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  Quote opuslola Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Topic: Ancient Greek/Roman Literature & Sources
    Posted: 28-Jul-2011 at 17:16
From a question asked a long time ago by the lamented former poster on this site going by the nick-name "Aster Thrax", concerning the carbonized scrolls found;

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Villa_of_the_Papyri

Sorry but this time the secret to posting hyper-links did not work!
http://www.quotationspage.com/subjects/history/
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 24-Aug-2011 at 02:45
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  Quote Don Quixote Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 24-Aug-2011 at 03:13
Some time ago I got interested in Theognis of Megara, and between the other stuff found this essay:
http://www.porlockspensum.com/assets/text/theognis_essay.pdf
and this most interesting book http://www.archive.org/stream/hesiodtheognis00davirich/hesiodtheognis00davirich_djvu.txt



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  Quote TheAlaniDragonRising Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 31-Dec-2011 at 07:23

What a handsome figure of a dragon. No wonder I fall madly in love with the Alani Dragon now, the avatar, it's a gorgeous dragon picture.
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  Quote TheAlaniDragonRising Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 01-Jan-2012 at 17:29
I have found some good poems by Theognis of Megara, translated into English, and hope that others enjoy them as I have.Smile


Angry Words


by: Theognis of Megara (6th century B.C.)

Rash, angry words, and spoken out of season,

When passion has usurp'd the throne of reason,

Have ruin'd many. Passion is unjust,
And for an idle, transitory gust
Of gratified revenge, dooms us to pay
With long repentence at a later day.

 

 

An Avenger for the State


by: Theognis of Megara

 

Our state is pregnant; shortly to produce

A rude avenger of prolong'd abuse.
The commons hitherto seem sober-minded,
But their superiors are corrupt and blinded.
The rule of noble spirits, brave and high,
Never endanger'd peace and harmony.
The supercilious, arrogant pretence
Of feeble minds; weakness and insolence;
Justice and truth and law wrested aside
By crafty shifts of avarice and pride;
These are our ruins, Kurnus!--never dream
(Tranquil and undisturb'd as it may seem)
Of future peace or safety to the state;
Bloodshed and strife will follow soon or late.
Never imagine that a ruin'd land
Will trust her destiny to your command,
To be remodell'd by a single hand.

 

 

 

Beware Crafty Minds


by: Theognis of Megara

 

Let no persuasive art tempt you to place

Your confidence in crafty minds and base!
How can it answer? Will their help avail
When danger presses, and your foes assail?
The blessing which the gods in bounty send,
Will they consent to share it with a friend?

 

No! to bestrew the waves with scatter'd grain,
To cultivate the surface of the main,
Is not a task more absolutely vain,
Than cultivating such allies as these,
Fickle and unproductive as the seas!

 

Such are all baser minds; never at rest,
With new demands importunately press'd--
A new pretension or a new request;
Till, foil'd with a refusal of the last,
They disavow their obligations past.

 

But brave and gallant hearts are cheaply gain'd--
Faithful adherents, easily retain'd;
Men that will never disavow the debt
Of gratitude, or cancel or forget.

 

 

Easy Friends


by: Theognis of Megara

 

Never engage with a poltroon or craven--

Avoid him, Kurnus, as a treach'rous haven!
These friends and hearty comrades, as you think,
(Ready to join you, when you feast and drink),
These easy friends from difficulty shrink.

 

For a shrewd intellect, the best employ
Is to detect a soul of base alloy;
No task is harder nor imports so much;
Silver or gold, you prove it by the touch;
You separate the pure, discard the dross,
And disregard the labour and the loss:
But a friend's heart, base and adulterate--
A friendly surface with a core of hate!
Of all the frauds with which the Fates have cursed
Our simple easy nature--is the worst:
Beyond the rest ruinous in effect;
And of all others hardest to detect:
For men's and women's hearts you cannot try
Beforehand, like the cattle that you buy.
Nor human wit nor reason, when you treat
For such a purpose, can escape deceit:
Fancy betrays us, and assists the cheat.

