ἕτοιμος εἰπεῖν, εἴτε καὶ στείχειν ἔσω.
Oedipus Tyrannus. Sophocles. ed. Lewis Campbell. Oxford. 1879.
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Greek (Lewis Campbell, 1879) (OCR draft) (Greek) (Greek (Lewis Campbell, 1879))
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Editions (1)
Greek (F. Storr, 1912) (OCR draft) Experimental (Greek (F. Storr, 1912)) — 151-215 focus
Χορός
ὦ Διὸς ἁδυεπὲς φάτι, τίς ποτε τᾶς πολυχρύσου
Πυθῶνος ἀγλαὰς ἔβας
Θήβας; ἐκτέταμαι φοβερὰν φρένα, δείματι πάλλων,
ἰήιε Δάλιε Παιάν,
ἀμφὶ σοὶ ἁζόμενος τί μοι ἢ νέον
155
ἢ περιτελλομέναις ὥραις πάλιν ἐξανύσεις χρέος.
εἰπέ μοι, ὦ χρυσέας τέκνον Ἐλπίδος, ἄμβροτε Φάμα.
ὦ Διὸς ἁδυεπὲς φάτι, τίς ποτε τᾶς πολυχρύσου
Πυθῶνος ἀγλαὰς ἔβας
Θήβας; ἐκτέταμαι φοβερὰν φρένα, δείματι πάλλων,
ἰήιε Δάλιε Παιάν,
ἀμφὶ σοὶ ἁζόμενος τί μοι ἢ νέον
155
ἢ περιτελλομέναις ὥραις πάλιν ἐξανύσεις χρέος.
εἰπέ μοι, ὦ χρυσέας τέκνον Ἐλπίδος, ἄμβροτε Φάμα.
Χορός
πρῶτα σὲ κεκλόμενος, θύγατερ Διός, ἄμβροτʼ Ἀθάνα
160
γαιάοχόν τʼ ἀδελφεὰν
Ἄρτεμιν, ἃ κυκλόεντʼ ἀγορᾶς θρόνον εὐκλέα θάσσει,
καὶ Φοῖβον ἑκαβόλον, ἰὼ
τρισσοὶ ἀλεξίμοροι προφάνητέ μοι,
εἴ ποτε καὶ προτέρας ἄτας ὕπερ ὀρνυμένας πόλει
165
ἠνύσατʼ ἐκτοπίαν φλόγα πήματος, ἔλθετε καὶ νῦν.
πρῶτα σὲ κεκλόμενος, θύγατερ Διός, ἄμβροτʼ Ἀθάνα
160
γαιάοχόν τʼ ἀδελφεὰν
Ἄρτεμιν, ἃ κυκλόεντʼ ἀγορᾶς θρόνον εὐκλέα θάσσει,
καὶ Φοῖβον ἑκαβόλον, ἰὼ
τρισσοὶ ἀλεξίμοροι προφάνητέ μοι,
εἴ ποτε καὶ προτέρας ἄτας ὕπερ ὀρνυμένας πόλει
165
ἠνύσατʼ ἐκτοπίαν φλόγα πήματος, ἔλθετε καὶ νῦν.
Χορός
ὦ πόποι, ἀνάριθμα γὰρ φέρω
πήματα· νοσεῖ δέ μοι πρόπας στόλος, οὐδʼ ἔνι φροντίδος ἔγχος
170
ᾧ τις ἀλέξεται. οὔτε γὰρ ἔκγονα
κλυτᾶς χθονὸς αὔξεται οὔτε τόκοισιν
ἰηίων καμάτων ἀνέχουσι γυναῖκες·
ἄλλον δʼ ἂν ἄλλῳ προσίδοις ἅπερ εὔπτερον ὄρνιν
175
κρεῖσσον ἀμαιμακέτου πυρὸς ὄρμενον
ἀκτὰν πρὸς ἑσπέρου θεοῦ.
ὦ πόποι, ἀνάριθμα γὰρ φέρω
πήματα· νοσεῖ δέ μοι πρόπας στόλος, οὐδʼ ἔνι φροντίδος ἔγχος
170
ᾧ τις ἀλέξεται. οὔτε γὰρ ἔκγονα
κλυτᾶς χθονὸς αὔξεται οὔτε τόκοισιν
ἰηίων καμάτων ἀνέχουσι γυναῖκες·
ἄλλον δʼ ἂν ἄλλῳ προσίδοις ἅπερ εὔπτερον ὄρνιν
175
κρεῖσσον ἀμαιμακέτου πυρὸς ὄρμενον
ἀκτὰν πρὸς ἑσπέρου θεοῦ.
