant. We heard : ’tis yours our action to command. 
 (Ed. I cannot foot it, being handicapt 
 
 With feebleness and blindness, twice unapt. 
 
 Go, one of you, see to the accomplishment. 
 
 One soul may in such office represent 
 Ten thousand, with goodwill, as I believe. 
 
 Only make haste to act, and do not leave 
 Me solitary: too weak my limbs would prove 
 Alone without a guiding hand to move. 
 
 Ism. Then I’ll go celebrate. But first I ask 
 
 Where shall I find the place to do the task ? 
 
 Cho. Beyond the grove here, mistress. Should you 
 lack 
 
 For aught, the keeper’ll put you on the track. 
 Ism. I’m going. You, Antigone, must mount 
 
 Guard on our father : children may not count 
 Toil toilsome on such dutiful account. 
 
 [Exit Ismene. 
 
 F 
 
82 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Duet : CE dipus and Chorus. 
 
 Cho. Although dreadful it is, 
 
 Sire, to arouse, 
 
 Laid misery's 
 Late reappearing, 
 
 Mine ear is enamoured of hearing. 
 
 CEd. What mean ye ? 
 
 Cho. That anguish, desperate ere discovered, 
 
 Which cruelly did waylay thee. 
 
 CEd. Kind host, never ope, I pray thee, 
 
 Those merciless hurts I suffered ! 
 
 Cho. Why rumour's abroad ceaselessly preaching: 
 
 I’d fain learn truth o’ the common story. 
 
 (Ed. Oh ! oh ! 
 
 Cho. Listen to beseeching ! 
 
 (Ed. O grief. 
 
 Cho. Consent: I too did accord what thy prayer pled. 
 
 (Ed. Most foul sins did I bear ; 
 
 —Not that I chose— 
 
 Burden they were 
 Dealt me, God knows it! 
 
 Of none can ye say that I chose it. 
 
 Cho. The case though ? 
 
 (Ed. To bond most impious—all unwilling— 
 
 Of marriage a folk did hold me : 
 
 Cho. With motherly—so they told me— 
 
 Mis-bridal your bed fulfilling ? 
 
 (Ed. Ah me ! ’tis a death while he rehearses ! 
 
 These girls this couple are of me gendered— 
 Cho. How say’st ? 
 
 (Ed. Rather a couple o’ curses !— 
 
 Cho. O Zeus! 
 
 (Ed. —From selfsame motherly pang as I were bred 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 83 
 
 Cho. 
 Ed. 
 Cho. 
 (Ed. 
 
 Cho. 
 Ed. 
 Cho. 
 Ed. 
 Cho. 
 Ed. 
 
 Cho. 
 
 Ed. 
 
 Cho. 
 
 Ed. 
 
 Cho. 
 
 Ed. 
 
 Cho. 
 
 Ed. 
 
 Cho. 
 
 Ed. 
 
 They’re thy progeny, then—ay, but yet . . . 
 Blood-sisterly to who did beget. 
 
 Alas! 
 
 Alas! troops of ills enough engage me 
 thousandfold. 
 
 Sufferer ! . . . 
 
 O’ suffering I’m adept! 
 
 A sinner. . . . 
 
 Oh ! no sinner ! 
 
 . . . Aha ? 
 
 I did accept 
 
 Guerdon o’ services: oh that I ne’er had had 
 Their choice reward ! O misery never ending ! 
 
 Unfortunate—eh ? A murderer. . . . 
 
 What mean ye ? Will ye yet ask me, sir ? 
 
 . . . Of father ? 
 
 Ah ! Wounded once again! 
 
 New malady on the old ! 
 
 A felon. . . . 
 
 A felon : and yet as well— 
 
 What say you ? 
 
 I can plead that . . . 
 
 That . . . ? Eh ? 
 
 I now will tell: 
 
 They that I slew would have else made an end 
 o’ me; 
 
 So clear i’ the law I sinn’d, unapprehending. 
 
84 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Look ! Theseus, Aegeus’ son, I see appear 
 To test the promise of his errand here. 
 
 Enter Theseus, attended. 
 
 The. I’ve heard (for long since rumour did apprise) 
 Of the ensanguined havoc of your eyes : 
 
 I knew you, son of Laios—and to-day 
 Still more from all I’ve heard upon my way. 
 This habit and this doleful person both 
 Declare you for yourself : I am not loth 
 To ask, poor GEdipus, in pity what 
 Petition for the land and me you’ve got,— 
 
 You and the poor companion suppliant there. 
 Inform me. Grim in truth must be the affair 
 That you could name, to make me stand averse 
 I mind I too was bred with foreigners, 
 
 Abroad ; in my own person not a few 
 Venturous bouts enough have I been through. 
 So I will never from a stranger’s face 
 Turn (such as now are you) to grudge him grace 
 I know myself for man : on days beyond 
 To-day, nor you nor I have any bond. 
 
 CEd. Briefly absolved by your great-heartedness, 
 Theseus, I need to tell you all the less. 
 
 You rightly name me, who I am, and name 
 My father and the land from whence I came : 
 So there is nothing left me to be said 
 Except my wish, and then the talk is sped. 
 
 The. Just that, for me to learn, you must express. 
 Ed. I come this wretched carcass to bestow 
 
 On you ; of little worth in outward show, 
 
 But yielding gains to outmatch the comeliness. 
 The. What is this gain your visit claims to bear ? 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 85 
 
 CEd. Time—not, I think, the present—will declare. 
 The. To this accession what shall testify ? 
 
 CEd. Your burying of me when I shall die. 
 
 The. You ask the last of life ; days that precede 
 You have forgotten, or you do not heed. 
 
 CEd. Because in the one the rest is all conveyed. 
 
 The. ’Tis slight enough, the favour that you’ve prayed ! 
 CEd. Ah! look you well ! No petty cause is this ! 
 The. You mean your children’s and my destinies ? 
 
 CEd. They now coerce me thither to remove. 
 
 The. Ill suits your exile when they disapprove. 
 
 CEd. When ’twas my pleasure they would not concede. 
 The. O foolish ! Temper ill assorts with need. 
 
 CEd. When you have heard, advise! Till then, refrain. 
 The. I must not speak without my book. Explain. 
 CEd . Foul usage upon foul has been my fate. 
 
 The. Will you the old ruin of your house relate ? 
 
 CEd. No, no ! that’s buzzed in Hellas far and wide. 
 The. What superhuman plague of yours beside ? 
 
 CEd. My case is this : I was despatched to roam 
 By my own seed ; and ever to come home 
 I am forbidden as parenticide. 
 
 The. But if you’re fetched how can you dwell apart ? 
 CEd. The mouth of God perforce will turn their heart. 
 The. What mischief do the prophets bid them fear ? 
 CEd. Doom that ordains they must be beaten here. 
 The. ’Twixt them and me what sour could interfere ? 
 CEd. Sweet son of Aegeus, to the Gods alone 
 
 Eld comes not and the turn to die’s unknown : 
 All else does Time the omnipotent confound. 
 Strength of the body wastes and strength of 
 ground; 
 
 Perishes faith, unfaithfulness is rife : 
 
86 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 And nowhere steady sits the wind of life, 
 
 ’Twixt friend and friend, from nation towards 
 nation. 
 
 Or late or soon, for each his alteration, 
 
 Sweet turns to bitter and again to kind. 
 
 Tho’ now in your regard the Theban mind 
 Is all fair-weather, Time he goes his ways 
 And myriad Time breeds myriad nights and days, 
 Wherein to-day's harmonious bond they’ll scatter 
 With steel, upon pretence of little matter : 
 
 Then time shall be, my body, covered up 
 At rest and cold, of their hot blood shall sup ; 
 
 If Zeus be still Zeus and his Son be true. 
 
 I like not blabbing holy secrets. Do 
 But let me be where I began, maintain 
 Your plighted honour ; you shall not complain 
 That you received a useless refugee 
 In CEdipus, if Gods keep faith with me. 
 
 Chorus Leader . This promise and the like of this he still 
 Assures the land, O King, he will fulfil. 
 
 The. Kindness in such a quarter who'll disown ? 
 
 Not mutual hearth and comrade ties alone 
 Unite us ever, but his visit is 
 A pilgrim’s homage to the Goddesses, 
 
 And to the land and me pays no small dues. 
 
 All this respecting, I will not refuse 
 
 His grace, but of the country plant him free. 
 
 If here the stranger has a mind to be 
 I will appoint you guardian :—or set on 
 (If that's your pleasure) CEdipus, with me. 
 Choose freely : I will go the way you’ve gone. 
 (Ed. O Zeus ! may such as he be prosperous ! 
 
 The. But what’s your will ? Set on for home with us ? 
 
OEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 87 
 
 Ed. Had it been granted me ! But here’s the spot— 
 The. Where what must be ? I will gainsay you not. 
 (Ed. Where I shall vanquish them that cast me out. 
 The. Great prize of your abiding, this, no doubt. 
 
 (Ed. If you're steadfast your promise to fulfil. 
 
 The. Here stands a man of honour : that I will. 
 
 Ed. I will not bid you swear, like rogues, for bond. 
 The. No, it were but a verbal tie beyond. 
 
 Ed. What will you do then ? 
 
 The. What d'you tremble at ? 
 
 Ed. There will come men— 
 
 The. These here will see to that. 
 
 Ed. Look, you forsake me— 
 
 The. Teach me not my part! 
 
 Ed. I needs must, trembling— 
 
 The. Mine's no trembler's heart. 
 
 Ed. Their threats you know not— 
 
 The. One thing I can say : 
 
 In my despite none carries you away. 
 
 Oh, threats have often threatened loud in vain 
 And long in anger ; let the mind regain 
 His self-control, and threatenings, where are they ? 
 Heartened they may have been, no doubt, to say 
 Dread things of carrying off: I know they'll 
 find 
 
 Long seas between, to navigate unkind ! 
 
 And mind you, Phoebus (my resolve apart), 
 Speeds you—I justify a cheerful heart; 
 
 And even in the absence of my arm 
 My name will warrant that you take no harm. 
 
 [Exit Theseus. 
 
88 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 [ Turn .) Chorus. 
 
 Rest here, friend : for the Land of Horses 
 Knows no better abode in all the region, 
 
 The white mound o’ Colonos, where 
 Nightingales of a choice repair, 
 
 With sweet melody murmur'd soft in 
 Fresh green copses abounding ; 
 
 The flushed ivy she keeps aloft in, 
 Thick-set bosky surrounding 
 Haunts o’ the God where the berries are legion ! 
 
 Never a wintry wind dishevels 
 Bacchus’ close, never hot sun forces 
 
 These shy swards where he loves to lead the 
 revels, 
 
 Nymphs to nurse and to tend his courses ! 
 
 ( Counter - turn .) 
 
 Day by day where a cream of dews is 
 Shed, narcissus erects a lovely cluster; 
 
 Long since used for a coronal 
 Wreathing Mother and Maid withal. 
 
 Here beam rays o’ the crocus golden ; 
 
 Here unslumbering waters 
 Each day range ever unwithholden, 
 
 Old Cephisos’ daughters. 
 
 Swift to creation, he runs with a lustre 
 Got of the raindrops unpolluted 
 O’er a bosom of lands, the Muses 
 
 Love and leave i’ the dance not unreputed, 
 And golden-rein’d Aphrodite chooses. 
 
/A 7 
 
 CONTEST OF ATHENA AND POSEIDON FOR THE ATTIC LAND 
 
 From a Vase in the Hermitage Museum at S. Petersburg. 
 
 $th Century B.C. 
 
 89 
 

 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 
 
90 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 (2 nd Turn.) 
 
 There's one glory o' these 
 Fields, of all fields 
 
 Known to my hearing 
 Which not Asia yields : 
 
 Peloponnese' 
 
 Broad heritance 
 
 Boasts not a rearing : 
 Th’ uncultivated 
 Plant, self-created ; 
 
 The terror of the foeman's lance ; 
 They fill the ground in 
 A rich abounding— 
 
 Grey-greenleaved olive-trees, 
 
 Lusty to nourish : 
 
 Which youth enraged 
 And captain aged 
 
 Vainly strives to reduce, 
 Hacking amain : 
 
 Havoc is vain, 
 
 For the eye of Zeus 
 Watches aye and wi' steely glance 
 Pallas sees that they flourish ! 
 
GEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 91 
 
 (2 nd Counter-turn .) 
 
 Once more, Mother o' Towns, 
 
 Praise be rehearsed, 
 
 Title of honour 1 
 No mean Deity erst,— 
 
 Crown of her crowns, 
 
 Pride o' the place— 
 
 Laid this upon her : 
 
 Renown for oarscraft, 
 
 For steeds and horsecraft. 
 
 O Son of Cronos, by the grace 
 Of thee, Poseidon, 
 
 She puts this pride on : 
 
 These our streets were the first, 
 
 Here did he render 
 
 The Horse not idle 
 By Bit and Bridle. 
 
 And our oarages leap 
 Peerlessly mann'd 
 Over the deep, 
 
 Fitted apt to the hand ; 
 
 Five-score-footing, a Mermaid race 
 Takes our bark for a tender! 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 92 
 
 Ant . 
 
 CEd . 
 
 (Ed . 
 
 Cr*. 
 
 O region highly magnified in praise, 
 
 ’Tis time to illustrate the glorious phrase ! 
 
 Why, child, what news ? 
 
 O father, Creon ’tis 
 
 Approaching, and a troop of men of his. 
 
 My well-beloved Signiors, now the sun 
 Of my deliv’rance from your hands must come! 
 Old as I am, it shall not fail : be bold : 
 
 Here is folk whose force is not grown old ! 
 
 [Enter Creon, attended by a few men . 
 Sirs, and most noble denizens of the land, 
 
 Some fear of my advance, I understand, 
 
 Takes instant hold upon your eyes. Forbear 
 Your trembling, and the untoward greeting spare. 
 I come not hither as on action bent, 
 
 For I am old, and this your government 
 For power I know may match the best in Greece ; 
 Thus old, my mission is by ways of peace 
 To bring this man back to Cadmean ground, 
 On no one man’s commission, rather bound 
 On public errand, as by birth a chief 
 Mourner in all the nation at his grief. 
 
 And now consent, unhappy QEdipus, 
 
 Come home : the voice of Thebes unanimous 
 Recalls you duly : I, not least, recall— 
 
 For (were I not the vilest wretch of all) 
 
 I suffer at your sorrowful old age, 
 
 To see this doleful foreign pilgrimage,— 
 
 A hungry waif for ever, penniless, 
 
 With one to lead him : little did I guess 
 To such abjection she would fall away 
 As fall’n, poor soul, I find her—day by day 
 To you and your condition ministrant 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 93 
 
 With beggar’s cheer : of age, uncognizant 
 Of marriage—left for who may pass and please 
 To ravish. Bad enough reproaches, these, 
 Wherewith I have reproached myself and you 
 And all our house ? Broad day leaves all to view : 
 CEdipus, by our fathers’ Gods, comply ! 
 
 Keep secret, and consent to occupy 
 Your house and home, and bid a kind good-bye 
 To Athens—she deserves it. Home must hold 
 First place in worship : ’twas your nurse of old. 
 (Ed. O wholly unabashed ! O glib to gain 
 From any plea of right some sly chicane ! 
 
 Why do you probe me thus, and try once more 
 To take me in the toils I’d most deplore ? 
 
 First, when I was distempered with my own 
 Afflictions, and I yearned to be alone, 
 
 Outlawed ; the grace I could not then obtain. 
 
 I had my bellyful of rage—was fain 
 To live at home ; oh no ! ’twas next your cue 
 To thrust me out—disown me : much did you 
 Care then for this your plea of kith and kin ! 
 Once more you find me here, adopted in 
 The loving league of all this realm and race 
 And now you try to tear me from this place 
 With cruel soft-speaking. Love me when I 
 will not— 
 
 What joy is that ? As tho’ one should fulfil not 
 Your suppliant’s prayer, nor do you any good : 
 And when you’re full of all the things you would, 
 With graces grown ungracious then endow. 
 Would you not find the favour empty now ? 
 
 Yet ’tis the like of that you proffer to me, 
 Blessings in word that shall in act undo me. 
 
94 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 They too shall hear it—so I’ll prove you wretch. 
 You’re come to fetch me, but not home to fetch, 
 Only to plant me few fields off, and clear 
 Your state scot-free of any crosses here. 
 
 That cannot be, sir : this you have in store— 
 My vengeful Genius lodged there evermore : 
 
 And all the inheritance my sons shall win 
 In lands of mine is just to die therein. 
 
 Which, you or I, best knows this Theban matter ? 
 Oh, that I do : my teachers do not flatter— 
 Phoebus, and Zeus himself, that’s Phoebus’ sire. 
 Your lip’s edge, file it to your heart’s desire, 
 Comes with a changeling temper : all your talk 
 Shall little serve to bless and much to baulk. 
 Nay, but I need not think to move you—out! 
 And let me here abide—ill off, no doubt; 
 
 But joy has little to repine about. 
 
 Cre. Do you suppose that it is I come worse, 
 
 Or you yourself, sir, out of this discourse ? 
 
 (Ed. I am well pleased enough : you lose your labours 
 In neither moving me, nor these my neighbours. 
 Cre. Poor man, you’ll prove not even Time can give 
 You wits ! the scandal of grey hairs you live ! 
 (Ed. You’re sharp of tongue. I know no man so pat 
 On all occasions, but’s a knave at that. 
 
 Cre. Speak much from speak to the point is far apart. 
 (Ed. The brief but pointed, pray is that your art ? 
 Cre. Not to the like of your intelligence. 
 
 (Ed. Cease (I will use their name to bid you hence) 
 Blockading my predestined residence. 
 
 Cre. They are my witnesses, not you : I’ll make you 
 Learn civil answers, if I once can take you. 
 
 (Ed. Who takes me if my champions here oppose ? 
 
GEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 95 
 
 Cre. Oh, we have other means to vex than those ! 
 CEd. Where is the deed that spoken threat to match ? 
 Cre . One child of yours I did but now despatch 
 Arrested ; soon I’ll seize the other one. 
 
 [OEdipus utters a groan. 
 You soon shall have more to lament upon. 
 
 CEd. You have my daughter ? 
 
 Cre. This one too, anon ! 
 
 CEd. O friends, what will you do ? Will you betray ? 
 
 Will you not drive this miscreant away ? 
 
 L. of Cho. Stranger, begone at once! No right have you 
 In what you have done or in what you do. 
 
 Cre. My men ! high time for you to make her budge 
 By force, if she will not consent to trudge. 
 
 [They lay hands on Antigone. 
 Ant. Oh, I am lost! Where can I turn without 
 God’s help or man’s ? 
 
 L. of Cho. Sir, what are you about ? 
 
 Cre. She’s mine, I say ! I do him no despite. 
 
 CEd. Lords of the land ! 
 
 L. of Cho. Stranger, you have no right! 
 
 Cre. I have a right. 
 
 L. of Cho. What right ? 
 
 Cre. For my own to fight ! 
 
 Trio : CEdipus, Creon, and Chorus. 
 
 CEd. O People, hear ! 
 
 Cho. Desist, Prince, desist ! 
 
 She shall be released ! 
 
 Or else arms be test ! 
 
 Cre. Avoid ! 
 
 Cho. Not from you ! 
 
 Such are the deeds you do ! 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 96 
 
 Cre . Hurt me, and you’ve a quarrel with my land ! 
 
 (Ed. Did I not tell you how ’twould be ? 
 
 L. of Cho. Unhand 
 
 The girl at once ! 
 
 Cre. Play master where you may ! 
 
 L. of Cho. Let go, I say ! 
 
 Cre. And I say, Go your way ! 
 
 Cho . Advance, make a stand ! 
 
 Advance, men of the land ! 
 
 This is a People’s fall! 
 
 Here we be outraged all! 
 
 Advance, lend a hand ! 
 
 Ant. I’m haled away, I’m ruined ! Sirs, good sirs ! 
 
 (Ed. My child, where are you ? 
 
 Ant. Dragged by ravishers ! 
 
 (Ed. Reach me your hands, my child ! 
 
 Ant . I can’t get free ! 
 
 Cre. (to his men). Why can’t you take her off? 
 
 [Antigone is carried off. 
 
 (Ed. Ay me, ay me ! 
 
 Cre. Ha, ha ! on those two staves no more you’ll rest 
 In your wayfaring. Since you choose to best 
 Your country and your kindred (whose decree 
 I have for warrant, sovereign tho’ I be) 
 
 Best them ! In time, I know it, you will learn 
 That you have done yourself a sorry turn 
 To-day, and when you flouted them before 
 To please the temper that’s your standing sore. 
 
 [Leader of Chorus arrests Creon. 
 
 L. of Cho. Hold hard, sir ! 
 
 Cre . Keep your hands from me, my Lord ! 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 97 
 
 L. of Cho. I’ll never let you go till they’re restored. 
 Cre. With heavier ransom yet you shall atone : 
 
 I’ll take possession not of them alone. 
 
 L. of Cho. What’s now your move ? 
 
 Cre. To take him and be gone. 
 
 L. of Cho. Outrageous word ! 
 
 Cre. It shall be fact anon. 
 
 L. of Cho. Unless he shall prevent, who rules the land. 
 CEd. On me, O foul tongue, will you lay your hand ? 
 Cre. Silence ! I bid you. 
 
 CEd. May these spirits dread 
 
 Not leave me speechless ere this curse be said ! 
 Ruffian, tear from me this defenceless eye (56) 
 After my former eyes were lost, and fly ? 
 
