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Oedipus
If what is done I have not wisely done,
Instruct me now, and counsel me no more.
1370
I know not with what eyes in Pluto's realm
I could behold my father, had I sight,
Or my unhappy mother: these dark orbs,
These deeds are better than the strangling cord.
But to behold my children's opening bloom,
1375
As I beheld them bloom, must be a sight
Much to be wish'd: no, never to my eyes;
Nor e'en this city, nor its rampired tow'rs,
Nor the revered forms of its sculptured gods,
Of which I, once of all the sons of Thebes
1380
Most glorious, have deprived myself, my voice
Injoining all an outcast hence to chase
This wretch unhallow'd, by the gods declared
Impure, and from the blood of Laius sprung.
This impious stain disclos'd, could e'er my eyes
1385
Dare unaverted look on these again?
No: could I stop the fount of hearing too,
Without remorse from this unhappy frame
Would I shut out its entrance, that nor eye
Nor ear might aught perceive; for sweet the life
1390
That glides away without the sense of ills.
Me, O Cithæron, why didst thou receive,
Or when received not instantly destroy,
That whence my birth I never might have shown?
O Polybus, O Corinth, and the house
1395
Once call'd my father's, what a seemly form
Of glory, covering ills that rankled deep,
In me you cherish'd, for I now am found
Vile, and my birth deriving from the vile !
O ye three ways, ye secret dells, thou grove,
1400
And, where the three ways meet, thou narrow path,
Who drank my father's blood shed by these hands,
Yet, do you yet remember me, what deeds
I did among you, then what deeds again
I here committed? O ye nuptials, O
1405
Ye nuptials, you produced this plant, then gave
To the same soil the same seed back, and show'd
Fathers, sons, brothers, streams of kindred blood,
Sisters, wives, mothers, and whatever deeds
'Mongst men are deem'd most vile. But, since the deeds
1410
Shameful in act not well beseem the tongue,
Quick, by the gods, in some far distant place
Hide me, or kill me, or beneath the sea
Hurl me to sink for ever. Come, my friends,
Disdain not an unhappy man to touch;
1415
1416
Let me prevail; why should you fear? my ills
Of all mankind none but myself can bear.
If what is done I have not wisely done,
Instruct me now, and counsel me no more.
1370
I know not with what eyes in Pluto's realm
I could behold my father, had I sight,
Or my unhappy mother: these dark orbs,
These deeds are better than the strangling cord.
But to behold my children's opening bloom,
1375
As I beheld them bloom, must be a sight
Much to be wish'd: no, never to my eyes;
Nor e'en this city, nor its rampired tow'rs,
Nor the revered forms of its sculptured gods,
Of which I, once of all the sons of Thebes
1380
Most glorious, have deprived myself, my voice
Injoining all an outcast hence to chase
This wretch unhallow'd, by the gods declared
Impure, and from the blood of Laius sprung.
This impious stain disclos'd, could e'er my eyes
1385
Dare unaverted look on these again?
No: could I stop the fount of hearing too,
Without remorse from this unhappy frame
Would I shut out its entrance, that nor eye
Nor ear might aught perceive; for sweet the life
1390
That glides away without the sense of ills.
Me, O Cithæron, why didst thou receive,
Or when received not instantly destroy,
That whence my birth I never might have shown?
O Polybus, O Corinth, and the house
1395
Once call'd my father's, what a seemly form
Of glory, covering ills that rankled deep,
In me you cherish'd, for I now am found
Vile, and my birth deriving from the vile !
O ye three ways, ye secret dells, thou grove,
1400
And, where the three ways meet, thou narrow path,
Who drank my father's blood shed by these hands,
Yet, do you yet remember me, what deeds
I did among you, then what deeds again
I here committed? O ye nuptials, O
1405
Ye nuptials, you produced this plant, then gave
To the same soil the same seed back, and show'd
Fathers, sons, brothers, streams of kindred blood,
Sisters, wives, mothers, and whatever deeds
'Mongst men are deem'd most vile. But, since the deeds
1410
Shameful in act not well beseem the tongue,
Quick, by the gods, in some far distant place
Hide me, or kill me, or beneath the sea
Hurl me to sink for ever. Come, my friends,
Disdain not an unhappy man to touch;
1415
Let me prevail; why should you fear? my ills
Of all mankind none but myself can bear.
Oedipus Tyrannus. Sophocles. Robert Potter (Translator). London. 1820.