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Ay, there is the main marvel. How he moved
From hence, thou knowest, for thou too wert here,
And saw’st that of his friends none guided him,
But he they loved was leader to them all.
Now, when he came to the steep pavement, rooted
With adamant foundation deep in Earth,
1590
On one of many paths he took his stand
Near the stone basin, where Peirithoüs
And Theseus graved their everlasting league.
There, opposite the mass of Laurian ore,
Turned from the hollow pear-tree and the tomb
1595
Of marble, he sate down, and straight undid
His travel-soiled attire, then called aloud
On both his children, and bade some one fetch
Pure water from a running stream. And they,
Hasting together to the neighbouring hill
1600
Of green Demeter, goddess of the Spring,
Brought back their sire’s commission speedily,
And bathed, and clothed him with the sacred robe.
When he was satisfied, and nothing now
Remained undone of all he bade them do,
1605
The God of darkness thundered, and the maids
Stood horror-stricken on hearing; then together
Fell at their father’s knees and wept and wailed
Loudly and long with beating of the breast.
He, when that sound of sorrow pierced his ear,
1610
Caressed them in his arms and said:—‘My daughters,
From this day forth you have no more a father.
All that was mine is ended, and no longer
Shall ye continue your hard ministry
Of labour for my life.—And yet, though hard,
Not unendurable, since all the toil
1615
Was rendered light through love, which ye can never
Receive on earth so richly, as from him
Bereaved of whom ye now shall live forlorn.’
Such was the talk, mingled with sobs and crying,
1620
As each clung fast to each. But when they came
1620
To an end of weeping and those sounds were stilled,
First all was silent; then a sudden voice
Hurried him onward, making each man’s hair
Bristle on end with force of instant fear.
Now here, now there, not once but oftentimes,
1625
A God called loudly, ‘Oedipus, Oedipus!
Why thus delay our going? This long while
We are stayed for and thou tarriest. Come away!’
He, when he knew the summons of the God,
Gave word for royal Theseus to go near;
1630
And when he came, said: ‘Friend for ever kind,
Reach thy right hand, I pray thee (that first pledge)
To these my children:—daughters, yours to him!—
And give thy sacred word that thou wilt never
Betray these willingly: but still perform
1635
All that thou mayest with true thought for their good.’
He, with grand calmness like his noble self,
Promised on oath to keep this friendly bond.
And when he had done so, Oedipus forthwith
Stroking his children with his helpless hands
1640
Spake thus:—‘My daughters, you must steel your hearts
1640
To noble firmness, and depart from hence,
Nor ask to see or hear forbidden things.
Go, go at once! Theseus alone must stay
Sole rightful witness of these mysteries.’
Those accents were the last we all might hear.
1645
Then, following the two maids, with checkless tears
And groans we took our way. But by and by,
At distance looking round, we saw,—not him,
Who was not there,—but Theseus all alone
Holding his hand before his eyes, as if
1650
Some apparition unendurable
Had dazed his vision. In a little while,
We marked him making reverence in one prayer
To the Earth, and to the home of Gods on high.
But by what fate He perished, mortal man,
1655
Save Theseus, none can say. No lightning-flash
From heaven, no tempest rising from the deep,
Caused his departure in that hour, but either
Some messenger from heaven, or, from beneath,
The lower part of Earth, where comes no pain,
1660
Opening kindly to receive him in.
Not to be mourned, nor with a tearful end
Of sickness was he taken from the Earth,
But wondrously, beyond recorded fate.
If any deem my words unwise, I care not
1665
In that man’s judgement to be counted wise.
Ay, there is the main marvel. How he moved
From hence, thou knowest, for thou too wert here,
And saw’st that of his friends none guided him,
But he they loved was leader to them all.
Now, when he came to the steep pavement, rooted
With adamant foundation deep in Earth,
1590
On one of many paths he took his stand
Near the stone basin, where Peirithoüs
And Theseus graved their everlasting league.
There, opposite the mass of Laurian ore,
Turned from the hollow pear-tree and the tomb
1595
Of marble, he sate down, and straight undid
His travel-soiled attire, then called aloud
On both his children, and bade some one fetch
Pure water from a running stream. And they,
Hasting together to the neighbouring hill
1600
Of green Demeter, goddess of the Spring,
Brought back their sire’s commission speedily,
And bathed, and clothed him with the sacred robe.
When he was satisfied, and nothing now
Remained undone of all he bade them do,
1605
The God of darkness thundered, and the maids
Stood horror-stricken on hearing; then together
Fell at their father’s knees and wept and wailed
Loudly and long with beating of the breast.
He, when that sound of sorrow pierced his ear,
1610
Caressed them in his arms and said:—‘My daughters,
From this day forth you have no more a father.
All that was mine is ended, and no longer
Shall ye continue your hard ministry
Of labour for my life.—And yet, though hard,
Not unendurable, since all the toil
1615
Was rendered light through love, which ye can never
Receive on earth so richly, as from him
Bereaved of whom ye now shall live forlorn.’
Such was the talk, mingled with sobs and crying,
As each clung fast to each. But when they came
1620
To an end of weeping and those sounds were stilled,
First all was silent; then a sudden voice
Hurried him onward, making each man’s hair
Bristle on end with force of instant fear.
Now here, now there, not once but oftentimes,
1625
A God called loudly, ‘Oedipus, Oedipus!
Why thus delay our going? This long while
We are stayed for and thou tarriest. Come away!’
He, when he knew the summons of the God,
Gave word for royal Theseus to go near;
1630
And when he came, said: ‘Friend for ever kind,
Reach thy right hand, I pray thee (that first pledge)
To these my children:—daughters, yours to him!—
And give thy sacred word that thou wilt never
Betray these willingly: but still perform
1635
All that thou mayest with true thought for their good.’
He, with grand calmness like his noble self,
Promised on oath to keep this friendly bond.
And when he had done so, Oedipus forthwith
Stroking his children with his helpless hands
1640
Spake thus:—‘My daughters, you must steel your hearts
1640
To noble firmness, and depart from hence,
Nor ask to see or hear forbidden things.
Go, go at once! Theseus alone must stay
Sole rightful witness of these mysteries.’
Those accents were the last we all might hear.
1645
Then, following the two maids, with checkless tears
And groans we took our way. But by and by,
At distance looking round, we saw,—not him,
Who was not there,—but Theseus all alone
Holding his hand before his eyes, as if
1650
Some apparition unendurable
Had dazed his vision. In a little while,
We marked him making reverence in one prayer
To the Earth, and to the home of Gods on high.
But by what fate He perished, mortal man,
1655
Save Theseus, none can say. No lightning-flash
From heaven, no tempest rising from the deep,
Caused his departure in that hour, but either
Some messenger from heaven, or, from beneath,
The lower part of Earth, where comes no pain,
1660
Opening kindly to receive him in.
Not to be mourned, nor with a tearful end
Of sickness was he taken from the Earth,
But wondrously, beyond recorded fate.
If any deem my words unwise, I care not
1665
In that man’s judgement to be counted wise.
Oedipus at Colonus. Sophocles. Lewis Campbell (Translator). London, New York and Toronto. 1906.