And his starting eyeballs strained to leave their seats. His face was full of passion, fierce resolve. 960 Groaning he thrust his hands into his eyes; And those fierce eyes stood forth to meet his hands, And eager followed of their own accord Their kindred hands, as courting that deep wound. Deep in with hookéd fingers he explores, 965 And rends his eyeballs from their deepest roots. Still stays his hands within those empty seats, And tears the hollow sockets with his nails, With savage joy, with vain and endless rage; 970 So great[6] his fear and hatred of the light. He lifts his head, and with those empty eyes The heavens surveying, tests his darkened sight. Whatever from his mangled eyes still hangs, He tears away, and now in triumph cries To all the gods: "Oh, spare my country now, 975 I pray; for I have done what must be done, And I have paid the penalty I owed. Now have I found at last a fitting night To match my impious wedlock." As he speaks, His face is watered by a hideous shower, As the blood flows streaming from his ruptured veins. _Chorus:_ By fate we're driven; then yield to fate. 980 No anxious, brooding care can change The thread of destiny that falls From that grim spindle of the Fates. Whate'er we mortals suffer here, Whate'er we do, all hath its birth In that deep realm of mystery. Stern Lachesis her distaff whirls, 985 Spinning the threads of mortal men, But with no backward-turning hand. All things in ordered pathways go; And on our natal day was fixed Our day of death. Not God himself Can change the current of our lives, Which bears its own compelling force 990 Within itself. Each life goes on In order fixed and absolute, Unmoved by prayer. Nay fear itself Has been by many found a bane; For, while they sought to shun their fate, They came upon it in their flight. But now the palace gates resound, and see, 995 The sightless king himself, with none to guide, Takes hitherward his blind and groping way. [_Enter_ Oedipus.] _Oedipus:_ Now all is well and finished; to my sire I've paid the debt I owed. How sweet these shades! What god, at length appeased, hath wrapped my head In a pall of darkness, and my crimes forgiven? 1000 Now have I 'scaped the conscious eye of day; And nothing dost thou owe, O parricide, To thine avenging hand. Thy sight is gone, And such a countenance becomes thee well. [_Enter_ Jocasta.]