Ed. Good luck be yours, and for this errand's sake The Spirit (39) for you a better guardian make Than e'er for me. Where are you, children?

Please

Come to these hands; they are your brother's.
These

Have ministered to make these eyes, once bright,
Of
your engendering sire have this for sight.
Because I would not look, I would not learn;
Where I was digged I fathered you in turn.
More tears . . . for you to see you I've no
strength-

To think of all the bitter coming length

Of life that now the world will make you live.
What gatherings or what festivals will give
You access, and you will not go away

Tearfully home instead of holiday?

And when you reach your bridal prime, oh then
Who will there be, my children, who of men
So bold to take upon himself the shame

Which blasts you as it blasts my parents' name?
What crime is missing here? Your father killed
His father, and the mother-ground he tilled
Where he himself was sown, and one and all,
Getter and got, have one original.

These will be your reproaches: who will marry?
Children, there will be none. 'Tis necessary
That you should wither barren and unwed.
Son of Menoeceus, in a father's stead
They've only you; for we are perished now,
The pair who gave them birth. Do not allow
Husbandless beggar waifs to bear your name;
And level not these girls to match my shame.

Ill does their age their piteous fortune suit;
But for your part, they're wholly destitute.
Give your assent, Sir,-touch me with your
hand.

Children, were you of years to understand,
I'd give you much advice: now, just this
prayer-

Manage to live as season may allot you,

And better luck be yours than his that got you.

Cre. Far enough in lamentation. Now within the

house repair.

Ed. Choice is none, and yet 'tis hard consenting.

Cre.
Ed. Know you now the charter of my going?

Cre.

Ed. Send me forth to dwell in exile.

Cre.

Fit alone makes fair.

Speak to hear's to know.

Ed. But of Gods I stand abhorrèd.

Cre.

Ed. Say you Ay?

Cre.

I like not speaking where I know my words

are vain.

Ed. Well, 'tis time, you must remove me.

Cre.

Come, and let the children go.

Ed. Rob me not of them, of them!

Cre.

You must not think in all to reign. Reign you had, and life is left you: honours proved a faithless train.

[Exeunt EDIPUS, CREON, and the CHILDREN, while the CHORUS speak the Epilogue.

Cho. O inhabiters of Thebè, look, for this is Œdipus, He that guessed the great enigma, he of men allglorious :

Him the people never envied, and he kept an eye on doom;

Yet what seas of ill engulf him, yet what awful waves entomb!

So until a mortal creature sees the final day of all, Happy let him while he waits and watches no man living call

Till the homeward race has touched the barrier free from hurt or fall.

[Exeunt omnes.

CEDIPUS UP AT COLONOS

SCENE.-The Hill of Colonos near Athens. A road from Left leads to the Sacred Grove of the Eumenides, which is fenced with natural rock: at some point in its circuit the rock affords a natural seat.

Enter DIPUS and ANTIGONE, weary and travel-stained, by the road from L.

Ed. Child of the old man blind, Antigone,

What lands are these? In whose domains are we?
Who shall to Edipus the homeless waif
The daily churlish dole to-day vouchsafe?
Little enough I ask for, and I gain

Less than my little. Let me not complain.
Suff'ring and Time-old comrade now he's
reckoned-

Teach patience: and noblesse is there to second.
But, child, if any place to sit be found
Whether in holy acre or common ground,
Set me and found me, while we ascertain
Our whereabouts. Strangers we come to ask
Of natives, and perform the bidden task.
Ant. Poor father, Edipus, if sight be proof

The walls that case the town are far aloof.
But this is holy ground, as I suppose—
So rich the bay, the vine, the olive grows;

There chant within it nightingales thick-flown. Here lay you down on this unpolished stone. Long miles for aged limbs you've left behind. Ed. Ay: settle me down here, and watch the blind. [ANTIGONE leads him to the seat and composes him there.

Ant. 'Tis not Time's fault, if you must tell me that !
Ed. Say, can you teach me what's the place we're at?
Ant. Athens (40)-I know so much, but not the spot.
Ed. That much from every passer-by we got.

Ant. Well, shall I ask direction somewhere near?
Ed. Do so, child-if 'tis habitable here.

[A Man of the Country is descried approaching
quickly.

Ant. Nay, better, 'tis inhabited. I doubt

We need not-for I see a man about.

Ed. This way approaching? He begins to move?

Enter the COUNTRYMAN.

Ant. Why, no, for now he's reached us! Speak you can
As best the hour advises-here's the man.
Ed. Friend, since a seasonable scout you prove,
Well met to clear our hesitations-she

Whose eyes do duty for herself and me-
C. Before you question further, quit that seat:
You're on forbidden ground for human feet.
Ed. What ground is this? To what God dedicate?
C. Inviolate, uninhabited, the site

Of dread powers, daughters of the Earth and
Night.

Ed. Teach me to pray them! What's this name so great?