Parerga/Chorus from the Oedipus Coloneus
< Parerga
CHORUS
FROM THE ŒDIPUS COLONEUS.
(668-718.)
Εὐίππου, ξένε, τᾶσδε χώραςἽκου τὰ κράτιστα γᾶς ἔπαυλα, κ.τ.λ.
Thou hast found the fairest seatOf this bright and broad domain,Where the noblest coursers' feetTread the Colonean plain.Here the melodious nightingaleLoves to tell her plaintive tale,Where the thickest copses bloom,Hid beneath the ivy's gloom,Or 'neath that sacred foliage veil'd,Where thousand blossoms spring,In vain by fiercest noon assail'd,Unswept by the tempest's wing.For Bacchus loves these chosen groves,Where oft his feet have trod;While mid the bands of Nymphs he roves,That nursed the Infant God.
Here, wet with dews that freshly fall,Narcissus clusters wild,For thee the ancient coronal,Great Ceres, and thy child. Here the golden crocus beams;Nor ever fail the sleepless streamsThat o'er the plains in tribute glide,Cephisus, to thy silvery tide.Hence springs the tree, hence blooms the flower,With early radiance drest,While weep the heavens their purest showerOn the earth's fruitful breast.Nor do the Muses' circling feetAbhor this verdant plain;Nor is it the least-favour'd seatOf Aphroditè's reign.
Not in the sunny lands that smileIn Asia's realm of gold,Not in the mighty Dorian IsleWhere Pelops reign'd of old,Flourishes that holy plantWhich loves th' Athenian soil,Whose fruit is Earth's own bounteous grant,Unvex'd by human toil.The Olive, strong mid hostile spears,Which not the force of youthful yearsNor all the skill of hoary ageCould e'er destroy in vengeful rage. For the all-seeing care of JoveForbids that sacred stem to die,And fair Athenè from aboveBends o'er its growth her azure eye.
Glorious city, shrine of power,Shrine of freedom in the land,Deities upon thee showerChoicest gifts with lavish hand.Gallant steeds of purest strainAre thy fertile valleys' boast;Friendly is the deep-blue main,Laving round thy favour'd coast.Son of Saturn, Neptune, King,'Tis from thee these blessings spring;Thou first upon this grassy meadGav'st dominion o'er the steed:Thou gav'st the skill to stem the tideAll whiten'd by the dashing oar,While, swiftly as the Nereids glide,The galley bounds mid ocean's roar.