Œdipus in his turn recriminates the foul reproaches which the brother had uttered against the sister. The shame in such a case rested more on the reviler than on the unwilling victim of an evil destiny. Even his father's spirit, if it could return from Hades, would hardly upbraid him for crimes which had been wrought so unwittingly.
But Theseus breaks off this angry dialogue. They a-re standing idle, he says, while the captive maidens are being hurried across the Athenian borders; and then, with a parting promise to Œdipus that he will restore his children or die in the attempt, the chivalrous king starts in pursuit, taking with him his Athenian attendants, and Creon to serve as an unwilling guide.
The Chorus fill up the interval by a bold flight of song, in which they picture to themselves the pursuit, the battle, and the recovery of the maidens. The following again is Anstice's spirited translation of the ode:—
"Waft me hence, and set me down
Where the lines of battle frown;
Waft me, where the brazen shout
Of the Lord of War rings out
On the Pythian coast, or where
Flickering torches wildly glare,
Where on mystic rites have smiled
Ceres and her honoured child.
Many a priest attends their shrine,
Sprung of old Eumolpus' line,
While discretion's golden key
Locks their lips in secrecy.