 

 

 

An Even Line


by: Theognis of Megara

 

I walk by rule and measure, and incline

To neither side, but take an even line;
Fix'd in a single purpose and design.
With learning's happy gifts to celebrate,
To civilize and dignify the State;
Not leaguing with the discontented crew,
Nor with the proud and arbitrary few.

 

 

 

Fame


by: Theognis of Megara

 

The generous and the brave, in common fame,

From time to time encounter praise or blame:
The vulgar pass unheeded; none escape
Scandal or insult in some form or shape.
Most fortunate are those, alive or dead,
Of whom the least is thought--the least is said.

 

 

 

Fate


by: Theognis of Megara

 

No costly sacrifice nor offerings given

Can change the purpose of the powers of Heaven;
Whatever Fate ordains, danger or hurt,
Or death predestined, nothing can avert.

 

 

 

Hope


by: Theognis of Megara

 

For human nature Hope remains alone

Of all the deities; the rest are flown.
Faith is departed; Truth and Honour dead;
And all the Graces too, my friends, are fled.
The scanty specimens of living worth,
Dwindled to nothing, and extinct on earth.
Yet whilst I live and view the light of heaven,
Since hope remains and never has been driven
From the distracted world--the single scope
Of my devotion is to worship Hope.
When hecatombs are slain, and altars burn,
When all the deities adored in turn,
Let Hope be present; and with Hope, my friend,
Let every sacrifice commence and end.
Yes, Insolence, Injustice, every crime,
Rapine and Wrong, may prosper for a time;
Yet shall they travel on to swift decay,
Who tread the crooked path and hollow way.

 

 

 

Human Nature


by: Theognis of Megara

 

 

Learn, Kurnus, learn to bear an easy mind;
Accommodate your humour to mankind
And human nature--take it as you find!
A mixture of ingredients, good or bad,
Such are we all, the best that can be had.
The best are found defective, and the rest,
For common use, are equal to the best.
Suppose it had been otherwise decreed--
How could the business of the world proceed?

 

Fairly examined, truly understood,
No man is wholly bad, nor wholly good,
Nor uniformly wise. In every case,
Habit and accident, and time, and place
Affect us:--'tis the nature of the race!

 

 

 

The Insolence of Wealth


by: Theognis of Megara

 

The gods send Insolence, to lead astray

The man whom Fortune and the Fates betray,
Predestined to precipitate decay.
Wealth nurses Insolence, and wealth, we find,
When coupled with a poor and paltry mind,
Is evermore with Insolence combined.

 

Never in anger with the meaner sort
Be moved to a contemptuous, harsh retort,
Deriding their distresses; nor despise,
In hasty speech, their wants and miseries.

 

Jove holds the balance, and the gods dispense
For all mankind, riches and indigence.

 

 

 

Learning and Wealth


by: Theognis of Megara

 

Learning and wealth the wise and wealthy find

Inadequate to satisfy the mind--
A craving eagerness remains behind;
Something is left for which we cannot rest,
And the last something always seems the best--
Something unknown, or something unpossessed.

 

 

 

On Arranged Marriage


by: Theognis of Megara

 

The daily marriages we make,

Where price is everything: for money's sake
Men marry; women are in marriage given.
The churl or ruffian that in wealth has thriven
May match his offspring with the proudest race;
Thus everything is mixed, noble and base!

 

 

 

On Inborn Traits


by: Theognis of Megara

 

To rear a child is easy, but to teach

Morals and manners is beyond our reach;
To make the foolish wise, the wicked good,
That science yet was never understood.
The sons of Esculapius, if their art
Could remedy a perverse and wicked heart,
Might earn enormous wages! But in fact
The mind is not compounded and compact
Of precept and example; human art
In human nature has no share or part.
Hatred of vice, the fear of shame and sin,
Are things of native growth, not grafted in:
Else wives and worthy parents might correct
In children's hearts each error and defect:
Whereas we see them disappointed still,
No scheme nor artifice of human skill
Can rectify the passions or the will.

