Merope, a Dorian. Among the people there
I was held in most esteem, until
something happened, remarkable enough
though not enough, you’d think, to worry me.
A man who’d had his fill of wine at dinner
780
baited me, saying I was not my father’s son.
I was troubled, but held it in that day.
On the next day I went to my parents
and questioned them. They were annoyed
both at the insult and the man who’d made it.
I was pleased on their account, but all the same
it kept bothering me, for word of it got out.
I went then, unbeknownst to my parents,
to Pytho, and Phoebus sent me away
without what I’d come for, but to my sorrow
790
he gave me terrifying, miserable prophecies:
that I’d lie with my mother, and bring to light
a brood intolerable for men to see,
and be the killer of the father who sired me!
When I heard this, I shunned the land of Corinth,
determined, from now on, to let the stars
guide me away, to where I’d never see
the disgrace of my evil oracles fulfilled.
And on my way I reached the very place
where you have said this tyrant*67 met his death.
800
To you, my wife, I’ll tell the truth.
On my way to the crossing, I met a herald
and another man riding in a wagon
drawn by colts; he was just as you describe.
The man in front, and the older man as well,
both tried to force me off the road.
The driver, who was pushing me, I struck
in anger; the older man, when he saw that,
watched till I was passing, then came down
on my head with his double-pointed goad.
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But he paid the price for that, and more:
I hit him with my staff and sent him tumbling,
head first, straight from the middle of the wagon.
I killed them all. But if there’s some connection
between that stranger on the road and Laius,*68
who now would be more wretched than I,
what man could be more hated by the gods?
No foreigner or citizen could bring him
into his home, no one could talk to him:
they’d drive him from their houses. And I’m the one
820
who placed these curses on myself!
And with the very hands by which he perished
I have defiled his bed. Am I not vile?
Unholy to the core?—if I must be exiled
and in my exile never see my own,
never set foot on native land, or else
lie with my mother and kill my father,
Polybus, who gave me life and brought me up?
Whoever took all this to be the work
of a savage god would speak the truth!
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May I never, never, pure and holy gods,
see that day! Let me vanish instead
from the sight of men before I see
the stain of such disaster come upon me!
CHORUS LEADER: All this, my lord, is alarming, but until
you’ve heard from the one who saw, be hopeful.
OEDIPUS: Yes, that’s what my hopes amount to now—
nothing to do but wait for him, the shepherd!
JOCASTA: And when he has appeared, what then?
OEDIPUS: I’ll tell you “what then.” If he turns out to say
840
the same as you, then I escape, I’m free.
JOCASTA: What did I say that meant so much?
OEDIPUS: You said that he reported it was bandits
who cut him down. If then he still says
the same number, I am not the killer,
for one cannot be the same as many;
but if he speaks of one traveler alone,
then the balance turns against me.
JOCASTA: Well, rest assured he said it that way then
and can’t unsay it now, for the whole city
850
heard him, not just I alone. And even if
he tells it somewhat differently now,
he’ll never make the murder of Laius
square with Loxias’ prediction, which said
the son he had by me must kill him.
And yet that poor creature never
killed him, but died himself before.
As for prophecy, then, I wouldn’t look
to the right or to the left,*69 not after this!
OEDIPUS: Your point’s well taken, but all the same, send
860
someone to fetch the slave, and make sure you do it.
JOCASTA: I will, at once. Meanwhile, let’s go inside—
I’ll do as you desire, and nothing else.
(Exit Oedipus and Jocasta into the palace. The Chorus now sing their second ode.)
strophe 1
May it be my lot to go on throughout my life
with holy reverence in all my words
and deeds, reverence whose laws are made
to stride on high, sired
in the heavenly ether, Olympus
alone their father—the mortal
nature of men had no share
870
in their birth, nor shall oblivion ever
put them to sleep.
Great is the god in them, and he grows not old.
antistrophe 1
Arrogance*70 breeds the tyrant—arrogance, when
it is fed, glutted on a plenty
neither right nor fitting,
clambers up to the topmost cornice
and rushes to the edge
of the abyss, where its feet
have no use. But I beseech the god
880
never to abolish the strife
that benefits the city,
the god I will never cease to hold as my protector.
strophe 2
But if a man goes his way with disdain
in his hands or on his lips, having no
fear of justice, no
reverence for the shrines of the gods,
may an evil fate lay hold of him
for his recklessness, doomed to misery
if he reaps his gains unjustly
890
or does not run from the unholy,
or if in folly he touches the untouchable.
How can a man so steeped in crimes still find
strength to guard his life from the gods’ bolts?*71
If deeds like his meet with honor,
why celebrate the gods in dance?*72
antistrophe 2
No longer will I go in reverence
to the untouchable navel of earth,*73
or to the temple at Abai,*74
900
or to Olympia,*75
if these prophecies do not come true
for all men to recognize.
