Sir Richard C. Jebb Commentary on Sophocles: Oedipus Tyrannus 1223

Commentary on Sophocles: Oedipus Tyrannus. Sir Richard C. Jebb. Cambridge, UK. 1885.

Sponsored by Perseus Project, Tufts University.

Funding provided by National Endowment for the Humanities.

Current edition Experimental

Commentary (R. C. Jebb) (OCR draft) (English) (Commentary (R. C. Jebb))

Provisional text from uncorrected OCR; expect errors.

Editions (2)
Greek (Lewis Campbell, 1879) (OCR draft) Experimental (Greek (Lewis Campbell, 1879)) — 1223 focus
ὦ γῆς μέγιστα τῆσδ᾽ ἀεὶ τιμώμενοι,
οἷ᾽ ἔργ᾽ ἀκούσεσθ', οἷα δ᾽ εἰσόψεσθ᾽, ὅσον δ᾽
ἀρεῖσθε πένθος, εἴπερ ἐγγενῶς ἔτι
1225
τῶν Λαβδακείων ἐντρέπεσθε δωμάτων.
οἶμαι γὰρ οὔτ᾽ ἂν Ἴστρον οὔτε Φᾶσιν ἂν
νίψαι καθαρμῷ τήνδε τὴν στέγην, ὅσα
κεύθει, τὰ δ᾽ αὐτίκ᾽ εἰς τὸ φῶς φανεῖ κακὰ
ἑκόντα κοὐκ ἄκοντα, τῶν δὲ πημονῶν
1230
μάλιστα λυποῦσ᾽ αἳ φανῶσ᾽ αὐθαίρετοι.
αὐτὴ πρὸς αὑτῆς. τῶν δὲ πραχθέντων τὰ μὲν
ἄλγιστ᾽ ἄπεστιν· ἡ γὰρ ὄψις οὐ πάρα.
ὅμως δ᾽, ὅσον γε κἀν ἐμοὶ μνήμης ἔνι,
πεύσει τὰ κείνης ἀθλίας παθήματα.
1240
ὅπως γὰρ ὀργῇ χρωμένη παρῆλθ᾽ ἔσω
θυρῶνος, ἵετ᾽ εὐθὺ πρὸς τὰ νυμφικὰ
λέχη, κόμην σπῶσ᾽ ἀμφιδεξίοις ἀκμαῖς·
πύλας δ᾽ ὅπως εἰσῆλθ᾽ ἐπιρράξασ᾽ ἔσω,
κάλει τὸν ἤδη Λάϊον πάλαι νεκρόν,
1245
μνήμην παλαιῶν σπερμάτων ἔχουσ᾽, ὑφ᾽ ὧν
θάνοι μὲν αὐτός, τὴν δὲ τίκτουσαν λίποι
τοῖς οἷσιν αὐτοῦ δύστεκνον παιδουργίαν.
γοᾶτο δ᾽ εὐνάς, ἔνθα δύστηνος διπλοῦς
ἐξ ἀνδρὸς ἄνδρα καὶ τέκν' ἐκ τέκνων τέκοι.
1250
χὤπως μὲν ἐκ τῶνδ᾽ οὐκέτ᾽ οἶδ᾽ ἀπόλλυται·
βοῶν γὰρ εἰσέπαισεν Οἰδίπους, ὑφ᾽ οὗ
οὐκ ἦν τὸ κείνης ἐκθεάσασθαι κακόν,
ἀλλ᾽ εἰς ἐκεῖνον περιπολοῦντ᾽ ἐλεύσσομεν.
φοιτᾷ γὰρ ἡμᾶς ἔγχος ἐξαιτῶν πορεῖν,
1255
γυναῖκά τ᾽ οὐ γυναῖκα, μητρῴαν δ᾽ ὅπου
κίχοι διπλῆν ἄρουραν οὗ τε καὶ τέκνων.
λυσσῶντι δ᾽ αὐτῷ δαιμόνων δείκνυσί τις·
οὐδεὶς γὰρ ἀνδρῶν, οἳ παρῆμεν ἐγγύθεν.
δεινὸν δ᾽ ἀΰσας ὡς ὑφηγητοῦ τινὸς
1260
πύλαις διπλαῖς ἐνήλατ᾽, ἐκ δὲ πυθμένων
ἔκλινε κοῖλα κλῇθρα κἀμπίπτει στέγῃ.
οὗ δὴ κρεμαστὴν τὴν γυναῖκʼ ἐσείδομεν,
πλεκταῖσιν αἰώραισιν ἐμπεπλεγμένην.
ὁ δ᾽ *ὡς ὁρᾷ νιν, δεινὰ βρυχηθεὶς τάλας,
1265
χαλᾷ κρεμαστὴν ἀρτάνην. ἐπεὶ δὲ γῇ
ἔκειτο τλήμων, δεινὰ δ᾽ ἦν τἀνθένδ᾽ ὁρᾶν.
ἀποσπάσας γὰρ εἱμάτων χρυσηλάτους
περόνας ἀπ᾿ αὐτῆς, αἷσιν ἐξεστέλλετο,
ἄρας ἔπαισεν ἄρθρα τῶν αὑτοῦ κύκλων,
1270
αὐδῶν τοιαῦθ᾽, ὁθούνεκ᾽ οὐκ ὄψοιντό νιν
οὔθ᾽ οἷʼ ἔπασχεν οὔθ᾽ ὁποῖʼ ἔδρα κακά,
ἀλλ᾽ ἐν σκότῳ τὸ λοιπὸν οὓς μὲν οὐκ ἔδει
ὀψοίαθ᾽, οὓς δ᾽ ἔχρῃζεν οὐ γνωσοίατο.
