CHAPTER IV.

    "With the gods rests the balance of our fate; 
     But thee, at least - oh never upon thee 
     May evil fall! Thou art too good for sorrow!"

The chorus resume their strains, when suddenly thunder is heard, and Oedipus hails the sign that heralds him to the shades. Nothing can be conceived more appalling than this omen. It seems as if Oedipus had been spared but to curse his children and to die. He summons Theseus, tells him that his fate is at hand, and that without a guide he himself will point out the spot where he shall rest. Never may that spot be told - that secret and solemn grave shall be the charm of the land and a defence against its foes. Oedipus then turns round, and the instinct within guides him as he gropes along. His daughters and Theseus follow the blind man, amazed and awed. "Hither," he says,

    "Hither - by this way come - for this way leads 
     The unseen conductor of the dead [353] - and she 
     Whom shadows call their queen! [354] Oh light, sweet light, 
     Rayless to me - mine once, and even now 
     I feel thee palpable, round this worn form, 
     Clinging in last embrace - I go to shroud 
     The waning life in the eternal Hades!"

Thus the stage is left to the chorus, and the mysterious fate of Oedipus is recited by the Nuntius, in verses which Longinus has not extolled too highly. Oedipus had led the way to a cavern, well known in legendary lore as the spot where Perithous and Theseus had pledged their faith, by the brazen steps which make one of the entrances to the infernal realms;

    "Between which place and the Thorician stone - 
     The hollow thorn, and the sepulchral pile 
     He sat him down."

And when he had performed libations from the stream, and laved, and decked himself in the funeral robes, Jove thundered beneath the earth, and the old man's daughters, aghast with horror, fell at his knees with sobs and groans.

    "Then o'er them as they wept, his hands he clasped, 
     And 'Oh my children,' said he, 'from this day 
     Ye have no more a father - all of me 
     Withers away - the burden and the toil 
     Of mine old age fall on ye nevermore. 
     Sad travail have ye home for me, and yet 
     Let one thought breathe a balm when I am gone - 
     The thought that none upon the desolate world 
     Loved you as I did; and in death I leave 
     A happier life to you!'

                     Thus movingly, 
     With clinging arms and passionate sobs, the three 
     Wept out aloud, until the sorrow grew 
     Into a deadly hush - nor cry nor wail 
     Starts the drear silence of the solitude. 
     Then suddenly a bodiless voice is heard 
     And fear came cold on all. They shook with awe, 
     And horror, like a wind, stirred up their hair. 
     Again, the voice - again - 'Ho! Oedipus, Why linger we so long? 
     Come - hither - come.'"

Oedipus then solemnly consigns his children to Theseus, dismisses them, and Theseus alone is left with the old man.