Now wretched Oedipus, depriv'd of Sight

Now wretched Oedipus , depriv'd of Sight,
Led a long Death in everlasting Night;
But while he dwells where not a chearful Ray
Can pierce the Darkness, and abhors the Day;
The clear, reflecting Mind, presents his Sin
In frightful Views, and makes it Day within;
Returning Thoughts in endless Circles roll,
And thousand Furies haunt his guilty Soul.
The Wretch then lifted to th' unpitying skies
Those empty Orbs, from whence he tore his Eyes,
Whose wounds yet fresh, with bloody Hands he strook,
While from his Breast these dreadful Accents broke.

Ye Gods, that o'er the gloomy Regions reign
Where guilty Spirits feel Eternal Pain;
Thou, sable Styx ! whose livid Streams are roll'd
Thro' dreary Coasts which I, tho' Blind, behold:
Tisiphone ! that oft hast heard my Pray'r,
Assist, if Oedipus deserve thy Care!
...
My Sons their old, unhappy Sire despise,
Spoil'd of his Kingdom, and depriv'd of Eyes;
Guideless I wander, unregarded mourn,
While These exalt their Scepters o'er my Urn;
These Sons, ye Gods! who with flagitious Pride
Insult my Darkness, and my Groans deride.
Art thou a Father, unregarding Jove !
And sleeps thy Thunder in the Realms above?
Thou Fury , then, some lasting Curse entail,
Which shall o'er long Posterity prevail:
Place on their Heads the Crown distain'd with Gore,
Which these dire Hands from my slain Father tore;
Go, and a Parent's heavy Curses bear;
Break all the Bonds of Nature, and prepare
Their kindred Souls to mutual Hate and War.
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