Epeisodion 6
Second Messenger
You who are most honored in this land, what deeds you will hear, what deeds you will behold, what burden of sorrow will be yours,
if, true to your race, you still care for the house of Labdacus. For I think that neither the Ister nor the Phasis could wash this house clean, so many are the ills that it shrouds, or will soon bring to light, ills wrought not unwittingly, but on purpose.
1225
And those griefs smart the most which are seen to be of our own choice.
1230
Chorus
Indeed the troubles which we knew before are far from being easy to bear. Besides them, what do you have to announce?
Second Messenger
This is the shortest tale to tell and hear:
our royal lady Iocasta is dead.
1235
Chorus
Alas, wretched lady! From what cause?
Second Messenger
By her own hand. You will not suffer the worst part of the painful event, since you do not behold the events. Nevertheless, so far as my memory serves,
you will learn that unhappy woman’s fate. When, frantic, she
passed within the vestibule, she rushed straight towards her marriage couch,
clutching her hair with the fingers of both hands. Once within the chamber,
1240
she dashed the doors together behind her, then called on the name of Laius, long since a corpse, thinking of that son, born long ago, by whose hand the father was slain, leaving the mother to breed accursed offspring with his own child. And she bewailed the marriage in which, wretched woman, she had given birth to a twofold brood,
1245
husband by husband, children by her child. And how she perished is more than I know. For with a shriek Oedipus burst in, and did not allow us to watch her woe until the end: on him, as he rushed around, our eyes were set.
1250
To and fro he went, asking us to give him a sword, asking where he could find the wife who was no wife, but a mother whose womb had borne both him and his children. And in his frenzy a power greater than mortal man was his guide, for it was none of us mortals who were near.
1255
With a dread cry, as though someone beckoned him on, he sprang at the double doors, forced the bending bolts from the sockets, and rushed into the room. There we beheld the woman hanging by the neck in a twisted noose of swinging cords.
1260
And when he saw her, with a dread deep cry he released the halter by which she hung. And when the hapless woman was stretched out on the ground, then the sequel was horrible to see: for he tore from her raiment the golden brooches with which she had decorated herself,
1265
and lifting them struck his own eye-balls, uttering words like these: No longer will you behold such horrors as I was suffering and performing! Long enough have you looked on those whom you ought never to have seen, having failed in the knowledge of those whom I yearned to know—henceforth you shall be dark!
1270
With such a dire refrain, he struck his eyes with raised hand not once but often. At each blow the bloody eye-balls bedewed his beard, and sent forth not sluggish drops of gore, but all at once a dark shower of blood came down like hail.
1275
From the deeds of the two of them such ills have broken forth, not on one alone, but with mingled woe for man and wife. The old happiness of their ancestral fortune was once happiness indeed. But now today lamentation, ruin, death, shame,
1280
and every earthly ill that anyone could name are all theirs.
1285
Chorus
And does the sufferer have any respite from pain now?
Second Messenger
He cries for some one to unbar the gates and show to all the Cadmeans his father’s slayer, his mother’s—the words must not pass my lips—
in order to banish himself from the land and not to put the house under his own curse by waiting here. And yet he lacks strength, and one to guide his steps, for the anguish is more than he can bear. He will soon show this to you: look, the bars of the gates are withdrawn,
1290
and soon you will behold a sight which even he who abhors it must pity.
1295
Chorus
O dread fate for men to see, O most dreadful of all that I have set my eyes on! Unhappy one, what madness has come upon you?
Who is the unearthly foe who, with a leap of more than mortal range has made your ill-starred life his prey? Alas, alas, you hapless man! I cannot even look on you, though there is much I desire to ask, much I desire to learn,
1300
much that draws my wistful gaze: with such a shuddering do you fill me!
1305
Oedipus
Woe is me! Alas, alas, wretched that I am! Where, where am I carried in my misery?
How is my voice swept abroad on the wings of the air? Oh, my fate, how far you have sprung!
1310
Chorus
To a dread place, dire in men’s ears, dire in their sight.