ICARUS.
With terror and regret I must reveal
The dreadful secret, Corinth
ŒDIPUS.
Not his son!
ICARUS.
Thou art not. Polybus, oppressed by conscience,
Dying declared it; to the royal blood
Of Corinth's kings he yielded up his throne:
I who alone enjoyed his confidence,
And therefore dreaded the new sovereign's power,
Fled to implore thy aid.
ŒDIPUS.
Who am I then,
If not the son of Polybus?
ICARUS.
The gods,
Who trusted to my hands thy infant years,
In shades of darkest night conceal thy birth;
I only know, that soon as born condemned
To death, and on a desert hill exposed,
Thou but for me hadst perished.
ŒDIPUS.
Thus with life
Began my sorrows, a detested object
Even from my cradle, and accursed by all.
Where didst thou light on me?
ICARUS.
On mount Citheron,
ŒDIPUS.
Near Thebes?