Χορός
ὧν πόλις ἀνάριθμος ὄλλυται·
νηλέα δὲ γένεθλα πρὸς πέδῳ θαναταφόρα κεῖται ἀνοίκτως·
180
ἐν δʼ ἄλοχοι πολιαί τʼ ἔπι ματέρες
ἀχὰν παραβώμιον ἄλλοθεν ἄλλαν
λυγρῶν πόνων ἱκετῆρες ἐπιστενάχουσιν.
παιὰν δὲ λάμπει στονόεσσά τε γῆρυς ὅμαυλος
185
ὧν ὕπερ, ὦ χρυσέα θύγατερ Διός,
εὐῶπα πέμψον ἀλκάν.
ὧν πόλις ἀνάριθμος ὄλλυται·
νηλέα δὲ γένεθλα πρὸς πέδῳ θαναταφόρα κεῖται ἀνοίκτως·
180
ἐν δʼ ἄλοχοι πολιαί τʼ ἔπι ματέρες
ἀχὰν παραβώμιον ἄλλοθεν ἄλλαν
λυγρῶν πόνων ἱκετῆρες ἐπιστενάχουσιν.
παιὰν δὲ λάμπει στονόεσσά τε γῆρυς ὅμαυλος
185
ὧν ὕπερ, ὦ χρυσέα θύγατερ Διός,
εὐῶπα πέμψον ἀλκάν.
Χορός
Ἄρεά τε τὸν μαλερόν, ὃς νῦν ἄχαλκος ἀσπίδων
190
φλέγει με περιβόατον, ἀντιάζω
παλίσσυτον δράμημα νωτίσαι πάτρας
ἔπουρον, εἴτʼ ἐς μέγαν θάλαμον Ἀμφιτρίτας
εἴτʼ ἐς τὸν ἀπόξενον ὅρμων
195
Θρῄκιον κλύδωνα·
τελεῖν γὰρ εἴ τι νὺξ ἀφῇ,
τοῦτʼ ἐπʼ ἦμαρ ἔρχεται·
τόν, ὦ τᾶν πυρφόρων
ἀστραπᾶν κράτη νέμων,
200
ὦ Ζεῦ πάτερ, ὑπὸ σῷ φθίσον κεραυνῷ,
Ἄρεά τε τὸν μαλερόν, ὃς νῦν ἄχαλκος ἀσπίδων
190
φλέγει με περιβόατον, ἀντιάζω
παλίσσυτον δράμημα νωτίσαι πάτρας
ἔπουρον, εἴτʼ ἐς μέγαν θάλαμον Ἀμφιτρίτας
εἴτʼ ἐς τὸν ἀπόξενον ὅρμων
195
Θρῄκιον κλύδωνα·
τελεῖν γὰρ εἴ τι νὺξ ἀφῇ,
τοῦτʼ ἐπʼ ἦμαρ ἔρχεται·
τόν, ὦ τᾶν πυρφόρων
ἀστραπᾶν κράτη νέμων,
200
ὦ Ζεῦ πάτερ, ὑπὸ σῷ φθίσον κεραυνῷ,
Χορός
Λύκειʼ ἄναξ, τά τε σὰ χρυσοστρόφων ἀπʼ ἀγκυλᾶν
βέλεα θέλοιμʼ ἂν ἀδάματʼ ἐνδατεῖσθαι
ἀρωγὰ προσταχθέντα τάς τε πυρφόρους
205
Ἀρτέμιδος αἴγλας, ξὺν αἷς Λύκιʼ ὄρεα διᾴσσει·
τὸν χρυσομίτραν τε κικλήσκω,
τᾶσδʼ ἐπώνυμον γᾶς,
210
οἰνῶπα Βάκχον εὔιον,
Μαινάδων ὁμόστολον,
πελασθῆναι φλέγοντʼ
ἀγλαῶπι ¯ ˘ ¯
πεύκᾳ ʼπὶ τὸν ἀπότιμον ἐν θεοῖς θεόν.
215
Λύκειʼ ἄναξ, τά τε σὰ χρυσοστρόφων ἀπʼ ἀγκυλᾶν
βέλεα θέλοιμʼ ἂν ἀδάματʼ ἐνδατεῖσθαι
ἀρωγὰ προσταχθέντα τάς τε πυρφόρους
205
Ἀρτέμιδος αἴγλας, ξὺν αἷς Λύκιʼ ὄρεα διᾴσσει·
τὸν χρυσομίτραν τε κικλήσκω,
τᾶσδʼ ἐπώνυμον γᾶς,
210
οἰνῶπα Βάκχον εὔιον,
Μαινάδων ὁμόστολον,
πελασθῆναι φλέγοντʼ
ἀγλαῶπι ¯ ˘ ¯
πεύκᾳ ʼπὶ τὸν ἀπότιμον ἐν θεοῖς θεόν.