 Now may the Sun, the God all-seeing, give 
 Such life to you and all your house to live 
 Hereafter, as was my life, when you’re old ! 
 
 Cre. You people of the place, do you behold ? 
 
 CEd. Ay, they behold us both, and they can see 
 I have but words to avenge your torts to me. 
 Cre. No ! I’ll not check my heat—although alone, 
 
 I’ll hale him, slow with time although I’m grown. 
 
 Trio : CEdipus, Creon, and Chorus. 
 
 CEd. O mercy me ! 
 
 Cho. O proud, haughty heart— 
 
 Who dared plan the part, 
 
 And thought safe to achieve ! 
 
 Cre. I do ! 
 
 Cho. We’re no more 
 
 A people, I’ll believe ! 
 
98 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Cre. Little has vanquished great when Right so willed. 
 Ed. Hear you what boasts ! 
 
 Cho. They shall not be fulfilled. 
 
 (Ed. I know it. 
 
 Cre. Zeus, no doubt, not you, can know ! 
 
 Cho . O outrage ! 
 
 Cre . Outrage—you must take it tho’ ! 
 
 Cho . Oho ! People all ! 
 
 Oho ! Chiefs ! oho ! 
 
 To the defence I call: 
 
 To the defence !—too slow ! 
 Away safe are they ! 
 
 Enter Theseus, in haste. 
 
 The. What's this outcry ? What's the matter ? What 
 can be this great alarm 
 
 Made me by the Sea-god’s altar stay my sacrificing 
 arm, 
 
 By the altar of the patron of Colonos ? Speak 
 the case, 
 
 Why I hied me quicker here than suits the 
 pleasure of my pace ? 
 
 Ed. Dear friend, for your accost I recognise, 
 
 This man does foully o’er me tyrannise. 
 
 The. What acts of force ? And who was he did wreak ? 
 
 Ed. This Creon (you behold him) makes away 
 
 With my two children, robs my only stay. 
 
 The. What’s that ? 
 
 Ed. The plain truth of my wrongs I speak. 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 99 
 
 The, Then let some lackey run and not be long 
 To yonder altar, and make all the throng, 
 Horsemen alike and horseless, quit the rite, 
 
 And post, off reins, where thoroughfares unite, 
 Their avenues debouching,—there were best— 
 And let the maids not pass ! Else to my guest 
 I’m made a laughing-stock, forced, foiled at whim! 
 Quick, to my hest! Despatch ! And as for him— 
 Did but my passion equal his desert 
 I had not let him 'scape my hands unhurt : 
 
 Now to such covenant shall he be plied, 
 
 As he came here observing—none beside : 
 
 (to Creon). You shall not leave this land of 
 mine before 
 
 You fetch these maids and to my sight restore ; 
 For little worthy is this act you planned 
 Of me, and of your race, and of your land. 
 
 Into a commonwealth where men profess 
 Justice, a government of lawfulness, 
 
 You come, intruding, cut our laws adrift, 
 
 At your good pleasure levy, loot, and lift; 
 
 As slavish or dispeopled rank my state, 
 
 My person at a cipher’s purchase rate. 
 
 And surely 'tis not Thebes that schooled you 
 rogue : 
 
 To breed lawbreakers is no Theban vogue, 
 
 And she would not commend you if she knew 
 This robbery on the Gods and me—that you 
 Harried the suppliant worship of the weak. 
 Footing on land of yours were I to seek, 
 
 Not (tho’ I boasted ne'er so just a cause) 
 Without the magistrate who gives your laws, 
 Would I have haled and harried ; I'd have known 
 
100 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 How men behave in countries not their own. 
 You stain an undeserving state with crime,— 
 You foul your own nest : plenitude of time 
 Leaves you an old man and an empty head. 
 
 I say it now as I before have said ; 
 
 Let some one fetch these maids without delay, 
 Unless you like, perforce, unasked, to stay 
 Here in the country domiciled ; and, mind, 
 
 The tongue that speaks it has a will behind. 
 L.ofCho. So, stranger, do you see your case ? By birth 
 Gentle, you let your acts belie your worth. 
 
 Cre . Not that I count your people (as you profess), 
 
 O Son of Aegeus, silly or spiritless, 
 
 This deed I've executed, but because 
 No ground between us of dispute there was, 
 That they in my despite should keep my kin. 
 Parenticide (I knew it), man of sin, 
 
 They’d not receive,— the man to whom a match 
 Of filthy issue had been shown to attach. 
 
 Such seat of safe decree, (57) I knew they had 
 On Ares’ Mount implanted, which forbad 
 Such vagabonds their country’s lot to share : 
 Whereby assured, my game I went to snare,— 
 And had not done so, if he had not first 
 Me and my house with bitter curses curst. 
 
 Then I presumed to render tit for tat. 
 
 Ill-temper—ah, there’s no old age for that 
 But death ! Upon the dead no pains can seize. 
 
 So you shall do according as you please, 
 
 For destitution, ’spite my righteous pleas, 
 Renders me puny ; have your way, and yet 
 Tho’ old, I’ll try to give as I shall get! 
 
 (Ed. O spirit inhuman, who insult so much, 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 
 
 IOI 
 
 Am I or you the butt you think to touch ? 
 
 My murder and my marriage—glibly slips 
 My story of misadventure on your lips : 
 
 The involuntary burden of my fate, 
 
 God-sent, in wrath, I doubt, of ancient date. 
 For, in myself, reproach you can descry 
 None of transgression, fit to justify 
 My so transgressing 'gainst myself and mine.( 58) 
 For teach me : if oracular doom divine 
 Came to my father by his sons to die, 
 
 How can you make reproach with me to lie, 
 When natal germs of father I had not 
 Nor mother yet, but still was unbegot ? 
 
 If, come, disastrous as I came, to light, 
 
 I killed my sire, encountering him in fight, 
 
 The man mistaken and the thing unmeant; 
 
 Can I be blamed for acts without the intent ? 
 My mother's marriage too, you have no shame, 
 Your sister though she was, to make me name, 
 A marriage—nay, 'twas you that did advance 
 (I’ll not be burked) to this foul utterance :— 
 
 She bore, she bore me—horror !—guiltless she 
 As I was guiltless, and she mothered me, 
 
 Bore children to me of her own disgrace. 
 
 But here’s one thing I know : you chose to trace 
 My shame and hers : I never chose to wed 
 Her, never chose to say what I have said. 
 
 And yet—for whether in my match with her, 
 Or in the parricide, you still prefer 
 With bitter taunts against me, not so black 
 I’m shown—I put the question, answer back : 
 
 If one stood here beside you, while I speak, 
 
 And tried to kill; would you, the righteous, seek 
 
102 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 A father in that felon, or chastise 
 Outright ? Chastise the offender, I surmise, 
 
 If you love life, and not be circumspect 
 Of right and wrong. Just so my life was wrecked, 
 The Gods my pilots. Which, if he lived to-day, 
 My father’s self I think could not gainsay. 
 
 And you (for you are not righteous, but you deem 
 All’s fine, be it fair or foul, that serves a theme) 
 For such reproaches take such auditory ! 
 
 And fine for you to flatter Theseus’ glory; 
 Athenian polity, ’tis fine to flatter : 
 
 But in your praises you forgot one matter, 
 
 How that, of all the lands that take account 
 To worship Gods, this land is paramount 
 From which by fraud you thought to filch for prey 
 The old suppliant, and have rapt the maids away. 
 
 Therefore I now these Goddesses beseech 
 With prayers and supplicating cries of speech, 
 Come succour and defend, that you may rate 
 Aright the breed of men that keep this State ! 
 
 L. of Cho. Sire, ’tis a virtuous stranger, and his grief 
 Was overwhelming, proper for relief. 
 
 The. Enough of words : the spirited-away 
 
 Post on their road, while we the baffled stay. 
 
 Cre. What then for these frail limbs to do’s decreed ? 
 
 The. Be guide on yonder road : I shall proceed 
 As escort, that, if somewhere hereabout 
 You hold the maids, yourself may point them out; 
 But if they’re off in keeping, spare your pains, 
 We’ve such pursuers, no man ever gains 
 The border to give thanks for his escape. 
 
 But come, lead on : we have you by the nape, 
 Remember : chance has caught the trapper. Gain 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 103 
 
 Dishonest’s none so easy to attain : 
 
 And sans accomplice !—not unarmed I know 
 Nor unequipped you ever dared to go 
 This present length of outrage : something came 
 To give you confidence to try the game. 
 
 I must be wary of it, and not permit 
 A single man my nation to outwit. 
 
 D’you mind me ? or does this my warning seem 
 Mere talk, as when you first began your scheme ? 
 Cre. Here all you say to me goes unimpeached: 
 
 I too shall have my turn when home is reached. 
 The. Menace, but move! You, CEdipus, abide 
 Serenely where you are, well satisfied. 
 
 Unless I die first I will never rest 
 Till of your children you be re-possest. 
 
 CEd. God bless you, Theseus, for your generous heart, 
 And just solicitude to take my part! 
 
 [.Exeunt Theseus, Creon, and attendants. 
 
104 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 (nr Turn.) 
 
 There, there, would I fain be found 
 Where foemen are wheeling round, 
 
 Where clamour and clang resound! 
 
 Where Pythian fane stands 
 Matched the main stands, 
 
 Or by the bright beach ^ 
 
 Where goddesses 
 Mystery rites teach 
 To votaries— 
 
 To such upon whose tongue hath been 
 The sacramental key, (60) the golden, 
 
 By the gentle Eumolpid holden :— 
 There soon th’ encounter I ween 
 
 The battle-awaking Prince will be 
 making, 
 
 And with the Maids shall soon be seen. 
 Loud shouts fill the region 
 From the bold-spirited legion! 
 
TYPES OF GREEK CAVALRY 
 
 o 
 
 A Group from the Forman Vase in the British Museum, pth Century B.C. 
 
GEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 105 
 
 (1 st Counter-turn.) 
 
 Else haply to lawns addressed 
 ’Neath snow-covered Oia’s crest 
 Now speeds their approach to west, 
 
 With horses whirling 
 The fleet cars hurl in 
 Keen emulation ! 
 
 He shall be ours ! 
 
 Grim in my nation 
 
 The Wargod’s powers ; 
 
 And grim be Theseus’ sons to fight ! 
 
 Their harness flashes like the lightning; 
 Onward dashes, rein untight’ning, 
 Massed charge o’ chivalry’s might! 
 
 Pallas Equestris they’ve for Mistress ; 
 And they stand in the Sea-God’s sight, 
 
 To the child of Rhea Phrygian, 
 
 Stay o’ th’ land, turns their religion ! 
 
io6 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 [2nd Turn.) 
 
 Engaged now ? Nay soon to be ? 
 
 My heart’s guess pleads with me 
 He soon shall find, soon free 
 The sorely tried ones, 
 
 Sorrow loaded, 
 
 Sorely rueing 
 
 The hands of kin. 
 
 To-day ! to-day ! Zeus will be doing ! 
 Doughty conflict 
 
 My heart hath boded ! 
 
 O that I might 
 Ev’n so swiftsure 
 As the dove’s wing, 
 
 Hurricane-paced fro’ the skies light 
 Upon the fray, above, swing 
 
 Aloft, air-poised aloft, my eye-sight 1 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 107 
 
 ( 2nd Counter-turn .) 
 
 Oho ! Zeus, Almighty Lord ! 
 
 All-seeing One, afford 
 These charged with our land’s ward, 
 Victorious strength both 
 
 To find and follow, 
 
 And be clean-free 
 
 O’ th’ ambuscade ! 
 
 And thou, his child ! Pallas Athene ! 
 
 And the Chase-God, 
 
 Hunter Apollo ! 
 
 And the Twin-born (61 > 
 
 Whom the roe-deer 
 Never distance, 
 
 (Swift tho’ the dappleskin roes are) 
 Grant ye paired assistance ! 
 
 The land calls ! Succour where my 
 foes are ! 
 
108 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Chorus Leader. O wandering visitor, you shall not blame 
 Your watchman—(here they come !—my eyes 
 proclaim 
 
 Your daughters’ rescue !)—true diviner rather ! 
 
 [Enter Antigone, Ismene, Theseus, and 
 attendants. 
 
 (Ed. Where, where ? What’s that ? How say you ? 
 Ant . O father, father ! 
 
 O that a God might give you eyes to view 
 That best of men who gives us back to you ! 
 Ed. O children, are you with me ? 
 
 Ant. Ay ! Theseus’ arm 
 
 And his kind henchmen rescued us from harm. 
 Ed. Come hither, child ; grant to your father’s grasp 
 The form I never hoped again to clasp ! 
 
 Ant. Fond eagerness accords it, nothing loth. 
 
 Ed. But where, where are you ? 
 
 Ant. Here beside you, both. 
 
 Ed. O darling branches ! 
 
 Ant. How a father craves ! 
 
 Ed. Staves of a man ! 
 
 Ant. Poor man, and O poor staves ! 
 
 Ed. I have my darlings! If with these beside me 
 I died, a worse affliction might betide me. 
 Support me, side by side, child, left and right, 
 
 Fit faster to your father, and assuage 
 My solitary, doleful pilgrimage ; 
 
 And tell me briefly of your escapades : 
 
 Short speaking is enough for little maids. 
 
 Ant. Hear our deliverer, father : this is he : 
 
 That is the shortest way for you and me. 
 
 Ed. My host, be not amazed if I importune 
 
 With fond excess,at thisunguessed good fortune— 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 109 
 
 My children’s rescue : for this sweet surprise 
 From none but you, I know it, can arise. 
 
 You’re their deliverer, none in the world but 
 you ! ' 
 
 May Gods reward you, even as I would do, 
 
 You and this land ! Because in all mankind 
 
 Religion here with you alone I find 
 
 And mercy and the lips that speak no lie : 
 
 This I have proved—my thanks shall testify : 
 And what I have, thro’ you, thro’ you have I ! 
 O Prince, stretch out your hand to me (if this 
 May be) to touch your person, and to kiss. 
 
 What do I say, tho’ ? How shall I presume 
 Being so vile, to touch one—I in whom 
 Lodges all spot of evil ? Not for me ! 
 
 I’ll not permit you either. They must be 
 Trained who partake in such unhappiness. 
 
 Stir not, but take my greeting, and no less 
 Henceforth be wise and kind my life to bless. 
 The . Neither if you have somewhat amply phrased 
 Your pleasure in the girls, am I amazed 
 Nor if to me their story you preferred : 
 
 ’Tis my endeavour not so much by word 
 As in my deeds my life to glorify,( 62 > 
 
 I prove it too, sir, I did not belie 
 
 My oath to you in aught. For here I bring 
 
 The maids, alive, unharmed of threatening. 
 
 But how the cause was won, why idly boast ? 
 Unaided, you’re with those can tell you most. 
 
 But there’s a business which not long ago 
 Met me : your mind upon it let me know.— 
 ’Tis slight to speak of, yet ’tis worth surprise : 
 There is no matter man can well despise. 
 
110 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Ed. (alarmed and anxious). What is it, son of Aegeus ? 
 Give me clues, 
 
 I—of myself—know nothing of your news. 
 
 The. They tell us there is one, not of your nation, 
 But of your blood, who sits in supplication, 
 Before Poseidon’s altar-base—the same 
 Where I was sacrificing, when I came. 
 
 Ed. What countryman ? What might his posture 
 want ? 
 
 The. I know but this : he asks a little word 
 Of light significance with you, I heard. 
 
 Ed. Eh ? but this session takes some thinking on’t. 
 The. They say he craves for speech of you, and then 
 Safe-conduct when he goes his ways again. 
 
 Ed. Who comes like this the suppliant’s seat to haunt ? 
 The. Think, if you have not any of your race 
 
 At Argos who should come to ask this grace. 
 Ed. Sweet friend, hold where you are ! 
 
 The. What ails you, pray ? 
 
 Ed. Require me not— 
 
 The. What requisition, say ? 
 
 Ed. I’ve heard : I recognise this suppliant now. 
 
 The. Who can it be that I should disallow ? 
 
 Ed. Prince, ’tis my son, abhorred : to no man living 
 Could I so ill bear any audience giving. 
 
 The. Why, you may hear and let him not convert you 
 Against your choice: how can this audience 
 hurt you ? 
 
 Ed. No voice more hateful than my son’s could be : 
 
 Put me to no compulsion to agree. 
 
 The . His posture, though : there’s much constraint in 
 this. 
 
 Duty to God bethink you lest you miss. 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS hi 
 
 Ant. Father, although a girl to advise am I, 
 
 Listen. Allow the King to satisfy 
 His judgment and his God-revering sense ; 
 
 To please us, give our brother audience. 
 
 He cannot pluck you from resolve perforce, 
 
 (Be comforted !) by untoward discourse. 
 
 Words — where’s the harm to hear them r 
 Mal-devised 
 
 Actions, they say, by words are advertised. 
 
 You did beget him, so tho’ he should do 
 Most foully and sacrilegiously by you, 
 
 You, father, may not requite ingratitude. 
 
 Do, let him ! Others have a rascal brood 
 And a sharp temper, yet the admonition 
 Of tender spells transmutes their whole condition. 
 Only look back, dismiss to-day, recall 
 Father and mother, the horror of it all: 
 Considering that, you’ll surely recognise 
 What mischief at the goal of anger lies. 
 
 Matter enough you have to meditate, 
 
 In the bereavement of your rayless eyes. 
 
 O yield ! A just suit with importunate 
 Suitors does ill agree, and usage kind 
 With one who has for kind returns no mind. 
 CEd. It is a heavy pleasure, child, to strike 
 
 My colours to your pleading. As you like ! 
 Only, sir, if this visit is to be, 
 
 Let never man possess himself of me. 
 
 The. Once such requests, not twice, I care to hear ! 
 Sir, tho’ I do not boast, you need not fear : 
 
 So long as God keeps me I keep you here. 
 
112 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Chorus 
 
 [Turn.) 
 
 Sober bounds if a man forsaking 
 Craveth after an ampler lot; 
 
 Foolishness to his portion taking, 
 
 Clear at the bar of my heart’s his sin. 
 Hoarded up in the long day’s treasure 
 There is plenty to pain akin ; 
 
 Seekers after the things of pleasure 
 Seeking busily, find them not: 
 
 When once beyond the due they fall. 
 
 Yet there is delivery coming— 
 
 When shall arise—not jubilant with a dance 
 melody thrumming— 
 
 Portion of the Invisible, manifested 
 In Death, the evenly-summing. 
 
 ( Counter-turn .) 
 
 Not to be were a prize of prizes : ^ 
 
 But if one to the light be come, 
 
 Sink back speedily whence he rises— 
 
 This is the next most excellent way. 
 
 Youth is charged with flimsy fancies; 
 
 Yet, when a man puts youth away, 
 
 What is wanting of all mischances ? 
 
 What’s to seek of the painful sum ? 
 
 Sedition, murders, fightings, strife ; 
 
 Envy too. Upon it for coping 
 Execrable eld falls, impotent, ever uncomforted, 
 moping : 
 
 Sorrow of sorrow has in him a dwelling ; 
 And with him there’s no hoping. 
 
OEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS i 
 
 [Aftersong.) 
 
 In this sore case not I alone but he lies, 
 
 As a Northern beach beside the sea lies 
 Whipped by the wave, stormily billow-battered 
 E’en so he has been shattered : 
 
 Such grim surges of ill come, 
 
 Come battering over his head and still come. 
 
 Some from the side where the sun sinks low, 
 Some from the Orient light, 
 
 Some by the middle noonday glow, 
 
 From Stormhills some, of the Arctic night. 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 114 
 
 Ant . Look ! This, I take it, is our foreigner, 
 
 Alone of men, father, a traveller, 
 
 Distilling ceaseless teardrops from his eyes. 
 
 [Enter Polyneices. 
 
 (Ed. Who's this ? 
 
 Ant. The same we did at first surmise ; 
 
 ’Tis Polyneices stands before you, sir. 
 
 Pol. Ay me ! What shall I do ? My own woes rather 
 Shall I lament, or of my poor old father 
 This woeful sight ? On alien ground, outcast, 
 With you two I discover him at last; 
 
 And with such clothes—disgustful dirt’s abode, 
 Ancient upon the ancient, to corrode 
 His sides—a socket-staring brow, with hair 
 Unkempt upon it, fluttering in the air ; 
 
 And brother doubtless of his garb, he wears 
 The cheer whereon his wretched belly fares. (64) 
 How lost am I, who find it out so late! 
 
 Writ down a wretch by your neglected state 
 Of life : not elsewhere need you ask my fate. 
 Well, well : there sits with Zeus co-arbitress 
 Mercy, o’er every act: may she no less 
 Father, with you be found ! My faults allow 
 Mending, and no more aggravation now. 
 
 Why silent ? 
 
 O father, speak a word ! Turn not away ! 
 
 Not answer even ? Not even give anger play ? 
 Dismiss me disappointed, and be dumb ? 
 
 O you his seed, who are my sisters, come, 
 
 Try, you at least, this father’s tongue to rouse 
 That no approach and no address allows; 
 
 That I may not unanswered be dismissed, 
 
 And disappointed, I, God’s votarist. 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 115 
 
 Ant. Unhappy man, your need and suit avow, 
 
 Plenty of words, the adage says, ere now 
 Melting—indignant—making to rejoice— 
 
 Have caused the voiceless one to find his voice. 
 
 Pol. Thanks for that hint: I will my tale unfold. 
 Firstly because that God himself I hold 
 My champion, whence this kingdom's arbiter 
 Upraised me to approach, and did confer 
 Charter to speak and hear and safe retire ; 
 Which to make good, sirs, I shall now require 
 Of you, of these my sisters, and my sire.— 
 
 Now why I came I'd have you understand. 
 
