Racine: Phaedra

44
SOPHOCLES
For this our city, as thine eyes may see,
Is sorely tempest-tossed, nor lifts its head
From out the surging sea of blood-flecked waves,
All smitten in the ripening blooms of earth.
All smitten in the herds that graze the fields,
Yea, and in timeless births of woman's fruit
And still the God, fire-darting Pestilence,
As deadliest foe, upon our city swoops.
And desolates the home where Cadmos dwelt,
And Hades dark grows rich in sighs and groans.
It is not that we deem of thee as one
Equalled with gods in power, that we sit here.
These little ones and I, as suppliants prone;
But, judging thee, in all life's shifting scenes,
Chiefest of men, yea, and of chiefest skill
In communings with Heaven. For thou didst come
And freed'st this city, named of Cadmos old.
From the sad tribute which of yore we paid
To that stem songstress,^ all untaught of us,
And all unprompted ; but by gift of God,
Men think and say, thou didst our life upraise.
And now, dear CEdipus, most honored lord,
We pray thee, we thy suppliants, find for us
Some succor, whether voice of any God,
Or any man brings knowledge to thy soul
For still I see, with those whom life has trained
To long-tried skill, the issues of their thoughts
Live and are mighty. Come then, noblest one.
Raise up our city ; come, take heed to it
As yet this land, for all thy former zeal.
Calls thee its saviour : do not give us cause
So to remember this thy reign, as men
Who having risen, then fall low again
But raise our state to safety. Omens good
Were then with thee ; thou didst thy work, and now
Be equal to thyself! If thou wilt rule,
As thou dost sway, this land wherein we dwell,
'Twere better far to rule o'er living men
"The tribute of human victims paid slatightered," till her riddle was solved
to the Sphinx, the " Muse of the by ^dipus.