 

 

 

The Poet and His Muse


by: Theognis of Megara

 

You soar aloft, and over land and wave

Are borne triumphant on the wings I gave,
The swift and mighty wings, music and verse;
Your name in easy numbers smooth and terse,
Is wafted o'er the world; and heard among
At banquetings and feasts, chaunted and sung,
Heard and admir'd: the modulated air
Of flutes and voices of the young and fair
Recite it, and to future times shall tell;
When clos'd within the dark sepulchral cell
Your form shall moulder, and your empty ghost
Wander along the dreary Stygian coast,
Yet shall your memory flourish, fresh and young,
Recorded and reviv'd on every tongue,
In continents and islands, every place
That owns the language of the Grecian race!

 

No purchas'd prowess of a racing steed,
But the triumphant muse, with airy speed,
Shall bear it wide and far, o'er land and main,
A glorious and unperishable strain;
A mighty prize, gratuitously won,
Fix'd as the earth, immortal as the sun!

 

But for all this--no kindness in return!
No token or attention or concern!
Baffled and scorn'd, you treat me like a child,
From day to day, with empty words beguil'd.
Remember! common justice, common sense
Are the best blessings which the Gods dispense:
And each man has his object; all aspire
To something which they covet and desire.

 

Like a fair courser, conqueror in the race,
Bound to a charioteer sordid and base,
I feel it with disdain; and many a day
Have long'd to break the curb and burst away.

 

 

 

Poverty


by: Theognis of Megara

 

For noble minds, the worst of miseries,

Worse than old age, or wearisome disease,
Is Poverty. From Poverty to flee,
From some tall precipice into the sea,
It were a fair escape to leap below!
In Poverty, dear Kyrnus, we forego
Freedom in word and deed, body and mind;
Action and thought are fetter'd and confin'd.
Let me then fly, dear Kyrnus, once again!
Wide as the limits of the land and main,
From these entanglements; with these in view,
Death is the lighter evil of the two.

 

 

Pride and the State


by: Theognis of Megara

 

 

Pride and oppressive rule destroy'd the state
Of the Magnesians--Such was Smyrna's fate;
Smyrna the rich, and Colophon the great!
And ours, my friend, will follow, soon or late.

 

 

 

A Secret Spring


by: Theognis of Megara

 

While only I quaffed yonder secret spring,

'Twas clear and sweet to my imagining.
'Tis turbid now. Or it no more I drink,
But hang o'er other stream or river-brink.

 


Sumptuous Obsequies


by: Theognis of Megara

 

I envy not these sumptuous obsequies,

The stately car, the purple canopies;
Much better pleased am I, remaining here,
With cheaper equipage, and better cheer.
A couch of thorns, or an embroidered bed,
Are matters of indifference to the dead.

 

 

A Time for Wine


by: Theognis of Megara

 

Now that in mid career, checking his force,

The bright sun pauses in his pride and force,
Let us prepare to dine; and eat and drink
The best of everything that heart can think:
And let the shapely Spartan damsel fair
Bring with a rounded arm and graceful air
Water to wash, and garlands for our hair:
In spite of all the systems and the rules
Invented and observed by sickly fools,
Let us be brave, and resolutely drink;
Not minding if the Dog-star rise or sink.

 

Wine


by: Theognis of Megara

 

My brain grows dizzy, whirled and overthrown

With wine: my senses are no more my own.
The ceiling and the walls are wheeling round!
But let me try! perhaps my feet are sound.
Let me retire with my remaining sense,
For fear of idle language and offence.

 

 

 

 

Worldly Wisdom


by: Theognis of Megara

 

The worldly-minded and the worldly wise,

In ignorance and arrogance, despise
All talents and attainments but their own;
Wisdom is their's, they think--and their's alone.
But no! the lessons of deceit and wrong,
In point of fact, are neither hard nor long:
And many know them; but a better will,
Prohibits some from practicing their skill--
Some have a taste for good, and some for ill.

