This was well seen in Œdipus ill-starred.
High in the Gods' regard
He stood; by the fireside of him was laud;
In streets and squares where'er men walk abroad
Or great assemblies gather in debate,
Was never wight so praised, what time he smote
The she-fiend, gobbling down her gory throat
Comers and goers at the City Gate.
But on his noonday broke a ghastly light;
And, sounding all the sorrow of his wooing,
One final grief he wrought to his undoing
With that same hand that laid his father low;
And put away the eyes that gave him sight
Of his loathed offspring, gotten to his woe.
And then he cursed them (for they grudged him bread);
With bitter words of grief and anger chiding:
'A day shall come, a day of sharp dividing,
And he that carves shall carve with steel,' he cried.
Now the curse falls upon his children's head,
And my hushed heart awaits Erinys' stride.
Enter Messenger.
Messenger.
Take courage, weak ones! Mother's children all!
This free land hath escaped the yoke of slaves.
The boastings of the mighty are brought low:
The ship is in still waters: wave on wave
Smote her, but her stout seams have sprung no leak;
Sound are her bulwarks; her ports weather-tight;
Her champions have well-discharged their trust.
Count gate by gate and six have prospered well;
And for the seventh—Apollo, Lord of Seven,
