Oedipus.
And what strange mischief, when your master lay
Thus fallen, held you back from search and deed?
Creon.
The dark-songed Sphinx was here. We had no heed
Of distant sorrows, having death so near.
Oedipus.
It falls on me then. I will search and clear
This darkness.—Well hath Phoebus done, and thou
Too, to recall that dead king, even now,
And with you for the right I also stand,
To obey the God and succour this dear land.
Nor is it as for one that touches me
Far off; ’tis for mine own sake I must see
This sin cast out. Whoe’er it was that slew
Laïus, the same wild hand may seek me too:
And caring thus for Laïus, is but care
For mine own blood.—Up! Leave this altar-stair,
Children. Take from it every suppliant bough.
Then call the folk of Thebes. Say, ’tis my vow
To uphold them to the end. So God shall crown
Our greatness, or for ever cast us down.
[He goes in to the Palace.
Priest.
My children, rise.—The King most lovingly
Hath promised all we came for. And may He
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