Page:Works of Voltaire Volume 16.djvu/177

Rh Yield to the power supreme, who means to try His people by affliction; with a word He can destroy, and with a word can save: He knows that death is here; the cries of Thebes Have reached his throne. Behold! the king approaches, And heaven by me declares its will divine; The fates will soon to Œdipus unveil Their mysteries all, and happier days succeed.

O ye, who to this hallowed temple bring The mournful offering of your tears: O what, What shall I say to my afflicted people? Would I could turn the wrath of angry heaven Against myself, and quench the deadly flame? But O! in universal ills like these, Kings are but men, and only can partake The common danger. Say, thou minister Of the just gods, say, do they still refuse To hear the voice of misery; still relentless Will they behold us perish, are they deaf And silent still?

King, people, listen all: This night did I behold the flame of heaven Descending on our altars; to my eyes The ghastly shade of Laius then appeared, Indignant frowned upon me, and thus spoke