Phoenissae
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Original / primary: Perseus Eng2
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Jocasta
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O Sun-god, you who cut your path in heaven’s stars, mounted on a chariot inlaid with gold and whirling out your flame with swift horses, what an unfortunate beam you shed on Thebes, the day
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that Cadmus left Phoenicia’s realm beside the sea and reached this land! He married at that time Harmonia, the daughter of Cypris, and begot Polydorus from whom they say Labdacus was born, and Laius from him.
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I am known as the daughter of Menoeceus, and Creon is my brother by the same mother. They call me Jocasta, for so my father named me, and I am married to Laius. Now when he was still childless after being married to me a long time in the palace,
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he went and questioned Phoebus, and asked for us both to have sons for the house. But the god said: Lord of Thebes famous for horses, do not sow a furrow of children against the will of the gods; for if you beget a son, that child will kill you,
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and all your house shall wade through blood. But he, yielding to pleasure in a drunken fit, begot a child on me; and afterwards, conscious of his sin and of the god’s warning, he gave the child to shepherds to expose
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in Hera’s meadow and the crag of Cithaeron, after piercing his ankles with iron spikes; from which Hellas named him Oedipus. But Polybus’ horsemen found him and took him home and laid him in the arms of their mistress.
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So she suckled the child that I had borne and persuaded her husband she was its mother.
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When my son had become a man, with tawny beard, either because he had guessed or learned it from another, he set out for the shrine of Phoebus, wanting to know for certain who his parents were;
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and so did Laius, my husband, seeking to learn if the child he had exposed was dead. And the two of them met at the branching road of Phocis. And Laius’ charioteer ordered him:
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Stranger, make way for the king! But he walked on without a word, in his pride. The horses with their hoofs drew blood from the tendons of his feet. Then—why need I speak of matters outside these evils?—son slew father, and taking his chariot
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gave it to Polybus, his foster-father. Now when the Sphinx was oppressing and ravaging our city, after my husband’s death, my brother Creon proclaimed my marriage: that he would marry me to anyone who should guess the riddle of the crafty maiden. It happened somehow
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that my son, Oedipus, guessed the Sphinx’s song; and so he became king of this land and received the scepter of this land as his prize. He married his mother in ignorance, luckless wretch! nor did his mother know that she was sleeping with her son.
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I bore my son two sons, Eteocles and the hero Polyneices, and two daughters; the one her father called Ismene; the other, which was the elder, I named Antigone. Now when Oedipus, who endured so much,
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learned that he was married to his mother, he inflicted a dreadful slaughter upon his eyes, making the pupils bloody with a golden brooch. But when my sons grew to bearded men, they hid their father behind bars, so that his misfortune,
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needing as it did much skill to hide it, might be forgotten. He is still living in the house. Afflicted by his fate, he makes the most unholy curses against his sons, praying that they may divide this house with a sharp sword.
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So they were afraid
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that the gods might fulfil his prayers if they dwell together; and they made an agreement, that Polyneices, the younger, should first leave the land in voluntary exile, while Eteocles should stay and hold the scepter, and then change places yearly. But as soon as Eteocles was seated on the bench of power,
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he did not leave the throne, but drove Polyneices into exile from this land. So Polyneices went to Argos and married into the family of Adrastus, and having collected a numerous force of Argives is leading them here; and he has come against these very walls of seven gates,
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demanding the scepter of his father and his share of the land. Now I, to end their strife, have persuaded one son to meet the other under truce, before seizing arms; and the messenger I sent tells me that he will come. O Zeus, dwelling in the bright folds of heaven,
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save us, and reconcile my sons! For you, if you are really wise, must not allow the same mortal to be forever wretched. Exit Jocasta.
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Old servant
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From the roof. Antigone, famous child in your father’s house, although your mother allowed you at your entreaty to leave your maiden chamber
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for the topmost story of the house, to see the Argive army, wait, so that I may first investigate the path, whether there be any of the citizens visible on the road, and reproach, a slight matter to a slave like me, should come
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to you, my royal mistress; and when I have examined everything, I will tell you what I saw and heard from the Argives, when I carried the terms of the truce from here to Polyneices and back from him again.