 I am an exile from my fathers' land, 
 
 Because, as elder born, I thought it meet 
 That I should throne it in your sovereign seat. 
 Wherefore, by birth the junior, Eteocles 
 Pushed me abroad, by no prevailing pleas— 
 
 No proof of arm or action did he face, 
 
 But gained the people. Which event I trace 
 As in the main to your Erinys due : ^ 
 
 To that effect I hear from prophets too. 
 
 When I to Argos came, the Dorian hold, 
 Spousing Adrastus' daughter, I enrolled 
 In Apis' land (66) confederates, all who are 
 Of prime report and estimate in war, 
 
 That at the wall of Thebes I might present 
 With them my seven-bladed armament, 
 
 And die in the cause or cast the offenders out. 
 Well! you will ask, what am I here about ? 
 Father ! a suppliant prayer to you I make 
 Both for myself and my confederates’ sake, 
 
 Who now with squadrons seven and sevenfold 
 Lances the Theban plain in leaguer hold : 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 116 
 
 Such Amphiareos, a hotspur fighter, first 
 Of captains, prime of seers in augury versed ; 
 Tydeus the second, sprung from (Emeus’ loins, 
 /Etolian : third, Argive Eteoclos joins ; 
 
 Fourth, Talaos sent a son to ’list i' the host, 
 Hippomedon ; fifth, Capaneus, whose boast 
 Would wreck Thebes town in fire and overthrow; 
 Arcadian Parthenopaeos rose to show, 
 
 The sixth, his mother Atalanta’s worth, 
 
 Namesake of the stubborn maid who gave him birth. 
 And I your son, tho’ not your son, but sown 
 Of Misadventure, yet proclaimed your own, 
 
 Lead againstThebes the dauntless Argive troop —( 67) 
 To you, sir, all in supplication stoop ! 
 
 In the name of these damsels and your name, 
 
 Yield your grave anger to the suitors’ claim, 
 
 Eager for vengeance on my brother’s head 
 Who thrust me forth and disinherited. 
 
 For the oracle, if there be trust therein, 
 Pronounced the side which you adopt must win. 
 Now by the W ells and Gods which saw your birth, 
 
 I pray you, yield, consent ! We cadge in dearth. 
 We’re aliens here, and you are alien too, 
 
 We dwell on flattery’s sufferance, I and you, 
 
 Our fatal portion is the same distress; 
 
 The prince installed at home (O bitterness!) 
 Swaggers and mocks at me and you no less. 
 
 But if you lend a hand to my resolve, 
 
 His force full soon, full lightly I’ll dissolve ; 
 
 So in your house restored you’ll be again, 
 
 And I restored, when he’s pitched out amain : 
 
 Such vaunt is mine if you will help contrive ; 
 
 Else I’ve not e’en strength to return alive. 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 117 
 
 L . of Cho. For the King's sake who put him on his way, 
 Let him go back, but say you first your say. 
 
 (Ed. Sirs, as for answer, were it not the case 
 
 That Theseus introduced him to this place, 
 
 Your sovereign lord, and claimed for him the 
 chance, 
 
 He never, I vow, had heard my utterance. 
 Favoured and answered now he shall retire 
 With that which ill shall cheer his heart’s desire. 
 
 [Turning suddenly on Polyneices. 
 Since, villain, when the sceptre and sovereignties 
 Were yours, which now your brother in Thebes 
 calls his, 
 
 You to dislodge your father did not spare, 
 
 Left me disfranchised and these weeds to wear. 
 And now you weep at sight of them, because 
 You’re placed in just such trouble as I was ! 
 
 No crying helps ; I have to bear them, all 
 My days, while you, my murderer, I recall: 
 
 ’Tis you, who made me nursling of distress, 
 
 You pushed me out, ’tis you I have to bless 
 That I’m a waif who beg my daily bread. 
 
 Had I these nurses for myself not bred, 
 
 These girls, I’d been no more, for all your share : 
 But they preserve me, they’re my nurses, they’re 
 Men and no women, as for service rendering; 
 You’re of some other, none of my engendering. 
 So not yet turns the Spirit on you such glance^ 
 As shortly, if so be these troops advance 
 Against Thebes state. That town to overthrow 
 You may not hope ; ere that you must lie low, 
 You and your brother, both befouled in gore. 
 Such curses I let loose on you before, 
 
n8 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 And now I call them to my aid again, 
 
 That to revere your parents you may deign, 
 
 Not flout them quite, because the father’s blind, 
 The sons like you : these girls were not unkind. 
 So your downsittings ( 69) and your kingly crown 
 They (7 °) overrule, if Right, of old renown, 
 
 Still share the bench of Zeus by the old decree. 
 Out ! loathed and spurned and fatherless to me ! 
 Villain of villains ! all your scrip shall be 
 These curses which I call upon you : never 
 By arms to gain your native lands, nor ever 
 Reach hollow Argos, but to fell and fall 
 Singled and singling him who took your all. 
 
 Such is my curse: I pray the Pit of Hell, 
 Ghastly, paternal/ 71 ) take you there to dwell; 
 
 I pray these Goddesses, Ares I pray 
 
 Who brought your dreadful duel-feud in play. 
 
 Set on ! for now you’ve heard, and make it known 
 To all the people of Cadmus, and your own 
 Trusty confederates : “ Such of royal meed 
 For his sons’ portions GSdipus decreed.” 
 
 Chorus Leader. I give you little joy of the road you 
 came, 
 
 Polyneices ; now make haste, retrace the same. 
 Pol. Woe for my journey, and my wretchedness, 
 
 Woe for my comrades ! Thus then (O distress !) 
 Thus is the road fulfilled that we began 
 At Argos : such an end I never can 
 Tell to my comrades, nor avert, but dumb 
 Go to encounter that which needs must come. 
 O sisters, you his daughters, you who hear 
 A father imprecate this ban severe/ 72 ) 
 
 Do not in God’s name, if the curse come true, 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 119 
 
 And you come home to Thebes, O do not you 
 Hereafter leave me to dishonour quite, 
 
 But give me burial and the dead man’s rite. 
 
 So shall this praise which now for tenderness 
 In serving him, you gain,—a praise no less 
 Dear, shall be yours for service done to me. 
 
 Ant. Polyneices, will you grant my earnest prayer ? 
 Pol. Say what it is, my sweet Antigone. 
 
 Ant. Straight back to Argos bid your host repair, 
 
 To wreck your country and yourself forbear ! 
 Pol. Impossible ! One hour of cowardice— 
 
 And ne’er again I lead a host like this. 
 
 Ant. Why need you rage anew, my lad ? What gain 
 Comes if you raze your city to the plain ? 
 
 Pol. An exile, while my brother laughs to scorn 
 (O shame !) my precedence as elder born ! 
 
 Ant. He hints your mutual death : do you observe, 
 His bodings carry through and never swerve ? 
 Pol. His wishes, yes ; we must not yield an inch. 
 Ant. Ay me, the troubles ! Who will be so bold 
 To follow, that has heard the doom foretold ? 
 Pol. We’ll make no poor report: wise captains should 
 Suppress shortcomings and proclaim the good. 
 Ant. Then you’re resolved, my lad? You willnot flinch? 
 
 [ They throw their arms about him. 
 Pol. Yes, stay me not. I now must give my mind 
 To this bad venture, all the more unkind 
 Thanks to my father, and his fiends of ire. 
 
 God speed you if you give me my desire ! 
 
 \H.e disengages himself. 
 
 And now let go, and fare you well. We part 
 To meet no more alive. 
 
 Ant. 
 
 O my sad heart! 
 
120 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Pol. You shall not weep for me. 
 
 Ant. My brother, who, 
 
 Seeing you blank-Hell-bound, will groans eschew ? 
 Pol. I’ll die, if need is. 
 
 Ant. Do not so ! Comply ! 
 
 Pol. ’Twere wrong compliance. 
 
 Ant. Then how wretched am I, 
 
 For I must lose you. 
 
 Pol. This or t’other way,— 
 
 It lies with God. But still, for you I pray, 
 
 May never ill event a pair befall, 
 
 So well deserving in the sight of all. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 121 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Anew these cometh and again anew 
 Misery disastrously from the sightless guest! 
 
 Yet perchance ’tis best— 
 
 Doom falls true. 
 
 For out of all the claims supernal 
 
 Dare I none pronounce at fault: 
 
 Time watches, Time’s watch’s eternal : 
 
 One thing now he will exalt, 
 
 One with a change diurnal 
 Low down he’ll wrest/ 73) 
 
 [ Thunder is heard. 
 Thunder in heaven ! O Zeus ! 
 
 (Ed. O children 1 Is here any who’ll provide 
 The incomparable Theseus at my side ? 
 
 Ant. What’s your request, that makes you call the 
 King ? 
 
 (Ed. This winged thunder presently will lead 
 
 Me down to Hades. Send for him—all speed ! 
 
 [ Thunder is heard again. 
 
 I 
 
122 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Look! hugely with a resounding peal 
 Ineffable, God’s artillery, crash the shocks ! 
 Horror thro’ my locks 
 Thrill I feel ! 
 
 My courage cowers ! Again the thunder 1 
 Lightning kindles heav’n again ! 
 
 What issue breaks ? In awe I wonder. 
 
 Forth it bursts never in vain 
 From skies crack’d asunder, 
 
 But doom unlocks ! 
 
 O the high heaven ! O Zeus ! 
 
 CEd. O children, the divinely-spoken end 
 
 Is come on me, which nothing now can fend. 
 Ant. How do you know, whereby divine this thing ? 
 Ed. I know full well. But call without delay 
 
 The King of the land, and put him on his way. 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 123 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Ah ! Yet again ! Aha ! Look ! 
 
 Ear-piercing sound 
 Imminently envelopeth me ! 
 
 Pity us, O dread Lord ! 
 
 Pity us, if so be 
 Over the earth our mother 
 Lours dark decree. 
 
 Because I looked on sins of other— 
 
 (O let grace in thee be found !) 
 
 Is loss all my gain ? 
 
 My thanks only pain ? 
 
 Zeus ! Upon thee I call ! 
 
 (Ed. Is he at hand ? My children, will he find 
 Me living—able still to address my mind ? 
 
 Ant . What trust is this the mind must make to cling ? 
 (Ed. Kind usage with effectual gratitude 
 
 I would requite, and make my promise good. 
 
124 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Oho ! Oho ! Haste, haste thee, 
 
 O haste, my son ! 
 
 Whether in the summit-hollow here 
 Thy place now be found, 
 
 And burnt flesh of steer 
 Hallow the Sea-god's altar— 
 
 Theseus ! appear ! 
 
 The stranger claims—he’s no defaulter : 
 
 He requites the kindness done— 
 
 To State, King, and friends 
 To make due amends. 
 
 Hurry ! Approach ! O Prince ! 
 
 Enter Theseus. 
 
 The. What fresh acclaim resounds, between you shared, 
 Clear voice of the people, and of the guest 
 declared ? 
 
 Is it the bolt of Zeus—from showering skies 
 The hailstorm pelting ? Time for strange surmise 
 Enough, when God gives weather such as this. 
 (Ed. O King, you come ! I craved for you to appear : 
 
 God sets a blessing on your advent here. 
 
 The . What news, O son of La'ios ? What’s amiss ? 
 (Ed. The dip of the scales of life. I’d not belie 
 My bond to you and yours before I die. 
 
 The. Upon what proof rest you so confident? 
 
 (Ed. The Gods themselves are harbingers to apprise ; 
 
 Of all the appointed signs, there’s none that lies. 
 The. What is it, sir, you mean that tells the event ? 
 Ed. Plenty of pauseless thunder, lightning brands 
 Wielded in plenty by the Almighty hands. 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 125 
 
 The. You move me. Divination plenty in you 
 
 I see, unfeigned. Say what you’d have me do. 
 (Ed. I will impart a thing that shall be held 
 In trust for Athens, unimpaired of eld. 
 
 Of guides unhandled, there myself will I 
 Be guide this selfsame hour, where I must die : 
 This place, to living men reveal it not 
 Nor whereabouts nor secrecies of the spot; 
 
 So shall the abiding succour it shall yield 
 Match borrowed battle and many a neighbour’s 
 shield. 
 
 The mystic thing, untampered-with by speech, 
 You’ll hear when all alone the place you reach : 
 That may I not to any burgher tell, 
 
 Nor to my children, tho’ I love them well. 
 
 But husband it for ever, and whene’er 
 Life’s term you touch, instruct your first-born 
 heir; 
 
 And each to his successor still reveal: 
 
 So shall you keep unwrecked of the Sown 
 Men’s < 74 > heel 
 
 Your territories. The mass of States are quick 
 Despite wise polities, to swell and kick. 
 
 Full well, tho’ late in time, the Gods observe, 
 Worship forgot, when men to madness swerve.< 75) 
 O Son of Aegeus, such a case eschew : 
 
 Yet this is precept given to one who knew. 
 
 But to the place—the spirit bids begone : 
 
 Let us no longer dally but set on. 
 
 \_He sets out to walk , the others following him. 
 Here, children, follow : strange that I should be 
 Turned guide to you, as once you guided me ! 
 Move on and do not touch me : let me find 
 
126 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Myself the holy burying-place designed 
 By doom to ensconce this body in the mould. 
 Come ! this way ! come ! ’tis here! I tread 
 controlled 
 
 By Hermes the Escort and the Nether Queen. 
 O beamless Daylight, mine I know thou hast 
 been, 
 
 Of thee for this last time my limbs have sense. 
 
 I carry now my life’s fulfilment hence 
 In death to hide it. O my friend, so dear, 
 Yourself, your land, and these retainers here, 
 Blessings be with you ; wealthy be your store ; 
 Think of me dead and thrive for evermore. 
 
 [Exit, followed by Theseus, Antigone, and 
 Ismene. 
 

THANATOS 
 
 1 ortion of drum of sculptured column from Temple of Artemis at Ephesus , 
 in the British Museum. <\th Century B.C. 
 
 /• 127 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 127 
 
 {Turn.) 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Mine if it is to yield 
 Praise to the Unrevealed 
 Goddess, and mine to dare 
 Pray to the Prince of Darkness—Aidoneus ! 
 Aidoneus ! a prayer ! 
 
 With a serene unlamentable end 
 Quickly his way let the stranger wend 
 Down, down, t’ward Dead Men’s Weald—to 
 Stygian abodes, rich in ages’ store ! 
 
 Since many and sore plagues he bore, 
 Visited with vain distress, (76) 
 
 ’Tis time that Heav’n’s justice turn 
 again to bless. 
 
 ( Counter-turn .) 
 
 Powers of the Underworld ! 
 
 Shape of the Beast upcurled, 
 
 Stronger than might of men ! 
 
 Close to the guest - frequented gate lieth he 
 a-snarling from his den, 
 
 Sentinel indomitable of death : 
 
 So the tradition of ages saith. 
 
 O Death, Earth-born, Hell-fathered,—blank be 
 the walks of the Beast, I pray 
 Until his way free to-day 
 
 Down to Dead Men’s Weald he 
 take ! 
 
 O Final Slumber, I to thee petition 
 make ! 
 
128 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mes. Sirs, citizens, the trath were quickly said 
 When I should tell you CEdipus is dead ; 
 
 But, for the circumstances—no more short 
 The words can be than the acts which they report. 
 Cho. Poor soul ! He’s dead then ? 
 
 Mes . So much may be taken 
 
 For sure—his daily being he’s forsaken. 
 
 Cho. How ? After some divine and painless sort ? 
 Mes. For that your full astonishment prepare. 
 
 When hence he first ’gan walk—and you were 
 there— 
 
 You know it well—no guide familiar led, 
 
 But of us all he went himself ahead. 
 
 When at the Threshold Cataract < 77) arrived 
 (Deep in the earth with bronze root-bases gyved), 
 He stayed in one of many-severed alleys 
 Beside the Bowl, (78) where still are Theseus’ tallies 
 Which of his bond with Perithous keep stock. 
 So placed, midway from the Thorician Rock, (79) 
 The hollow Pear-tree and the Tomb of Stone, 
 Sat down ; undid his raiment filth-o’ergrown ; 
 Then with a loud cry bade his daughters bring 
 Lavers of running water and Offering : 
 
 They to Demeter of Green Blades ( 80) addressed 
 Their steps, the mount of prospect; his behest 
 In little time despatched, and furnished him 
 With bath and raiment, all in ritual trim. 
 
 As soon as to his liking all was done 
 Of his commands unprosecuted none, 
 
 Zeus Underground pealed thunder: at which sound 
 Shuddered the maids, and falling down around 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 129 
 
 Their father’s knees they wept and took no rest 
 From groans longdrawnand beatings of the breast. 
 But he, when on his ear the sad strain broke, (8i) 
 Suddenly folded hands on them and spoke : 
 
 “ Children, this day your father is no more; 
 
 All’s over with me ; and for you the sore 
 Laborious burden that in me you bore. 
 
 Children, ’twas rough, I know, and yet one phrase 
 Your wearinesses all alone repays : 
 
 True love from never any one so true 
 You had, as his that’s parted now from you 
 For all the life that’s left you to pursue.” 
 
 So lapped in close embraces, each with each, 
 They sobbed and cried, until they seemed to reach 
 A term of lamentation. Not a groan 
 More. Silence. When a sudden Voice unknown 
 Halloo’d him. Every man in sudden dread 
 Pricked up erect the hairs upon his head : 
 
 God calls him with a loud and changing cry ! 
 “Oho, there ! CEdipus ! oho, there ! Why 
 Wait we to go ? Too long thou loiterest.” 
 He, when he knew of God he was addrest, 
 Called loudly for King Theseus to draw near : 
 And said when heapproached him: “Brother dear, 
 Give to my daughters the unchanging troth 
 Of your right hand—yours to him, children, both: 
 Vow of your free will to betray them never, 
 
 But act their good friend in all acts whatever.” 
 He like a man of honour gave his troth, 
 
 Thereto unhesitating, under oath. 
 
 And that no sooner finished, CEdipus 
 Touching with fingers blind his children, thus : 
 
 “ My daughters, now to your noblesse be true, 
 
 l 
 
I 3° 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Depart these purlieus, nor presume to view 
 The unpermitted, nor the voices hear. 
 
 Remove, delay not: one alone be near, 
 
 Theseus, by right empowered, to watch the affair.” 
 Thus much we all, as many as were there, 
 Heard him pronounce. Sighing abundantly 
 We with the damsels went in company. 
 
 When someway gone we turned ere long to scan— 
 No longer present anywhere the man ! 
 
 The King we saw : hand reached before his face 
 To shade his eyes, as if there had took place 
 Some grim affright which eyes could not endure. 
 Then in a little (’twas not long, I’m sure), 
 
 We saw that he the Earth and Sky adored, 
 
 Earth and Olympian Heaven in one accord. 
 
 But what the manner of that doom might be 
 No man can tell except his Majesty. 
 
 For neither did God’s thunder primed with flame 
 Despatch him, neither blast of whirlwind came 
 Out of the deep sea stirring in that hour. 
 
 Some God did usher him, or gracious power 
 The rayless bottom of the earth disparted ; 
 
 For neither sickness-racked nor heavy-hearted 
 Was his leave-taking, but beyond compare 
 Prodigious. Call me madman, little I care 
 The man that calls me madman, to convince ! 
 Chorus Leader . Where are the maids and escort of the 
 prince ? 
 
 Mes. Here, not far off. Yon soon-deciphered cries 
 Of mourning their approach do advertise. 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 131 
 
 Enter Antigone and Ismene. 
 
 Trio : Antigone, Ismene, and Chorus. 
 
 (Turn A .) 
 
 Ant. Woe ! woe ! To wail aloud is granted 
 
 (No may-be-yes,may-be-nay) when we sorrow for 
 Accursed father’s blood in us implanted. 
 Weariful history 
 
 Ours with himday by day—never a morrow more ! 
 Only hereafter we cite you a mystery 
 Of grief beheld and tasted. 
 
 Cho . How went it ? 
 
 Ant. Surmising, friends, ’tis but surmise. 
 
 Cho. Departed ? 
 
 Ant. Ev’n as heart’s desire would have him be. 
 
 Verily no brunt of sea, 
 
 No plague of war hath wasted ; 
 
 But the Viewless Weald did swallow 
 In a recondite doom hurried away. 
 
 Unhappy ! Night upon my eyes 
 Now is fallen, Night disastrous : whither are 
 we now to stray ? 
 
 Foreign soil or deep-sea billow ? Where 
 pursue the chance 
 Of our distressful maintenance ? 
 
 Ism. Little know I : ravening clutch of Death seize 
 on me ! 
 
 After father dead to follow, 
 
 Unhappy, afterdays of life gladly to live declining. 
 Cho. Dutiful daughters, Fate so bearing, (82) better to 
 bear the God’s decree : 
 
 Burn ye no more, your ways have been worthy 
 of no repining. 
 
x 32 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 [Counter-turn A.) 
 
 Ant. For e’en woes past there is regret then ! 
 
 Welcome a lot that were welcome to nobody, 
 Because that in my arms I had him yet then ! 
 
 Father and well-belov’d, 
 
 Now that the Darkness Eternal’s a robe to thee 
 Yet of my sister and me shall ye still be loved, 
 And we will fail thee never. 
 
 Cho . He fareth— 
 
 Ant. He fareth as he fain would fare. 
 
 Cho. Can that be ? 
 
