The folding doors, and from their staples forced
The wrenched bolts and hurled himself within. 
Then we beheld the woman hanging there,
A running noose entwined about her neck. 
But when he saw her, with a maddened roar
He loosed the cord; and when her wretched corpse
Lay stretched on earth, what followed—­O ’twas dread! 
He tore the golden brooches that upheld
Her queenly robes, upraised them high and smote
Full on his eye-balls, uttering words like these: 
“No more shall ye behold such sights of woe,
Deeds I have suffered and myself have wrought;
Henceforward quenched in darkness shall ye see
Those ye should ne’er have seen; now blind to those
Whom, when I saw, I vainly yearned to know.” 
     Such was the burden of his moan, whereto,
Not once but oft, he struck with his hand uplift
His eyes, and at each stroke the ensanguined orbs
Bedewed his beard, not oozing drop by drop,
But one black gory downpour, thick as hail. 
Such evils, issuing from the double source,
Have whelmed them both, confounding man and wife. 
Till now the storied fortune of this house
Was fortunate indeed; but from this day
Woe, lamentation, ruin, death, disgrace,
All ills that can be named, all, all are theirs.

Chorus
But hath he still no respite from his pain?

Second messenger
He cries, “Unbar the doors and let all Thebes
Behold the slayer of his sire, his mother’s—­”
That shameful word my lips may not repeat. 
He vows to fly self-banished from the land,
Nor stay to bring upon his house the curse
Himself had uttered; but he has no strength
Nor one to guide him, and his torture’s more
Than man can suffer, as yourselves will see. 
For lo, the palace portals are unbarred,
And soon ye shall behold a sight so sad
That he who must abhorred would pity it.
[Enter Oedipus blinded.]

Chorus
          Woeful sight! more woeful none
          These sad eyes have looked upon. 
          Whence this madness?  None can tell
          Who did cast on thee his spell,
          prowling all thy life around,
          Leaping with a demon bound. 
          Hapless wretch! how can I brook
          On thy misery to look? 
          Though to gaze on thee I yearn,
          Much to question, much to learn,
          Horror-struck away I turn.

Oedipus
Ah me! ah woe is me! 
Ah whither am I borne! 
How like a ghost forlorn
My voice flits from me on the air! 
On, on the demon goads.  The end, ah where?

Chorus
An end too dread to tell, too dark to see.

Oedipus
(Str. 1)
Dark, dark!  The horror of darkness, like a shroud,
Wraps me and bears me on through mist and cloud. 
Ah me, ah me!  What spasms athwart me shoot,
What pangs of agonizing memory?