To see the things ye may not, nor to hear.
Make haste to go: the things that shall be done
No man but Theseus it concerns to know.'
Such words he spake, and we obeyed his speech,
All we that heard, and stinting not our tears
Forth with the maidens followed; but went not far,
Or ere we turned to look, and looked, and saw
The man was gone, no Oedipus was there;
Only the king, holding athwart his brow
A hand that screened his eyes, as to shut out
Some dreadful and intolerable sight.
And then, for one brief minute and no more,
We saw him make obeisance, all at once,
Both to the earth and to the gods in heaven.
But by what manner of death died Oedipus,
No man can tell, but Theseus, he alone.
For it was not any firebolt, swift from heaven,
Despatched him, no, nor a whirlwind from the sea
Rose in a minute and caught him from our sight;
But either the gods took him, or the earth
Was kind, and opened for him her cavernous jaws.
For nowise lamentably he passed, nor slain
By sickness, pitiably-a marvel, how-
Whose like was never. Idle is my talk?
Who lists may think so; him I'll not regard.
How Alcestis prepared for Death
στω νυν εὐκλεής γε κατθανουμένη
γυνή τ ̓ ἀρίστη τῶν ὑφ ̓ ἡλίῳ, μακρῷ.
πῶς δ ̓ οὐκ ἀρίστη; τίς δ' ἐναντιώσεται ; τί χρὴ γενέσθαι τὴν ὑπερβεβλημένην γυναῖκα ; πῶς δ ̓ ἂν μᾶλλον ἐνδείξαιτό τις πόσιν προτιμῶσ ̓ ἢ θέλουσ ̓ ὑπερθανεῖν ; καὶ ταῦτα μὲν δὴ πᾶσ ̓ ἐπίστα ἃ δ ̓ ἐν δόμοις ἔδρασε θαυμάσῃ κλύων. ἐπεὶ γὰρ ᾔσθεθ ̓ ἡμέραν τὴν κυρίαν ἥκουσαν, ὕδασι ποταμίοις λευκὸν χρόα ἐλούσατ ̓, ἐκ δ ̓ ἑλοῦσα κεδρίνων δόμων ἐσθῆτα κόσμον τ ̓ εὐπρεπῶς ἡσκήσατο, καὶ στᾶσα πρόσθεν Ἑστίας κατηύξατο Δέσποιν, ἐγὼ γὰρ ἔρχομαι κατὰ χθονός, πανύστατόν σε προσπίτνουσ ̓ αἰτήσομαι, τέκν ̓ ὀρφανεῦσαι τἀμά· καὶ τῷ μὲν φίλην σύζευξιν ἄλοχον, τῇ δὲ γενναῖον πόσιν. μηδ' ὥσπερ αὐτῶν ἡ τεκοῦσ ̓ ἀπόλλυμαι θανεῖν ἀώρους παῖδας, ἀλλ ̓ εὐδαίμονας ἐν γῇ πατρῴᾳ τερπνὸν ἐκπλῆσαι βίον. πάντας δὲ βωμούς, οἳ κατ ̓ ̓Αδμήτου δόμους, προσῆλθε κἀξέστεψε καὶ προσηύξατο, πτόρθων ἀποσχίζουσα μυρσίνης φόβην, ἄκλαυτος ἀστένακτος, οὐδὲ τοὐπιὸν κακὸν μεθίστη χρωτὸς εὐειδῆ φύσιν.
ORE God, she dies high-hearted, aye, and
In honour raised above all wives that are!
Far above all! How other? What must she,
Who seeketh to surpass this woman, be?
Or how could any wife more shining make
Her lord's love, than by dying for his sake?
But thus much all the city knows. "Tis here,
In her own rooms, the tale will touch thine ear
With strangeness. When she knew the day was come,
She rose and washed her body, white as foam,
With running water; then the cedarn press
She opened, and took forth her funeral dress
And rich adornment. So she stood arrayed
Before the Hearth-fire of her home, and prayed:
'Mother, since I must vanish from the day,
This last, last time I kneel to thee and
pray;
Be mother to my two children! Find some dear
Helpmate for him, some gentle lord for her.