 Ant. In the stranger’s land that pleased him best, 
 
 Perished he takes his rest 
 
 In the shadow laid for ever ; 
 
 Leaves us mourning—oh not tearless ! 
 Father, I weep for thee abundantly, my eye 
 Bemoans thee ; and I cannot bear— 
 
 Cannot find a means to make the heavy sorrow fly. 
 Ay me ! In the foreign country die thou 
 wouldst, but oh ! 
 
 ( 83 >Unhonoured by me diedst thou so! 
 
 Ism . Oh, unhappy ! is there yet another anguish left 
 at last— 
 
 So forsaken, helpless, cheerless— 
 
 Yet held in wait for thee and me ?—fatherless 
 and denuded ! 
 
 Cho. Yet, as in blessedness his end of life unravelling, 
 he passed ; 
 
 Cease to lament. Pain dogs mankind, not to be 
 long eluded. 
 
CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 133 
 
 (Turn £.) (84) 
 
 Ant. Back, sister, let us hasten— 
 
 Ism. What to try ? 
 
 Ant. Yearning is upon me. 
 
 Ism. What ? 
 
 Ant. Earth-buried abode to contemplate. 
 
 Ism. Of whom ? 
 
 Ant. A father’s ! O my fate ! 
 
 Ism. Can this be lawful ? Dost thou not 
 Comprehend ? 
 
 Ant. Why am I reproved ? 
 
 Ism. This, moreover- 
 
 Ant. Is there a more yet ? 
 
 Ism. Burial none has he, lonely, removed. 
 
 Ant. To it! away ! and slay me o’er it! 
 
 Ism. Woe ! woe ! all-unhappy, where now 
 Once again, forlorn, resourceless. 
 
 Drag out my day of care now ? 
 
134 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 ( Counter-turn B.) 
 
 Cho. Be not alarmed, dears. 
 
 Ant. But whither must I fly ? 
 
 Cho. Already deliverance 
 
 Ant. Eh ? 
 
 Cho. Has saved your fortunes from distress. 
 
 Ant. I see. . . . 
 
 Cho. Deny me not your guess. 
 
 Ant. How shall we homeward make our way, 
 
 I despair. 
 
 Cho. Put the thought behind you ! 
 
 Ant. Misery enfolds- 
 
 Cho. Whiles ago ye donned that! 
 
 Ant. Then inevitable, and now beyond that. 
 
 Cho. Perilous gulf, as it were, assigned you. 
 
 Ant . Woe ! woe ! Zeus, we know not where now ! 
 Hope—is any hope yet, whither 
 A God can bid repair now ? 
 
GEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 135 
 
 Enter Theseus. 
 
 Duet in Marching Measure . Theseus and 
 
 Antigone. 
 
 The . Cease the lament: ’tis a time not for mourn¬ 
 ing. 
 
 Grace of the grave will abide as a treasure 
 Joint-stored.( 85) ’Tis a sin to be yearning. 
 
 Ant . O son of Aegeus, list to us kneeling ! 
 
 The. Daughter, the suit that you plead, say, what 
 is it ? 
 
 Ant . Grave of our sire we’re fain to revisit: 
 
 With our eyes let us see ! 
 
 The. Nay, this cannot be. 
 
 Ant . Prince of the Athenians, is this our answer ? 
 
 The. Children, the place is debarred — ’twas his 
 pleasure— 
 
 Mortal approach may never advance there, 
 Mortal voice he forbade the revealing 
 Where in his hallowed grave he reposes : 
 
 Which commandment duly obeying, 
 
 Ever unhurt shall abide my nation. 
 
 Such was the bond, and a God stood witness, 
 Oath, son of Zeus, a God all-surveying. 
 
 Ant. Nay, but if such were his charges, a fitness 
 Makes us accept such consummation. 
 
 Home to the ancient Thebes then send, to 
 Stay if we may what approaches of slaughter 
 Threaten our kin there. 
 
 The. Thereto aid, all aid will I lend to 
 
 Further your cause, and the cause, my daughter, 
 
136 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Of the one ’neath th’ earth, newly within 
 there. 
 
 Gratitude forbids me to falter. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Nay, but enough of your dirges so tearful: 
 
 Time to be cheerful ! 
 
 The thing fast-fixed cannot alter. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
EROS 
 
 Terra-cotta Statuette in the British Museum 
 
 /. 136 
 

 
 
 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 Scene. —Before the gates of the Palace at Thebes. Time : 
 
 Early morning. 
 
 Ant. Kinborn, Ismene, in sistership germane, 
 
 Know you in all our sire’s entail of pain 
 A thing the like of which Zeus has not wrought 
 On us surviving ? Ever anguish-fraught! 
 Fraught ever with the curse ! No shame so 
 mean 
 
 But in your lot and mine the like I’ve seen ! 
 
 And now, once more, upon the people at large, 
 Newly proclaimed, they say the king lays charge 
 Of—what ? You have no word ? You do not 
 know 
 
 How on our friends moves malice from this foe ? 
 
 Ism. Of those dear ones of ours, Antigone, 
 
 No news, welcome or painful, ’s come to me 
 
 Since we two were bereft of brothers two, 
 
 Whom on one day a double murder slew. 
 
 Since the Argeian host this night withdrew 
 
 From leaguer, I’m aware of nothing more, 
 
 Blessing or tribulation, than before. 
 
 Ant. I knew it well; and here without preferred 
 
 To speak where you may hear unoverheard. 
 
 Ism. O brooding groundswell of the unuttered word ! 
 
 137 
 
138 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Ant. Yes ! Burial ! Creon has advanced one brother 
 Of yours and mine, to disappoint the other : 
 Eteocles, they say, in earth’s enshrined 
 Duly, to honour among the dead consigned ; 
 The corpse of Polyneices, cruelly slain, 
 
 Word is gone out that every man refrain 
 From burying in the grave, or making moan : 
 Unwept, unburied, left to birds, alone, 
 
 Choice hoard for watchful appetites to see ! 
 
 They say so runs it, mark you—nay, let me 
 Too mark it!—our good Creon’s high decree ; 
 He comes his proclamation here to make 
 To all the unapprised, and does not take 
 The thing for naught; but whoso dares to try, 
 It is appointed shall be stoned and die. 
 
 So stands the case : you soon must prove the 
 worth 
 
 Of your noblesse, or base belie your birth. 
 
 Ism. If this be so, what help, O sorely tried, 
 
 To unravel or to knit can I provide ? 
 
 Ant. Think :—if you’ll follow me to do and dare! 
 
 Ism. What sort of venture ? Stands your purpose— 
 where ? 
 
 Ant. —If you will help this arm to uplift the dead ! 
 Ism. You mean to bury him ?—prohibited ? 
 
 Ant. Mine, and—if you refuse—your brother : yes. 
 Ism. When Creon has said you nay ? Foolhardiness ! 
 Ant. He has no business me from mine to bar. 
 
 Ism. O sister, be advised of what we are ! 
 
 Our sire fell, (86) execrated and defamed, 
 
 With suicidal stroke his vision maimed, 
 
 Of self-detected sins for very shame ; 
 
 And then the mother-wife, the double name, 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 J 39 
 
 With twined noose wrought on her life defeat; 
 And, third, one day has seen two brothers meet 
 To kill themselves, and there, unfortunates ! 
 With kindred hands achieve their mutual fates. 
 
 And we, if now—forsaken, quite alone— 
 
 We brave the power or verdict of the throne 
 Despite the law, take thought how far the 
 worst 
 
 Our end will be. We must remember, first, 
 We’re but a pair of women, as not to fight 
 With men ; and also, being ruled of might, 
 
 In this, and harder ev’n than this, to obey. 
 
 So I, upon this plea of force, shall pray 
 For pardon to the people underground^— 
 
 And loyal to authorities be found : 
 
 There is no sense in being meddlesome. 
 
 Ant. I’ll bid you not! Nor, tho’ you cared to come 
 Hereafter, would I gladly such ally 
 Accept ! Be what you like ! But him will I 
 Bury—and if I die in the act, ’tis good : 
 
 Dear will I lie in his dear neighbourhood, 
 
 A saintly malefactress. There not here ( 88 > 
 
 I have the longer date myself to endear : 
 
 There must I lie forever. You, no doubt, 
 
 The holy truths (89) of use and wont may flout! 
 Ism. It is not that I flout them ; but to brave 
 The public will—I could not so behave ! 
 
 Ant. I leave you then to such pretences ; I 
 
 Go heap my darling brother’s barrow high. 
 
 Ism. Unhappy girl! Oh how for you I fear ! 
 
 Ant. Quake not for me, but lift your own life clear! 
 Ism. So be it then !—Yet one thing tho’: apprise 
 None of this deed. Keep dark, and I likewise. 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 140 
 
 Ant. Denounce it ! Fail to blaze it high and low, 
 And silence only makes you more my foe! (91) 
 Ism. “ Hot heart on chilly venture ” ( 92) —there’s your 
 case. 
 
 Ant . I’m sure I please where most I need gain grace. 
 Ism. But power l You crave for things which cannot 
 be ! 
 
 Ant. Well, when my strength ends, there’s an end of me. 
 Ism. What cannot be, is best left unpursued. 
 
 Ant. If that’s your text, with me you’ll be at feud, 
 And meet the dead in his just feud no less. 
 
 Leave it to me and my wrongheadedness 
 To face this frightful thing ! For naught can 
 come 
 
 To rob me of my glory in martyrdom. 
 
 Ism. Well, if you will, set on ! But never fear ; 
 
 Mad ways to dear ones make you no less dear. 
 
 [ Exeunt . 
 

 
 Epitaph. 
 
 O’er my back the mallows pass, But within my bosom dwells 
 
 And thickly root the asphodels ; La'ios’ son, CEdipodas.” 
 
142 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Enter Chorus of Theban Elders , assembled to celebrate 
 the dawn of day after the victory. 
 
 (1 st Turn.) 
 
 Sunbeam ! Never a lovelier 
 Dawned on Thebes to awaken her 
 
 Seven Ports in the days of old ! 
 
 The Dawn, ris’n at last, in a gleam, 
 
 Passes over the Dirce stream, 
 
 Open eyelid of dayspring golden ! 
 
 Foeman mail’d with buckler of white, 
 Who from Argos sallied to fight, 
 Precipitately she turns him to flight— 
 Bit nor bridle can hold him ! 
 
 (1st Movement , of marching measure .) 
 
 In the cause of the Son of Debate (93 > he arose, 
 In the cause of debate and of quarrel he fell 
 On the country to whelm it. 
 
 Loud he screamed, as an eagle upsoaring, 
 
 All proof-mailed in a snow-white feather, 
 Gathering men-at-arms many together, 
 With a horsehair crest on his helmet. 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 143 
 
 (ij/ Counter-turn .) 
 
 O’er our halls did the eagle tow’r ! 
 
 Spears blood-mad in a ring at our 
 
 Sev’n Port entries, he gaped to slay ! 
 
 But pass’d, ere on gore of his foe 
 Jaws could batten, or piny glow 
 
 Strip our Thebes of the towers that braid her. 
 Loud to rearward, loud as he fled, 
 Thrilled the clang of battle and spread ! 
 ’Tis the progeny of the Dragon, (94) a dread 
 Piece to baulk an invader ! 
 
 ( 2 nd Movement .) < 95 > 
 
 For the anger of Zeus, it is heavy on those 
 Whose tongue vaunts highly ; He marked full well 
 Clangour of golden array vainglorious— 
 Marked floodtide of assault on-sweeping ;— 
 
 Then with a levelled flame He felled him 
 Just at the finish—aloft now !—leaping 
 To upraise an Hurrah ! victorious ! 
 
144 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 {2nd Turn,) 
 
 Frantic in ecstasy pressed he against us, breathing 
 Blasts of his enmity: swung in his own flame's 
 wreathing, 
 
 Down he tumbled on earth ; whose ground 
 Made his fall to rebound. 
 
 So mis-fared 
 What he dared! 
 
 All were o’erthrown ! 
 
 Each one his own 
 Doom they have found ! 
 
 Ares ! None carries a collar with Ares! ^ 
 
 (3 rd Movement .) 
 
 At the Seven Town-Ports seven chiefs were arrayed ; 
 Every man in a match with his man there paid 
 Of his panoply tax to the Turner of Fights. ( 97 > 
 
 But the Pair, (98) the Accurst, each upon other, 
 
 By might of the lance victory merit, 
 
 And—of self sire born, born of a mother— 
 
 Joint portion of death coinherit. 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 H 5 
 
 ( 2 nd Counter-turn .) 
 
 Merry to see that the Lady of Cars (99) is merry, 
 Victory came, the renown’d. ’Tis a time to bury 
 These late wars in forgetfulness ; 
 
 Time it is to address 
 Holy feet, 
 
 The fanes to greet. 
 
 All the night long, 
 
 Dances and song ! 
 
 Bacchus will bless— 
 
 Leader will he be, the Shaker of Theb6 ! 
 
 K 
 
146 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Enter Creon. 
 
 Cho. (in march measure ). Nay, look ! for the king of 
 the land draws near : 
 
 ’Tis the son of Menoeceus—Creon is here. 
 
 New changes and chances a new king have made. 
 To what end does he ply the quick oarage of 
 thought ? 
 
 Wherefore has he brought, 
 
 Us convoked, grey heads of the nation ? 
 
 Before us to debate, what the issues laid ? 
 
 —Thus called by his high proclamation. 
 
 Cre. The common weal, Sirs, shook by tempest sore, 
 The Gods have soundly righted as before. 
 
 But for ourselves : my message summoned you, 
 Separate from the mass, because I knew 
 Both your tried faith to Laios’ kingly power, 
 And too when CEdipus was governour ; 
 
 And after his undoing, when his heirs 
 Reigned, you were steadfast partizans of theirs. 
 
 Now since a double doom has laid them low 
 In one day—smitten and smiters of the blow— 
 Tainted, as whoso shall his own( 100) blood shed ; 
 ’Tis I, by next-of-kinship to the dead, 
 
 Who hold the royal seat and high control. 
 
 There is no means nicely to gauge the soul,< 101) 
 Temper, and wit of any man, unless 
 By rub of rule and law he first confess 
 His quality. Whoso rules a people as king, 
 
 And does not by the best of counsel cling, 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 *47 
 
 But puts a lock on’s tongue from any fear, 
 Appears to me, and ever did appear, 
 
 A rogue. The man who more for friend can care 
 Than for his native land, I rate nowhere. 
 
 Myself (all-seeing Zeus, eternal, hear me !) 
 
 I could not hold my peace and see draw near me 
 Instead of civil weal a civil woe ; 
 
 Nor could I ever make my country’s foe 
 My private friend : because ’tis she, I know, 
 Who keeps us all in life ; she must maintain 
 An even keel ere any friends we gain. 
 
 By such precepts this realm will I enrich. 
 Joint-twin to these is now the edict which 
 Touching the race of CEdipus I make : 
 
 Eteocles, who for the land did stake 
 His life, and lost it in a gallant fight, 
 
 Shall be entombed and shriven with every rite 
 That reaches the most noble dead below. 
 
 But Polyneices, his blood-brother—No ! 
 
 —Who dared, a banished outlaw, to return 
 To home and native Gods, essayed to burn 
 And wreck his home and Gods with fire, essayed 
 To sup on kindred blood, and would have made 
 Slaves of the rest—our high command it is, 
 
 No dirge nor burial ceremony be his ; 
 
 But, left unburied, meat his carcase be 
 For birds and dogs, outraged for eyes to see. 
 
 Such is my temper : it shall not be my deed 
 When rogues in honour shall the just exceed. 
 This land of ours, who sets his love upon her, 
 Alive or dead, of me he shall have honour ! 
 L.ofCho. So runs your pleasure, Creon, Menoeceus’ son, 
 Towards the ill-willing and towards the loyal one. 
 
148 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 
 To take all order is your prerogative 
 Both for the dead and all of us who live. 
 
 Cre. Mind that you watch to execute my word ! 
 
 Lea. This task were best on younger men conferr’d. 
 
 Cre. Watching the corpse ? For that I have my men. 
 
 Lea. What more do you enjoin upon us then ? 
 
 Cre. Yourselves with the rebellious not to ally. 
 
 Lea. No man’s so foolish that he craves to die ! 
 
 Cre. True, that’s the wages of it! Lucre though 
 Oft plays upon surmise to bring men low. 
 
 Enter a guard as Messenger. 
 
 Mes. My lord, I will not say, u With labouring lung 
 I am arrived , so brisk a leg I swung ; ” 
 
 For halts of meditation many I made, 
 
 Oft on my road I wheeled about and stayed, 
 Because my heart, I found, had much to say, 
 
 “ Poor fellow ! going where you ll have to pay ? ” 
 
 “ Stopping again ? O wretch ! If Creon hears 
 This from another , what can save your ears ? ” 
 Revolving so, despatch ran none too fast: 
 
 Short road grows long thus. Anyhow, at last 
 It gained the day that I should come. I know 
 It may be nothing—I will tell it though. 
 
 The worst that can befall me is but such 
 As doom predestinates : that faith I clutch. 
 
 Cre. But what’s the matter, man, that you’re so glum ? 
 
 Mes. First, if you please, about myself!—because 
 I did not do it, and saw not who it was ; 
 
 To any hurt I cannot fairly come. 
 
 Cre. You take long aim, and fence it well about, 
 
 This business! 'Tis some startling news, no doubt. 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 149 
 
 Mes . Ugly affairs to hesitation lend. 
 
 Cre. Cannot you speak, and go, and 'make an end ? 
 Mes. Well, speak I do. That dead man—one has just 
 Buried him and departed, thirsty dust 
 Sprinkling upon his flesh, and duly shriving. 
 
 Cre. What’s that ? What man did hazard this con¬ 
 triving ? 
 
 Mes. I know not. There was neither pickaxe’ stroke, 
 Nor mattock’s throwing up ; the ground unbroke, 
 Unscored by wheels—a hard and barren place. 
 This was your sort of man that leaves no trace ! 
 The first day-watchman points it out, and then 
 An awkward wonder fell on all our men. 
 
 He was invisible :—not barrow-piled ; 
 
 Dust, thin strewn—one who feared to be defiled, (102) 
 You’d say. But trace of dog or savage beast 
 Coming and tearing at him, none the least ! 
 
 Then ugly words—one with another, guard 
 Accusing guard—ran high ; it had gone hard 
 To end in blows (and none was there to stay), 
 For every one to each, u ’Twas you,” might say : 
 None manifest, all pleading ignorance. 
 
 Lift red-hot iron ? Through the fire advance ? 
 Swear by the Gods?—each man was nothing loath 
 To clear himself of the act, by test or oath,— 
 That nor design nor deed he did abet. 
 
 —But when, in search, we could no further get, 
 One up and speaks, and moves us all to bow 
 Our heads to earth, because we knew not how 
 To answer him ; nor yet, if we complied, 
 
 To come well off:—his speech was Not to hide 
 The business , but report to you. The plan 
 Carried the day, and me (unlucky man !) 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 150 
 
 The lot adjudged to draw this prize ; and so 
 Misliking and by you misliked, I know, 
 
 I’m here : none loves the messenger of woe. 
 
 Z. of Cho. Prince ! from the first my conscience bade 
 me ponder— 
 
 “ May be the hand of God was working 
 yonder! ” 
 
 Cre . Cease !—ere your words quite cram me full with 
 rage. 
 
 Prove not yourself a dotard in your age. 
 
 You said a thing past patience, when you said 
 That Gods can have regard for this man dead. 
 Was it as benefactor, prized, none higher, 
 
 They covered him who came to burn with fire 
 The colonnaded temple and treasure-chamber, 
 Their sacred lands to burn, their laws dismember ? 
 Gods honouring a villain ? See you that ? 
 Impossible ! ( meditates for a while) 
 
 This they were chafing at: ( 103) 
 They stirred against me from the first—supprest 
 Shaking of heads—they never had their crest 
 Fairly beneath the yoke, nor acquiesced. 
 
 It is by those, (103) I’m very sure, that these 
 Were brought to play this trick, seduced with fees. 
 —Ay ! never usage grew which so disgraced 
 Mankind as money ! (104) This lays cities waste, 
 From dwelling-place evicts the citizen ; 
 Sophisticates, makes minds of honest men, 
 
 Gone wrong, take up with dirty businesses ; 
 Points them to knavish ways ; puts godlessness 
 Into their heart enough for any crime !— 
 
 But all these hireling perpetrators, time 
 Will prove, have only got the price to pay. 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 151 
 
 As I still worship Zeus in the old way, 
 
 —Now mark me well! my oath to what I say— 
 Unless you shall discover and display 
 The felon author of this burial rite 
 Before my eyes, mere death for you’s too light, 
 Till first, dangling alive, you shall reveal 
 This wantonness. I’ll teach you whence to steal 
 When next you go for gains! I’ll have you learn 
 To love not gain where’er the gain you earn ! 
 For you shall note, a man by dirty pelf 
 More often damnifies than helps himself! 
 
 Mes. One word you’ll grant ?—or, straight to right¬ 
 about ? 
 
 Cre. Cannot you see your talking puts me out ? 
 
 Mes. Is’t in the ear it stings or in the soul ? 
 
 Cre. Would you my pain, its whereabouts, control ? 
 
 Mes. The culprit grieves your heart, and I your ears. 
 
 Cre. Ugh ! what a rattle born the fellow appears! 
 
 Mes. Well, but at least, that trick I never played. 
 
 Cre. Yes! and, what’s more, for coin your life betrayed ! 
 
 Mes. Dear, dear ! 
 