τοιαῦτ᾽ ἐφυμνῶν πολλάκις τε κοὐχ ἅπαξ
1275
ἤρασσ᾽ ἐπαίρων βλέφαρα. φοίνιαι δ᾽ ὁμοῦ
γλῆναι γένειʼ ἔτεγγον, οὐδ᾽ ἀνίεσαν
φόνου μυδώσας σταγόνας, ἀλλ᾽ ὁμοῦ μέλας
ὄμβρος χαλάζης *αἱματοῦς ἐτέγγετο.
τάδ᾽ ἐκ δυοῖν ἔρρωγεν, οὐ μόνου κακά,
ἀλλ᾽ ἀνδρὶ καὶ γυναικὶ συμμιγῆ κακά.
1280
ὁ πρὶν παλαιὸς δ᾽ ὄλβος ἦν πάροιθε μὲν
ὄλβος δικαίως, νῦν δὲ τῇδε θἠμέρᾳ
στεναγμός, ἄτη, θάνατος, αἰσχύνη, κακῶν
ὅσ᾽ ἐστὶ πάντων ὀνόματ', οὐδέν ἐστ᾽ ἀπόν.
νῦν δ᾽ ἔσθ᾽ ὁ τλήμων ἔν τινι σχολῇ κακοῦ;
1285
ὦ δεινὸν ἰδεῖν πάθος ἀνθρώποις,
ὦ δεινότατον πάντων ὅσ᾽ ἐγὼ
προσέκυρσ᾽ ἤδη. τίς σ᾽, ὦ τλῆμον,
προσέβη μανία; τίς ὁ πηδήσας
1300
μείζονα δαίμων τῶν μακίστων
πρὸς σῇ δυσδαίμονι μοίρᾳ;
φεῦ, δύστανος·
ἀλλ᾽ οὐδ᾽ ἐσιδεῖν δύναμαί σ᾽, ἐθέλων
πόλλ᾽ ἀνερέσθαι, πολλὰ πυθέσθαι,
1305
πολλὰ δ᾽ ἀθρῆσαι·
τοίαν φρίκην παρέχεις μοι.
ἰὼ σκότου
νέφος ἐμὸν ἀπότροπον, ἐπιπλόμενον ἄφατον,
ἀδάματόν τε καὶ δυσούριστον *ὄν.
1315
οἴμοι,
οἴμοι μάλ᾽ αὖθις· οἷον εἰσέδυ μ' ἅμα
κέντρων τε τῶνδ᾽ οἴστρημα καὶ μνήμη κακῶν.
ἰὼ φίλος,
σὺ μὲν ἐμὸς ἐπίπολος ἔτι μόνιμος· ἔτι γὰρ
ὑπομένεις με τὸν τυφλὸν κηδεύων.
φεῦ φεῦ.
οὐ γάρ με λήθεις, ἀλλὰ γιγνώσκω σαφῶς,
1325
καίπερ σκοτεινός, τήν γε σὴν αὐδὴν ὅμως.
Ἀπόλλων τάδ᾽ ἦν, Ἀπόλλων, φίλοι,
ὁ κακὰ *κακῶς τελῶν *ἐμοὶ τάδ᾽ ἐμὰ παθέα.
1330
ἔπαισε δ᾽ αὐτόχειρ νιν οὔτις, ἀλλ᾽ ἐγὼ τλάμων.
τί γὰρ ἔδει μ᾽ ὁρᾶν,
5
ὅτῳ γ᾽ ὁρῶντι μηδὲν ἦν ἰδεῖν γλυκύ;
1335
ὄλοιθ᾽ ὅστις ἦν ὃς ἀγρίας πέδας
νομάδος ἐπιποδίας ἔλυσ᾽ ἀπό τε φόνου
1350
ἔρρυτο κἀνέσωσε *μ', οὐδὲν εἰς χάριν πράσσων.
τότε γὰρ ἂν θανών,
οὐκ ἦν φίλοισιν οὐδ᾽ ἐμοὶ τοσόνδ᾽ ἄχος.
1355
οὐκ οἶδ᾽ ὅπως σε φῶ βεβουλεῦσθαι καλῶς.
κρείσσων γὰρ ἦσθα μηκέτ' ὢν ἢ ζῶν τυφλός.
ἀλλ᾽ ὧν ἐπαιτεῖς ἐς δέον πάρεσθ᾽ ὅδε
Κρέων τὸ πράσσειν καὶ τὸ βουλεύειν, ἐπεὶ
χώρας λέλειπται μοῦνος ἀντὶ σοῦ φύλαξ.
καὶ σοί γ' ἐπισκήπτω τε καὶ προτρέψομαι,
τῆς μὲν κατ᾿ οἴκους αὐτὸς ὃν θέλεις τάφον
θοῦ· καὶ γὰρ ὀρθῶς τῶν γε σῶν τελεῖς ὕπερ·
ἐμοῦ δὲ μήποτ᾽ ἀξιωθήτω τόδε
πατρῷον ἄστυ ζῶντος οἰκητοῦ τυχεῖν,
1450
ἀλλ᾽ ἔα με ναίειν ὄρεσιν, ἔνθα κλήζεται
οὑμὸς Κιθαιρὼν οὗτος, ὃν μήτηρ τέ μοι
πατήρ τ᾽ ἐθέσθην ζῶντε κύριον τάφον,
ἵν᾽ ἐξ ἐκείνων, οἵ μ᾿ ἀπωλλύτην, θάνω.