215
Translations (5)
English (Lewis Campbell, 1906) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Lewis Campbell, 1906)) — 92 focus
TI
To thee I am foolish, then; but to the pair
435
Who gave thee life, I was wise.
To thee I am foolish, then; but to the pair
435
Who gave thee life, I was wise.
German (J. J. C. Donner, 1875; OCR review) (OCR draft) Experimental (German (J. J. C. Donner, 1875; OCR review)) — 102 focus
Und welches Mannes Schicksal meint der Gott damit?
Und welches Mannes Schicksal meint der Gott damit?
Kreon.
Der Fürst in unserm Lande hier war Laïos,
Bevor, o König, du gebot'st in dieser Stadt.
Der Fürst in unserm Lande hier war Laïos,
Bevor, o König, du gebot'st in dieser Stadt.
Oedipus.
Aus Andrer Munde weiß ich's; denn ihn sah ich nie.
105
Aus Andrer Munde weiß ich's; denn ihn sah ich nie.
105
Kreon.
Nun der dahinschied, ist Apollons klar Gebot,
Die Mörder, wer sie seien, schwer zu züchtigen.
Nun der dahinschied, ist Apollons klar Gebot,
Die Mörder, wer sie seien, schwer zu züchtigen.
Oedipus.
Und wo zu Lande weilen sie? Wo sindet sich
Die schwer erkennbar dunkle Spur der alten Schuld?
Und wo zu Lande weilen sie? Wo sindet sich
Die schwer erkennbar dunkle Spur der alten Schuld?
Kreon.
In diesem Lande, sagt er: was man sucht, es läßt
110
Sich finden, was man unbeachtet läßt, entflieht.
In diesem Lande, sagt er: was man sucht, es läßt
110
Sich finden, was man unbeachtet läßt, entflieht.
Oedipus.
Und war's im Hause, war es auf dem Felde, war's
In fremdem Lande, daß ihn traf die Mörderhand?
Und war's im Hause, war es auf dem Felde, war's
In fremdem Lande, daß ihn traf die Mörderhand?
Kreon.
Den Gott zu fragen zog er aus, so sagt er selbst,
Und seit er ausging, ist er nicht mehr heimgekehrt.
115
Den Gott zu fragen zog er aus, so sagt er selbst,
Und seit er ausging, ist er nicht mehr heimgekehrt.
115
Oedipus.
Und kein Genosse seines Wegs, kein Bote sah's,
Von dem man forschend Alles noch erkundete?
Und kein Genosse seines Wegs, kein Bote sah's,
Von dem man forschend Alles noch erkundete?
Kreon.
Sie fielen bis auf Einen, der, aus Furcht entfloh'n,
Nichts als das Eine, was er sah, zu sagen weiß.
Sie fielen bis auf Einen, der, aus Furcht entfloh'n,
Nichts als das Eine, was er sah, zu sagen weiß.
Oedipus.
Was ist's? Zu Vielen weiset Eins die Pfade wohl,
120
Wenn einer Hoffnung schwacher Strahl uns leuchtete.
Was ist's? Zu Vielen weiset Eins die Pfade wohl,
120
Wenn einer Hoffnung schwacher Strahl uns leuchtete.
Kreon.
Ihn überfielen Räuber, und nicht Eine Hand,
Nein, Vieler Hände, sagt er aus, erschlugen ihn.
Ihn überfielen Räuber, und nicht Eine Hand,
Nein, Vieler Hände, sagt er aus, erschlugen ihn.
Oedipus.
Doch hätte sich der Räuber, wenn er nicht von hier
Mit Gold bestellt war, solch vermess'ner That erkühnt?
125
Doch hätte sich der Räuber, wenn er nicht von hier
Mit Gold bestellt war, solch vermess'ner That erkühnt?
125
Kreon.
Wohl schien es also; doch den Mord des Laïos
Zu rächen, that sich Keiner auf in jener Noth.
Wohl schien es also; doch den Mord des Laïos
Zu rächen, that sich Keiner auf in jener Noth.
Oedipus.
Und welche Noth verwehrte solches auszuspäh'n,
Nachdem des Landes Herrscher so gefallen war?
Und welche Noth verwehrte solches auszuspäh'n,
Nachdem des Landes Herrscher so gefallen war?
Kreon.
Uns zwang die Räthselsängerin auf's Nächste nur
1
130
Zu schauen und zu lassen, was im Dunkel lag.
Uns zwang die Räthselsängerin auf's Nächste nur
1
130
Zu schauen und zu lassen, was im Dunkel lag.
Oedipus.
English (Thomas Francklin, 1758–1759) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Thomas Francklin, 1758–1759)) — 92 focus
Oedipus
Since Laius fell by hands unknown?
