Oedipus at Colonus (596-651)

Will you speak of the ancient trouble of your race?

No, indeed; all Greeks speak of that.

How, then, do you suffer beyond what is mortal?

The circumstance is this: from my country I have been driven by my own sons;

and I may not return, since I am guilty of a father’s blood.

Why would they have you brought back, if you must dwell apart?

The word of the god will compel them.

What suffering do they fear from the oracles?

That they must be struck down in this land.

And how should bitterness come between them and me?

Dearest son of Aegeus, to the gods alone old age and death never come, but everything else sinks into chaos from time which overpowers all.

Earth’s strength decays, and so too the strength of the body; trust dies; distrust is born; and the same spirit is never steadfast among friends, or between city and city. For some now, for others tomorrow, sweet feelings turn to bitter, and then once more to being dear.

And if now the sun shines brightly between Thebes and you, yet time in his course gives birth to days and nights untold, in which from a small cause they will

scatter with the spear today’s pledges of concord. Then one day my slumbering and buried corpse, cold in death, will drink their warm blood, if Zeus is still Zeus, and Phoebus, the son of Zeus, speaks clear. But, since I would not break silence concerning words that must not spoken, allow me to cease where I began.

Only keep your own pledge good, and never will you say that in vain you welcomed Oedipus to dwell in this land—if indeed the gods do not deceive me.

Lord, from the first this man has shown a

will to bring these words, or similar ones, to completion for our land.

Who, then, would reject the goodwill of such a one? To whom, first, the hearth of a spear-friend is always available on our side, by reciprocal right; then too he has come as a suppliant to our gods,

paying no small recompense to this land and to me. In reverence for these claims, I will never spurn his favor, and I will establish a dwelling for him as a citizen in the land. And if it is the pleasure of the stranger to remain here, I will command you to

protect him; or, if it pleases him, to come with me. This choice or that, Oedipus, you may take; your desire will be mine.

O Zeus, may you be good to men such as these!

What is your wish, then? Will you come to my house?

Yes, I would, if it were right. But this is the place—

What will you do here? Speak, for I will not hinder you.

—Where I will conquer those who cast me out.

The promised gift of your presence would be great.

It shall be, if you keep your pledge with me.

Have courage concerning me; never will I betray you.

I will not bind you with an oath as if an evil man.

Well, you would win nothing more than by my word.