Page:Tragedies of Euripides (Way 1898) v3.djvu/109

Rh Shall prosper while thou dwellest in the land.

Then get thee forth: this not despiteously

I speak, nor as thy foe, but fearing hurt

To Thebes by reason of thy vengeance-fiends.

Fate, from the first to grief thou barest me,

And pain, beyond all men that ever were.

Ere from my mother's womb I came to light,

Phœbus to Laïus spake me, yet unborn,

My father's murderer—ah, woe is me!

When I was born, my father, my begetter,—

Doomed by mine hand to die,—accounting me

From birth his foe, would slay me, sent me forth,

A suckling yet, a wretched prey to beasts.

Yet was I saved. Oh had Cithæron sunk

Down to the bottomless chasms of Tartarus,

For that it slew me not!—but Fate gave me

To be a bondman, Polybus my lord.

So mine own father did I slay, and came,—

Ah wretch!—unto mine hapless mother's couch.

Sons I begat, my brethren, and destroyed,

Passing to them the curse received of Laïus.

For not so witless am I from the birth,

As to devise these things against mine eyes

And my sons' life, but by the finger of God.

Let be:—what shall I do, the fortune-crost?

Who shall companion me, my blind steps guide?

She who is dead? O yea, were she alive!

My sons, a goodly pair? Nay, I have none.

Am I yet young, to win me livelihood?