But O god of power, Zeus, lord
of all—if that is what you are—let none of this
escape you and your rule, deathless forever.
For they are wiping them out,
the oracles of Laius wither away
and nowhere does Apollo shine in honor.
910
Religion has perished.
(Enter, from the palace, Jocasta, carrying garlands and incense to offer at Apollo’s statue. She is attended by one or two maidservants.)
JOCASTA: Lords of the land, my thought is now to go
to the temples of the gods, bringing in my arms
offerings of wreaths and incense. For Oedipus
is in the grip of feelings running too high, whipped
by pains of every sort; he does not read
new in light of old, and judge sensibly,
but whoever speaks of terror has his ear.
Since, then, I’ve made no progress with advice,
to you, Apollo—for you are nearest*76—
920
I’ve come with these offerings, to seek
deliverance from our impurity.
For now we all shudder to see him,
the pilot of our ship, hurled overboard.
(Enter a messenger.)*77
MESSENGER: Can any of you strangers tell me where
Oedipus the tyrant*78 lives? Is it here?
Or better yet, is he himself here?*79
CHORUS LEADER: This is his house, and he himself’s inside;
and here’s his wife and mother of his children.
MESSENGER: Well, blessed and ever with the blessed
930
may she live, as she’s a perfect*80 wife to him.
JOCASTA: Blessings on you, stranger, in return for these
compliments. But tell me why you’ve come.
What do you seek? What do you want to tell us?
MESSENGER: Blessings, my lady, to house and husband both.
JOCASTA: What blessings? And from where have you arrived?
MESSENGER: From Corinth. And the news I have, perhaps
you’ll be gladdened—or maybe saddened—by it.
JOCASTA: What is it? How might it cut both ways?
MESSENGER: The people who live in the Isthmian land*81
940
will make him tyrant*82—that was the talk there.
JOCASTA: But why? Is old Polybus no longer in power?
MESSENGER: No, for Death has him in his house.
JOCASTA: What did you say? Is Oedipus’ father dead?
MESSENGER: If I don’t speak the truth, I deserve to die.
JOCASTA: (to a servant) You! Quick, take this message
to your master!
(Exit servant into the palace, to fetch Oedipus.)
O, oracles of the gods,
where are you? This is the man Oedipus avoided
for so long, dreading to kill him; now he’s died
by chance, and Oedipus has had no hand in it!
(Enter Oedipus.)
950
OEDIPUS: Jocasta, dearest, my beloved wife,
why have you had me summoned from the house?
JOCASTA: Listen to this man, and when you’ve heard him
see what the god’s dread oracles have come to!
OEDIPUS: Who is he, and what has he to tell me?
JOCASTA: He’s from Corinth, and he says your father
Polybus is no more. No, he is dead!
OEDIPUS: What do you say, stranger? Tell me yourself!
MESSENGER: If that’s what you insist I tell you first,
you can be sure of it: he’s dead and gone.
960
OEDIPUS: Was it through treachery, or falling ill?
MESSENGER: A slight tilt puts an old body to sleep.
OEDIPUS: The poor man perished, then, from illness.
MESSENGER: That, and the length of time he’d measured out.
OEDIPUS: Ah, there it is, my wife! Why should one look
to Pytho’s prophetic hearth, or the birds
shrieking above, on whose showing I
would one day kill my father? But he’s dead
and lies beneath the earth, and I am here
and never touched a weapon, unless he died
970
from missing me; then one could say I dealt
the blow. But these oracles—Polybus packed them up
and lies with them in his grave. They mean nothing!
JOCASTA: And did I not say so all along?
OEDIPUS: You did, but I was led astray by fear.
JOCASTA: Take none of it to heart any longer now.
OEDIPUS: None of it? Not fear my mother’s bed?
JOCASTA: Why should a human being live in fear?
Chance rules his life, and nothing is foreknown.
It’s best to live at random, as one can.
980
You, too—why dread marrying your mother?
Many before, in dreams as well,*83 have lain
with their mothers. It’s the man to whom all this
means nothing who gets along most easily.
OEDIPUS: I wouldn’t fault anything you’ve said
if my mother weren’t alive. As it is,
no matter what you say, I am afraid.
JOCASTA: Still, your father’s death is a bright light.
OEDIPUS: Bright, yes, but while she lives, the fear is there.
MESSENGER: What woman is the cause of all this dread?
990
OEDIPUS: Merope, old man—the wife of Polybus.
MESSENGER: What is there about her that makes you afraid?
OEDIPUS: A fearful oracle, sent by the god.
MESSENGER: Can it be spoken? May others hear it?
OEDIPUS: Yes, it can. Loxias once declared it was
my fate, to lie with my mother and take
the blood of my own father on my hands.
