"Dead or living," his body will decide the fortunes of the war; and Creon is even now on his way to take possession of his person, and to bring him near the borders of the Theban land, intending to keep him a prisoner there until his death, when his tomb would serve as a fortress against the enemies of Thebes.
Œdipus is more bitterly incensed than ever at the heartless and selfish conduct of his sons. They had acquiesced in the sentence which had doomed him to poverty and exile; they had suffered him to be cast forth from his home and country, when "one small word," spoken by them in his defence, would have saved him from such dishonour; they had rioted in luxury while he wandered a miserable outcast, dependent on his daughter's aid;—and now, to suit their own ambitious purposes, they would force him to return to Thebes. Never will he so return, he emphatically declares—so help him those dread powers who are now his guardians. He will remain on the spot to which his destinies have brought him, and prove himself in very truth the "great deliverer" of Athens, the city which has given him refuge.
The Chorus now instruct him that, if he really mshes to befriend their city, he must first make his peace with the Avengers of the dead, and offer libations in their honour according to a solemn and mysterious ritual. From a vase crowned with "a wreath of snow-white lamb's-wool" he must pour streams of pure water mingled with honey, turning to the east, and strew on either side of him "thrice nine olive-branches." Then he may utter a whispered prayer