καίτοι τοσοῦτόν γ' οἶδα, μήτε μ᾽ ἂν νόσον
1455
μήτ' ἄλλο πέρσαι μηδέν· οὐ γὰρ ἄν ποτε
θνήσκων ἐσώθην, μὴ ἐπί τῳ δεινῷ κακῷ.
ἀλλ᾽ ἡ μὲν ἡμῶν μοῖρ᾽, ὅποιπερ εἶσ᾽, ἴτω·
παίδων δὲ τῶν μὲν ἀρσένων μή μοι, Κρέον,
προσθῇ μέριμναν· ἄνδρες εἰσίν, ὥστε μὴ
1460
σπάνιν ποτὲ σχεῖν, ἔνθ᾽ ἂν ὦσι, τοῦ βίου·
ταῖν δ᾽ ἀθλίαιν οἰκτραῖν τε παρθένοιν ἐμαῖν,
αἷν οὔποθ᾽ ἡμὴ χωρὶς ἐστάθη βορᾶς
τράπεζ᾽ ἄνευ τοῦδ᾽ ἀνδρός, ἀλλ᾽ ὅσων ἐγὼ
ψαύοιμι, πάντων τῶνδ᾽ ἀεὶ μετειχέτην·
1465
αἷν μοι μέλεσθαι· καὶ μάλιστα μὲν χεροῖν
ψαῦσαί μ' ἔασον κἀποκλαύσασθαι κακά.
ἴθ᾽ ὦναξ,
ἴθ᾽ ὦ γονῇ γενναῖε, χερσί τἂν θιγὼν
δοκοῖμ᾽ ἔχειν σφάς, ὥσπερ ἡνίκ᾽ ἔβλεπον.
1470
τί φημί;
οὐ δὴ κλύω που πρὸς θεῶν τοῖν μοι φίλοιν
δακρυρροούντοιν, καί μ' ἐποικτείρας Κρέων
ἔπεμψέ μοι τὰ φίλτατ' ἐκγόνοιν ἐμοῖν;
λέγω τι;
1475
ἀλλ᾽ εὐτυχοἰης, καί σε τῆσδε τῆς ὁδοῦ
δαίμων ἄμεινον ἢ ἐμὲ φρουρήσας τύχοι.
ὦ τέκνα, ποῦ ποτ᾽ ἐστέ; δεῦρ᾽ ἴτ᾽, ἔλθετε
1480
ὡς τὰς ἀδελφὰς τάσδε τὰς ἐμὰς χέρας,
αἳ τοῦ φυτουργοῦ πατρὸς ὑμὶν ὧδ᾽ ὁρᾶν
τὰ πρόσθε λαμπρὰ προὐξένησαν ὄμματα·
ὃς ὑμίν, ὦ τέκν', οὔθ᾽ ὁρῶν οὔθ᾽ ἱστορῶν
πατὴρ ἐφάνθην ἔνθεν αὐτὸς ἠρόθην.
1485
καὶ σφὼ δακρύω· προσβλέπειν γὰρ οὐ σθένω·
νοούμενος τὰ λοιπὰ τοῦ πικροῦ βίου,
οἷον βιῶναι σφὼ πρὸς ἀνθρώπων χρεών.
ποίας γὰρ ἀστῶν ἥξετ᾽ εἰς ὁμιλίας,
ποίας δ᾽ ἑορτάς, ἔνθεν οὐ κεκλαυμέναι
1490
πρὸς οἶκον ἵξεσθ' ἀντὶ τῆς θεωρίας;
ἀλλ᾽ ἡνίκ᾽ ἂν δὴ πρὸς γάμων ἥκητ᾽ ἀκμάς,
τίς οὗτος ἔσται, τίς παραρρίψει, τέκνα,
τοιαῦτ᾽ ὀνείδη λαμβάνων, ἃ τοῖς ἐμοῖς
γονεῦσιν ἔσται σφῷν θ᾽ ὁμοῦ δηλήματα;
1495
τί γὰρ κακῶν ἄπεστι; τὸν πατέρα πατὴρ
ὑμῶν ἔπεφνε· τὴν τεκοῦσαν ἤροσεν,
ὅθεν περ αὐτὸς ἐσπάρη, κἀκ τῶν ἴσων
ἐκτήσαθ᾽ ὑμᾶς, ὧνπερ αὐτὸς ἐξέφυ.
τοιαῦτ᾽ ὀνειδιεῖσθε. κᾆτα τίς γαμεῖ;
1500
οὐκ ἔστιν οὐδείς, ὦ τέκν', ἀλλὰ δηλαδὴ
χέρσους φθαρῆναι κἀγάμους ὑμᾶς χρεών.
ὦ παῖ Μενοικέως, ἀλλ᾽ ἐπεὶ μόνος πατὴρ
ταύταιν λέλειψαι, νὼ γάρ, ὣ ᾿φυτεύσαμεν,
ὀλώλαμεν δύ᾽ ὄντε, μή σφε *περιίδῃς
1505
πτωχὰς ἀνάνδρους, ἐγγενεῖς, ἀλωμένας,
μηδ' ἐξισώσῃς τάσδε τοῖς ἐμοῖς κακοῖς.