 

http://www.blackcatpoems.com/t/theognis_of_megara.html



Edited by TheAlaniDragonRising - 01-Jan-2012 at 17:45
What a handsome figure of a dragon. No wonder I fall madly in love with the Alani Dragon now, the avatar, it's a gorgeous dragon picture.
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  Quote TheAlaniDragonRising Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 02-Jan-2012 at 15:25
Here's another poet and poem, this is from the ancient Greek Poet from Sparta, Alcman. He is known as a choral lyric poet. Again translated into English.


NATURE'S CALM

by: Alcman

      HE mountain brows, the rocks, the peaks, are sleeping,
      Uplands and gorges hush!
      The thousand moorland things are stillness keeping;
      The beasts under each bush
      Crouch, and the hivèd bees
      Rest in their honeyed ease;
      In the purple sea fish lie as they were dead,
      And each bird folds his wing over his head.


What a handsome figure of a dragon. No wonder I fall madly in love with the Alani Dragon now, the avatar, it's a gorgeous dragon picture.
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  Quote TheAlaniDragonRising Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 21-Jan-2012 at 20:52

Oedipus Rex

(Greek: Oedipus Tyrannus; Latin: Oedipus RexOedipus the King)

Play by Sophocles
Translation by F. Storr, BA 
Formerly Scholar of Trinity College, Cambridge 
From the Loeb Library Edition 
Originally published by 
Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA 
and 
William Heinemann Ltd, London 

This translation first published in 1912 CE
Originally written in the 420s BCE.


Argument

To Laius, King of Thebes, an oracle foretold that the child born
to him by his queen Jocasta would slay his father and wed his mother.
So when in time a son was born the infant's feet were riveted together
and he was left to die on Mount Cithaeron. But a shepherd found the
babe and tended him, and delivered him to another shepherd who took
him to his master, the King or Corinth. Polybus being childless
adopted the boy, who grew up believing that he was indeed the King's
son. Afterwards doubting his parentage he inquired of the Delphic god
and heard himself the weird declared before to Laius. Wherefore he
fled from what he deemed his father's house and in his flight he
encountered and unwillingly slew his father Laius. Arriving at Thebes
he answered the riddle of the Sphinx and the grateful Thebans made
their deliverer king. So he reigned in the room of Laius, and
espoused the widowed queen. Children were born to them and Thebes
prospered under his rule, but again a grievous plague fell upon the
city. Again the oracle was consulted and it bade them purge
themselves of blood-guiltiness. Oedipus denounces the crime of which
he is unaware, and undertakes to track out the criminal. Step by
step it is brought home to him that he is the man. The closing scene
reveals Jocasta slain by her own hand and Oedipus blinded by his own
act and praying for death or exile.


DRAMATIS PERSONAE

Oedipus

The Priest of Zeus

Creon

Chorus of Theban Elders

Teiresias

Jocasta

Messenger

Herd of Laius

Second Messenger

Scene: Thebes. Before the Palace of Oedipus.


OEDIPUS REX

Suppliants of all ages are seated round the altar at the palace doors,
at their head a PRIEST OF ZEUS. To them enter OEDIPUS.

OEDIPUS

My children, latest born to Cadmus old, 
Why sit ye here as suppliants, in your hands 
Branches of olive filleted with wool? 
What means this reek of incense everywhere, 
And everywhere laments and litanies? 
Children, it were not meet that I should learn 
From others, and am hither come, myself, 
I Oedipus, your world-renowned king. 
Ho! aged sire, whose venerable locks 
Proclaim thee spokesman of this company, 
Explain your mood and purport. Is it dread 
Of ill that moves you or a boon ye crave? 
My zeal in your behalf ye cannot doubt; 
Ruthless indeed were I and obdurate 
If such petitioners as you I spurned.

