Sunday, September 10, 2017

Sunday/\Chorus

Chorus from Oedipus Rex

In classical Greek tragedy, the chorus, whose metrical variety is believed to derive from its lost  musical accompaniment, alternates with the spoken dialogue of the play’s heroic characters and provides both context and commentary for the developing psychological narrative. And it was with the psychological truth of the Oedipus Rex Trilogy (published in 1985) – Stephen Spender’s single-play version of Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex, Oedipus at Colonus and Antigone – that the theatre critic Michael Billington was most impressed. Spender’s great achievement, in Billington’s view, had been to unify the three plays – which were originally written thirty-five years apart – by focussing on the fact that the characters are “not simply playthings of the gods but victims of their own moral blindness”. For all its mythological trappings, the chorus’ “O thrilling voice of Zeus”, one of six from the play that Spender collected as poems in their own right, is the Theban citizens’ terrified plea to the powers above not to let the mistakes of their rulers fall on their heads: “O Delian healer hear my prayer / star of hope in my night of despair”. (tls)

A Chorus From Oedipus Rex


O thrilling voice of Zeus
           sent from Apollo’s golden shrine
           with what intent toward us?



                    I tremble I faint I fail
                    terror racks my soul



O Delian healer to whom my cries
from this my abyss of despair arise

           what fate unknown until now
           or lost in the past and renewed


drawn from the revolving years
                     will you make ours?



O speak o tell us immortal voice
           To Athena daughter of Zeus
    and her sister Artemis
           and Apollo of burning arrows
    triple guardians of Thebes


                                                   I call

If ever before in time past
you saved us from plague and defeat
            come back to us now and save



                    The plague invades
                    no knowledge saves
                    birth pangs of women
                    bear dead their children
                    life on life sped
                    to the land of the dead
                    birds wing on wing
                    struck down from their flying
                    to the parched earth
                    by the marksman death



O Delian healer hear my prayer
star of hope in my night of despair



Grant that this god who without clash of sword on shield
fills with cries of our dying Thebes he makes his battlefield



            turn back in flight from us
                                               be made to yield


          driven by great gales favouring our side

to the far Thracian waters wave on wave
where none found haven ever but his grave



            O Zeus come with thy lightning to us
                                                                    save

            And come back Bacchus
hair gold-bound and cheeks flame-red
         whom the Bacchantae worship and the maenids led
         by his bright torch held high



revelling again among us Bacchus and make death
  the god whom gods and men most hate lie dead

                                        
STEPHEN SPENDER (1984)

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