 ’Tis hard a man must guess and guess amiss ! < 105) 
 
 Cre. Oh, mince away with “ guessing ” ! If of this 
 You shew me not the authors, you shall preach 
 That woe’s the gain of rogues that overreach ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Mes. May he be found !—by all means. But be he 
 Caught or not caught—that lies in Luck’s decree— 
 Here shall you not again set eyes on me !— 
 Saved (many thanks 1 owe the Gods for it)— 
 Past all belief this time or human wit. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
152 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Chorus.< 106) 
 
 (ist Turn.) 
 
 Wonder and awe at large I find : 
 
 No such wonder of all as Man ! 
 Overseas will it pass to span 
 Oceans, grey with an angry wind; 
 
 Low under a gulfing world 
 Up-swirl’d 
 
 Of billow, sail it can ! 
 
 And Earth, the Pow’r of highest birth, 
 
 The Earth, 
 
 Deathless, unwearying—ever as year for year 
 Furrowing-season revolves—he will weary her 
 And grind, 
 
 Ploughing with the steed 
 His breed. 
 
 ( 1 st Counter-turn .) 
 
 Sort of the madcap birds in air, 
 
 Savage people of beasts in the fields, 
 Sea-creation that ocean yields— 
 
 All in toils of a mesh-spun snare 
 Ta’en captive he leads away, 
 
 For prey. 
 
 Man ! the wits he wields 1 
 The brutes that from the wilds, their home, 
 
 Do roam 
 
 Large on the mountain, he tames ; and a shaggy-neck’d 
 Steed with his crest in a collar to drag he breaks ; 
 Ploughshare 
 
 Tireless mountain bull 
 Must pull! 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 153 
 
 { 2 nd Turn.) 
 
 And Language and windy-quick Thought 
 He taught it himself, and the temper of Order and 
 Polity undistraught 
 
 He taught. 
 
 He, though the air drearily freezes, 
 
 Though the rain 
 Beats amain,— 
 
 Knows a remedy ! Remediless encountereth 
 No morrow, what 
 E’er his lot: 
 
 Only no escape from Death 
 
 Procures, by lore which fails him not 
 Against diseases. 
 
 ( 2nd Counter-turn.) 
 
 His subtlety passes belief 
 
 In cunning invention of Art !, Very brief is his 
 journey to Glory, brief 
 To grief! 
 
 The man that acts Law’s upbearer, 
 
 And his oath 
 Holds for troth, 
 
 Proud citizen is he !—Cityless, when venturesome 
 With worser tricks 
 He shall mix ! 
 
 Ne’er such man with me become 
 
 Hearth-mate, nor in his politics 
 May I be sharer ! 
 
154 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Enter Antigone, in arrest , guarded by the former 
 
 Messenger. 
 
 Chorus [in march measure). 
 
 Sight portentous ! I doubt and I wonder— 
 Nay, but I know : there is no gainsaying: 
 That is Antigone, that child yonder ! 
 
 Oh, the ill-fated 
 
 Of an ill-fated father engendered ! 
 
 What is it ? Oh, not thou disobeying 
 Kings’ commands ? To arrest surrendered 
 In the folly her heart meditated ? 
 
 Gua. Here is the one that carried out the thing ! 
 
 We caught her burying him. But where’s the 
 King ? 
 
 L. of Cho. Here, from the house he comes to answer 
 that. 
 
 Enter Creon. 
 
 Cre. Eh ? What’s the event my coming suits so pat r 
 Gua . Man never ought to swear I will not , Prince ! 
 For after-thought belies opinion. Since 
 I could have vowed, Not soon YU here be seen 
 After your threats, belaboured as I’d been. 
 
 Ah ! but the extra joy, the glad surprise, 
 
 No pleasure can be match’d with that for size ! 
 Tho’ sworn I will not , here I come and bring 
 This maiden : she was taken furnishing 
 The burial forth. No casting lots for this ! 
 
 My Godsend—none beside can say 'twas his ! 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 i55 
 
 Now, Sir, you have her : take, as pleases you, 
 Try her and question her ! But I am due 
 To get my full discharge from all the stew ! 
 
 Cre. Arrested—whence ?—this maid ? How came 
 you at her ? 
 
 Gua. She was burying him. You have the matter. 
 Cre. Do you mean and comprehend the thing you've 
 said ? 
 
 Gua. Yes ; for I saw her burying him, the dead ; 
 
 Whom you forbade. Is that plain tale of fact ? 
 Cre . How was she seen and seized outright in the act ? 
 Gua. The matter went this way. No sooner there 
 (Under your dreadful menace as we were), 
 
 We swept the dusty wrapper which enclosed 
 The dead, and left the weltering corpse exposed. 
 To windward, by the hilltop, down we sit, 
 
 Well out of range for stink from him to hit. 
 
 And man kept man with ugly words alert 
 If any one his duty should desert. 
 
 So for a time it was, till by-and-by 
 The sun’s bright disk rode midway up the sky, 
 And heat grew scorching : when a sudden gust 
 (Sky-plague !) uplifts from earth a storm of dust. 
 It fills the plain and all the leafy wood 
 Along the plain torments ; high heaven stood 
 Thick. Closing eye, the pest of God we took. 
 'Twas long before’t abated. Then we look, 
 And lo ! the girl! with wails of high distress— 
 Shrill as the cry of bird in bitterness 
 To see home rifled, chick-bereaved the bed : 
 
 —And even so, when stripped she sees the dead, 
 She screamed a loud lament, and with the worst 
 Curses the doers of the deed she cursed. 
 
156 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Then drouthy dust in hand straightway she fetched, 
 And from a jug of hammered bronze, out¬ 
 stretched, 
 
 With three libation-draughts the dead she crowned. 
 But when we saw, we up and closed around, 
 And took her in a moment—undismayed. 
 
 When to her charge the former acts we laid, 
 And these, she did not offer to deny 
 At all. Both glad and sorry at once was I : 
 Right glad when your own trouble’s at an end 
 For you, but sorry work to bring a friend 
 To trouble ! Oh ! but all such things amount 
 To little when my own escape I count ! 
 
 Cre. (to Ant.) You —you, who toward the ground 
 your glances bow, 
 
 Do you deny this action or avow ? 
 
 Ant. I do avow and not deny the charge. 
 
 Cre. (to Gua.) Take yourself off, where’er you like 
 to be, 
 
 Absolved from heavy accusation, free ! 
 
 [Exit Guard. 
 
 (to Ant.) You, —tell me quick, no length of 
 words !—you knew 
 The edict had forbidden so to do ? 
 
 Ant. Yes. Could I fail to know? ’Twas noised at 
 large. 
 
 Cre. And you presumed beyond the law to go ? 
 
 Ant. Yes : for not Zeus, I think, proclaimed it so ; 
 Not justice, dwelling with the Gods below, 
 
 The type of human statute so defiaed/ 107) 
 
 Nor could I in your proclamation find 
 
 Such force that mortal creature might out-range 
 
 The unwritten code of Gods wh ich cannot change: 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 157 
 
 Not of to-day nor yesterday—’tis living 
 For evermore, and none can date its giving ! 
 And was it likely I should fear the pride 
 Of any man so much as, this defied, 
 
 To face God’s bar ? That I must die, I knew : 
 Oh yes—edict or no ! If ere time due, 
 
 I count that gain. For one who lives, as I 
 Live, in much misery—how can he die 
 And not be gainer ? Slight the pain to me, 
 
 To meet this fate ; but had I borne to see 
 My mothers son a graveless corpse remain, 
 Painful it had been : now I feel no pain. 
 
 A fool’s act ? Well, are you yourself, who rule 
 My act is folly, better than a fool ? 
 
 L. of Cho. Harsh was the sire, the breed proves harsh 
 no less 
 
 In her : she knows no yielding in distress. 
 
 Cre. Nay, but I’ll have you know, pride overstiff 
 Has falls the most; and hardest iron, if 
 The fire shall to excessive temper bake, 
 
 You shall observe most often flaw and break. 
 
 A little curb, when horses chafe and fume, 
 
 I know, will mend their manners ! little room 
 For pride to swell when master lives next door ! 
 
 This girl, adept in insolence before 
 When ordinance of law she overstepped, 
 
 Proves now afresh in insolence adept 
 After the act: she laughs and vaunts her plan ! 
 Upon my word, I’m no man—she’s the man 
 If this triumph of hers go unatoned ! 
 
 Not—be she sister’s child—not, though she owned 
 More ties of blood than all yon household shrine 
 Assembles—shall she ’scape from doom condign ! 
 
i 5 8 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 —Nor yet her sister !—on whom I charge no whit 
 The less this burial, the designing it. 
 
 And summon her. Within, this very hour 
 Stark mad I saw her, reft of reasoning power. 
 Oft preconvicted knave the heart hath stood 
 Of them that in the dark devise no good. 
 
 Ay ! but I loathe it when detected in 
 Misdeeds they seek to glorify the sin. 
 
 Ant. To take and kill me : seek you more than this ? 
 Cre. Not I ! When I have that, there’s naught I miss ! 
 Ant. Then why delay ? There’s nothing pleases me 
 That you can utter—never may there be ! 
 
 And I'm not made to be approved by you. 
 
 But, name of more renown what could I do 
 To win, but bury my own-brother ? Yes, 
 These men would every one of them confess 
 Approval, did not fear their tongue suppress. 
 The happy state of kings is happy chiefest 
 In power to do and speak as they had liefest ! 
 
 Cre . You in all Thebes alone so view the matter. 
 Ant. They do, but fawn and wag their tongues to flatter. 
 Cre. And can they not shame you to feel the same ? 
 Ant. Pious towards my flesh and blood—what shame ? 
 Cre. Was he who fell on t’other side no brother ? 
 
 Ant. Blood-brother ; selfsame sire, and one to mother. 
 Cre. Impious to him then was the grace conferred. 
 Ant . The dead man will not testify that word. 
 
 Cre. Graced equal with the impious !—that he will. 
 Ant. 'Tis no dead slave this : 'tis a brother still. 
 
 Cre . Looting the land !—while t’other stood to save! 
 Ant. Death all the same his ordinance will crave. 
 
 Cre. Sharing alike—the good and the wicked ? No. 
 Ant. Who knows ? It may be clean from slur below. 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 159 
 
 Cre. Never can foemen even in death be lovers. 
 
 Ant . Pleas not for feud but love my heart discovers. 
 Cre. If love you must, get you below and give 
 
 Them love ! No woman rules me while I live. 
 
 Enter Ismene, in arrest. 
 
 Chorus ( march measure ). 
 
 Look ! At the doors Ismene approaches ! 
 
 —Shedding sisterly drops of affection : 
 
 Cloud on the brow, and a face bloodstained ! 
 Comely complexion 
 Disgraced by the tear that encroaches ! 
 
 Cre. [to Ism.) And you! viper in the house, meek, 
 lurking ! you, 
 
 Bloodsucking me unobserved—who little knew 
 What couple of pests—rebellions—I had there !— 
 Come tell me pray, will you confess a share 
 In burying him, or cognisance forswear ? 
 
 Ism. The deed is mine—if she supports my claim : 
 
 I take and bear my portion in the blame. 
 
 Ant. No ! that shall Right forbid ! You had no heart 
 To help : I would not yield you any part. 
 
 Ism. But now that you’re in trouble I have no shame 
 Myself your shipmate in distress to name. 
 
 Ant. Whose deed it was, Death and the dead know best! 
 
 Friend that in word befriends me I detest. 
 
 Ism. Nay, sister, disappoint me not of dying 
 
 With you, with you the dead man sanctifying. 
 Ant. My death you shall not die ! You shall not own 
 Where you’d no finger ! My death serves alone. 
 Ism. By you forsaken, what joy in life have I ? 
 
 Ant. Ask Creon ! There your pious duties lie. 
 
160 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Ism. Why will you tease me so, with naught to gain ? 
 Ant. Oh, if I mock at you, I mock in pain. 
 
 Ism. Could I not ev’n yet help in any shape ? 
 
 Ant. Save you yourself: I grudge not your escape. 
 Ism. Wretch that I am ! Your end must I resign ? 
 Ant. Yes; for your choice was life, and death was mine. 
 Ism. —No plea unurged tho’ that I could devise :— 
 Ant. In your eyes you, and I in theirs ( 108) was wise. 
 Ism. Indeed alike with both transgression lies. 
 
 Ant. Take courage ! you have life ; but long ago 
 My soul is dead to help the dead men so. 
 
 Cre. This pair of girls, I think they’re crazy—one 
 Of late, the other since her days begun ! 
 
 Ism. Ah, yes, my Lord, for even the ingrown wit 
 Abides not with mishap, but fain must flit. 
 
 Cre. Yours did !—who with misdoers chose misdeed. 
 Ism. Parted from her, to live how can I need ? 
 
 Cre. Oh, she —account her not : her days are done. 
 Ism. But can you kill the bridals of your son ? 
 
 Cre. He’ll find elsewhere fields for his husbandry. 
 
 Ism. But nowhere else their loving constancy. 
 
 Cre. Bad women to my sons I like not plighted. 
 
 Ant. O darling Haemon !—by your father slighted. 
 Cre. You and your match—I’m weary of you both ! 
 L. of Cho. You’ll rob your son of her who had his troth ? 
 Cre. Death to this marriage puts a bar, not I. 
 
 L . of Cho . The warrant is gone forth,then,that she die? 
 Cre. Yes! yours and mine. No dallying, now! within 
 Remove them, fellows! Time that they begin 
 To be more woman and less gad-at-will. 
 
 Those run for life at last who’re bold until 
 Death face to face lay hand on life to kill! 
 
 [ Exeunt Ant. and Ism., guarded . 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 161 
 
 Creon remains alone on the stage , while the 
 Chorus sing :— 
 
 (nr Turn.) 
 
 How blest is a man when his days have known no 
 taste of ill ! 
 
 Once a house hath quaked with the shock of a 
 God’s ill-will, 
 
 Naught abates the curse to the race in its after- 
 teeming : 
 
 But so it runs as when the surge, 
 
 Blasts of Thrace rude-blowing urge, 
 
 Runs over the unilluminable abysses creaming ; 
 
 The murk sea-banks it rolls and tumbles ; 
 
 All the coast along the main, 
 Brow-belaboured, moans and rumbles 
 In the stress of hurricane. 
 
 (nr Counter-turn.) 
 
 V th’ house of the Labdakidai distress, from days of 
 eld, 
 
 Piled upon distress of the dead men have I beheld : 
 Ne’er hath race of the father a race of the son 
 redeemed. 
 
 The stroke of God dismantles it ; 
 
 Nor can ransom paid acquit. 
 
 O’er CEdipus uttermost residue of a root there beamed 
 A light; but lo ! now ’tis levelled 
 By the dues to Death-Gods flung 
 — Bloody dust/ 109 ) a mind bedevilled, 
 And the folly of the tongue ! 
 
 
162 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 [2nd Turn.) 
 
 O Zeus! what trespass of human daring 
 Thy majestical reign can master? 
 
 Sleep runneth not faster,— 
 
 Sleep that is all-ensnaring ; 
 
 Nor the unwearied months mysterious. 
 
 Majesty aye unaged with time, 
 
 That reign’st controlling amidst imperious 
 Glory of light the Olympian clime ! 
 
 ’Tis a law no morrow, days to come, 
 
 Nor days of the past, reverse : 
 
 That which is grown beyond the sum 
 
 Enormous in human state , it is no more free from curse . 
 
 ( 2nd Counter-turn.) 
 
 The rolling-stone of an elf Surmise ( 110 > 
 
 Proves of many a man the saving ; 
 
 But eke she belies 
 Many a madcap craving : 
 
 She to deceit the fool unwary 
 
 Draws till he singe his feet in the flame. 
 
 Because in wisdom a man declared 
 Ages ago this word of fame : 
 
 To the fool comes late or soon a season 
 When better appears the worse; 
 
 It is a God misguides his reason : 
 
 And little enough the time that he goes uncaught /’ 
 th* curse ! m) 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 163 
 
 Chorus (march measure). 
 
 See though ! Haemon, latest begot of 
 All thy children, arrives. Is he groaning 
 Over the lot of 
 
 Antigone, the betrothed, his sweetheart, 
 
 [Enter Haemon. 
 
 The defrauded bridal bemoaning ? 
 
 Cre. We soon shall know more sure than any seer. (112) 
 Not frantic with your father, lad, to hear 
 Your bride’s consummate sentence ? Are not you 
 And I good friends whichever way I do ? 
 
 Hae . Sir, I am yours. My thoughts you still direct 
 In virtue, and I’ll follow with respect; 
 
 For never any marriage I shall prize 
 More worth my winning than your guidance wise. 
 Cre. Ay,-lad, so keeps the heart in state of grace ! 
 
 All else behind a father’s will has place. 
 
 For to this end men pray the sons they breed 
 May prove at home no disobedient seed, 
 
 That like their sires they be avenged with hurt 
 Upon the foe and prize the friend’s desert. 
 Breeding unprofitable children, what 
 But trouble shall you say a man has got— 
 Trouble for him and for his foes loud laughter? 
 Never, my lad, for pleasure, running after 
 Woman make jettison of your wits ! Be sure, 
 A chilly sort of armful you secure 
 When a bad woman is your bedfellow 
 At home. So near — and false! What sore 
 can go 
 
164 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 More deep ? Oh, spew her out, as though she were 
 Your foe—dismiss the girl to Hades, there 
 To get a bridegroom ! Since, when I have found 
 her 
 
 Alone rebel when all were loyal round her, 
 
 Liar I will not make myself in the eyes 
 Of all, but kill. So let her cant of ties— 
 
 Her Zeus-of-kindred ! Why, if I’m to feed 
 Homebred disorder, much more the alien breed ! 
 The man that’s virtuous in the household sphere, 
 Will also honest citizen appear. 
 
 But one shall never conquer my applause 
 Who oversteps and does despite to laws, 
 
 Or dreams of playing master o’er the powers. 
 Whomso the nation might set up, ’tis ours, 
 
 In the least things, tho’ right or wrong, to obey. 
 And such a man will be, I’m bold to say, 
 
 As fit to rule as to be ruled he’s ready ; 
 
 And in the storm of battle he’ll be steady 
 To hold his post, a comrade brave and true. 
 Undiscipline !—No plague of blacker hue ! 
 
 This undoes nations, this makes desolate 
 Households, ’tis this can breach confederate 
 Array in rout; but men well broken-in 
 Most lives deliver by their discipline. 
 
 So by the cause of order must I stand. 
 
 Never ! a woman get the upper hand ? 
 
 Nay, better, if needs must, be overthrown 
 By man, at least no woman’s mastery own ! 
 
 L. of Cho. Unless by Time our wit’s purloined away, 
 You say with understanding what you say. 
 
 Hae. Father, the Gods make understanding grow 
 In men, to be the best gift they bestow. 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 165 
 
 I could not—and I would I never might— 
 Gainsay you that you do not say aright; 
 
 Yet no bad thing may strike another too. 
 Leastways, I being your son am bound for you 
 To observe what’s found to chide, what’s done 
 and said. 
 
 You have a look these townsmen fellows dread, 
 At any tale which may not please your ear ; 
 
 But I can listen in the dark and hear 
 How for this maiden all the people wail— 
 
 Never did woman's worth so little avail! 
 
 She withers foully thanks to deeds most rare , 
 
 Because , her own-horn brother in warfare 
 Fallen } she would not leave him uninterred 
 For dogs of prey to spoil or any bird. 
 
 Is she not worthy of a golden prize ? 
 
 So, quietly, the dusky rumour flies. 
 
 For my part, father, than your good success, 
 Nothing’s more precious that I could possess. 
 What greater ornament can deck his heirs 
 Than flower of sire’s good name, or him than 
 theirs ? 
 
 Take not for all your wear one single mood, 
 Your sole dictate for sum of rectitude : 
 
 For whoso deems himself the one man wise 
 Above the rest in tongue or spirit to rise, 
 
 Being perused, looks void before all eyes. 
 
 Learn much : ’tis nothing shameful even if 
 A man be clever, that; and be not stiff 
 To excess. You see by torrent-courses how 
 The tree that stoops keeps safe and sound his 
 bough ; 
 
 The stiff opposing founder, stock and all. 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 166 
 
 Ev’n so the sailor who too taut shall haul 
 The sheet, and still to yield an inch refuse— 
 Capsized, thwarts downward, he will end his 
 cruise. 
 
 Oh, yield from wrath, give alteration play ! 
 Because—if, being the younger, judge I may— 
 
 I hold ’twould be by long precedence best 
 Were man of perfect knowledge born possest; 
 However, since ’tis not the way things turn, 
 ’Tis well to take good prompting and to learn. 
 
 L. of Cho. Sir, you might learn of him, as well as teach, 
 When to the point he speaks. There’s sense 
 in each. 
 
 Cre . We, at our age, shall we be brought forsooth 
 To reason by the schooling of this youth ? 
 
 Hae. —Not to do wrong. I’m young, ay; but ’tis hard 
 You should my date and not my feats regard. 
 Cre . A feat ! to honour breach of discipline ! 
 
 Hae . Not even common rights I’d claim for sin . 
 
 Cre. And is she not to that disease a prey ? 
 
 Hae. The universal people of Thebes gainsay. 
 
 Cre. The people are to teach me how to reign ? 
 
 Hae. There spoke a voice of hotspur youth, most plain ! 
 Cre. A king, and look beyond my own control ? 
 
 Hae. No commonwealth where one man owns the 
 whole. 
 
 Cre. The lord is deemed the commonwealth to own. 
 Hae. How well you’d rule in empty lands, alone ! 
 
