Page:Tragedies of Sophocles (Plumptre 1878).djvu/263

Rh Upon my ancient seat of augury,

Where every bird finds haven, lo! I hear

Strange cry of winged creatures, shouting shrill,

With inarticulate passion, and I knew

That they were tearing each the other's flesh

With bloody talons, for their whirring wings

Made that quite clear: and straightway I, in fear,

Made trial of the sacrifice that lay

On fiery altar. And Hephæstos' flame

Shone not from out the offering; but there oozed

Upon the ashes, trickling from the bones,

A moisture, and it smouldered, and it spat,

And, lo! the gall was scattered to the air,

And forth from out the fat that wrapped them round

The thigh bones fell. Such omens of decay

From holy sacrifice I learnt from him,

This boy, who now stands here, for he is still

A guide to me, as I to others am.

And all this evil falls upon the State,

From out thy counsels; for our altars all,

Our sacred hearths are full of food for dogs

And birds unclean, the flesh of that poor wretch

Who fell, the son of Œdipus. And so

The Gods no more hear prayers of sacrifice,

Nor own the flame that burns the victim's limbs;

Nor do the birds give cry of omen good,

But feed on carrion of a slaughtered corpse.

Think thou on this, my son: to err, indeed,

Is common unto all, but having erred,

He is no longer reckless or unblest,

Who, having fallen into evil, seeks

For healing, nor continues still unmoved.

Self-will must bear the charge of stubbornness:

Yield to the dead, and outrage not a corpse.