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No, there is no citizen near the house,
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so mount the ancient cedar steps, and view the plains; beside Ismenus’ streams and the fountain of Dirce see the great army of the enemy.
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Antigone
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Stretch out your hand to me from the stairs now, stretch it out, the hand of age to youth,
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helping me to rise.
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Old servant
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There! clasp it, maiden; you have come at the right time; for Pelasgia’s army is just upon the move, and they are separating the companies.
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Antigone
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O Lady Hecate,
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child of Leto! The plain is one lightning-flash of bronze.
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Old servant
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Ah! this is no ordinary home-coming of Polyneices, with the clash of many horses, many arms.
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Antigone
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Are the gates barred, and the brazen bolts
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fitted into Amphion’s walls of stone?
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Old servant
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Never fear! All is safe within the town. But see the first one, if you want to know him.
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Antigone
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Who is that one with the white crest,
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who marches before the army, lightly bearing on his arm a shield all of bronze?
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Old servant
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A captain, mistress.
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Old servant
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He claims to be Mycenaean; by Lerna’s streams he dwells, the lord Hippomedon.
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Antigone
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Ah, ah! How proud, how fearful to see, like an earth-born giant, with stars engraved on his shield, not resembling
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mortal race.
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Old servant
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Do you see the one crossing Dirce’s stream?
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Antigone
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His armor is quite different. Who is that?
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Antigone
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Is this the one, old man, who married a sister of Polyneices’ wife? What a foreign look his armor has, half-barbarian!
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Old servant
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Yes, my child; all Aetolians carry shields,
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and are most unerring marksmen with their darts.
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Antigone
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How do you know them so clearly, old man?
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Old servant
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I saw and learned the devices on their shields before, when I went with the terms of the truce to your brother, since I looked closely at them, I know the armed men.
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Antigone
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Who is that youth passing by the tomb of Zethus, with long flowing hair, fierce to see? Is he a captain? For an armed crowd follows at his heels.
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Old servant
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That is Parthenopaeus, Atalanta’s son.
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Antigone
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May Artemis, who rushes over the hills with his mother, lay him low with an arrow, for coming against my city to sack it!
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Old servant
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May it be so, my child; but they have come here with justice,
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and my fear is that the gods will take the rightful view.
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Antigone
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Where is the one who was born of the same mother as I was, by a painful destiny? Oh! tell me, old friend, where Polyneices is.
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Old servant
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He is standing by Adrastus,
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near the tomb of Niobe’s seven unwed daughters. Do you see him?
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towards my own dear brother, and throw my arms about my darling’s neck, so long, poor boy! an exile. How distinguished he is with his golden weapons, old man, flashing like the morning rays!
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Old servant
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He will come to this house, under truce, to fill your heart with joy.
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Old servant
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That, lady, is the prophet Amphiaraus; with him are the victims, earth’s bloodthirsty streams.
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Antigone
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Daughter of the sun with dazzling zone, O moon, you circle of golden light, how quietly, with what restraint he drives, goading first one horse, then the other! But where is the one who utters those dreadful insults against this city?
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Old servant
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Capaneus? There he is, calculating how he may scale the towers, taking the measure of our walls up and down.
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Antigone
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O Nemesis, and roaring thunder-peals of Zeus and blazing lightning-bolts, oh! put to sleep his presumptuous boasting!
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This is the man who says he will give the Theban girls as captives of his spear to the women of Mycenae, to Lerna’s trident, and the waters of Amymone, dear to Poseidon, when he has them enslaved.
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Never, never, Lady Artemis, golden-haired child of Zeus, may I endure that slavery.
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Old servant
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My child, go inside, and stay beneath the shelter of your maiden chamber, now that you have had
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your wish and seen all that you wanted; for a crowd of women is coming toward the royal palace, as confusion enters the city. Now women by nature love scandal; and if they get some slight handle for their gossip
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they exaggerate it, for women seem to have pleasure in saying nothing wholesome about each other. Exeunt Antigone and the old servant.