ἀλλ᾽ οἴκτισόν σφας, ὧδε τηλικάσδ᾽ ὁρῶν
πάντων ἐρήμους, πλὴν ὅσον τὸ σὸν μέρος.
ξύννευσον, ὦ γενναῖε, σῇ ψαύσας χερί.
1510
σφῷν δ᾽, ὦ τέκν', εἰ μὲν εἰχέτην ἤδη φρένας,
πόλλ᾽ ἂν παρῄνουν· νῦν δὲ τοῦτ᾽ εὔχεσθέ μοι,
οὗ καιρὸς ἀεὶ ζῇν, * βίου δὲ λῴονος
ὑμᾶς κυρῆσαι τοῦ φυτεύσαντος πατρός.
πειστέον, κεἰ μηδὲν ἡδύ.
Greek (F. Storr, 1912) (OCR draft) Experimental (Greek (F. Storr, 1912)) — 1223-1312 focus
Translations (5)
English (Lewis Campbell, 1906) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Lewis Campbell, 1906)) — 1223 focus
O ye who in this land have ever held
Chief honour, what an object of dire woe
Awaits your eyes, your ears! What piercing grief
Your hearts must suffer, if as kinsmen should
1225
Ye still regard the house of Laius!
Not Phasis, nor the Danube’s rolling flood,
Can ever wash away the stain and purge
This mansion of the horror that it hides.
—And more it soon shall give to light, not now
Unconsciously enacted. Of all ill,
1230
Self-chosen sorrows are the worst to bear.
Her own determination. You are spared
The worst affliction, not being there to see.
Yet to the height of my poor memory’s power
The wretched lady’s passion you shall hear.
When she had passed in her hot mood within
1240
The vestibule, straight to the bridal room
She rushes, tearing with both hands her hair.
Then having entered, shutting fast the door,
She called aloud on Laius, long dead,
With anguished memory of that birth of old
1245
Whereby the father fell, leaving his queen
To breed a dreadful brood for his own son.
And loudly o’er the bed she wailed, where she,
In twofold wedlock, hapless, had brought forth
Husband from husband, children from a child.
1250
We could not know the moment of her death,
Which followed soon, for Oedipus with cries
Broke in, and would not let us see her end,
But held our eyes as he careered the hall,
Demanding arms, and where to find his wife,—
No, not his wife, but fatal mother-croft,
1255
Cropped doubly with himself and his own seed.
And in his rage some god directed him
To find her:—’twas no man of us at hand.
Then with a fearful shout, as following
His leader, he assailed the folding-doors;
1260
And battering inward from the mortised bolts
The bending boards, he burst into the room:
Where high suspended we beheld the queen,
In twisted cordage resolutely swung.
He all at once on seeing her, wretched king!
1265
Undid the pendent noose, and on the ground
Lay the ill-starred queen. Oh, then ’twas terrible
To see what followed—for he tore away
The tiring-pins wherewith she was arrayed,
And, lifting, smote his eyeballs to the root,
Saying, Nevermore should they behold the evil
1270
His life inherited from that past time,
But all in dark henceforth should look upon
Features far better not beheld, and fail
To recognize the souls he had longed to know.
Thus crying aloud, not once but oftentimes
1275
He drave the points into his eyes; and soon
The bleeding pupils moistened all his beard,
Nor stinted the dark flood, but all at once
The ruddy hail poured down in plenteous shower.
Thus from two springs, from man and wife together,
Rose the joint evil that is now o’erflowing.
1280
And the old happiness in that past day
Was truly happy, but the present hour
Hath pain, crime, ruin:—whatsoe’er of ill
Mankind have named, not one is absent here.
And finds the sufferer now some pause of woe?
1285
O horror of the world!
Too great for mortal eye!
More terrible than all I have known of ill!
What fury of wild thought
1300
Came o’er thee? Who in heaven
Hath leapt against thy hapless life
With boundings out of measure fierce and huge?
Ah! wretched one, I cannot look on thee:
No, though I long to search, to ask, to learn.
1305
Thine aspect is too horrible.—I cannot!
O dark cloud, descending
Unutterably on me! invincible,
Abhorred, borne onward by too sure a wind.
Woe, woe!
1315
Woe! Yet again I voice it, with such pangs
Both from these piercing wounds I am assailed
And from within through memory of my grief.
Ah! Friend, thou art still constant! Thou remainest
To tend me and to care for the blind man.
Alas!
I know thee well, nor fail I to perceive,
Dark though I be, thy kind familiar voice.
Apollo, dear my friends, Apollo brought to pass
In dreadful wise, this my calamitous woe.
1330
But I,—no being else,—I with this hand destroyed them.
For why should I have sight,
To whom nought now gave pleasure through the eye?
1335
My curse on him who from the cruel bond
That held my feet in that high pasture-land
1350
Freed me, and rescued me from murder there,
And saved my life! Vain kindness! Then to have died
Had spared this agony to me and mine.
1355
I know not how to call thee wise in this:
Thou wert better dead than to be blind and live.
With timely presence to fulfil thy need
With act and counsel, Creon comes, who now
Is regent o’er this people in thy room.
Not only so. But I will charge thee too,
With urgent exhortation, to perform
The funeral rite for her who lies within—
She is thy kinswoman—howe’er thou wilt.
But never let this city of my sires
Claim me for living habitant! There, there
1450
Leave me to range the mountain, where my nurse,
Cithaeron, echoeth with my name,—Cithaeron,
Which both my parents destined for my tomb.
