Part 22

OEDIPUS. But who will bear him word!

CHORUS. The way is long, And many travelers pass to speed the news. Be sure he’ll hear and hasten, never fear; So wide and far thy name is noised abroad, That, were he ne’er so spent and loth to move, He would bestir him when he hears of thee.

OEDIPUS. Well, may he come with blessing to his State And me! Who serves his neighbor serves himself. 5

ANTIGONE. Zeus! What is this? What can I say or think?

OEDIPUS. What now, Antigone?

ANTIGONE. I see a woman Riding upon a colt of Aetna’s breed; She wears for headgear a Thessalian hat To shade her from the sun. Who can it be? She or a stranger? Do I wake or dream? ’Tis she; ’tis not—I cannot tell, alack; It is no other! Now her bright’ning glance Greets me with recognition, yes, ’tis she, Herself, Ismene!

OEDIPUS. Ha! what say ye, child?

ANTIGONE. That I behold thy daughter and my sister, And thou wilt know her straightway by her voice. [Enter ISMENE]

ISMENE. Father and sister, names to me most sweet, How hardly have I found you, hardly now When found at last can see you through my tears!

OEDIPUS. Art come, my child?

ISMENE. O father, sad thy plight!

OEDIPUS. Child, thou art here?

ISMENE. Yes, ’twas a weary way.

OEDIPUS. Touch me, my child.

ISMENE. I give a hand to both.

OEDIPUS. O children—sisters!

ISMENE. O disastrous plight!

OEDIPUS. Her plight and mine?

ISMENE. Aye, and my own no less.

OEDIPUS. What brought thee, daughter?

ISMENE. Father, care for thee.

OEDIPUS. A daughter’s yearning?

ISMENE. Yes, and I had news I would myself deliver, so I came With the one thrall who yet is true to me.

OEDIPUS. Thy valiant brothers, where are they at need?

ISMENE. They are—enough, ’tis now their darkest hour.

OEDIPUS. Out on the twain! The thoughts and actions all Are framed and modeled on Egyptian ways. For there the men sit at the loom indoors While the wives slave abroad for daily bread. So you, my children—those whom I behooved To bear the burden, stay at home like girls, While in their stead my daughters moil and drudge, Lightening their father’s misery. The one Since first she grew from girlish feebleness To womanhood has been the old man’s guide And shared my weary wandering, roaming oft Hungry and footsore through wild forest ways, In drenching rains and under scorching suns, Careless herself of home and ease, if so Her sire might have her tender ministry. And thou, my child, whilom thou wentest forth, Eluding the Cadmeians’ vigilance, To bring thy father all the oracles Concerning Oedipus, and didst make thyself My faithful lieger, when they banished me. And now what mission summons thee from home, What news, Ismene, hast thou for thy father? This much I know, thou com’st not empty-handed, Without a warning of some new alarm.

ISMENE. The toil and trouble, father, that I bore To find thy lodging-place and how thou faredst, I spare thee; surely ’twere a double pain To suffer, first in act and then in telling; ’Tis the misfortune of thine ill-starred sons I come to tell thee. At the first they willed To leave the throne to Creon, minded well Thus to remove the inveterate curse of old, A canker that infected all thy race. But now some god and an infatuate soul Have stirred betwixt them a mad rivalry To grasp at sovereignty and kingly power. Today the hot-branded youth, the younger born, Is keeping Polyneices from the throne, His elder, and has thrust him from the land. The banished brother (so all Thebes reports) Fled to the vale of Argos, and by help Of new alliance there and friends in arms, Swears he will stablish Argos straight as lord Of the Cadmeian land, or, if he fail, Exalt the victor to the stars of heaven. This is no empty tale, but deadly truth, My father; and how long thy agony, Ere the gods pity thee, I cannot tell.

OEDIPUS. Hast thou indeed then entertained a hope The gods at last will turn and rescue me?