_Oedipus:_ Whence springs so rare a spirit in a house 80 So impious? Whence comes this noble maid, Unlike her race? Can it be true indeed? Has any pious thing been born of me? Ne'er would it be, for well I know my fates, Except for harmful ends. Nature herself Has changed her laws: now shall the stream, reversed, 85 Bear back its whirling waters to their source; The torch of Phoebus shall bring in the night, And day be heralded by Hesperus; And, that I may but add unto my woe, I, too, shall pious be. Not to be saved-- This is for Oedipus the only cure. Let me avenge my father, unavenged 90 Till now. My hand, why dost thou hesitate To exact the penalty I owe to him? Whatever I have suffered hitherto Was for my mother's sake. Release my hand, Undaunted girl; thou but delay'st my death, And thy living father's funeral prolong'st. 95 Let earth conceal at last this hated form. Thou wrongest me, though with a kind intent, And deem'st it piety to keep thy sire From burial. But they are one in guilt, Both he who forces death upon a man Who fain would live, and he who holds him back Who longs to die. And yet they are not one; For surely is the last the worser sin. 100 To be condemned to death were better far For me than to be saved from death. Then cease, My child, from this attempt. I have reserved For my own will the right to live or die. Right gladly did I yield the sovereignty O'er all my realm; yet o'er myself alone I still am king. If thou in very truth 105 Art loyal to me, give me back my sword, That sword already with my father's blood Defiled. Wilt give it back? Or do my sons Retain my sword together with my throne? 'Tis well. Wherever there is need of crime, There let it be; I gladly give it up. Let both my sons possess the sword. But thou, Flames, rather, and a heap of wood prepare; 110 Then will I fling myself upon the pyre, Cling in its hot embrace, and hide myself Within its deadly hold. There will I loose This stubborn soul, and give to mortal dust Whatever lives in me. Where is the sea? Come, lead me where some beetling crag juts out, 115 Or where Ismenus rolls his savage waves; Or thither would I go and end my life, Where once upon a jutting rock abode The hybrid Sphinx and wove her crafty speech. 120 Direct me thither, set thy father there. Let not that dreadful seat be empty long, But place me there, a greater monster still. There will I sit and of my fate propose A riddle dark which no man will resolve. Come listen, ye, who plow the Theban fields; Whoever worships in the sacred grove 125 Of Cadmus, for the deadly serpent famed, Where hallowed Dirce lies; whoever drinks