So my true murderers will be my death.
Yet one thing I can tell. Mine end will come
1455
Not by disease nor ordinary chance
I had not lived when at the point to die,
But for some terrible doom. Then let my fate
Run out its full career. But for my children
Thou, Creon, shalt provide. As for my sons,
1460
I pray thee burden not thyself with them.
They ne’er will lack subsistence—they are men.
But my poor maidens, hapless and forlorn,
Who never had a meal apart from mine,
But ever shared my table, yea, for them
1465
Take heedful care, and grant me, though but once.
Yea, I beseech thee, with these hands to feel,
Thou noble heart! the forms I love so well,
And weep with them our common misery.
Oh, if my arms were round them, I might seem
1470
To have them as of old when I could see—
What! Am I fooled once more, or do I hear
My dear ones weeping! And hath Creon sent,
Pitying my sorrows, mine own children to me
Whom most I love? Can this be truth I utter?
1475
Fair be thy fortune, and, for this last deed,
Heaven guide thee on a better course than mine.
Where are ye, O my children? Come, draw near
To these my hands of brother blood with you,
1480
Hands that have made so piteous to your sight
The darkened gaze of his once brilliant eyes,
Who all in blindness, with no thought of ill,
Became your father at that fount of life,
Where he himself took being! Oh! for you
1485
I weep, not seeing you, when I but think
Of all the bitter passages of fate
That must attend you amongst men. For where
Can ye find fellowship, what civic throng
Shall ye resort unto, what festival,
From whence, instead of sight or sound enjoyed,
1490
Ye will not come in tears unto your home?
And when ye reach the marriageable bloom,
My daughters, who will be the man to cast
His lot with yours, receiving for his own
All those reproaches which have marred the name
1495
Of both my parents and your name no less?
What evil is not here? Your father slew
His father, and then eared the mother field
Where he himself was sown, and got you from
The source of his own birth. Such taunts will fly.
And who will marry you? No man, my daughters;
1500
But ye must wither childless and unwed.
Son of Menoeceus, who alone art left
As father to these maidens, for the pair
That gave them birth are utterly undone,
Suffer them not, being your kinswomen,
1505
To wander desolate and poor, nor make
1505
Their lot perforce the counterpart of mine.
But look on them with pity, left in youth
Forlorn of all protection save from thee.
Noble one, seal this promise with thy hand!
—For you, my children, were ye of an age
1510
To ponder speech, I would have counselled you
Full carefully. Now I would have you pray
To dwell where ’tis convenient, that your life
May find more blessing than your father knew.
I must yield, though sore against me.
German (J. J. C. Donner, 1875; OCR review) (OCR draft) Experimental (German (J. J. C. Donner, 1875; OCR review)) — 1223 focus
Ihr, die vor Andern allezeit dies Land verehrt,
Was werdet ihr vernehmen, was mit Augen seh'n,
Welch lautes Leid erheben, wenn ihr anders noch
Dem Haus der Labdakiden edle Liebe wahrt! 1
1200
Denn nicht der Istros, glaub' ich, noch der Phasis wäscht
Jemals die Gräuel sühnend ab, die dieses Haus
Verbirgt: ein andres selbsterwähltes Leiden wird
Es bald zum Lichte fördern, und am schmerzlichsten
Sind jene Qualen, die man frei sich selbst erschuf.
1205
Sie starb von eignen Händen. Doch das Schmerzlichste
Der That entging euch; denn der Anblick mangelt euch.
So viel indeß mir haftet im Gedächtnisse,
Vernehmt vom lezten Leidenskampf der Armen dort.
Denn als in wildem Schmerze sie hineingelangt
1215
Zur Halle, stürmt sie sonder Rast in's Brautgemach,
Und rauft mit beiden Händen sich die Locken aus.
Dann warf sie drinnen hinter sich die Thüre zu,
Und rief dem längst entschlaf'nen Laïos, eingedenk
Der alten Ehe, deren Sprößling ihn erschlug,
1220
Indeß er sie, die Mutter als Erzeugerin
Unsel'ger Kinder hinterließ dem eignen Sohn.
Sie flucht dem Lager, wo sie (zwiefach herbe Schmach!)
Den Mann vom Manne, Kinder sich vom Kind gebar.
Doch wie sie dann geendet, weiß ich weiter nicht.
1225
Denn schreiend kam jezt Dedipus hereingestürzt,
Was uns den Ausgang ihres Leids zu schau'n verwehrt:
Auf ihn allein, der wild umherlief, blickten wir.
Denn stürmend bat er um ein Schwert und fragte, wo
Die Gattin, ach! nicht Gattin, wo die Mutter sei,
1230
Aus deren Schooße sein Geschlecht und er entsproß.
Und wie er tobte, zeigt' ein Gott den Weg ihm an:
Kein Mann ja, der ihm nahe stand, vermochte dies.
Mit grausem Heulen sprang er los auf's Doppelthor,
Geführt von unsichtbarer Hand; vom Grunde bog
1235
Er aus der hohlen Schlösser Band und stürzt hinein
Zum Brautgemache, wo wir hängen sah'n die Frau,
Geknüpft an's hochgewundne Seil. Doch als er so
Sie sah, der Arme, brüllt er gräßlich auf und läßt
Die Schlinge nieder. Wie die Jammervolle nun
1240
Dalag am Boden, gräßlich war's, was hier geschah.