 Cre. ’Tis clear : he’s with the woman, hand-in-glove. 
 Hae. If you’re a woman !—All for you’s my love. 
 
 Cre. Arch-villain ! Bandy words against your father ? 
 Hae. From doing wrong, misled, I’d save him rather. 
 Cre. Misled ?—in honouring the sway that’s mine ? 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 167 
 
 Hae. No honour if you trample on rights divine. 
 
 Cre. O scurvy nature, cowed before a wench ! 
 
 Hae. At facing shame you shall not find me blench. 
 Cre. This plea of yours is all for her sake though. 
 Hae. Your sake, and mine, and of the Gods below ! 
 Cre. With her alive I’ll never have you wed. 
 
 Hae. Die then she must—but have her victim, dead. 
 Cre. What’s that? So bold? You run to threats 
 from pleas ? 
 
 Hae. Is it a threat to plead with void decrees ? 
 
 Cre. Void of advice, I’ll teach you to advise ! 
 
 Hae. Were you not father, I’d have said Not wise . 
 
 Cre. You woman’s-chattel, never seek to coax ! 
 
 Hae. You speak, but hear not what your speech 
 provokes. 
 
 Cre. So, in good sooth ? Now by the heaven that 
 roofs, 
 
 You shall not gaily chide me with reproofs. 
 Fetch out this pest, that she may die outright 
 Beside her bridegroom, near him, in his sight! 
 Hae. Beside me, near me, she shall ne’er be slain— 
 Oh, never think it !—and you ne’er again 
 My living presence face to face shall view. 
 
 Rave on with such as care to keep with you ! 
 
 [Exit violently. 
 
 L. of Cho. The man is gone, Sir, in the haste of rage : 
 
 And hearts when grieved will rankle, at that age. 
 Cre. Let him go do his superhuman will ! 
 
 Life for this pair he shall not purchase still. 
 
 L. of Cho. Nay, kill both of them ? Will you so 
 proceed ? 
 
 Cre . Not her that had no hand in’t. Right, indeed! 
 L. of Cho. And by what manner is her death decreed ? 
 
 
168 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Cre. Somewhere from human walk sequestered lone, 
 I’ll mew her up alive in crypt of stone, 
 
 Just food enough allotted to absolve (113) 
 
 And not with taint the commonwealth involve. 
 There—since she worships none but Death— 
 she’ll cry 
 
 To him ; perhaps he will not let her die ! 
 
 Else, now at last, she’ll learn ’tis waste of breath 
 To render worship t’ward the realm of Death! 
 
 [Exit, 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 169 
 
 [Turn.) 
 
 When Love disputes 
 
 He carries his battles ! 
 
 Love he loots 
 
 The rich of their chattels ! 
 
 By delicate cheeks 
 
 On maiden’s pillow 
 
 Watches he all the night-time long ; 
 
 His prey he seeks 
 
 Over the billow, 
 
 Pastoral haunts he preys among. 
 
 Gods are deathless, and they 
 Cannot elude his whim ; 
 
 And oh ! amid us whose life’s a day, 
 
 Mad is the heart that broodeth him ! 
 
 ( Counter-turn .) 
 
 And Love can splay 
 
 Uprightest of virtue ; 
 
 Lead astray, 
 
 Better to hurt you ! 
 
 ’Tis he did the wrong, 
 
 ’Tis he beguiled 
 
 Father and son to feud so dire. 
 
 Desire’s too strong ! 
 
 —Out of the eyelid 
 
 Peeped of a lovely bride, Desire ! 
 
 He with Law has a court, 
 
 Sovran in might with her. 
 
 Divine Aphrodite wreaks her sport; 
 
 Who will be bold to fight with her ? 
 
 [Enter Antigone, guarded. 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 Chorus (march measure ). 
 
 Ah, though ! to behold such a sight as is here, 
 
 I am carried beyond the commandment’s bar ! 
 No more can I hinder the gush of the tear. 
 
 To the chamber of bridal where all the 
 dead are 
 
 I see Antigone hasting. 
 

 £ 
 
 o 
 
 d 
 
 <u 
 
 v- 
 
 rj 
 
 C/3 (U 
 
 S-l 
 
 - § a 
 
 " <U 
 
 - <U rG 
 
 G to 
 
 <u rt T 3 
 
 2-5 
 
 to p, ra 
 
 *-> 
 
 o a 
 
 G 
 
 TJ 
 
 G Jg 
 
 s +-• 
 
 G 
 
 £ 
 
 O 
 
 G 
 
 a; 
 
 <u 
 
 to 
 <u 
 
 rG 
 
 ^ .H 
 
 o ^ 
 
 .2 1 _. 
 
 CS <D ;G 
 
 Sf ’rt G 
 
 cs 
 
 2 ^ « 
 
 — G H . 
 G rt *, £ 
 O 4-. a O 
 
 I* <J eq S3 
 
 « 
 
 i 
 
 for this maiden all the people wail 
 
172 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 (They sing the following Dirge in antiphons.) 
 
 Dirge. 
 
 (1 st Turn.) 
 
 Ant. {sings). Look ! You that keep 
 
 The land I was born in, 
 
 Soon my lattermost goal I gain, 
 
 This my lattermost light of morning ; 
 
 Now—ne’er hereafter again. 
 
 Death hath all men’s rest in his giving, 
 Home to shores of Acheron he 
 Carries me, living. 
 
 Ay me ! 
 
 Never to me there was granted 
 Marriage melody, ne’er upon 
 Me was a bridal chant chanted ; 
 
 Bride will I be to Acheron ! 
 
 {Marching Measure , 1st Stanza.) 
 
 Cho. Therefore very famous and full of renown 
 
 Thou’rt passing away to the charnel-cave ; 
 For none like thee yet alive goes down 
 
 So free of herself to the Prince of the Grave ; 
 Not paid with the wage of the sword for 
 reward, 
 
 Nor smitten of sicknesses wasting. 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 *73 
 
 (i st Counter--turn .) 
 
 Ant . Of women dead 
 
 Never I listened 
 
 Tale more sad than the Phrygian guest,< 114) 
 Wife to Tantalus—her that’s prisoned 
 High, near to Sipylos’ crest. 
 
 Like the clutch of ivy, the growing 
 Stone subdued her : pillar of ooze, 
 Rain everflowing 
 Bedews! 
 
 Snows that eternally heaping, 
 
 Down from blubbered eyelids fall, 
 
 Ever a breast of stone steeping ! 
 
 Rest that is liker mine than all! 
 
 [Marching Measure , 2nd Stanza.) 
 
 Cho. But divine was she and divine was her birth ; 
 While we are but mortal and children of earth, 
 Why,surethere is honour enough in thestory— 
 “ She in her life and her death gained glory , 
 
 Like terms with the Godlike tasting 
 
l 7 4 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 (2 nd Turn.) 
 
 Ant. [sings). Ye mock me then ! 
 
 Why will ye face to face torment me 
 Before I be parted ? 
 
 O ye Gods o’ my grand- 
 sire’s land ! 
 
 Shame upon home and the homebred men, 
 Dowered with plenty ! 
 
 O Dirce founts, and O domain 
 
 Of Thebe, Lady of Lash and Bit/ 115 ) 
 
 (All forsake me, but you I gain) 
 
 Witness it !— 
 
 —How dies by friends unwept a maiden, 
 How the doom 
 
 Consigns me to the barrow-laden 
 
 Cloister of strange charnel-room. 
 
 Cry woe ! 
 
 Dismally forbidden 
 
 Human abode or ghost¬ 
 ly coast, 
 
 From dead men hidden 
 As from living, I 
 Must lie ! 
 
 (3 rd Turn.) 
 
 Cho. The edge of daring thou wouldst tread ; 
 
 But ’gainst the Law’s high pedestal 
 Ruinously, O my child, didst fall ! 
 
 Perchance sire’s venture (116 ) wreaked on children’ 
 head. 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 175 
 
 ( 2nd Counter-turn .) 
 
 Ant . Thou touchest there 
 
 Sorrowfullest of meditation. 
 
 The griefs of my father, 
 
 Tale thrice-hackneyed again 
 
 Of pain : 
 
 Children of Labdakos all, we bear 
 This tribulation. 
 
 Alas for curse'on mother’s bed ! 
 
 For those incestuous hours of his, 
 
 His disaster and hers who bred 
 
 Miseries ! 
 
 What parentage was mine, engendered 
 From such stem ! 
 
 And now I go my way surrendered— 
 
 Curst, unwed—to lodge with them. 
 
 Cry woe! 
 
 Fie, what bridal, brother, 
 
 This that the fates decree 
 For thee ! 
 
 Dead thou slay’st another ! 
 
 Dead, the living still 
 
 Canst kill ! 
 
 ( 3 rd Counter-turn .) 
 
 Cho. He’s leal to God that’s leal at all : (117 > 
 
 But whoso is of power possess’d 
 
 Can noway brook his power transgress’d. 
 
 A self-willed passion, daughter, caused thy fall. 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 [Aftersong.) 
 
 Ant . Unwept for, without any to befriend me, 
 
 Sore at heart, unhymned as a bride ! 
 
 Forth they lead : the way is wide. 
 
 Far from the holy sun’s eye will they send me, 
 Solitarily banned to languish ! 
 
 None bemoans my tearless anguish, 
 
 No near and dear ones at my side. 
 
 Re-enter Creon. 
 
 Cre. Know you, these songs and dirges before death 
 Will never cease if one allow them breath ? 
 Quick then, away with her ! Folded and hidden 
 Within the vaulted grave, as you were bidden, 
 Leave her alone, forsaken—if she choose, 
 
 To die, or ’neath that roof to sepulchre 
 Alive : I wash my hands concerning her ; 
 
 But leave to lodge in the light I will refuse. 
 
 Ant. O grave ! bride-chamber ! everlasting cell ! 
 Burrow in the rock ! whither I go to dwell— 
 And join mine own, the perished number whom 
 Phersephassa hath lodged in dead-men’s room. 
 
 I, last of all and woefullest by much, 
 
 Descend before my date of days I touch. 
 
 Yet, there arrived, sure hope I have to greet 
 In love my father ; loving welcome meet, 
 Mother, from you; and love from you, my 
 brother ! (118) 
 
 For when you died, it was my hand, none other, 
 Did laver and ceremony and funeral cup 
 Bestow ; and now your bones I covered up, 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 *77 
 
 My Polyneices, and behold my wage ! 
 
 [And yet ’twas good to honour you, a sage 
 Counsel will say. No—not for a child I’d bred, 
 Not, had it been a husband weltering, dead— 
 Would I have braved the world and done this 
 task ! 
 
 What law was this which so required ?—you ask : 
 Successor had been found to husband dead ; 
 Child by another man, in lost child’s stead : 
 
 But, father and mother in death deposited, 
 
 To be my brother none could e’er arise. 
 
 Such was the law made me prefer and prize 
 You most!—which Creon judged a sinner’s part 
 And dread presumption, O my brother-heart! 
 And now he carries me in close arrest, 
 Unbedded and unchanted, unpossest 
 Of marriage lot or bringing up of sons : 
 Ill-starred creature, forlorn, that kindred shuns, 
 Living I reach my burrowed dead - men’s 
 cage.] ( 119 ) 
 
 What heavenly covenant did I outrage ? 
 
 Why should I any more my dismal eye 
 Uplift to Gods ? on whom for succour cry ? 
 
 My loyal act has reaped disloyalty ! 
 
 Well, well, if this be good in sight of God, 
 We’ll learn to feel our sins beneath his rod ; 
 
 If they re the sinners—no worse let them be 
 Done by, than they’ve unjustly done to me ! 
 
 M 
 
178 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Trio and Solo in march measure . 
 
 Cho. Still is the storm of the soul not gone, 
 
 Still wild winds in her heart are flying. 
 
 Cre. Some shall have cause for weeping anon, 
 
 That go to their office unwilling ! 
 
 Ant. Ay me ! ’tis a word that attains very near, 
 
 This, unto dying ! 
 
 Cre. I can comfort ye not, nor forbid you to fear 
 ’Tis a fate will be soon a-fulfilling ! 
 
 Solo. 
 
 Ant. Town of my sires in the country of Theb6, 
 Gods of my fathers ! 
 
 They lead me away : no more I await. 
 Witnesses, Theban princes, will yh. be : 
 
 Last of the race of your kings, desolate, 
 
 You see what I am, what are they, what a fate 
 My faith to fidelity gathers ! 
 
 [Exit guarded. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Zens to Taer did impart 
 To treasure a polder. 
 
 Slao-w x of Lis Seed. 
 
i8o 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Chorus/ 120 ^ 
 
 (ij/ Turn.) 
 
 Even so Danae, 
 
 Beautiful as she was, 
 
 Bore to barter away 
 
 The light in a court of brass. 
 
 She to the yoke was holden : 
 
 Piled as a tomb her bridal room, 
 
 Deep sequestered apart. 
 
 Yet hers was a famous line ; 
 
 Zeus to her did impart 
 To treasure a golden 
 
 Show’r of his seed. 
 
 Strange and mighty indeed 
 The ways of the Will Divine! 
 
 There’s neither wealth, nor war, norsable 
 Surge-belaboured ships at sea, 
 
 Nor fortress is able 
 
 To escape what is to be. 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 181 
 
 (ist Counter-turn!) 
 
 Dryas’ son (121) to the yoke 
 Bowed, the Edonian king—- 
 Sharp of gall to provoke, 
 
 Hasty the taunt to fling : 
 
 Him Dionysus fences 
 
 Captive alone in bonds of stone ; 
 
 Leaves him there to distil 
 
 The mettle of tempers crazed, 
 
 The efflorescence of ill! 
 
 And, brought to his senses, 
 
 He rued that he had 
 Harmed a God with his mad 
 Hands, and the taunt he phrased ;— 
 
 Who fain would stay the routs that 
 scamper 
 
 Loud with Bacchanalian fires, 
 
 And dared to tamper 
 
 With the Muses’ piping quires. 
 
 
182 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 [2nd Turn.) 
 
 There is a place at the Dusky-blue Rocks where an 
 ocean-floor 
 
 Gulfs twin seas in a race, ’tis the Bosporus’ churlish 
 shore, 
 
 Salmydessus of Thrace : 
 
 There did Ares 
 
 (For his home is neighbour of these) 
 Witness a wound of damn’d disgrace— 
 
 A sightless, maimed 
 Wound which cruel consort (122 > aimed 
 At th’ eyes of Phineus’ sons, yet to 
 be avenged of God ! 
 
 The stepsons’ eyes 
 Did her bloody hands deface 
 
 With a tool devised 
 From dagger-pointed weaving-rod. 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 {2nd Counter-turn .) 
 
 Piteously they in a pitiful agony tears did shed, 
 Wasting ever away, for a mother’s sake unwed. (123 > 
 Yet by seed she could lay 
 Claim to her place 
 In the old Erechthei’d race ; ( 124 > 
 
 She in a cave long leagues away 
 Was reared, a child 
 Amidst paternal whirlwinds wild, 
 
 —The Northwind’s daughter, cour¬ 
 ser-fleet upon the hill ! 
 
 Her sire a God : 
 
 And still the Dooms of ancient day, 
 
 My daughter, trod 
 Hard and hard upon her, still. 
 
184 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Enter Teiresias, blind , walking by the help of his 
 
 serving-boy . 
 
 Tei. Princes of Thebe, we have made combined 
 Journey, one pair of eyes for both : the blind 
 Obeys his guide—’tis all the walk he has. 
 
 Cre. And what’s your tidings, old Teiresias? 
 
 Tei. I will advise you : listen to my lore. 
 
 Cre. Have I not held with vour advice before ? 
 
 Tei. —And steered aright the commonwealth thereby. 
 Cre. To your good service I can testify. 
 
 Tei. [solemnly). Take heed ! you balance on a blade of 
 chance. 
 
 Cre. What’s this ? I shiver at such utterance. 
 
 Tei. Listen : the signals of my art will teach. 
 
 My ancient seat of auguries I reach 
 (Haven which all the tell-tale wings decoys), 
 And hear of birds an unfamiliar noise. 
 
 Some ugly jabbering torment pricked their cries ; 
 Each tore and clawed at each in murderous wise— 
 I knew, for I could read the whirr of wings. 
 Forthwith alarmed, I tried burnt-offerings 
 On altars full-embrased : no fire upsprings 
 Clear from the sacrifice, but o’er the embers 
 Weltered only a rheum of oozy members, 
 
 And fumed and spewed ; and scattered flew the 
 gall 
 
 Upon the air, the moulting thigh bones all 
 Loll from their fatty envelope revealed. 
 
 My divinations droop, my mysteries yield 
 No answer—so the stripling signified, 
 
 Who stands to me, as I to others, guide. 
 
ANTIGONE 185 
 
 This malady on the state your will has thrown. 
 Our every hearth, our every altar-stone 
 Is rank with carrion, dogs and birds may fetch 
 From CEdipus’ dead son, the luckless wretch. 
 Therefore the Gods against our prayers are 
 turned, 
 
 Our prayers and sacrifice of members burned. 
 No bird whistles his call of warning plain, 
 Battened on succulent carnage of the slain. 
 
 These things, my son, consider. It is the way 
 Of all mankind alike to go astray : 
 
 But when a man has erred, he is no more 
 
 Unblest nor unadvised, if the sore 
 
 Case he shall cure and not refuse to budge. 
 
 For Stubbornness is folly , says the judge. 
 
 Yield to the dead man ! Do not stab the slain ! 
 What prowess this, to kill the dead again ? 
 
 Good will, good words—and oh, the sweetness 
 of it, 
 
 Good words to hear, and find them words of profit! 
 Cre. Old man, I’m butt for you to level at 
 
 Like archers all. Seercraft ?—Not even of that 
 Untraded ! By such fellows long enough 
 Have I been bought and sold like merchant’s stuff. 
 Profit away ! and traffic all you can, 
 
 Sardian electre (125 ) and gold of Hindustan ! 
 
 You shall not in a grave install the man 
 —Tho’ to the throne of Zeus, Zeus’ eagle-brood 
 Ravening, shall please to carry him for food: 
 
 I will not fear defilement even so, 
 
 Nor yield him sepulture. For well I know, 
 
 No man’s so strong that Gods he can defile. 
 
 But, old Teiresias, there awaits a vile 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 186 
 
 Fall for your mighty cunning ones, who make 
 Vile pleas and gloze them fair, for profit’s sake ! 
 Tel Fie ! 
 
 Lives there the man, can know, can apprehend 
 Cre. [scornful). Know what ? How might this general 
 precept end ? 
 
 Tel —How far good counsel is the best of treasure ? 
 Cre. And bad’s worst loss: no doubt in just such 
 measure ! 
 
 Tei. Yet with this malady your condition’s rank. 
 
 Cre. With taunt for taunt the seer I would not thank. 
 Tei. You do ! As false my prophecy you describe. 
 Cre. Prophets, they’re all a money-loving tribe ! 
 
 Tei . The tyrant’s brood love dirty pilferings. 
 
 Cre. Know you that what you speak is spoken of 
 kings ? 
 
 Tei. I know : this realm I taught you how to save. 
 Cre. A skilful seer, but likes to play the knave. 
 
 Tei. You’ll have me tell what deep in heartIVe shrined. 
 Cre. Rifle your shrine—but not for profit, mind ! 
 
 Tei. That much, I think, for your part, is secured. 
 Cre. You shall not buy-and-sell me, rest assured. 
 
 Tei. Rest very well assured you shall not run 
 Many another emulous wheel of the sun, 
 
 Ere you’ll have rendered up, dead man for dead 
 Atoning, one from your own bowels bred : 
 Forthat you have brought low which was on high, 
 And foully in the grave put life to lie ; 
 
 While him you keep, of the Under Gods’ demesne 
 Disfranchised, undispensed, a corpse unclean. 
 
 For duty untouched by you (by the High 
 Gods too< 126) 
 
 Untouched, unless they must, outraged of you), 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 187 
 
 —For that, the mutilator fiends of Hell, 
 Retributors, are bid by Heaven as well 
 Beset your path till you likewise be lost. 
 
 Examine well, if I be silver-crost 
 To speak it! Lapse of no long time shall rouse 
 Wailings of men and women in ycur house. 
 
 And through all realms the word for war is given, 
 Whose mangled losses dog and beast have 
 shriven; 127 
 
 Or feathered fowls to each man’s country bear 
 Hearthwards the filthy stench to leave it there. 
 Here’s archery—since you made my soul to 
 smart— 
 
 Arrows of anger levelled at the heart, 
 
 Unerring, and you shall not dodge the sting ! 
 
 But lead me home, my lad, and let him sling 
 His anger upon heads of younger date, 
 
 And learn to train a tongue more temperate 
 And better senses than his present state. 
 
 [Exit, led by the serving-boy . 
 L . of Cho. Sir, he is gone—but after prophesying 
 
 Grim things. In all the length of days a-dyeing 
 My hair from black to white, declare I do, 
 Never his public word was found untrue. 
 
 Cre. I know it, too : my soul’s perplexed with doubt. 
 To yield is frightful; yet, by standing out, 
 
 O frightful choice !—must pride in ruin break ? 
 L. of Cho. Son of Menoeceus, the good counsel take ! 
 Cre . What must I do then ? Speak, and I will follow. 
 L. of Cho. Go free the maiden from her dungeon 
 hollow, 
 
 And lay the exposed body to his rest. 
 
 Cre. Approve you so ? You judge surrender best ? 
 
188 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 L. ofCho. Ay, Sir, and no time lost! Swift-footed press 
 The hurts of Heaven to seize on foolishness. 
 
