Page:Works of Voltaire Volume 16.djvu/197

Rh My station here: I yet am innocent, But in obeying thee I should be guilty. Of all the blessings heaven bestowed upon me, My honor and my fame alone remain Untouched. O! do not rob me of a treasure So precious to me; do not make me thus Unworthy of Jocaste. I have lived, Lived to fulfil the fate allotted to me; Have passed my sacred word to Œdipus, And whatsoever suspicions he may cherish, I am a stranger to the breach of honor.

O Philoctetes, let me here entreat thee, By the just gods, by that ill-fated passion, Which once inspired thy breast, if aught remains Of tender friendship, if thou still rememberest How much my happiness on thine depended, Deign to prolong a glorious life, and days That should have been united with Jocaste.

To thee devoted I would have them still In equal tenor flow, and worthy of thee; I've lived far from thee, and shall die content, If thy regard attends me to the tomb. Who knows but heaven may yet refuse to see This bloody sacrifice; perhaps, in mercy It guided me to Thebes to save Jocaste; Shortened my days, perhaps, to lengthen thine. Happy event! the blood of innocence May be accepted; mine is not unworthy.