Denn goldgetriebne Spangen, die vordem zum Schmuck 2
Ihr dienten, riß er aus der Frau Gewanden los,
Erhob sie, traf der Augen beide Kreise sich,
Und rief das Wort: sie sollten, weil sie nicht geseh'n,
1245
Was er geduldet Grauses; noch was er gethan,
Hinfort in Nacht schau'n, die zu schau'n ihm Sünde war,
Und die er kennen möchte, nicht erkennen mehr!
Und also fluchend hob er oft, nicht Einmal nur,
Die Wimpern hoch und traf sich, und die blutigen
1250
Augäpfel nezten roth die Wang' und sandten nicht
Des Blutes Naß in Tropfen, nein, zugleich ergoß
Ein Regen sich in blutig schwarzem Strom herab.
So brach das Unheil über Zwei vereint herein;
Verstrickt in Eines Leides Fall ward Mann und Weib.
1255
Wohl war in frühern Tagen noch das alte Glück
Ein Glück in Wahrheit; aber nun, an diesem Tag,
Blüht Jammer, Elend, Schande, Tod; von allem Leid,
Soviel es irgend Namen hat, fehlt keines hier.
Ogräßliches Leid für Menschen zu schau'n!
Ogräßlichstes, das von allen bis jezt
Mein Auge geseh'n! Welch Rasen ergriff,
Unglücklicher, dich? Welch zürnender Gott
Stürmt' heftiger noch, denn der wildeste Sturm,
1275
Auf dein unseliges Schicksal?
Weh, Unglückssohn! Ich kann dich ja nicht
Anschau'n, und möchte dich fragen so viel,
Mich erkundigen viel und erwägen so viel!
So weckst du mir Schauder und Grauen.
1280
Weh, weh, weh, weh!
Ogräßliches
theurer Freund,
Es war Phöbos, Freunde, ja, Phöbos war's,
Der dies Arge mir, dies Gräßliche verhängt!
Doch traf sie keines Andern Hand, ich Armer selbst traf sie.
Wozu sollt' ich seh'n,
Dem, wenn er sah, nichts Süßes mehr zu schauen war?
1305
Fluch über Ihn, der von dem rauhen Band
In den Waldschluchten mir den Fuß löste, mich
Vom Tode rettend schirmte! Nimmer mir zu Dank that er's.
Fand ich da den Tod,
Mir und den Meinen lebt' ich nicht zu solcher Qual.
1320
Zu sagen, daß du wohl gethan, bedenk' ich mich;
Denn besser war dir's, nicht zu sein, als lebend blind.
1330
Gelegen deiner Bitte kommt schon Kreon hier,
Zu Rath und That gewärtig; denn er bleibt allein
Als Schuz des Landes übrig noch an deiner Statt.
1380
Gewiß, und dir empfehl' ich und beschwöre dich:
Die dort im Haus bestatte selbst, wie dir's gefällt;
Denn schicklich wirst du solches für die Deinen thun. 5
1410
Doch mich zu pflegen, weil ich leb', in ihrem Schooß,
Das werde nie von meiner Väter Stadt verlangt.
Nein, laß mich wohnen im Gebirg', auf jenen Höh'n,
Die mein Kithäron heißen, den mir Lebenden
Die Wahl der Eltern ausersah zum sichern Grab,
1415
Durch sie zu sterben, die mir Tod bereiteten!
Doch weiß ich so viel: keine Krankheit wird mich je,
Noch Andres tödten; nie ja, schon dem Tode nah,
Wär' ich gerettet, harrte mein nicht schweres Leid.
Doch unser Schicksal schreite fort, wohin es will!
1420
Um meine Kinder, um die Söhne brauchst du nicht
Zu sorgen, Kreon; Männer sind sie, welche nie
Die Noth des Lebens, wo sie sei'n, erreichen wird.
Doch meine Töchter, diese mitleidwürdigen,
Für welche niemals ohne mich der Speise Tisch
1425
Gesondert ward bereitet, Alles, was ich selbst
Berührte, dessen hatten sie beständig Theil
Sie nimm in Obhut: laß, o laß vor Allem sie
Mich noch umarmen und beweinen ihr Geschick!
geh, Fürst!
1430
Geh, Sohn der Edeln! Halt' ich sie im Arm, so sind
Sie mein, wie damals, dünkt mich, als ich sehend war.
(Kreon ab.)
Was sag' ich?
Ihr Götter! Hör' ich meine zwei Geliebten nicht
In Thränen schluchzen? Hat sich Kreon mein erbarmt,
1435
Und sendet mir die liebsten meiner Sprößlinge?
Ist's Wahrheit?
(kommt mit den Töchtern)
So lebe glücklich; möge dich für diesen Gang
1440
Ein Gott bewahren, treuer, als er mich bewahrt!
Wo, meine Kinder, seid ihr denn? Kommt doch daher,
kommt heran zu meinen Bruderhänden hier,
Den Händen, die's verbrachen, daß ihr also schaut
Des Vaters Augen, die vordem so hell geblickt,
1445
Des Vaters, der, nichts ahnend und unwissentlich,
Euch Vater ward vom Weibe, dem er selbst entsproß.
Und euch bewein' ich, (euch zu seh'n vermag ich nicht,)
Bedenk' ich, ach, des bittern Lebens Ueberrest,
Durch den ihr euch bei Menschen durchzukämpfen habt.
