Oedipus
Apollo, friend, Apollo, he it was
That brought these ills to pass;
But the right hand that dealt the blow
Was mine, none other. How,
How, could I longer see when sight
Brought no delight?
Chorus
Alas! ’tis as thou sayest.
Oedipus
Say, friends, can any look or voice
Or touch of love henceforth my heart rejoice?
Haste, friends, no fond delay.
Take the twice cursed away
Far from all ken,
The man abhorred of gods, accursed of men.