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APPENDIX OF RHYMED CHORAL ODES AND LYRICAL DIALOGUES.
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151–215.
Stroph. I.
What wert thou, O thou voiceOf Zeus, that bad'st rejoice,
Floating to Thebes from Pytho gold-abounding?
I tremble; every sense
Thrills with the dread suspense;
(O Delian Pæan, hear our cries resounding!)
My soul is filled with fears,
What thou wilt work on earth,
Or now or in the circling years;—
Speak, child of golden Hope, thou Voice of heavenly birth!
Antistroph. I.
Athena, first of all,Thee, child of Zeus, I call,
And Artemis thy sister with us dwelling,
Whom, on her glorious throne,
Our agora doth own,
And Phœbos in the archer's skill excelling;
Come, O ye Guardians three,
If e'er in days of yore
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Drive off this fiery woe as once ye drove before.
Stroph. II.
Yea come; for lo! I failTo tell my woes' vast tale;
For all my host in fear and sickness languish,
And weapons fail each mind;
For the earth's increase kind
Is gone, and women faint in childbirth's anguish:
Thou see'st men, one by one,
Like bird of fleetest wing,
Swifter than flashing ray of sun,
Pass to His gloomy shore who reigns of darkness King.
Antistroph. II.
Countless the spoil of death;Our city perisheth,
And on the tainted earth our infants lie;
The tender heart is cold,
And wives and matrons old,
Now here, now there, by every altar cry.
And clear the Pæans gleam,
And chants of sorrow born;
O golden child of Zeus supreme,
Put forth thy power to help, bright-eyed as is the morn!
Stroph. III.
And Ares, mighty One,Who weaponless comes on,
And fierce and hot with battle-cry assaileth,—
Bid him in flight to tread
By Amphitrite's bed,
Or Thrakia's homeless coast where wild wave waileth.
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It droops before the day;
O Thou who wield'st the lightning's blazing might,
O Zeus our Father, dart thy thunder him to slay!
Antistroph. III.
And oh! Lykeian king,That from thy gold-wrought string
Thy arrows might go forth in strength excelling;
And all the flashing rays
That Artemis displays,
Who on the Lykian mountains hath her dwelling!
Thee, Bacchos, I invoke,
Whose name our land hath borne,
Come, wine-flushed, gold-crowned, Mænad-girt, with smoke
Of blazing torch against that God, of Gods the scorn.
462–511.
Stroph. I.
Who was it that the rock of Delphos named,In speech oracular,
That wrought with bloody hands his deeds dark-shamed?
Well may he wander far,
With footstep swifter and more strong
Than wind-winged steed that flies along;
For on him leaps, in Heaven's own panoply,
With fire and flash, the son of Zeus most High,
And with Him, dread and fell,
The dark Fates follow, irresistible.
Antistroph. I.
For 'twas but now from out the snowy heightOf old Parnassos shone
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The unknown guilty one;
Each forest wild, each rocky shore,
Like untamed bull, he wanders o'er,
In dreary loneliness with dreary tread,
Seeking to shun dark oracles and dread,
From Delphi's central shrine;
And yet they hover round with life and strength divine.
Stroph. II.
Dread things, yea, dread the augur wise hath stirred;I know not or to answer Aye, or No;
In vain, perplexed, I seek the fitting word,
And lost in fears nor past nor future know:
What cause of strife so fell
Between the son of Polybos hath come,
And those, the heirs of old Labdakid home,
I have found none to tell:
From none comes well-tried word,
That I should war against the glory great
Of Œdipus my lord,
Or make myself the avenger of an unknown fate.
Antistroph. II.
Yet Zeus and King Apollo, they are wise,And know the secret things that mortals do;
But that a prophet sees with clearer eyes
Than these I see with, is no judgment true.
Though one in wisdom high
May wisdom of another far excel;
Yet I, until I see it 'stablished well,
Will ne'er take up the cry:
One thing is clear, she came,
The wingèd maiden,—and men found him wise;
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And from my heart the charge of baseness ne'er shall rise.
863–910.
Stroph. I.
Would 'twere my lot to leadMy life in holiest purity of speech,
In purity of deed,
Of deed and word whose Laws high-soaring reach
Through all the vast concave,
Heaven-born, Olympos their one only sire!
To these man never gave
The breath of life, nor shall they e'er expire
In dim oblivion cold:
In these God shews as great and never waxeth old.
Antistroph. I.
The wantonness of prideBegets the tyrant,—wanton pride, full-flushed
With thoughts vain, idle, wide,
That to the height of topmost fame hath rushed,
And then hath fallen low,
Into dark evil where it cannot take
One step from out that woe.
I cannot bid the Gods this order break
Of toil for noblest end;
Yea, still I call on God as guardian and as friend.
Stroph. II.
But if there be who walks too haughtilyIn action or in speech,
Who the great might of Justice dares defy,
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Ill fate be his for that his ill-starred scorn,
Unless he choose to win
Henceforth the gain that is of Justice born,
And holds aloof from sin,
Nor lays rash hand on things inviolable.
Who now will strive to guard
His soul against the darts of passion fell?
If such deeds gain reward,
What boots it yet again
In choral dance to chant my wonted strain?
Antistroph. II.
No more will I at yonder spot divine,Earth's centre, kneeling fall,
In Abæ's temple, or Olympia's shrine,
Unless, in sight of all,
These things appear as tokens clear and true.
But oh, Thou Lord and King,
If unto Thee that name be rightly due,
Creation governing,
Let it not 'scape Thee, or thy deathless might!
For now the words of old
To Laios uttered, they despise and slight;
Nor does Apollo hold
His place in men's esteem,
And things divine are counted as a dream.
1186–1223.
Stroph. I.
O race of mortal men,I number you and deem
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Are but an empty dream.
What man, yea, what, knows more
Of happiness and peace,
Than just the idle show,
And then the sure decrease?
Thy fate as pattern given,
O Œdipus, my king,
Thy doom, yea thine, I say,
I know of none I count as truly prospering.
Antistroph. I.
Thou, once with strange success,As archer taking aim,
Did'st hit the mark in all,
Great riches and great fame;
And did'st, (O Zeus!) lay low
The maiden skilled in song,
The monster terrible,
With talons crook'd and long.
Thou against death wast seen
Thy country's sure defence;
And therefore thou art king;
To thee the Lord of Thebes we all our homage bring.
Stroph. II.
And who of all men is more wretched now?Who dwells with woe perpetually as thou,
In chance and change of life,
O Œdipus renowned, for whom was won
The same wide haven, sheltering sire and son?
Ah how, O mother-wife,
Could that defilèd bed, when he had come,
Receive him and be dumb?
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Antistroph. II.
Time, the all-seeing, finds thee out at last,And passes sentence on the hateful past,
The wedlock none might wed,
Where son and spouse in strange confusion met.
Ah, son of Laios, would I could forget!
In one true word, thy succour gave me breath,
By thee I sleep in death.
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