1450
In welche Kreise lassen euch die Bürger zu,
Zu welchen Festen, daß ihr nicht heimkehrt von dort
In Thränen schwimmend, statt vom Schau'n erfreut zu sein?
Und reiftet ihr zu süßem Eheglück heran,
Wer wäre der, o Kinder, wer erkühnte sich,
1455
Auf sich zu häufen solche Schmach, die stets ein Fluch
An meinen Eltern haftet und den eurigen?
Denn welcher Gräuel fehlte noch? Den Vater, ach!
Schlug euer Vater, traute sich der Mutter an,
Von der er selbst entsprossen, und erzielte dann
1460
Euch aus demselben Schooße, der ihn selbst empfing.
So wird man euch verhöhnen. Dann wer wirbt um euch?
Kein Freier zeigt sich, Kinder; ihr müßt unvermählt
Im öden Leben blütenlos zu Grunde geh'n.
O Sohn Menökeus', - du ja bleibst allein zurück,
1465
Ihr Vater; denn wir Eltern, die sie zeugten, sind
Dahin, wir beiden; - laß sie nicht, die deinem Stamm
So nah verwandt sind, irren arm und gattenlos,
Und meinem Elend mache nicht das ihre gleich!
Nein, hab' Erbarmen, wenn du sie, die Schwachen, siehst
1470
So bloß von Allem, außer was du ihnen gönnst!
Mit deinem Handschlag, edler Mann, gelobe mir's!
Euch gäb' ich manche Lehre noch, wenn's euer Sinn
Schon faßte, Kinder; jezt erfleh' ich das für euch:
Lebt immer, wo's euch frommen mag, und freundlicher
1475
Sei euch das Leben, als es eurem Vater war!
Ende! Wohin reißt der Schmerz dich? Auf, und geh' in's Haus hinein!
English (Thomas Francklin, 1758–1759) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Thomas Francklin, 1758–1759)) — 1237 focus
Sages of Thebes, most honoured and
revered,
If e'er the house of Labdacus was dear
And precious to you, what will be your grief
CEDIPUS TYRANNUS. 227
When I shall tell the most disastrous tale
You ever heard, and to your eyes present
A spectacle more dreadful than they yet
Did e'er behold : not the wide Danube's waves
Nor Phasis' streams can wash away the stains
Of this polluted palace ; the dire crimes
Long time concealed at length are brought to light ;
But those which spring from voluntary guilt
Are still more dreadful.
To be brief, the queeUj
Divine Jocasta's dead.
Jocasta dead ! Say, by what hand ?
Open the doors, he cries, and let all Thebes
Behold his parents' murderer, adding words
Not to be uttered ; banished now, he says,
He must be, nor, devoted as he is
By his own curse, remain in this sad place.
1315
He wants a kind conductor and a friend
To help him now, for 'tis too much to bear. -
But you will see him soon, for lo ! the doors
Are opened, and you will behold a sight
That would to pity move his deadliest foe.
O cruel darkness ! endless, hopeless night,
Shame, terrors, and unutterable woe !
Mere painful is the memory of my crimes
Than all the wounds my wild distraction made.
Aii; thou here, my friend?
I know thy voice ; thou wouldst not leave the wretched ;
Thou art my faithful, kind assistant still.
What pleasure now remains
For CEdipus? He cannot joy in aught
To sight or ear delightful. Curse on him,
1350
Whoe'er he was, that loosened my bound feet.
1350
And saved me, in Cithseron's vale, from death !
I owe him nothing : had I perished then,
Much happier had it been for you, my friends,
And for myself.
1355
Yet must I blame this cruel act, for sure
The loss of sight is worse than death itself.
I care not for thy counsel or thy praise ;
For with what eyes could I have e'er beheld
My honoured father in the shades below,
1370
Or my unhappy mother, both destroyed
me? This jmnisliinent is worse than death,
il so it should be. Sweet had been the sight
Of my dear children — them I could have wished
To gaze upon ; but I must never see
1375
C)r them, or this fail* city, or the palace
Where I was born. Deprived of every bliss
By my own lips, which doomed to banishment
Tlie murderer of Laius, and expelled
The impious wretch, by gods and men accursed :
1380
Could I behold them after this ? Oh no !
Would I could now with equal ease remove
My hearing too, be deaf as well as blind,
And from another entrance shut out woe !
To want our senses, in the hour of ill,
1385
Is comfort to the wretched. O Cithasron !
Why didst thou e'er receive me, or received.
Why not destroy, that men might never know
Who gave me birth ? O Polybus ! O Corinth !
And thou, long time beheved my father's palace,
1390
Oh! what a foul disgrace to human nature
Didst thou receive beneath a prince's form !
Impious myself, and from an impious race.
Wliere is my splendour now? O Daulian path !
The shady forest, and the nari'ow pass
"Wliere three ways meet, who drank a father's blood
1395
Shed by these hands, do you not still remember
The horrid deed, and what, when here I came.
Followed more dreadful ? Fatal nuptials, you
Produced me, you returned me to the womb
That bare me ; thence relations horrible
1400
Of fathers, sons, and brothers came ; of "svives.
Sisters, and mothei's, sad alliance ! all
That man holds impious and detestable.
But what in act is \^le the modest tongue
Should never name. Bury me, hide me, friends.
1405
From every eye; destroy me, cast me forth
To the wide .ocean — let me perish there :
Do anything to shake off hated life.
Seize me ; approach, my friends — you need not fear,
Polluted though I am, to touch me ; none
1410
Shall suffer for my crimes but I alone.
