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ANT.
He is gone, father. I alone am near.
Speak what thou wilt in peace and quietness.

OED.
Dread Forms of holy Fear, since in this land
Your sanctuary first gave my limbs repose,
Be not obdurate to my prayer, nor spurn
The voice of Phoebus, who that fateful day,
When he proclaimed my host of ills to come,
Told me of rest after a weary time,
Where else but here? ‘When I should reach my bourne,
And find repose and refuge with the Powers
Of reverend name, my troubled life should end
With blessing to the men who sheltered me,
And curses on their race who banished me
and sent me wandering forth.’ Whereof he vouched me
Sure token, or by earthquake, or by fire
From heaven, or thundrous voices. And I know
Some aery message from your shrine hath drawn me
With winged whisper to this grove. Not else
Had ye first met me coming, nor had I
Sate on your dread unchiselled seat of stone,
With dry cold lips greeting your sober shrine.
Then give Apollo’s word due course, and give
Completion to my life, if in your sight
These toils and sorrows past the human bound
Seem not too little. Kindly, gentle powers,
Offspring of primal darkness, hear my prayer!
Hear it, Athenai, of all cities queen,
Great Pallas’ foster-city! Look with ruth
On this poor shadow of great Oedipus,
This fading semblance of his kingly form.

ANT.
Be silent now. There comes an aged band
With jealous looks to know thine errand here.

OED.
I will be silent, and thine arm shall guide
My footstep under covert of the grove
Out of the path, till I make sure what words
These men will utter. Warily to observe
Is the prime secret of the prudent mind.

[Exeunt]

CHORUS
(entering).

Keep watch! Who is it? Look!
Where is he? Vanished! Gone! Oh where?
Most uncontrolled of men!
Look well, inquire him out,
Search keenly in every nook!
–Some wanderer is the aged wight,
A wanderer surely, not a native here.
Else never had he gone within
The untrodden grove
Of these–unmarried, unapproachable in might,
–Whose name we dare not breathe,
But pass their shrine
Without a look, without a word,
Uttering the unheard voice of reverential thought.
But now, one comes, they tell, devoid of awe,
Whom, peering all around this grove
I find not, where he abideth.

OED.
(behind).

Behold me! For I ‘see by sound,’
As mortals say.

CH.
Oh, Oh!
With horror I see him, with horror hear him speak.

OED.
Pray you, regard me not as a transgressor!

CH.
Defend us, Zeus! Who is that aged wight?

OED.
Not one of happiest fate,
Or enviable, O guardians of this land!
‘Tis manifest; else had I not come hither
Led by another’s eyes, not moored my bark
On such a slender stay.

CH.
Alas! And are thine eyes
Sightless? O full of misery,
As thou look’st full of years!
But not, if I prevail,
Shalt thou bring down this curse.
Thou art trespassing. Yet keep thy foot
From stumbling in that verdant, voiceless dell,
Where running water as it fills
The hallowed bowl,
Mingles with draughts[1] of honey. Stranger, hapless one!
Avoid that with all care.
Away! Remove!
Distance impedes the sound. Dost hear,
Woe-burdened wanderer? If aught thou carest to bring
Before our council, leave forbidden ground,
And there, where all have liberty,
Speak,–but till then, avaunt thee!