In fearful accents, terrible to hear:
"The death of Laius is still unrevenged,
The murderer lives in Thebes, and doth infect
The wholesome air with his malignant breath;
He must be known, he must be punished,
And on his fate depends the people's safety."
ŒDIPUS.
Justly ye suffer, Thebans, for this crime;
Laius was once your loved and honored king,
And your neglect hath from his manes drawn
This vengeance on you. Such is oft the fate
Of the best sovereigns; whilst they live, respect
Waits on their laws, their justice is admired,
And they like gods are served, like gods adored;
But after death they sink into oblivion.
No longer then your flattering incense burns:
The servile mind of wretched man still bends
To interest; and when virtue is departed,
'Tis soon forgotten: therefore doth the blood
Of murdered Laius now cry out against you,
And sues for vengeance to offended heaven.
To sprinkle on his tomb the murderer's blood
Will better far than slaughtered hecatombs
Appease his spirit: be it all our care
To seek the guilty wretch. Can none remember
Aught touching this sad deed? Amidst your signs
And wonders, could no footsteps e'er be traced
Of this unpunished crime? They always told me
It was a Theban, who against his prince
Uplifted his rebellious hand. For me [To Jocaste.
Who from thy hands received the crown, two years
After the death of Laius did I mount
The throne of Thebes, and never since that hour
Would I recall the subject of thy tears,
But in respectful silence waited still;
