Page:Works of Voltaire Volume 16.djvu/227

Rh Jocaste was his mother.

Behold the fruit of all my generous care!

What have we done?

I thought it must be so.

My lord

Away, begone, this moment leave me: The dreadful gifts ye have bestowed on me Must have their recompense; and ye have cause To fear my wrath, for ye preserved my life.

At length the dire prediction is fulfilled, And Œdipus is now, though innocent, A base, incestuous parricide: O virtue! Thou fatal empty name; thou who didst guide My hapless days, thou hadst not power to stop The current of my fate: alas! I fell Into the snare by trying to avoid it: Heaven led me on to guilt, and sunk a pit Beneath my sliding feet: I was the slave Of some unknown, some unrelenting power,