OEDIPUS.
No favorite of fate,
That ye should envy his estate,
O, Sirs, would any happy mortal, say,
Grope by the light of other eyes his way,
Or face the storm upon so frail a stay?
CHORUS.
(Ant. 1)
Wast thou then sightless from thy birth?
Evil, methinks, and long
Thy pilgrimage on earth.
Yet add not curse to curse and wrong to wrong.
I warn thee, trespass not
Within this hallowed spot,
Lest thou shouldst find the silent grassy glade
Where offerings are laid,
Bowls of spring water mingled with sweet mead.
Thou must not stay,
Come, come away,
Tired wanderer, dost thou heed?
(We are far off, but sure our voice can reach.)
If aught thou wouldst beseech,
Speak where ’tis right; till then refrain from speech.
OEDIPUS.
Daughter, what counsel should we now pursue?
ANTIGONE.
We must obey and do as here they do.
OEDIPUS.
Thy hand then!
ANTIGONE.
Here, O father, is my hand,
OEDIPUS.
O Sirs, if I come forth at your command,
Let me not suffer for my confidence.
CHORUS.
(Str. 2)
Against thy will no man shall drive thee hence.
OEDIPUS.
Shall I go further?
CHORUS.
Aye.