Sophocles - Oedipus at Colonus (trans: Grennan) lyrics

OEDIPUS 1056-1116 Shameless arrogance! Whom do you think you wound with these words? Me in my old age or you in yours? You who've spewed out murders and marriages and misfortunes, which I 1060 in my wretchedness endured against my will. That was what pleased the gods-from some old anger, perhaps, against my family. For if it were a question of me alone, you couldn't with any justice reproach me for any wrongdoing I paid for by grievously wronging myself and mine. So teach me, then: if a certain decree of the oracle was hanging over my father's head, that said he'd meet his d**h at the hands. of his children, how in justice blame me for this-I then unfathered, unmothered, still unborn? And 1070 beyond that, if the light I was born to was the light of misery, and I came to blows with my father and k**ed him knowing nothing of whom I fought, of what I did how could you blame me for an act done in ignorance? And, wretch that you are, you feel no shame in forcing me to speak-- as speak I will-of this marriage to my mother, your own blood sister? You lack all piety and let your tongue run away with you. 1080 So yes, I'll speak now, I won't be silent: She gave birth to me, and she who bore me-Aahh! the horror of it: I didn't know, she didn't her bitter shame conceived children with me. Yet there's one thing I do know: that you mouth these things willingly against me, against her, while I, not willing it, wed her and must speak of it now, though I've no wish to. But I'll not hear myself called evil for this: neither for the marriage nor for the murder-that bitter reproach 1090 always in your mouth. Just answer me one question, it will settle everything: if someone-anyone standing here this minute tried to k** you, you the just man, would you stop to inquire if he was your father or would you strike back to revenge the blow? If you love your life, I think you'd quickly repay in kind the one who struck first and not look for the justice in it. And, with the gods guiding me, that was exactly the trouble 1100 that I walked into. So I think even my father's spirit, were he living, would have no reason to argue against me. But you-you who are unjust and think it right to say anything speakable or unspeakable you reproach me with such things in front of these men and choose to flatter Theseus to his face, and Athens, too, praising her good order. But though you're lavish in flattery you forget this praise: that of all countries this one knows best how to reverence the gods-- 1110 this land here from which you intended to snatch me away, an old man and a suppliant, and tried to lay hands on me, and took my daughters. To answer all this I call on the Goddesses, and I beseech them and pray they will be my allies and come to my aid, so you can learn just what sort of men are guarding this city. 1741-1848 (messenger's speech) Enter Messenger from the direction of Athens. Messenger: Men of the city! The quickest way I could tell my story would be to say, “Oedipus is dead!” But no short speech could explain what happened, nor even could the deeds themselves, many as they were. Chorus Leader: Then he's dead, the unfortunate man? Messenger: Know this for sure: he's left this daily life of ours. Chorus Leader: Unhappy man! How did it happen? Was his end painless? Was it god-ordained? Messenger: Indeed it was, which makes the wonder of it. 1750 You were here, and you know already how he went forward from this place with none of his dear ones guiding him, but he himself guiding us all. But then, when he neared the threshold there—steep as a cliff, with its great bronze steps rooted in the earth—then he stood still on one path where the path divides, just there where a stone bowl marks the pact, everlasting, between Theseus and Peirithous. And there— halfway between that and Thoricos Rock, between 1760 the hollow pear tree and the tomb of stone - he sat down. Then, unwinding his filthy rags, those clothes he wore, he shouted orders to his children to bring water from the near stream for washing and making a libation. So right away the two of them ran to Demeter's stony rise, which stood in full view— Demeter, mother of all young plants. Then, with no more delay they brought him back all he asked for, preparing him, as the custom is, 1770 by bathing him and changing his garments. Then, when he'd done all he wished to do and every one of his desires was met, earth-dwelling Zeus thundered out and the two young women shuddered at the sound and fell at their father's knee in tears and kept beating their breasts and wouldn't give up their loud wailing cries. But he, when he heard their sudden bitter cries, folded them both in his arms, and he said: 1780 Children, on this day you have no father. All that was my life is destroyed on me now: you w on't ever again have to labor for me or look after me as you've always done. I know, children, what a hard life it's been. But there's one thing can dispel it all, one word is enough to wipe hardship away: Love, that this man had for you—no man can love you more. And now the two of you must go on living the rest of your lives without him. So he spoke, and the three of them 1790 together embraced each other, sobbing and crying. But when they'd shed their last tear at last and no more loud cries were filling the air, then there was silence. Then, all of a sudden, a voice, some voice, someone was summoning him. And every one of us felt the hair stand up on our heads with fear. For again and again a god calls him, echoing from every direction at once: 1800 You! You there. Oedipus! Why do we put off our departure like this? What a long delay you're making! Then, when he heard himself called by the god, he asked that Theseus, lord of this land, should draw near. And when Theseus had approached, he said: Friend of my heart, give these children the pledge of your hand, that time-honored pledge. And you , children, give your hands to this man. Promise me you'll never give up these women 1810 willingly to anyone. Promise me you'll always do what your heart tells you is for their good. Then Theseus, that large-hearted man, without pity or tears promised under oath that for the stranger he'd do all he was asked. And when all this was finished, Oedipus laid both his blind hands on his two children: Children, he said, you must be brave now, and go away from this place, and not judge it right to see what's forbidden 1820 or hear men say what must not be heard. So go now. Go quickly away. Let Theseus alone, who has authority here, remain to learn the things that are done in this place. All of us there, we heard him say this, and with those two young women—in tears. with loud moans—we moved away. But soon we turned, and from far off we saw that man was nowhere to be seen. and the king himself was holding his hand up 1830 to shade his eyes, as if there appeared some awesome terror, and he couldn't bear the sight. Then, in a little while, we see him, in silence, making a grave and stately bow at once to the earth and Olympus of the gods. But what sort of d**h took that man's life no mortal tongue could tell, except Theseus himself, that dear lord. No flaming thunderbolt from god dispatched him, and he wasn't snatched by a sudden sea-squall— 1840 but it was either some escort from the gods in heaven or those below in the land of the dead, or the dark deep earth itself breaking open with kindness. For the man was taken with no groaning, nor the pain of any sickness on him: his d**h a wonder, surely, if any man's d**h is. All I've spoken may seem mad to you, but I make no apology nor seek to be excused by anyone here who thinks me mad indeed.