One shred of hope I still have, and therefore Will wait the herdsman's coming. 'Tis no more. JOCASTA. He shall come. But what further dost thou seek? OEDIPUS. This. If we mark him close and find him speak As thou hast, then I am lifted from my dread. JOCASTA. What mean'st thou? Was there something that I said...? OEDIPUS. Thou said'st he spoke of robbers, a great band, That slaughtered Laius' men. If still he stand To the same tale, the guilt comes not my way. One cannot be a band. But if he say One lonely loin-girt man, then visibly This is God's finger pointing toward me. JOCASTA. Be sure of this. He told the story so When first he came. All they that heard him know, [Sidenote: vv. 850-870] Not only I. He cannot change again Now. And if change he should, O Lord of men, No change of his can make the prophecy Of Laius' death fall true. He was to die Slain by my son. So Loxias spake.... My son! He slew no man, that poor deserted one That died.... And I will no more turn mine eyes This way nor that for all their prophecies. OEDIPUS. Woman, thou counsellest well. Yet let it not Escape thee. Send and have the herdsman brought. JOCASTA. That will I.--Come. Thou knowest I ne'er would do Nor think of aught, save thou wouldst have it so. [JOCASTA _and_ OEDIPUS _go together into the Palace._ CHORUS. [_They pray to be free from such great sins as they have just heard spoken of._ [_Strophe._ Toward God's great mysteries, oh, let me move Unstained till I die In speech or doing; for the Laws thereof Are holy, walkers upon ways above, Born in the far blue sky; Their father is Olympus uncreate; No man hath made nor told Their being; neither shall Oblivion set [Sidenote: vv. 870-893] Sleep on their eyes, for in them lives a great Spirit and grows not old. [_Antistrophe._ [_They wonder if these sins be all due to pride and if_ CREON _has guilty ambitions;_ 'Tis Pride that breeds the tyrant; drunken deep With perilous things is she, Which bring not peace: up, reeling, steep on steep She climbs, till lo, the rock-edge, and the leap To that which needs must be, The land where the strong foot is no more strong! Yet is there surely Pride That saves a city; God preserve it long! I judge not. Only through all maze of wrong Be God, not man, my guide. [_Strophe._ [_Or if_ TIRESIAS _can really be a lying prophet with no fear of God; they feel that all faith in oracles and the things of God is shaken._