PRIEST

Yea, Oedipus, my sovereign lord and king, 
Thou seest how both extremes of age besiege 
Thy palace altars—fledglings hardly winged, 
and greybeards bowed with years; priests, as am I 
of Zeus, and these the flower of our youth. 
Meanwhile, the common folk, with wreathed boughs 
Crowd our two market-places, or before 
Both shrines of Pallas congregate, or where 
Ismenus gives his oracles by fire. 
For, as thou seest thyself, our ship of State, 
Sore buffeted, can no more lift her head, 
Foundered beneath a weltering surge of blood. 
A blight is on our harvest in the ear, 
A blight upon the grazing flocks and herds, 
A blight on wives in travail; and withal 
Armed with his blazing torch the God of Plague 
Hath swooped upon our city emptying 
The house of Cadmus, and the murky realm 
Of Pluto is full fed with groans and tears. 
Therefore, O King, here at thy hearth we sit, 
I and these children; not as deeming thee 
A new divinity, but the first of men; 
First in the common accidents of life, 
And first in visitations of the Gods. 
Art thou not he who coming to the town 
of Cadmus freed us from the tax we paid 
To the fell songstress? Nor hadst thou received 
Prompting from us or been by others schooled; 
No, by a god inspired (so all men deem,
And testify) didst thou renew our life.
And now, O Oedipus, our peerless king,
All we thy votaries beseech thee, find
Some succor, whether by a voice from heaven
Whispered, or haply known by human wit.
Tried counselors, methinks, are aptest found [1]
To furnish for the future pregnant rede.
Upraise, O chief of men, upraise our State!
Look to thy laurels! for thy zeal of yore
Our country's savior thou art justly hailed:
O never may we thus record thy reign:—
"He raised us up only to cast us down."
Uplift us, build our city on a rock.
Thy happy star ascendant brought us luck,
O let it not decline! If thou wouldst rule
This land, as now thou reignest, better sure
To rule a peopled than a desert realm.
Nor battlements nor galleys aught avail,
If men to man and guards to guard them tail.

OEDIPUS

Ah! my poor children, known, ah, known too well,
The quest that brings you hither and your need.
Ye sicken all, well wot I, yet my pain,
How great soever yours, outtops it all.
Your sorrow touches each man severally,
Him and none other, but I grieve at once
Both for the general and myself and you.
Therefore ye rouse no sluggard from day-dreams.
Many, my children, are the tears I've wept,
And threaded many a maze of weary thought.
Thus pondering one clue of hope I caught,
And tracked it up; I have sent Menoeceus' son,
Creon, my consort's brother, to inquire
Of Pythian Phoebus at his Delphic shrine,
How I might save the State by act or word.
And now I reckon up the tale of days
Since he set forth, and marvel how he fares.
'Tis strange, this endless tarrying, passing strange.
But when he comes, then I were base indeed,
If I perform not all the god declares.

PRIEST

Thy words are well timed; even as thou speakest
That shouting tells me Creon is at hand.

OEDIPUS

O King Apollo! may his joyous looks
Be presage of the joyous news he brings!

PRIEST

As I surmise, 'tis welcome; else his head
Had scarce been crowned with berry-laden bays.

OEDIPUS

We soon shall know; he's now in earshot range.
[Enter CREON]
My royal cousin, say, Menoeceus' child,
What message hast thou brought us from the god?

CREON

Good news, for e'en intolerable ills,
Finding right issue, tend to naught but good.

OEDIPUS

How runs the oracle? thus far thy words
Give me no ground for confidence or fear.

CREON

If thou wouldst hear my message publicly,
I'll tell thee straight, or with thee pass within.

OEDIPUS

Speak before all; the burden that I bear
Is more for these my subjects than myself.

CREON

Let me report then all the god declared.
King Phoebus bids us straitly extirpate
A fell pollution that infests the land,
And no more harbor an inveterate sore.

OEDIPUS

What expiation means he? What's amiss?

