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Messenger
Oh ! 'twas a scene of wonder. How he left
This place, and, self-conducted, led us on,
Blind as he was, ye all remember well.
Soon as he came to where the craggy steep
With brazen steps leads to the hollow gulf,
1590
Where various paths unite, a place renowned
For the famed league of Theseus and his friend,
Between Acherdus and the Thracian rock,
On a sepulchral stone he sat him down ;
1595
Pulled off the lilthy weeds he long had worn,
And bade his daughters instantly prepare
The bath and splendid garb ; with hasty steps
To Ceres' neighbouring altar they repair
1600
Obedient, bring the vessel, and the robe
Funereal. All things done as custom bids
For dying men, sudden a dreadful clap
Of thunder shook the ground ; the virgins trembled,
And clinging fearful round their father's knees
Beat their sad breasts, and wept. Soon as he heard
The sound portentous, he embraced his daughters :
" Children," he cried, " your father is no more;
No longer shall you lead a life of pain.
1610
No longer toil for QEdipus, Alas !
'Twas dreadful to you, but this day, my children,
Shall end your sorrows and my life together.
Never did father love his daughters more
1615
Than I have loved ; but henceforth you must live
Without your Qlldipus. Farewell for ever ! "
He spake, and long, in sad embraces joined,
1620
They wept aloud ; at length did clamorous grief
1620
To silent sorrow yield, and all was still ;
When suddenly we heard a voice that oft
Repeated, " CEdipus, why this delay?
Where art thou, (Edipus? " The wretched king,
Attentive to the call of Heaven, desired
That Theseus might be sent for ; Theseus came.
When thus the dying exile : "0 my friend !
Give me thy hand, my daughters give him yours;
Let this, my dearest Theseus, be the pledge
1630
Of amity between you ; promise here
That you will ne'er forsake my hapless children,
But henceforth cherish, comfort, and protect them."
The generous king, in pity to their woes,
1635
Vowed to perform what (Edipus desired.
The father threw his feeble arms around
Tlis weeping children. "You," he cried, "must learn
To bear your sutterings with an equal mind,
1640
And leave this place ; for not to mortal eye
Is given to see my future fate. Away !
Theseus alone must stay, and know it all."
This did we hear him utter as we stood
Attentive ; when his duteous daughters left him,
And went their way, we wept, and followed them.
Soon we returned, but CEdipus was gone ;
The king alone remaining, as if struck
With terror at some dreadful spectacle,
1650
Had with his hand o'er- veiled his downcast eye ;
A little after, we beheld him bend
In humble adoration to the earth,
And then to heaven prefer his ardent prayer.
1655
How the poor exile perished none can tell
But Theseus ; nor the fiery blast of Jove
Destroyed, nor sea o'erwhelmed him, but from heaven
Some messenger divine did snatch him hence,
Or power infernal bade the pitying earth
Open her peaceful bosom to receive him ;
Without a groan, disease, or pain he fell.
'Twas wondrous all ; to those who credit not
This strange report, I answer, 'Tis most true.
Oh ! 'twas a scene of wonder. How he left
This place, and, self-conducted, led us on,
Blind as he was, ye all remember well.
Soon as he came to where the craggy steep
With brazen steps leads to the hollow gulf,
1590
Where various paths unite, a place renowned
For the famed league of Theseus and his friend,
Between Acherdus and the Thracian rock,
On a sepulchral stone he sat him down ;
1595
Pulled off the lilthy weeds he long had worn,
And bade his daughters instantly prepare
The bath and splendid garb ; with hasty steps
To Ceres' neighbouring altar they repair
1600
Obedient, bring the vessel, and the robe
Funereal. All things done as custom bids
For dying men, sudden a dreadful clap
Of thunder shook the ground ; the virgins trembled,
And clinging fearful round their father's knees
Beat their sad breasts, and wept. Soon as he heard
The sound portentous, he embraced his daughters :
" Children," he cried, " your father is no more;
No longer shall you lead a life of pain.
1610
No longer toil for QEdipus, Alas !
'Twas dreadful to you, but this day, my children,
Shall end your sorrows and my life together.
Never did father love his daughters more
1615
Than I have loved ; but henceforth you must live
Without your Qlldipus. Farewell for ever ! "
He spake, and long, in sad embraces joined,
They wept aloud ; at length did clamorous grief
1620
To silent sorrow yield, and all was still ;
When suddenly we heard a voice that oft
Repeated, " CEdipus, why this delay?
Where art thou, (Edipus? " The wretched king,
Attentive to the call of Heaven, desired
That Theseus might be sent for ; Theseus came.
When thus the dying exile : "0 my friend !
Give me thy hand, my daughters give him yours;
Let this, my dearest Theseus, be the pledge
1630
Of amity between you ; promise here
That you will ne'er forsake my hapless children,
But henceforth cherish, comfort, and protect them."
The generous king, in pity to their woes,
1635
Vowed to perform what (Edipus desired.
The father threw his feeble arms around
Tlis weeping children. "You," he cried, "must learn
To bear your sutterings with an equal mind,
1640
And leave this place ; for not to mortal eye
Is given to see my future fate. Away !
Theseus alone must stay, and know it all."
This did we hear him utter as we stood
Attentive ; when his duteous daughters left him,
And went their way, we wept, and followed them.
Soon we returned, but CEdipus was gone ;
The king alone remaining, as if struck
With terror at some dreadful spectacle,
1650
Had with his hand o'er- veiled his downcast eye ;
A little after, we beheld him bend
In humble adoration to the earth,
And then to heaven prefer his ardent prayer.
1655
How the poor exile perished none can tell
But Theseus ; nor the fiery blast of Jove
Destroyed, nor sea o'erwhelmed him, but from heaven
Some messenger divine did snatch him hence,
Or power infernal bade the pitying earth
Open her peaceful bosom to receive him ;
Without a groan, disease, or pain he fell.
'Twas wondrous all ; to those who credit not
This strange report, I answer, 'Tis most true.
Oedipus at Colonus. Sophocles. Thomas Francklin (Translator). London. 1758–1759.