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MONODY.

ANT.
O strangers, full of reverent care!
Since ye cannot endure my father here,
Aged and blind,
Because ye have heard a rumour of the deeds
He did unknowingly,–yet, we entreat you.
Strangers, have pity on me, the hapless girl,
Who pray for mine own sire and for none else,
–Pray, looking in your eyes with eyes not blind.
As if a daughter had appeared to you.
Pleading for mercy to the unfortunate.
We are in your hands as in the hand of God,
Helpless. O then accord the unhoped for boon!
By what is dear to thee, thy veriest own,
I pray thee,–chattel or child, or holier name!
Search through the world, thou wilt not find the man
Who could resist the leading of a God.

CH.
Daughter of Oedipus, be well assured
We view with pity both thy case and his,
But fear of Heavenly wrath confines our speech
To that we have already said to you.

OED.
What profit lives in fame and fair renown
By unsubstantial rumour idly spread?
When Athens is extolled with peerless praise
For reverence, and for mercy!–She alone
The sufferer’s shield, the exile’s comforter!
What have I reaped hereof? Ye have raised me up
From yonder seat, and now would drive me forth
Fearing a name! For there is nought in me
Or deeds of mine to make you fear. My life
Hath more of wrong endured than of wrong done,
Were it but lawful to disclose to you
Wherefore ye dread me,–not my sin but theirs,
My mother’s and my sire’s. I know your thought.
Yet never can ye fasten guilt on me,
Who, though I had acted with the clear’st intent,
Were guiltless, for my deed requited wrong.
But as it was, all blindly I went forth
On that dire road, while they who planned my death
Planned it with perfect knowledge. Therefore, sirs,
By Heaven I pray you, as ye have bid me rise,
Protect your suppliant without fail; and do not
In jealous reverence for the blessed Gods
Rob them of truest reverence, but know this:–
God looks upon the righteousness of men
And their unrighteousness, nor ever yet
Hath one escaped who wrought iniquity.
Take part, then, with the Gods, nor overcloud
The golden fame of Athens with dark deeds;
But as ye have pledged your faith to shelter me,
Defend me and rescue, not rejecting me
Through mere abhorrence of my ruined face.
For on a holy mission am I come,
Sent with rich blessings for your neighbours here.
And when the head and sovereign of your folk
Is present, ye shall learn the truth at full.
Till then, be gracious to me, and not perverse.

CH.
Thy meaning needs must strike our hearts with awe,
Old wanderer! so weighty are the words
That body it forth. Therefore we are content
The Lord of Athens shall decide this case.

OED.
And where is he who rules this country, sirs?

CH.
He keeps his father’s citadel. But one
Is gone to fetch him, he who brought us hither.

OED.
Think you he will consider the blind man,
And come in person here to visit him?

CH.
Be sure he will,–when he hath heard thy name.

OED.
And who will carry that?

CH.
‘Tis a long road;
But rumour from the lips of wayfarers
Flies far and wide, so that he needs must hear;
And hearing, never doubt but he will come.
So noised in every land hath been thy name,
Old sovereign,–were he sunk in drowsiness,
That sound would bring him swiftly to thy side.