That’s why I’ve lived far from Corinth
all these years—a good thing, too, although
the eyes of parents are the sweetest sight.
1000
MESSENGER: That’s what kept you far from Corinth?
OEDIPUS: Yes. I didn’t want to kill my father.
MESSENGER: Why don’t I free you of this fear, my lord,
since I have come here with kind intentions?
OEDIPUS: You’d have the thanks from me that you deserve.
MESSENGER: The very reason why I came! I hoped
to earn a favor, when you came back home.
OEDIPUS: But I’ll never go near where my parents are!
MESSENGER: Son, you clearly don’t know what you’re doing—
OEDIPUS: How, old man? By the gods, instruct me.
1010
MESSENGER: —if those are your reasons for not going home.
OEDIPUS: They are—I feared that Phoebus would keep his word.
MESSENGER: And that you’d be defiled*84 through your parents?
OEDIPUS: That very fear, old man. I feel it, always.
MESSENGER: But don’t you know your fear’s not justified?
OEDIPUS: How so, if I’m the child of these parents?
MESSENGER: Because Polybus was no kin of yours.
OEDIPUS: What do you mean? Wasn’t he my father?
MESSENGER: No more than I am, but only just as much.
OEDIPUS: As much as one who’s nothing to me? How?
1020
MESSENGER: Since neither he nor I produced you.
OEDIPUS: Why, then, did he call me his son?
MESSENGER: You were a gift—he took you from my hands.
OEDIPUS: And loved so much what came from another?
MESSENGER: He was childless up till then—that’s what moved him.
OEDIPUS: Had I been bought or found, when you gave me?
MESSENGER: Found, in the wilds of Mount Cithaeron.*85
OEDIPUS: What were you doing, going to those regions?
MESSENGER: I was in charge there, of mountain flocks.
OEDIPUS: A shepherd, then, a wanderer for hire?
1030
MESSENGER: Your savior, too, my child, at that time.
OEDIPUS: What pain was I in, when you took me up?
MESSENGER: Your ankles ought to testify to that.
OEDIPUS: oimoi, why have you brought up that old wound?
MESSENGER: I freed you, undid the pins piercing your feet.
OEDIPUS: Horrible disgrace, mine from the cradle!
MESSENGER: From it you got your name,*86 who you are today.
OEDIPUS: Was it my mother’s or my father’s doing? Tell me!
MESSENGER: I don’t know. The one who gave you to me knows more.
OEDIPUS: You didn’t find, but got me from another?
1040
MESSENGER: Yes. Another shepherd gave you to me.
OEDIPUS: Who was he? Do you know him? Can you tell me?
MESSENGER: I think he was called one of Laius’ men.
OEDIPUS: The tyrant of this land once, long ago?
MESSENGER: Yes, the very same. He was his shepherd.
OEDIPUS: Is he still alive, so I may see him?
MESSENGER: You people, who live here, would know that best.
OEDIPUS: Does any of you who are standing here
know of the shepherd whom he mentions?
Have you seen him in the fields, or here?
1050
Speak up! It’s time these matters were found out.
CHORUS LEADER: I think he is no other than the one
you were seeking before, from the fields. But
Jocasta here might best tell us that.
OEDIPUS: My wife, you know the man we sent for
a moment ago: is he the one he means?
JOCASTA: What if he is? Ignore it. All this talk,
all to no purpose, don’t even think of it!
OEDIPUS: No, it will never happen, that I—
with clues like these—not discover my birth!
1060
JOCASTA: By the gods, if you care for your own life,
don’t look into this. My sorrows are enough.
OEDIPUS: Don’t worry; even if I’m found out a slave
three generations back, you’ll not be found low-born.
JOCASTA: Still, listen to me, I beg you: don’t do this!
OEDIPUS: You won’t dissuade me from finding out!
JOCASTA: I’m saying what’s best for you. I’m on your side.
OEDIPUS: That “best for you” is getting on my nerves.
JOCASTA: Doomed man! May you never know who you are!
OEDIPUS: Will someone bring that shepherd here to me?
1070
As for her—let her rejoice in her royal blood!*87
JOCASTA: iou, iou! Unhappy: that’s all you’ll hear
from me—no other word in time to come.
(Exit Jocasta into the palace.)
CHORUS LEADER: Oedipus, why has your wife rushed off
in a fit of savage sorrow? I fear
evils will break out of this silence.
OEDIPUS: Break out what will! I’ll still insist
on seeing my origin, even if it’s low.
As for her (he gestures toward the palace), maybe she’d be ashamed of that.
She’s a woman, she has a woman’s pride.
1080
But I will not be dishonored. I’m the child
of Chance, Giver of Good. She’s
my mother, and the months, my brothers,
have marked me out, now small, now great.
Being what I am, I will never prove to be
other than myself, and not learn my birth!
The Greek Plays Page 31