560
Since Laius fell by hands unknown?
560
English (Robert Potter, 1788) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Robert Potter, 1788)) — 92 focus
Oedipus
Potent art thou in speech, but I unapt
To learn from thee, my dark and deadly foe.
Potent art thou in speech, but I unapt
To learn from thee, my dark and deadly foe.
English (Sir Richard Jebb, 1904) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Sir Richard Jebb, 1904)) — 151-215 focus
The chorus of Theban elders enters.
159
Chorus
in holy fear of you, wondering what debt you will extract from me, perhaps unknown before, perhaps renewed with the revolving years. Tell me, immortal Voice, child of golden Hope.
155
in holy fear of you, wondering what debt you will extract from me, perhaps unknown before, perhaps renewed with the revolving years. Tell me, immortal Voice, child of golden Hope.
155
Chorus
First I call on you, daughter of Zeus, immortal Athena,
and on your sister, Artemis, guardian of our earth, who sits on her glorious throne above the circle of our market-place, and on far-shooting Apollo: oh shine forth for me, my three-fold help against death!
160
If ever before you drove a fiery pest from our borders to stop ruin rushing upon our city, come now also!
165
First I call on you, daughter of Zeus, immortal Athena,
and on your sister, Artemis, guardian of our earth, who sits on her glorious throne above the circle of our market-place, and on far-shooting Apollo: oh shine forth for me, my three-fold help against death!
160
If ever before you drove a fiery pest from our borders to stop ruin rushing upon our city, come now also!
165
Chorus
Alas, countless are the sorrows I bear.
A plague is on all our people, and thought can find no weapon for defense. The fruits of the glorious earth do not grow; by no birth of offspring do women surmount the pangs in which they shriek.
170
You can see life after life speed away, like a bird on the wing, swifter than irresistible fire, to the shore of the western god.
175
Alas, countless are the sorrows I bear.
A plague is on all our people, and thought can find no weapon for defense. The fruits of the glorious earth do not grow; by no birth of offspring do women surmount the pangs in which they shriek.
170
You can see life after life speed away, like a bird on the wing, swifter than irresistible fire, to the shore of the western god.
175
Chorus
With such deaths, past numbering, the city perishes.
Unpitied, her children lie on the ground, spreading pestilence, with no one to mourn them. Meanwhile young wives and grey-haired mothers raise a wail at the steps of the altars, some here, some there,
180
and groan in supplication for their terrible woes. The prayers to the Healer ring clear, and with them the voice of lamentation. For which things, golden daughter of Zeus, send us the bright face of comfort.
185
With such deaths, past numbering, the city perishes.
Unpitied, her children lie on the ground, spreading pestilence, with no one to mourn them. Meanwhile young wives and grey-haired mothers raise a wail at the steps of the altars, some here, some there,
180
and groan in supplication for their terrible woes. The prayers to the Healer ring clear, and with them the voice of lamentation. For which things, golden daughter of Zeus, send us the bright face of comfort.
185
Chorus
Grant that the fierce god of death, who now without the bronze of shields, though among cries like those of battle, wraps me in the flames of his onset, may turn his back in speedy flight from our land, borne by a favorable wind to the great chamber of Amphitrite,
190
or to the Thracian waves, those waters where none find haven. For if night leaves anything undone in the working of destruction, day follows to accomplish it. You who wield the
195
powers of fiery lightning, Zeus our father, slay him beneath your thunder-bolt.
200
Grant that the fierce god of death, who now without the bronze of shields, though among cries like those of battle, wraps me in the flames of his onset, may turn his back in speedy flight from our land, borne by a favorable wind to the great chamber of Amphitrite,
190
or to the Thracian waves, those waters where none find haven. For if night leaves anything undone in the working of destruction, day follows to accomplish it. You who wield the
195
powers of fiery lightning, Zeus our father, slay him beneath your thunder-bolt.
200
Chorus
Lycean Lord, would that the shafts from your bent bow’s string of woven gold might
go forth in their might, our champions in the face of the foe, and the flashing fires of Artemis too, with which she darts through the Lycian hills. I call him whose locks are bound with gold,
205
who is named with the name of this land, ruddy Bacchus to whom Bacchants cry, to draw near with the blaze of his shining torch,
210
our ally against the god unhonored among the gods.
215
Lycean Lord, would that the shafts from your bent bow’s string of woven gold might
go forth in their might, our champions in the face of the foe, and the flashing fires of Artemis too, with which she darts through the Lycian hills. I call him whose locks are bound with gold,
205
who is named with the name of this land, ruddy Bacchus to whom Bacchants cry, to draw near with the blaze of his shining torch,
210
our ally against the god unhonored among the gods.
215