Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/208

110 Which now thou weep'st to look on, when in grief

Like mine thou too art fallen. These are things

I may not weep for: I must bear them still,

While life lasts, counting thee my murderer;

For thou wast he who plunged me in this woe;

Thou drov'st me into exile; by thy deed,

A wanderer through the world, I beg my bread,

And had I not these girls to care for me,

That too would fail, for aught that thou would'st do.

But now they save my life; they tend on me;

No women they, but men in will to toil:

But ye are not my sons; I own ye not.

As yet the God forbears to look on thee,

As soon He shall, if these thy armies move

Against the towers of Thebes. It may not be

That thou shalt ever lay that city waste,

But thou thyself shalt fall, with blood defiled;

And so shall fall thy brother. Once before

I breathed these curses deep upon you both,

And now I bid them come as my allies,

That ye may learn the reverence due from sons,

Nor, being what you are, think scorn of me,

Your blind old father; (these thou look'st on here

Have done far other deeds;) and therefore they,

Those Curses, sway thy prayers, thy sovereignty,

If still there dwells beside the throne of Zeus

The Eternal Right that rests on oldest laws;

And thou—may ruin seize thee, loathed and base!

I am no more thy father; take my curse

Which now I pour on thee, thy native land

Never by sword to conquer, nor again

Return to Argos in the dale, but die,

Slain by a brother's hand, and slaying him

Who drove thee forth to exile. So I curse