 Cre . Oh, hard ! I leave my will behind, and do it: 
 
 Who struggles with necessity must rue it. 
 
 L . of Cho. Go then and do, and trust it not to others. 
 Cre . (suddenly much agitated ). Ev’n as I am, I’ll on ! 
 Up, every mother’s 
 
 Son, (128) or no son, of you ! Up ! Up ! hench¬ 
 men all, 
 
 Away with you, axe in hand, to yonder knoll ! 
 And I, since resolution so comes round, 
 
 I will release in person whom I bound. 
 
 To keep the laws of use and wont, I doubt 
 But that’s the best of all, till life be out. 
 

DIONYSUS WITH HIS THIASOS OF SATYRS AND MAENADS 
 
 
 
 
 
 From a Vase in the British Museum. $th Century B.C, 
 
 A 189 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 189 
 
 Chorus.* 129 ) 
 
 (1 st Turn.) 
 
 To the glory and joy of Cadmus’ daughter praise 
 upraise ! 
 
 Many-titled ! Thunderer Zeus’ 
 
 Begotten offspring ! Charged to ward 
 Italy’s famous land, and lord 
 O’er the mother-lap of Eleusis 
 Where a world resorts 
 Worshipping in Deo’s courts.* 130 ) 
 
 For Thebe is all thine own, 
 Bacchus’ Bacchanal town, 
 
 By sliding smooth Ismeni’an sluices, 
 
 Soil of cruel Dragon sown ! 
 
 (irf Counter-turn!) 
 
 And the murkily glow’ring flambeaux 1 flash hath seen 
 thy mien 
 
 O’er the twin-topt crest of the mountain, 
 
 Whereon the Nymphs Corycian * 131 ) play 
 (Votaries all of Bacchus they), 
 
 Met beside the Castaly fountain. 
 
 And the Nysa* 132 ) steeps, 
 
 Banks whereon the ivy heaps, 
 
 (While tongues superhuman phrase 
 Jubilation of praise) 
 
 And vineyards cluster’d thick beyond counting 
 
 Speed thee home to Theban ways. 
 
190 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 (2 nd Turn.) 
 
 She loved us more than any nation, 
 
 She that died in thunder,< 133 > and thou 
 Lov’st us dearly : come ! for we 
 
 Caught in grips of a malady rude 
 Labour all in our multitude. 
 
 O pass with feet of purification 
 Down along Parnassian brow, 
 
 Or by the moaning firth of sea !( 134 > 
 
 (2 nd Counter-turn.) 
 
 Arise ! Thou, who lead’st to pleasure 
 Troops of stars (135) whose breath is a fire I 
 Marshal of the uproarious night ! 
 
 Child of Zeus ! The begotten of God ! 
 Bring thy votaries wild, who trod 
 For thee the nightlong ecstasy-measure ; 
 
 Steward of their hearts’-desire ! 
 
 Bacchus! Arise! Appear to sight! 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 191 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mes. Neighbours to Cadmus’ and Amphion’s roof, 
 Never with commendation or reproof 
 Any estate in lives of men I’ll hail : 
 
 For Chance may lift and Chance may dip the scale 
 Of fortune and misfortune any day. 
 
 No earthly seer the Appointed can foresay. 
 
 For Creon’s lot, time was, I used to count 
 Worth coveting : he throned it paramount 
 In Thebe, ruled the land which he did save ; 
 And shewed, with flower of noble children, brave. 
 And all foregone ! For let a man forsake 
 His joys—no more account of him I make 
 As living : he’s a dead man, breathing still! 
 Keep a proud house and costly, if you will, 
 
 And keep a kingly style ; if thus you live 
 And have no joy of it, I would not give— 
 
 For all but that—the shadow of a smoke ! 
 
 L. of Cho. You’ve news? What more to afflict our 
 royal folk ? 
 
 Mes . Deaths ! And the guilt upon a living head. 
 
 L. of Cho . But who’s the murderer, and who’s the 
 dead ? 
 
 Mes. Haemon, by hands familiar overthrown. 
 
 L. of Cho. By the hand of his father, or his own ? 
 Mes. His own, enraged by murder against his sire. 
 
 L. of Cho. Seer, what direct event your words require ! 
 Mes. Deal with it as you will, so stands the thing. 
 
 L. of Cho. But look, the unhappy consort of our king, 
 Eurydice, is with us ! This advance 
 Abroad—is’t tidings of her son, or chance ? 
 
192 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Enter Eurydice jrom the Palace . 
 
 Eur. O burghers all, I overheard your talk 
 As I for Pallas’ fane set on my walk 
 To seek the Goddess and in prayer adore. 
 
 And as I slipt the latch and drew the door 
 To open, sounds of household misery smite 
 Upon my ear : I sank, for very affright, 
 
 Back on my waiting-women and swooned out¬ 
 right. 
 
 Tell me again, tho’,—I can bear, because 
 I’m trained in sorrow—what the story was ? 
 
 Mes. Dear Madam, what I shall tell I did behold, 
 
 And not a syllable of the truth withhold. 
 
 Why should I phrase you soft, and Time display 
 My tale a liar’s ? Truth’s the straightest way ! 
 
 I brought your consort’s feet, attending him, 
 Where Polyneices on the plain-land’s rim 
 Yet lay, a corpse, dog-worried, pitiless. 
 
 Then to the Lady of Crossways ( 136) we address 
 Prayer, and to Pluto, mercifully to abate 
 Their wrath ; and, laved with laver immaculate, 
 In fresh-pulled boughs the poor remains consume ; 
 Of native mould a straight-capt barrow-tomb 
 We heaped, and next we turned to seek the cave, 
 That stony-paven bridal-bower of the grave. 
 
 A voice we heard, far off; a clear lament 
 Up from the unfuneralled gallery-chamber ( 137 > 
 went: 
 
 Which one drew near the king to signify. 
 
 The same unmeaning miserable cry 
 Enveloped his approach. He groaned a strain 
 Sad as a dirge to utter, Grief and pain ! 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 193 
 
 Am I a prophet ? Does this journey bode 
 Disaster worse than any bygone road ? 
 
 My son ! His voice caresses me ! Go near ,— 
 Quick ! — servants!—place you by the tomb , and peer! 
 That joint in the barrow-mound—that rocky breach , 
 In with you there ! On till the mouth you reach — 
 See if I know his voice , or Gods delude ! 
 
 Urged by our downcast lord's solicitude, 
 
 We peered. In the after-part of the sepulchre, 
 Hung by the neck, we first had sight of her, 
 Clipt by a thready halter-knot of lawn. 
 
 He, with his arms about her middle drawn, 
 Clung fast—the match undone among the dead 
 Bemoaning, father’s acts, the dismal bed. 
 
 He, when he saw his son, with sullen moan 
 Comes in to him ; then loud in dirge-like tone, 
 0 wretch! What handiwork has here been 
 wrought ? 
 
 What meant you ? Where's the stroke that so 
 distraught ? 
 
 Come out . I supplicate , beseech—my child ! 
 
 But the boy stared at him with eyeballs wild, 
 Spat in his face, and answered not a word, 
 
 But tugged the cross hilt-pieces of his sword. 
 
 His father—whipt away in flight—he missed : 
 But then and there, self-maddened, turned his 
 wrist 
 
 And leaned—the blade plunged midway in his 
 side ! [ Exit Eurydice. 
 
 Close to his failing arms he folds his bride, 
 
 Yet conscious : panting forth an eager flood, 
 Dyes the white cheek with crimson gouts of 
 blood j 
 
 N 
 
194 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 And dead about the dead he lies—poor boy ! 
 
 His marriage-rite only in the grave to enjoy : 
 Preaching to all the world how thoughtlessness 
 Is worst of ills that can a man possess. 
 
 L. of Cho. What may you make of this ? My lady, fled 
 Back—not a word, or good or evil, said ? 
 
 Mes. Well, I’m amazed ! And yet on hopes I fare : 
 Her son’s sad news received, she will not care 
 To wail at large, but close-retired prepare 
 Her maids to mourn a private grief with her. 
 She does not want for sense, that she should err. 
 L. of Cho. I know not: too much silence is no less 
 Ill circumstance than cries in vain excess. 
 
 Mes. Well, we shall know—maybe in secret fashion 
 She covers with restraint a heart of passion— 
 
 If we advance and enter. Ay, Pm with you : 
 Your too much silence, that is ominous too. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Chorus (march measure'). 
 
 See tho’—the king in person advances. 
 Yon monument whereupon he’s bending, 
 (God forgive me !) of none’s mischances 
 Tells tale but his own offending. 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 195 
 
 Enter Creon with attendants carrying the body of 
 Haemon on a bier . 
 
 Dirge. 
 
 [Turn A.) 
 
 Cre . Heigho ! 
 
 The fool's retribution— 
 
 Wise fool ! (138 )—for sin, 
 
 Deathly, pitilessly will’d ! 
 
 See we pass, all akin : 
 
 Yet some here be killers 
 
 And some be killed. 
 
 Woe for the wise presuming, 
 
 Misfortunate ! 
 
 O lad freshly blooming ! 
 
 Fresh-fallen fate ! 
 
 Not thy folly but mine, 
 
 To death's dissolution 
 Thee doth resign. 
 
 Cho. How all too late the right you now divine ! 
 [Turn B.) 
 
 Cre . Ay me ! 
 
 Oh all too well I know it! Yet methinks, 
 these days 
 
 A God heavily 'lighting 
 
 Has oppressed my brain : 
 
 He smote and hurried me along bloodthirsty ways, 
 Ay me ! Spurned my pleasure, wrecked what 
 I’d upraise. 
 
 O man, man ! doomed to fighting 
 Pain, toil and pain ! 
 
196 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Enter a Messenger from the palace . 
 
 Mes. O Sir, enough in hand, enough in store ! < 139) 
 This much to come and go upon, and more 
 Anon, within, of troubles to be had ! 
 
 Cre. What worse can yet remain when all’s so bad ? 
 Mes. Your wife is dead—to motherhood too true, 
 Poor lady ! Fresh the cuts her knife did hew. 
 
 ( Counter-turn A.) 
 
 Cre. Heigho! 
 
 O, past all atoning, 
 
 Thou, hav’n ot Death, 
 
 Thou bringest me to naught ! 
 
 Tale of woe rumoureth 
 This convoy of anguish, 
 
 Ill-tidings-fraught. 
 
 Why will ye have a dead man 
 Despatched anew ? 
 
 Rehearse the grief you said, man ! 
 
 What more’s to rue ? 
 
 A victim yet to fall ? 
 
 A wife lost ! The crowning 
 Doom closes all ! 
 
 Cho. You may behold : ’tis no more closeted. Lo ! 
 [The doors open and the body a/Eurydice is exposed. 
 
 (Counterturn B .) 
 
 Cre . Here, sorrow-stricken, I behold another blow ! 
 Remains yet any other ? 
 
 Is any yet undone ? 
 
 This little while my arms uplift my child, and oh, 
 Alas ! here before my face yet one lies low ! 
 
 Oh ill-starred the mother, 
 
 Ill-starred the son ! 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 J 9 7 
 
 Mes . She at the altar’s base with whetted blade 
 
 Relaxed her darkling eyelids. Loud she made 
 Lament for Megareus, (140) nobly doomed before, 
 And then for him ; and last on you she laid, 
 Who killed her sons, a spell of trouble in store. 
 
 “ That stony-paven bridal-bower of the grave” 
 
SOPHOCLES 
 
 198 
 
 [Turn C.) 
 
 Cre . Ay me ! ay me ! 
 
 The fears I’m possess’d with ! 
 
 Why comes there none 
 To strike deep my breast with 
 
 Two-edg£d blade ? 
 
 O the miserable one ! 
 
 With anguish to anguish 
 
 My bones are brayed ! 
 
 Ales. Ay, for the guilt of this and that blood shed 
 Were you impeached by her that now is sped. 
 Cre. After what bloody sort did she depart ? 
 
 Mes. Her stab went suicidal home to the heart, 
 When she had word of him piteously dead. 
 
 [Turn D.) 
 
 Cre . Ay me ! ne'er on other 
 
 Name, midst mankind, 
 
 The burdens that smother 
 
 Me, shall they bind. 
 
 ’Twas I, I that slew thee 
 (O cruel case !); 
 
 Confest, I did undo thee ! 
 
 Oh, forth the place 
 Remove, hurry me, loving 
 
 Hands, forth convey ! 
 
 Say ne’er He's as nothing — 
 
 He is not , say ! 
 
 L. of Cho. Counsel of gain—if gain’s here any more 
 Least is the best of troubles at the door. 
 
ANTIGONE 
 
 199 
 
 ( Counter-turn C.) 
 
 Cre . Draw nigh, anigh ! 
 
 Approach doom supremest, 
 
 So dear and great 
 Beyond all thou seemest; 
 
 Lead on with thee 
 Unambiguous fate ! 
 
 And these eyes no longer 
 
 Sunlight shall see. 
 
 L. of Cho. That’s yet to come : we’ve here enough to 
 adjust 
 
 In hand. The rest may lie where lie it must. 
 Cre. On that I doat,( 141 > which all my prayer exprest. 
 L. of Cho. Then pray no more ! Man gets, as Fate 
 likes best, 
 
 A lot; and stays perforce thereof possest. 
 
 ( Counter-turn D.) 
 
 Cre. Away, forth convey the 
 
 Rash fool, away! 
 
 I ne'er meant to slay thee, 
 
 Child, I did slay. 
 
 And her too ! I slew them ! 
 
 O cruel case ! 
 
 I’ve no heart to view them ; 
 
 No resting-place. 
 
 To wry ends abhorred 
 
 Swerves all I touch : 
 
 And Doom round my forehead, 
 
 Swooped, keeps his clutch. 
 
200 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 Finale {in march measure ) 
 
 Cho. Wisdom’s a great way first in the making 
 Of a happy estate ! No duty to God 
 Leave unacquitted. Great boasts breaking 
 From presumptuous men, for reward taking 
 Great stripes of the rod, 
 
 Bring a fool in his age to th’ awaking. 
 
 \Exeunt omnes . 
 
COMMENTARY 
 
 KING CEDIPUS 
 
 1 The suppliant carried a branch tufted with 
 flocks of wool, and laid it upon the altar or altar- 
 steps. So to i deposit your branch ’ was a synonym 
 for to come with a suppliant’s petition (Demosthenes, 
 de Corona). The successful suppliant removed his 
 branch. 2 i.e. thank-offering from such as have escaped 
 the plague. 3 Others interpret the Greek word by 
 ‘ acquiescence.’ 4 i.e . a public deputation. 5 Known 
 respectively as Athena Oncaia and Athena Ismenia. 
 6 Altar of Apollo on the bank of the Ismenus, where 
 divination by fire was practised. 7 i.e. the Plague of 
 Fever personified. 8 “ Perhaps at these words the 
 actor prostrates himself at the King’s feet ” ( Scholiast ). 
 9 “We see that men of experience have more success 
 by their flukes than the inexperienced and theoretical 
 men,” says Aristotle ( Metaph. 981a 14). The Chorus 
 Leader is flattering CEdipus’ favourite weakness—con¬ 
 ceit in his own mother-wit. 10 Imitated in Ap. Rhod. 
 Argon, ii. 633. 11 See Aristoph. Plutus , 21. 12 Creon 
 
 equivocates because the first word spoken by a new¬ 
 comer, especially on a solemn occasion, is an omen : 
 a bad word might bring bad luck. 13 For the im¬ 
 probability of CEdipus’ ignorance, see Jebb’s Introd. 
 
 201 
 
202 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 p. xxv. 14 A very fine example of the i Sophoclean 
 irony.’ CEdipus has heard only a moment before 
 that it was ‘ robbers,’ yet by a slip of the tongue he 
 uses the singular ; and the audience thinks of him. 
 15 Already a suspicion of Creon’s complicity. 16 So 
 the Greek, literally; but, in fact, the ceremony was an 
 asperging with a brand dipped in holy water (cf. Eur. 
 Hercules , 922). 17 The Scholiast calls this particular 
 
 example of Sophoclean irony c rather sensational than 
 in keeping with the grand manner,’ and thinks it 
 worthier of Euripides than Sophocles. 18 An inten¬ 
 tional equivoque : the Greek phrase conveys either 
 “ your wife” or u your temper .” 19 The abruptness of this 
 question betrays a suspicion long entertained. 20 See 
 Philoctetes , 138. 21 Properly an itinerant minister of 
 
 the orgiastic worship of the Great Mother (Cybele), 
 introduced from Asia and already strong in popular 
 favour. 22 The Sphinx, kvcov is used with great free¬ 
 dom in metaphor, e.g. of eagles (Aesch.), of harpies 
 (Ap. Rhod.), of the god Pan (Pindar). Balladmonger , 
 because she had installed herself in the public place of 
 Thebes like a rhapsode come to recite. 23 i.e. not a 
 slave or resident alien, who might not defend them¬ 
 selves in person, but must be represented by their 
 master or patron. 24 Apollo, son of Zeus. 25 For the 
 bull as the type of surly moping, see Jebb’s examples. 
 26 I have not rendered the two slightly different 
 measures in these stanzas (change from choriambics 
 to ionics) : both express the agitating debate in the 
 mind of the Chorus between the authority of CEdipus 
 and that of Teiresias. They conclude by ranging 
 themselves provisionally with the King in his distrust 
 of prophets, therein typifying the agnostic intellectuals 
 
COMMENTARY 
 
 203 
 
 of Athens, who did not deny the supernatural, but dis¬ 
 credited any claim by one man to be its interpreter 
 more than any other. 27 This obscure phrase is most 
 probably explained by Schneidewin’s reference to 
 Aelian H. A. 7, 48 : to take count of a place by calcula¬ 
 tion of stars — to avoid it. 28 The Chorus, whose per¬ 
 petual role is to stand for the unprejudiced average, and 
 who have only doubtfully inclined to take sides with 
 CEdipus against Teiresias, are now shocked into a timid 
 normal piety. They sing the dangers of Pride, u/ 3 /h?, 
 of which one aspect is the tyrannous usage of Creon 
 by CEdipus, and another — intellectual pride — is the 
 scepticism of CEdipus and still more of Jocasta (pp. 1 , li). 
 29 i.e. CEdipus’ ordeal with the Sphinx : they fear the 
 popular hero may now be overthrown. 30 Because 
 prevailing impiety is a public danger, may be visited 
 upon all ; indeed, if it is not visited with punishment, 
 what meaning is left in religious exercises ?—“ Why 
 tread we a measure ? ” 81 The three great shrines— 
 
 Delphi, the Navel stone ; Abae, in Phocis (Herod, 
 viii. 33), and Olympia. 32 Literally, ‘ wife in full 
 complement ’; a house without master or without 
 children was called rjfUTeXrjs, ‘at half complement.’ 
 33 See Note 12. 34 For an exhaustive account 
 
 of the recognition of Tvgrj as a goddess, and, in 
 later Greek times, her supreme importance, see Rohde, 
 Der Griechische Roman , &c., p. 276. 36 i.e. I was a 
 
 castaway and am now a king. 36 As in Ajax and in 
 Antigone , just before the disaster a false hope lures the 
 Chorus to sing an ode of exultation. They jump at 
 the guess that CEdipus is a child of some nymph (these 
 are the 6 folk undying ’—cf. Aesch. in P. V. 553, of the 
 nymphs in his chorus) by one of the pastoral gods 
 
204 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 —Pan, Apollo, Hermes, or Bacchus. 37 i.e. the 
 autumnal equinox. 38 In allusion to the chorus on 
 p. 43. 39 Providence personified in a Aai/uov. It 
 
 may be the Daemon of a family or of an individual; 
 the conception varies between a Destiny, a Genius, a 
 Guardian Angel, and a possessing Fiend. 
 
 CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS 
 
 40 Athens — that is, Attica according to the heroic 
 nomenclature. 41 For the names and attributes of the 
 Eumenides, see Warr’s Aeschylus. 42 A natural chasm 
 here, perhaps originally volcanic, reputed (like most 
 such places) an entrance to the underworld, had its 
 adit paved with steps of bronze or brass (see Jebb’s 
 notes on 0 . C. 57 and 1690). 43 A statue of Colonos 
 
 is shewn on the stage. The name merely means hill, 
 but the Greeks, of course, invented an eponymous 
 hero, as it were an original Mr. Hill, to personalise 
 the spot in legend : just as the 4 Secret Isle ’ became 
 the goddess Calypso. 44 v. Aesch. Eum. 107. 45 Be¬ 
 
 cause 4 nothing would satisfy him ’ (as we would 
 say), but he must commit this sacrilegious trespass. 
 46 Literally, 4 giving speechless vent to the reverence in 
 their heart.'* 47 See 42. 48 The dactylic monody, 
 
 44 the latest development of the dactylic measure,” only 
 appears once in Sophocles ( Philoctetes, 1196), except 
 here. It is a concession—like all this amcebaean 
 passage of lyrics—to a change of taste at Athens. 
 The disintegration of Tragedy moved in two direc¬ 
 tions, led by Euripides—towards the Prose Drama 
 and towards the Opera. The public desired bravuras 
 
COMMENTARY 
 
 205 
 
 in which fashionable singers might shine in the 
 execution of increasingly complicated music. In such 
 passages it is idle to look for much pure literary effect in 
 the bare surviving libretto. Some ancient editors denied 
 the authenticity of Antigone’s solo and the following 
 four lines. 49 The bracketed lines look rather like an 
 alternative version. 50 “Thessalian felts were ex¬ 
 cellent,” says the Scholiast, and quotes Callimachus 
 in support. A cap-shaped crown with a broad brim 
 may be seen as headpiece to some of the fourth 
 century terra-cotta statuettes. 51 Derived from Hero¬ 
 dotus, ii. 35. 52 i.e. when one word might have saved 
 
 me. 53 The Eumenides. 54 See 44. 55 Verg. Eel. 
 
 viii. 101. 66 i.e . Antigone. 67 The Council of Areo¬ 
 
 pagus : for its powers in this particular, see Jebb on 
 O. C. 947. 58 The doctrine is this : If a man sin 
 
 wilfully, he is punished by gods with an infatuation 
 which leads him on to sin again. CEdipus is con¬ 
 scious of no wilful wrong in himself (see p. 83), there¬ 
 fore he ascribes his involuntary misdeeds to a family 
 curse, working as described in Antigone (chorus on 
 p. 161). 59 The shore near Eleusis, bright because of 
 
 the torchlight processions at the Eleusinian Festival. 
 c0 Metaphorical for the pledge not to reveal the Mys¬ 
 teries. Jebb has an admirably full commentary on 
 the whole passage, concerning the Eumolpid priest¬ 
 hood, &c. 61 Artemis. 62 This cant antithesis of 
 
 the day (see Thucydides, passim) gives point to 
 A. Croiset’s suggestion that Sophocles designed to 
 portray in Theseus the liberal virtues of Periclean 
 Athens. 63 For this pessimism, see Introd. Essay, pp. 
 lvi and lx. It is part of the Ionian colour with which 
 Sophocles is everywhere touched, and in this play 
 
206 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 especially more than tinged. Bacchylides has the 
 same sentiment (v. 160, Kenyon), 6 vcltoI<jl jit) cfrdvcu 
 (pepicrrov ; the Schol. quotes Theognis, 425, to the 
 same effect, and Jebb furnishes other like passages. 
 64 i.e. in the beggar’s usual wallet. The Schol. notes 
 the rhetorical skill in the arrangement of Polyneices’ 
 speech. 65 i.e. the curse on your house. 66 Pelopon- 
 nese—so called from a mythical King Apis. 67 For 
 this list as well as for the story, see Aeschylus’ Septem 
 and Euripides’ Phoenissae y and Statius’ Thebais: com¬ 
 pare also Antigone , pp. 142-44. 68 See 39. 69 i.e. sym¬ 
 
 bolic posture as suppliant, to which Polyneices has 
 appealed in God's votaristP 70 They —the curses. 
 The Cyclic Thebaid gave as the reason for CEdipus’ 
 curses a legend of Hesiodic rudeness : Eteocles and 
 Polyneices used to send to CEdipus in his blindness a 
 shoulder of sacrificial meat ; one day they fob him 
 off with an inferior joint, and in anger he curses them. 
 This tale was employed by the writers of New 
 Comedy, with whom the cookery motif was a favour¬ 
 ite. The Scholiast (on 0 . C. 1375) quotes a line of 
 Menander and a considerable anonymous fragment from 
 a writer of the early fourth century. 71 I think the 
 meaning of this grim epithet lies in the ‘ fatherless to 
 me ,’ eight lines above : he implies, i Erebus, that is all 
 the father you have left.’ 72 These verses serve to 
 connect the present play with Antigone , its sequel in 
 dramatic order, but composed some thirty or forty 
 years earlier. 73 i.e. this is a second painful scene in 
 which CEdipus figures : first, the episode of Creon, 
 now this with Polyneices. The supernatural char¬ 
 acter of CEdipus is now more clearly perceived by 
 the Chorus, who are completely reconverted, and 
 
COMMENTARY 
 
 207 
 
 prepared to justify all the ways of God to men. 74 The 
 Thebans, as brood of the Dragon’s teeth which 
 Cadmus planted. 75 It is hard to avoid reading into 
 these lines and CEdipus’ former address to Theseus 
 on p. 85, Sophocles’ judgment on the latter days of 
 his lifetime, the rapid downfall of Athens in punish¬ 
 ment for her vfipis. 76 Text doubtful. 77 See 42. 
 Threshold Cataract, i.e. the downward plunging or 
 precipitous threshold. 78 A natural hollow in the ground 
 (like our English Devil's Punchbowls ), named by legend 
 the place where Theseus and Peirithous made a pact 
 together before descending into Hades, whence they 
 were rescued by Hercules (see Euripides’ Hercules). 
 The tallies were probably marks on the rock (Jebb) 
 
 79 The Scholiast’s refusal to explain is the most reason¬ 
 able commentary on these local particulars : “ these 
 things are familiar to the people of the placef he says. 
 
 80 Demeter Euchloos’ shrine stood on a neighbouring 
 small hill (v. map in Jebb’s Introduction). 81 The 
 Greek leaves it doubtful whether their crying or the 
 thunder is meant. 82 i.e. ‘ since Fate takes this 
 course ’—a metaphor perhaps from the trend of a 
 road. 83 i.e. unhonoured with funeral rites. 84 The 
 parts played by the sisters respectively in Antigone 
 are excellently foreshadowed in this short duet : Is- 
 mene submissive and cautious, Antigone all enthusiasm 
 and passionate affection. 85 This vague phrase seems 
 to convey both kindness from the Gods Underground , 
 and also the blessing which it was foretold should accrue 
 upon CEdipus' burying-place. 
 
208 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 ANTIGONE 
 
 86 Evidently when he wrote this, Sophocles had as 
 yet no thought of the Colonean part of the story. 
 87 i.e. her dead brothers, or perhaps (by an euphemistic 
 plural) Polyneices alone. 88 There , i.e. by the usual 
 Greek idiom, in death. 89 The religious obligation of 
 burial. 90 The mystical turn of phrase suits with 
 Antigone’s state of spiritual exaltation. 91 Admirably 
 in character : a vulgar dramatist would have made her 
 bind Ismene to secrecy. 92 i.e. enthusiasm in an un¬ 
 promising cause. 93 The etymological meaning of the 
 name Polyneices. So in Queen Elizabeth’s poem— 
 
 “ The Daughter of Debate, 
 
 That eke discord doth sow ”— 
 
 of Mary Queen of Scots. 94 See 74. 95 This stanza and 
 the next Turn specially refer to Capaneus, taken as 
 type of the assaulting army. See Polyneices’ cata¬ 
 logue of the Seven (p. 116 of this volume) and Jebb’s 
 note on 0 . C. 1319. 96 Literally, “Ares, that off 
 
 trace-horse.” The Greek felt nothing undignified 
 in this common metaphor for a helper at need 
 (see Aesch. Agamemnon , 842). 97 Zeus Tropaios. 
 
 98 Eteocles and Polyneices. 99 i.e. Thebes, cf. p. 174. 
 Critias (fr. 1) attributes the invention of the chariot to 
 Thebes. 100 The subtlety of Greek can equivocate 
 between 4 own ’ and 4 kindred ’ in such words as 
 avrogeip and <£/A,o?, cf. p. 191:— 
 
 “ Mes. Haemon, by hands familiar overthrown. 
 
 Chor. By the hand of his father, or his own ? ” 
 
 101 The proverb, 44 Office shews the manf was attri¬ 
 buted to Bias and others of the Seven Sages. 102 i.e. 
 
COMMENTARY 
 
 209 
 
 just enough to constitute a formal burying and so 
 escape the defilement of passing by an unburied 
 corpse (v. the authorities collected by Jebb on Ant. 
 255). 103 i.e. a disaffected party in Thebes. 104 This 
 
 rhetorical patch of Euripidean sophism (like the 
 passage between Creon and the Messenger presently, 
 and like the dialogue between Creon and Haemon, 
 pp. 164, 165) is characteristic of Sophocles’ earlier 
 manner, exemplified also in Ajax . The later plays 
 are singularly pure from such matter ; in particular, it 
 is the admirable relevancy of every line which makes 
 CEdipus Rex his masterpiece. 105 Perhaps an echo of 
 Prodicus the Sophist, who first articulated the differ¬ 
 ences between 4 synonyms,’ and drew out antitheses 
 of 4 opinion ’ and 4 afterthought,’ 4 guessing ’ and 
 4 certainty,’ &c. 106 The course of thought in this 
 
 chorus is, first, the marvellous ingenuity and power of 
 man ; next, the degeneration of these talents into 
 knavery. 107 Her doctrine is that human law is cir¬ 
 cumscribed by divine law ; when it transgresses this 
 major obligation it loses validity. 108 Theirs — the 
 dead. 109 The dust which Antigone sprinkled on her 
 brother by way of burial is bloody because it causes her 
 death. 110 Surmise. ’EXttU includes in Greek all our 
 several notions of hope , belief anticipation , surmise. 
 111 Quern perdere vult Deus } prius dementat is taken from 
 an anonymous Greek tragic fragment quoted here 
 by the Schol. :— 
 
 8rav 5 ’ 6 dai/icjv avdpi iropavvri k<xkcl 
 
 tov vovv 2j3\a\J/e Trp&Tov ip f3ov\ei>eTCU 
 
 (v. Jebb’s Appendix). 112 A cant phrase like our 
 4 gospel-truth.’ 113 That, technically , she may not be 
 starved to death. Jebb cites the usage of allotting a 
 
 o 
 
210 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 dole to a vestal virgin at Rome when she was buried 
 alive (Plutarch, Num. io). 114 Niobe, daughter of 
 Tantalus, queen to Amphion of Thebes. For a dis¬ 
 cussion of the Niobe in the rock on Mt. Sipylus, see 
 Jebb’s note on 831. 116 See 99. 116 Venture^ by a 
 
 common ironical euphemism for sin. The doctrine of 
 heredity in guilt is, I think, invariably reserved for 
 lyrics, and not introduced among dramatic motifs of 
 the first order, except in a perfunctory hint like 
 0 . C. 965. Professor Butcher has shewn how much its 
 influence, even upon Aeschylus, has been exaggerated. 
 117 That is, the service rendered to Polyneices is a 
 kind of service rendered to God. 118 Eteocles. 
 119 The bracketed verses are perhaps not from the 
 hand of Sophocles, unless we have here one of those 
 “unaccountable lapses” with which the author of 
 The Sublime taxes him. The verbal evidence (which 
 decisively condemns a similar rhetorical amplification 
 in Ajax) is slightly against their authenticity. But 
 the thought is derived from Sophocles’ favourite 
 Herodotus ; and the lines stood in the text as early as 
 Aristotle’s day, who cites them in illustration of a 
 canon of rhetoric. From Sophocles’ finished work 
 we might strike them out unhesitatingly, but there 
 are other passages in Antigone which shew that the 
 sophistic influence was peculiarly strong upon him 
 when he wrote this play. Certainly the passage is 
 better without them : they fall coldly across the 
 midst of her passionate parting speech. 120 General 
 theme—the cruelty of Fate upon the guiltless and 
 the guilty. Two examples point to Antigone, a third 
 (Lycurgus) prepares for Creon’s punishment. 121 Ly- 
 curgus, King of Thrace, who played the same part as 
 
COMMENTARY 
 
 211 
 
 Pentheus at Thebes in resisting the cult of Dionysus. 
 From its kinship with Dionysian origins, there was 
 no more favourite subject of tragedy. According to 
 one version, he was imprisoned in bonds of vine ; if 
 Sophocles followed this account, “ bonds of stone ” 
 will mean u bonds stiff as stone ” : so the Scholiast. 
 122 “Phineus married Cleopatra, daughter of Boreas 
 and Oreithuia, and by her had two sons, whose names 
 are variously given. After her death he married 
 Idaea, daughter of Dardanus, or, according to another 
 account, Eidothea, sister of Cadmus. She treacher¬ 
 ously blinded Cleopatra’s sons, and imprisoned them 
 in a tomb ” (Apollodorus). 123 Unwed for unhappily 
 wed , probably ; but the expression is obscure and 
 equivocal, and the many variants of the legend make 
 it even more doubtful. 124 Oreithuia, her mother, was 
 daughter to Erechtheus, King of Attica. 125 An alloy 
 of gold with silver. 126 The Gods of Heaven do not 
 concern themselves with burial, which is the Under¬ 
 gods’ (Pluto, Hecate, &c.) province ; but now they 
 are provoked by Creon’s outrage, and the Erinues 
 will pursue him by their commission as well as the 
 commission of the Gods of Hades. 127 For not only 
 Polyneices, but the foreign invaders with whom he 
 was leagued, had been left unburied. Sophocles 
 alludes to the favourite Athenian legend of the Sup- 
 plices , at whose request Theseus forced the Thebans 
 to accord burial to the dead Argives (see Jebb’s 
 Note and Appendix). 128 Literally, “ those of you who 
 are there and those who are not.” I have tried to 
 imitate this forcible absurdity. 129 See 36. Creon 
 has yielded ! The Chorus return to the point of 
 mind where they were at the end of the first chorus 
 
2 l2 
 
 SOPHOCLES 
 
 (p. 145), and call upon Bacchus to come and lead the 
 rejoicings in victorious Thebes. 130 Demeter, because 
 Iacchus shared with her in the Mysteries.. 131 For 
 the Corycian cave on Mount Parnassus, see Aesch. 
 Eum. 22. 132 Almost in every country where Diony¬ 
 
 sus was worshipped there was a Nysa to -justify his 
 name. Here it is in Euboea. 133 Semel£. 134 The 
 Euripus. 135 The elements share in the Dionysiac 
 exultation (Eur. Ion. 1078). 136 Hecate. 137 “ The 
 
 kind of tomb which the poet here imagines is perhaps 
 best represented in Greece by the rock tombs of 
 Nauplia and of Spata in Attica. These consist of 
 chambers worked horizontally into the rock, and 
 approached by a passage or Spofios, answering to that 
 which Creon’s men have to traverse before they reach 
 the GTopuov of the tomb ” (Jebb). 138 i.e. foolish in his 
 would-be wisdom. 139 As it were a current account 
 and a deposit account of misfortunes. Such is the 
 man’s homely trade metaphor. 140 Megareus or 
 Menoeceus was Haemon’s only brother, who devoted 
 himself, as one descended from the Dragon stock, to 
 appease the anger of Ares against Thebes (see Eur. 
 Phoen. 930 foil., and Statius’ Thebais , x. 589). 141 Creon 
 plays to CEdipus (p. 61) the part that the Chorus here 
 plays to him. 
 
INDEX 
 
 TO THE TOPICS OF THE INTRODUCTION 
 
 Aeschylus, xvii— 
 
 his counter - reformation, 
 xxv 
 
 his technique, xxxiv-v, xl 
 the Oresteia, xxxv 
 his genius, xxxix 
 his religion, li 
 Prometheus Luomenos , liv 
 Alexander Aetolus, lxxviii 
 Anaxagoras, xxv 
 Antiphon, xliv 
 
 Architecture, analogy from, 
 xxiii 
 
 Argos, xxiv 
 Aristophanes, xvii, xxx 
 Arnold, M., quoted, xviii, liv-v, 
 lix, lx 
 
 Athens under Pericles, xxii 
 
 Bacchylides, Aegeus, xxxiv 
 Barr&s, Maurice, quoted, xix 
 Boutmy, E., xxii, xxxix 
 Burial, as a motif , liii 
 Burke quoted, lxxiii 
 Byron, Marino Faliero, xliv 
 
 Charity, liii 
 Cicero quoted, lxxi 
 Colonos, lxxi 
 
 213 
 
 Counter-reformation under 
 Pindar and Aeschylus, xxv 
 Creon in Antigone , 1 
 Croiset, A., quoted, xxxviii 
 
 De Quincey quoted, xxix, 
 xxxi, xxxvi 
 
 Dionysius Halic. quoted, lxxv 
 Dionysus, xxxiii 
 
 ev/3ov\la, li, lv-vi 
 Euripides— 
 
 his scepticism, xxv, xlvii, 
 xlix 
 
 Cyclops , xxvii 
 
 contrasted with Sophocles, 
 xxviii, liii, lxvi, lxxiv, 
 lxxix 
 
 un-Periclean in spirit, xxxi 
 begins the New Tragedy, 
 xxxii, xxxvi 
 his realism, xli, lxxiv 
 his choruses, xlv 
 his inconsistency, lii 
 
 Four hundred, Revolution of 
 the, lix 
 
 Gorgias (see Sophists) 
 
214 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Heber quoted, xliv 
 Herodotus, xxix, xlvii 
 
 Ion of Chios, xxx 
 
 Jocasta (in (Ed. i?.), 1 
 
 Kinglake quoted, xxxiii 
 
 Longinus quoted, lxxiv-v 
 
 fxavTLKT] (Seers and Seercraft), 
 xlviii, lii 
 
 Mercantile class, xxix 
 Messengers’ speeches, lxxxiv 
 Milton, xx 
 
 Nature, classical sentiment for, 
 lxx 
 
 Neoptolemus , xlvii, Iviii, lxii 
 Odysseus , xlvii, lxii 
 Parthenon, xlii 
 
 Peloponnesian War, xxvii, 
 xxviii 
 
 Periclean Age, xxi, xxvi, xxxi, 
 lxxxvi 
 
 Pericles, xxiv, xxx, Iviii 
 Philoctetes , xlvii 
 Pindar, xxv, xli, lxxv 
 Plutarch quoted, xxxviii, 
 lxxiii, lxxv 
 
 Probable, the, as a canon of art, 
 xxxv 
 
 Religion, Greek, xlvi 
 Renaissance in Italy, xxi 
 Renan quoted, lxxxvi 
 Representative artists, xx, xxi, 
 xxviii 
 
 Ruskin, his doctrine of Peace 
 
 and War exemplified, xxiv; 
 quoted, xliii 
 
 Scepticism, xxv 
 
 Simmias Thebanus quoted, 
 lxxii 
 
 Smallness a quality of beauty, 
 lxxiii 
 
 Socrates, xxv, lii 
 Sophists, xxxviii, xli, lxxix 
 Sophocles— 
 
 his impersonality, xvii, 
 lxviii-ix 
 
 his classic position, xix 
 his birth, xxvii 
 anecdotes of him, xxx, 
 Iviii, lxviii 
 his task, xxxv 
 his improvements, xxxviii, 
 lxxxv 
 
 CEdipus Rex , xxxix, xliv, 
 xlix, liv 
 
 the artist in words, xli 
 his iambic, xliii, xliv 
 CEdipus Coloneus, xliii, liv, 
 lxv, lxix, lxxi, lxxiii, 
 lxxvii, lxxx 
 
 Ajax, xliii, xliv, 1, lvi, 
 lxxvii, lxxviii, lxxxi 
 his choruses, xlv 
 Antigone, xlviii, 1, lv, lvi-vii, 
 lix, lxiii, lxv 
 
 his mysticism, li, liii, lxiii 
 his tenderness, lvi 
 his Ionicism, lx 
 his sensuousness, lxi 
 his Greek fondness for 
 cunning, lxii 
 his sententiae, lxvi-viii 
 his style, lxxii-lxxxiv 
 his alleged avw/xaXla, lxxv 
 Electra , lxxvi 
 
INDEX 21 
 
 Sophocles (continued) 
 
 his philological sense, lxxix 
 his personifications, lxxxiii 
 2o(p6K\et.op ddos, xliv 
 Speculation, the rise of, xxxvii 
 State-right, lvi 
 
 Story telling, Greek genius for, 
 xxxiii 
 
 Tacitus, xlvii-viii 
 Tennyson, xxviii, lxxix 
 Teukros (in Ajax), xlvi, lxxviii 
 Thucydides, xxxviii 
 
 Time, Sophoclean conception 
 of, as agent, lxiv-vi 
 Tolerance, lv 
 
 Tragedy, nature of Attic, xxxiii 
 
 Trilogy, xxxix 
 
 Trochaic tetrameter, xxxiv 
 
 i)/3pts, 1 
 
 Wordsworth, lxxvi 
 Xenophon quoted, xix 
 
 THE END 
 
 Printed b.y Ballantyne, Hanson Co. 
 Edinburgh &• London 
 
PA3626.A2A7 134852 
 
 Author Sophocles 
 
 Tit * e Works 
 
 
 — • 
 
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 BORROWER’S NAME 
 
 •>x 
 
 NI . w C i:c CAJiTHY 
 
 i f.uck;:-j st 
 
 /b ! ' r 
 
 * ff; 
 
 :3T ROXB.UfiY 3 
 
 313 
 
 - j . 
 
 
 to 
 
 n L SUHBEBO | 
 
 | * '-7— 
 
 . ct A r. r 
 
 ^ 1 A r 
 
 r .y L Au n\-" 
 
 I 
 
 f . « 
 
 -V } -i 
 
 ' • 4 - i . ' V w 
 
 
 
 *+ 
 
 
 
DATE DUE 
 
 BORROWER’S NAME 
 
 s 
 
 rr, ? - ! ' f 
 
 L i ! , SAMIlON 
 
 4 •** 
 
 11L. a V c; • 
 
 1 ’ 
 
 t-i-- 
 
 rf 
 
 :> fi. r" v. 
 
 , 168 &U& ^ 
 
 .*> ** u >' w 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 it 
 
 ~ r t V 1 N & - ' *' * 
 
 1 i - ' % . „ 
 
 vg t 5 * 
 
 £ 6 9 .. 
 
 : .y*.stSK 6® ^ 
 
 ra :■ . CON 
 
 g * J 
 
 HJHO COVU*0 . 
 
 * 
 
 
 ‘(X'lLXJl Ax^j2*jP 
 
 ( 
 
 / - *. 
 
 J“D 
 
 t 1 ■* 
 
 Cl» 
 
 329-5f-S07^ 
 
 / "• 
 
 
 o