Children of the Dawn : Old Tales of GreeceBuckley, E. F. (Elsie Finnimore)
General
Children of the Dawn : Old Tales of Greece
Buckley, E. F. (Elsie Finnimore)
Mythology, Greek -- Juvenile literature
"Ah, woe is me, woe is me! The curse of the gods is upon me, and none
can escape their wrath. Blindly have I done this evil, and when I was
striving to escape Fate caught me in her hidden meshes. Oh, foolish
hearts of men, to think that ye can flee from the doom of the gods;
for lo! ye strive in the dark, and your very struggles bind you but
closer in the snare of your fate. Cast me from the land, ye people; do
with me what ye will. For the gods have made me a curse and a
pollution, and by my death alone will the land have rest from the
pestilence."
And the people would have taken him at his word; for fickle is the
heart of the multitude, and swayed this way and that by every breath
of calamity. They were sore stricken, too, by the pestilence, and in
their wrath against the cause of it they forgot the slaying of the
Sphinx and the long days of peace and prosperity. But the blind seer
Teiresias rose up in their midst, and at his voice the people were
silent.
"Citizens of Cadmus, foolish and blind of heart! Will ye slay the
saviour of your city? Have ye forgotten the man-devouring Sphinx and
the days of darkness? Verily prosperity blunteth the edge of
gratitude. And thou, OEdipus, curse not the gods for thine evil
fate. He that putteth his finger in the fire is burnt, whether he do
it knowingly or not. As to thy sire, him indeed didst thou slay in
ignorance; but the shedding of man's blood be upon thine own head, for
that was the fruit of thy wrathful spirit, which, through lack of
curbing, broke forth like an angry beast. Hadst thou never slain a
man, never wouldst thou have slain thy sire. But now thou art a
pollution to the land of thy birth, and by long exile and wandering
must thou expiate thy sin and die a stranger in a strange land. Yet
methinks that in the dark mirror of prophecy I see thy form, as it
were, a guardian to the land of thy last resting-place, and in a grove
of sacred trees thy spirit's lasting habitation, when thy feet have
accomplished the ways of expiation and the days of thy wandering are
done."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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