Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/147

Rh Dread Power, with crushing might

Thou leaped'st on my head.

Chorus. Yea, with dread doom nor sight nor speech may bear.

Œdip. Ο cloud of darkness, causing one to shrink,

That onward sweeps with dread ineffable,

Resistless, borne along by evil blast,

Woe, woe, and woe again!

How through me darts the throb these clasps have caused,

And memory of my ills.

Chorus. And who can wonder that in such dire woes

Thou mournest doubly, bearing twofold ills?

Œdip. Ah, friend,

Thou only keepest by me, faithful found,

Nor dost the blind one slight.

Woe, woe,

For thou escap'st me not; I clearly know,

Though all is dark, at least that voice of thine.

Chorus. Ο man of fearful deeds, how could'st thou bear

Thine eyes to outrage? What Power stirred thee to it?

Œdip. Apollo, oh, my friends, the God, Apollo,

Who worketh out all these, my bitter woes;

Yet no man's hand but mine has smitten them.

What need for me to see,

When nothing's left that's sweet to look upon?

Chorus. Too truly dost thou speak the thing that is.

Œdip. Yea, what remains to see,

Or what to love, or hear,

With any touch of joy?

Lead me away, my friends, with utmost speed

Lead me away, the foul polluted one,

Of all men most accursed,

Most hateful to the Gods.