despair" tell their own tale. An exile's misfortunes touch him keenly, for he has himself been schooled in adversity—
"I know that I am man, and I can count
No more than thou on what to-morrow brings."—(P.)
Œdipus, grateful for this generous forbearance, tells the king that, though outwardly it is but "a sorry gift" that he brings—namely, his own feeble body, in bitter truth a "heritage of woe" to its master—yet its possession should bring no small gain to the land of his refuge; and not small either (he adds, with a touch of his ancient pride) will be the conflict waged for it between his own sons and the citizens of Athens.
Truly, as Ismene says,
"The gods now raise the head they once laid low."
It was with his body as with the bones of Orestes—another so-called victim of Fate—which an oracle had declared would bring success to the arms of Sparta.[1] "Such is the force attached to expiation and the expiatory victim. In his lifetime men pitilessly strike him in the name of God, as the scapegoat of the evil which his death is destined to abolish; and in his death all men revere him as the symbol of re-established justice."[2]
Theseus doubts if any strife can spring up between himself and his trusty allies of Thebes; but Œdipus knows better, from sad experience, the uncertainty of earthly friendship, and how soon there arise "un-
