Oedipus: Nay, he who feareth hatred overmuch,
Knows not the art of ruling like a king;
For 'tis by fear that kings are guarded most.
Creon: Who holds the scepter with tyrannic sway, 705
Doth live in fear of those who fear his power;
For terror ever doth return to him
Who doth inspire it.
Oedipus: [to attendants]: Hence, away with him;
Deep in some rocky dungeon let him stay,
While I unto the palace take my way.
[Creon is led away by the attendants, while Oedipus retires into the palace.]
Chorus: Not thou the cause of these our ills;
And not on thy acocunt hath fate
Attacked the house of Labdacus; 710
But 'tis the ancient wrath of heaven
That still pursues our race.
Castalia's grove once lent its shade
Unto the Tyrian wanderer,
And Dirce gave her cooling waves,
What time the great Agenor's son, 715
O'er all the earth the stolen prey
Of Jove pursuing, worn and spent,
Within these forests knelt him down
And adored the heavenly ravisher.
Then by Apollo's bidding led,
A wandering heifer following, 720
Upon whose neck the dragging plow,
Nor the plodding wagon's curving yoke
Had never rested, he his quest
At last gave over, and his race
From that ill-omened heifer named.
From that time forth, the land of Thebes
Strange monsters hath engendered: first, 725
That serpent, sprung from the valley's depths,
Hissing, o'ertopped the aged oaks
And lofty pines; and higher still,
Above Chaonia's woods, he reared
His gleaming head, though on the ground 730
His body lay in many coils.
