low me, my children, whither Mercury and the Queen of Night are leading me." Then, directed by some mysterious agency, Œdipus moves slowly onwards and upwards along the sloping ridge, towards the "steps of brass," followed at a little distance by Theseus and by his daughters, and at last he disappears from view.
Then the Chorus utter a solemn requiem for his soul, addressed to the Dark King and his bride, who rule the lower world:—
"If to thee, eternal queen,
Empress of the worlds unseen;
Mighty Pluto, if to thee,
Hell's terrific deity,
Lips of mortal mould may dare
Breathe the solemn suppliant prayer,—
Grant the stranger swift release,
Bid the mourner part in peace;
Guide him, where in silence deep
All that once were mortal sleep.
Since relentless Fate hath shed
Sorrows o'er thy guiltless head,
In thy pangs let mercy stay thee,
In the grave let rest repay thee!"—(D.)
A messenger, who had followed as near as he might the small company that had attended Œdipus, tells the sequel of this mysterious drama. They had reached the brazen steps, and there, near "the Thorician rock and the hollow pear-tree" (both probably consecrated by tradition), Œdipus had sat down; and after bathing his limbs in pure water from the stream, had doffed the mean rags of his exile, and clothed himself in a clean white robe, "meet for the