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Chorus
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From the Tyrian swell of the sea I came, a choice offering for Loxias from the island of Phoenicia,
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to be a slave to Phoebus in his halls, where he dwells under the snow-swept peaks of Parnassus; through the Ionian sea I sailed in the waves,
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over the unharvested plains, in the gusts of Zephyrus that ride from Sicily, sweetest music in the sky.
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Chorus
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Chosen from my city
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as beauty’s gift for Loxias, to the land of Cadmus I came, sent here to the towers of Laius, the home of my kin, the famous sons of Agenor.
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And I became the handmaid of Phoebus, dedicated like his statues of wrought gold. But the water of Castalia is still waiting for me to drench the maiden glory of my hair
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for the service of Phoebus.
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Chorus
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Hail, rock that lights up a double-crested flash of fire above the frenzied heights of Dionysus; and the vine, that every day
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lets fall the lush cluster of grapes; and the holy cavern of the serpent and the gods’ watchtower on the hills, and the sacred snow-swept mountain!
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Would I were free of fear and circling in the dance of the deathless god, having left Dirce for the valleys of Phoebus at the center of the world.
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Polyneices
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The doorkeeper’s bolts admitted me readily within the walls, and so I fear that now they have caught me in their nets, they will not let me out unscathed;
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so I must turn my eye in every direction, here and there, to guard against treachery. Armed with this sword, I shall inspire myself with the confidence that is born of boldness. Starting. Oh! Who is that? Or is it a sound I fear?
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Everything seems a danger to the daring, when their feet begin to tread an enemy’s country. Still I trust my mother, and at the same time mistrust her, the one who persuaded me to come here under truce. Well, there is help at hand, for the altar’s hearth
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is close and the house is not deserted. Come, let me sheath my sword in its dark scabbard and ask these women standing near the house, who they are.
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Ladies of another land, tell me from what country do you come to the halls of Hellas?
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Chorus Leader
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Phoenicia is my native land where I was born and bred; and the grandsons of Agenor sent me here as first-fruits of the spoil of war for Phoebus. But when the noble son of Oedipus was about to send me to the hallowed oracle and the altars of Loxias,
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the Argive army came against his city. Now tell me in return who you are, who have come to this fortress of the Theban land with its seven gates.
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Polyneices
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My father was Oedipus, the son of Laius; my mother Jocasta, daughter of Menoeceus;
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and I am called Polyneices by the people of Thebes.
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Chorus
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O kinsman of Agenor’s race, my royal masters who sent me here!
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I fall to my knees before you, lord, honoring the custom of my home.
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At last you have come to your native land. Hail to you! all hail! Lady, come from the house, open wide the gates! Do you hear, you who gave birth to this man? Why do you delay to leave the sheltered hall
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and hold your son in your embrace?
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Jocasta
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Maidens, I hear your Phoenician voice, and my old feet drag their tottering steps. O my son,
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at last after countless days I see your face; throw your arms about your mother’s breast, stretch out to me your cheeks and the dark, curly locks of your hair, overshadowing my neck.
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Hail to you! all hail! scarcely here in your mother’s arms, beyond hope and expectation. What can I say to you? How in every way, by hands, by words, in the mazy delight
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of the dance, shall I find the pleasure of my former joy? Ah! my son, you left your father’s house desolate, when your brother’s outrage drove you away in exile.
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Truly you were missed alike by your friends and Thebes. And so I cut my white hair and let it fall for grief, in tears, not clad in robes of white, my son,
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but taking instead these dark rags.
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While in the house the old blind man, always possessed by his tearful longing for the pair of brothers estranged from the home,
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rushed to kill himself with the sword or by the noose suspended over his chamber-roof, moaning his curses on his sons;
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and now he hides himself in darkness, always weeping and lamenting. And you, my child, I hear you have married and are begetting children to your joy in a foreign home,
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and are courting a foreign alliance, a ceaseless regret to me your mother and to Laius your ancestor, ruin brought by your marriage. I was not the one who lit for you the marriage-torch,
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the custom in marriage for a happy mother; Ismenus had no part at your wedding in supplying the luxurious bath, and there was silence through the streets of Thebes, at the entrance of your bride.