Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/161

Rh Be ye not harsh to Phœbos, and to me;

For He, when he proclaimed my many woes,

Told of this respite, after many years;

When I should reach the bourn of all my life,

That I should claim a stranger's place, and sit,

A suppliant at the shrine of dreaded Gods,

And then should near the goal of woe-worn life,

To those who should receive me bringing gain;

To those who sent me—yea, who drove me—evil;

And that sure signs should give me pledge of this,

Earthquake, or thunder, or the flash of Zeus.

And now I know full well it cannot be

But faithful omen, sent to me by you,

To this grove brought me. Else I had not first,

Untasting wine, upon my way met you,

E'en you who loathe the wine-cup, nor had sat

On this rough, hallowed seat. But, Ο ye Powers,

Grant me, according to Apollo's voice,

An issue and completion of my life;

Unless it chance I seem too low for this,

Of all mankind the most enslaved to ills.

Come, ye sweet daughters of the Darkness old,

Come, Ο thou city bearing Pallas' name,

Ο Athens, of all cities most renowned,

Have pity on this wasted, spectral form

That once was Œdipus. No longer now

Is this my carcase what it was of old.