That babe—what grace was done him,
Had he died shelterless,
He had not laid on himself this grief to bear,
And all who gave him love.
Leader.
I, too, O Friend, I had been happier.
Oedipus.
Found not the way to his father’s blood, nor shaken
The world’s scorn on his mother,
The child and the groom withal;
But now, of murderers born, of God forsaken,
Mine own sons’ brother;
All this; and if aught can fall
Upon man more perilous
And elder in sin, lo, all
Is the portion of Oedipus.
Leader.
How shall I hold this counsel or thy mind
True? Thou wert better dead than living blind.
Oedipus.
That this deed is not well and wisely wrought
Thou shalt not show me; therefore school me not.
Think, with what eyes hereafter in the place
Of shadows could I see my father’s face,
Or my poor mother’s? Both of whom this hand
Hath wronged too deep for man to understand.
Or children—born as mine were born, to see
Their shapes should bring me joy? Great God! To me
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