And let not them, like me, before their hour
Die; let them live in happiness, in our
Old home, till life be full and age content.'
Το every household altar then she went
And made for each his garland of the green
Boughs of the wind-blown myrtle, and was seen
Praying, without a sob, without a tear.
She knew the dread thing coming, but her clear
Cheek never changed: till suddenly she fled
κἄπειτα θάλαμον ἐσπεσοῦσα καὶ λέχος,
ἐνταῦθα δὴ δάκρυσε καὶ λέγει τάδε·
Ὦ λέκτρον, ἔνθα παρθένει ̓ ἔλυσ ̓ ἐγὼ
κορεύματ ̓ ἐκ τοῦδ ̓ ἀνδρός, οὗ θνῄσκω πέρι,
χαῖρ ̓· οὐ γὰρ ἐχθαίρω σ ̓ ἀπώλεσας δ ̓ ἐμὲ
μόνην· προδοῦναι γάρ σ ̓ ὀκνοῦσα καὶ πόσιν
θνῄσκω. σὲ δ' ἄλλη τις γυνὴ κεκτήσεται,
σώφρων μὲν οὐκ ἂν μᾶλλον, εὐτυχὴς δ ̓ ἴσως.
κυνεῖ δὲ προσπίτνουσα, πᾶν δὲ δέμνιον
ὀφθαλμοτέγκτῳ δεύεται πλημμυρίδι.
ἐπεὶ δὲ πολλῶν δακρύων εἶχεν κόρον,
στείχει προνωπὴς ἐκπεσοῦσα δεμνίων,
καὶ πολλὰ θαλάμων ἐξιοῦσ ̓ ἐπεστράφη
κἄρριψεν αὑτὴν αὖθις ἐς κοίτην πάλιν.
παῖδες δὲ πέπλων μητρὸς ἐξηρτημένοι
ἔκλαιον· ἡ δὲ λαμβάνουσ ̓ ἐς ἀγκάλας
ἠσπάζετ ̓ ἄλλοτ ̓ ἄλλον, ὡς θανουμένη.
πάντες δ ̓ ἔκλαιον οἰκέται κατὰ στέγας
δέσποιναν οἰκτίροντες. ἡ δὲ δεξιὰν
προύτειν ̓ ἑκάστῳ κοὔτις ἦν οὕτω κακὸς
ὃν οὐ προσεῖπε καὶ προσερρήθη πάλιν.
τοιαῦτ ̓ ἐν οἴκοις ἐστὶν Αδμήτου κακά.
καὶ κατθανών τἂν ἄλετ', ἐκφυγών δ' ἔχει
τοσοῦτον ἄλγος, οὗ ποτ ̓ οὐ λελήσεται.
Back to her own chamber and bridal bed:
Then came the tears and she spoke all her thought.
'O bed, whereon my laughing girlhood's knot
Was severed by this man, for whom I die,
Farewell! 'Tis thou... I speak not bitterly..
'Tis thou hast slain me. All alone I go
Lest I be false to him or thee. And lo,
Some woman shall lie here instead of me-
Happier perhaps ; more true she cannot be.'
She kissed the pillow as she knelt, and wet
With flooding tears was that fair coverlet.
At last she had had her fill of weeping; then
She tore herself away, and rose again,
Walking with downcast eyes; yet turned before
She had left the room, and cast her down once more
Kneeling beside the bed. Then to her side
The children came, and clung to her and cried,
And her arms hugged them, and a long good-bye
She
gave to each, like one who goes to die.
The whole house then was weeping, every slave
In sorrow for his mistress. And she gave
Her hand to all; aye, none so base was there
She
gave him not good words and he to her.
So on Admetus falls from either side
Sorrow. "Twere bitter grief to him to have died Himself; and being escaped, how sore a woe
He hath earned instead-Ah, some day he shall know!
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