CiiOR. In most fit time, my lord, the noble Creon
This way advances ; he can best determine
A.nd best advise ; sole guardian now of Thebes,
To him thy power devolves.
1415
What shall I sayl
Can I apply to him for aid whom late
I deeply injured by unjust suspicion?
For such a wretch as me
Wouldst tliou again explore the will of Heaven 1
Thy hapless fate should teach us to believe,
And reverence the gods.
I l)Og thee, I conjure thee, let a tomb
Be raised, and all due honours paid to her
Who lies within : she was thy sister, Creon ;
It is a duty which thou ow'st : for me,
I cannot hope this city now will deign
To keep me here. O Creon ! let me go,
And seek the solitary mountain's top,
My own Cith?eron, by my parents doomed
Long since to be the grave of CEdipus ;
Where would I die, as they decreed I should.
Alas ! I cannot, must not perish yet,
Till I have suffered evils worse than death,
For I was only saved to be unhappy ;
But I must meet my fate, whate'er it be.
My sons are men, and wheresoever fortune
May place them, cannot want the means of life ;
They shall not burthen thee ; but, O my friend !
What will become of my unhappy daughters,
With tenderest love, beneath a father's hand,
Cherished so long ? Oh ! take them to thy care,
Thou best of men ! Oh ! might I but embrace them,
But shed a tear o'er their disastrous fate,
Might I be suffered but to touch them here,
I should rejoice, and think I saw them still.
But hark ! methinks e'en now I hear the voice
Of my dear daughters ; hath the gracious Creon,
In pity to my woes, already brought
My children to me 1 — is it so ?
It is :
1515
Thy wishes are prevented ; they are here.
1515
Daughters of (Edipus, (Edipus, Ceeon, Chorus.
1515
May Heaven reward thee for this goodness to
me,
And give thee much more bliss than I have known !
Now, my dear children, come towards me, come
Towards your father and your — brother ; see
These sightless eyes, pierced by my own mad hands ;
Behold that wretched father who begat you
Unknowingly on her who gave me birth ;
I cannot see you now — I can but weep
Your fate, to think what hours of wretchedness
You have to know hereafter. Whither now
Must my poor children lly? From every feast
Joyless with grief and shame, shall you return ;
And when the time shall come when riper years
Should give you to the nuptial bed, who then,
Careless of fame, will let his child partake
The infamy of my abhorred race.
Sprung from a wretch accursed, who killed his father,
And from the womb that bare him did beget
You my unhappy daughters ? Such reproach
Must still be yours, to virgin solitude
Devoted ever, and a barren bed.
Son of Menaeceus, thou alone art left
Their father now, for, oh ! Jocasta 's dead,
And T am — nothing. Do not then forsake
Thy kindred ; nor, deserted and forlorn.
Suffer them still in penury and woe
1520
To wander helpless, in their tender age :
1520
Kemember they have no support but thee.
1520
O generous prince ! have pity on them ; give me
1520
Thy friendly hand in promise of thy aid.
1520
To you, my daughters, had your early years
1520
Permitted, I had given my last advice :
Too young for counsel, all I ask of you
Is but to pray the gods that my sad life
May not be long ; but
'Ours, my children, crowned
vv iin many oays, ana happier far than mine.
English (Robert Potter, 1788) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Robert Potter, 1788)) — 1223 focus
But thee th' all-seeing eye of time hath found,
And these unhallow'd rites abhorrent shows.
O son of Laius, ne'er again,
Ne'er could my sorrowing heart thy sight sustain :
Yet I lament in mournful strains thy woes,
By thee 'twas mine to life, to light, to rise;
What soonest may be spoken, soonest heard,
Take briefly, the revered Jocasta's dead.
Unhappy queen! And what the fatal cause?
1285
And hath he yet no respite from his ills ?
Woe, woe, woe, woe! O miserable me!
Wretch that I am, ah, whither am I borne?
Whose ears do now my cries of anguish reach?
To what are thy decrees, O fortune, changed
Ah me, this cloud of darkness thick'ning round,
Hateful, beyond expression, beyond cure,
And beyond hope! Ah me, how keen the sting
Of frenzy, and the memory of my ills!
Thou art a friend, yet stedfast, faithful yet;
Thy care, thy kind attention yet remains
1330
E'en to the blind. I know thee, though mine eyes
Are dark, distinctly know thee, and thy voice.
What now is left me to be seen, or loved,
Address'd, or heard with pleasure? O my friends,
1350
Drive hence, my friends, quick from your country drive
This pestilent destroyer, most accursed,
Of mortal men, most hateful to the gods.
1355
Thy counsels cannot claim my praise as wise;
For better not to be, than to live blind.
Let me prevail; why should you fear? my ills
Of all mankind none but myself can bear.
For such a wretch wilt thou consult the god ?
I charge thee, I conjure thee, in a tomb,
Oh, be thou bless'd; and for this courtesy
A kinder guardian may'st thou find the god
Than I have found him!... O my children, where,
Where are you? Come to me, come to these hands,
A brother's hands, which thus your father's eyes,
Once lamps of light, have quench'd. Your father I
(Alas, my children! erring, nor by sight
Nor thought inform'd) by her that gave me birth
Yet I weep o'er you, for these eyes no more
English (Sir Richard Jebb, 1904) (OCR draft) Experimental (English (Sir Richard Jebb, 1904)) — 1223-1312 focus