CREON

Banishment, or the shedding blood for blood.
This stain of blood makes shipwreck of our state.

OEDIPUS

Whom can he mean, the miscreant thus denounced?

CREON

Before thou didst assume the helm of State,
The sovereign of this land was Laius.

OEDIPUS

I heard as much, but never saw the man.

CREON

He fell; and now the god's command is plain:
Punish his takers-off, whoe'er they be.

OEDIPUS

Where are they? Where in the wide world to find
The far, faint traces of a bygone crime?

CREON

In this land, said the god; "who seeks shall find;
Who sits with folded hands or sleeps is blind."

OEDIPUS

Was he within his palace, or afield,
Or traveling, when Laius met his fate?

CREON

Abroad; he started, so he told us, bound
For Delphi, but he never thence returned.

OEDIPUS

Came there no news, no fellow-traveler
To give some clue that might be followed up?

CREON

But one escape, who flying for dear life,
Could tell of all he saw but one thing sure.

OEDIPUS

And what was that? One clue might lead us far,
With but a spark of hope to guide our quest.

CREON

Robbers, he told us, not one bandit but
A troop of knaves, attacked and murdered him.

OEDIPUS

Did any bandit dare so bold a stroke,
Unless indeed he were suborned from Thebes?

CREON

So 'twas surmised, but none was found to avenge
His murder mid the trouble that ensued.

OEDIPUS

What trouble can have hindered a full quest,
When royalty had fallen thus miserably?

CREON

The riddling Sphinx compelled us to let slide
The dim past and attend to instant needs.

OEDIPUS

Well, I will start afresh and once again
Make dark things clear. Right worthy the concern
Of Phoebus, worthy thine too, for the dead;
I also, as is meet, will lend my aid
To avenge this wrong to Thebes and to the god.
Not for some far-off kinsman, but myself,
Shall I expel this poison in the blood;
For whoso slew that king might have a mind
To strike me too with his assassin hand.
Therefore in righting him I serve myself.
Up, children, haste ye, quit these altar stairs,
Take hence your suppliant wands, go summon hither
The Theban commons. With the god's good help
Success is sure; 'tis ruin if we fail.
[Exeunt OEDIPUS and CREON]

PRIEST

Come, children, let us hence; these gracious words
Forestall the very purpose of our suit.
And may the god who sent this oracle
Save us withal and rid us of this pest.
[Exeunt PRIEST and SUPPLIANTS]

CHORUS

(Str. 1)
Sweet-voiced daughter of Zeus from thy gold-paved Pythian shrine
Wafted to Thebes divine,
What dost thou bring me? My soul is racked and shivers with fear.
(Healer of Delos, hear!)
Hast thou some pain unknown before,
Or with the circling years renewest a penance of yore?
Offspring of golden Hope, thou voice immortal, O tell me.

(Ant. 1)
First on Athene I call; O Zeus-born goddess, defend!
Goddess and sister, befriend,
Artemis, Lady of Thebes, high-throned in the midst of our mart!
Lord of the death-winged dart!
Your threefold aid I crave
From death and ruin our city to save.
If in the days of old when we nigh had perished, ye drave
From our land the fiery plague, be near us now and defend us!

(Str. 2)
Ah me, what countless woes are mine!
All our host is in decline;
Weaponless my spirit lies.
Earth her gracious fruits denies;
Women wail in barren throes;
Life on life downstriken goes,
Swifter than the wind bird's flight,
Swifter than the Fire-God's might,
To the westering shores of Night.

(Ant. 2)
Wasted thus by death on death
All our city perisheth.
Corpses spread infection round;
None to tend or mourn is found.
Wailing on the altar stair
Wives and grandams rend the air—
Long-drawn moans and piercing cries
Blent with prayers and litanies.
Golden child of Zeus, O hear
Let thine angel face appear!

(Str. 3)
And grant that Ares whose hot breath I feel,
Though without targe or steel
He stalks, whose voice is as the battle shout,
May turn in sudden rout,
To the unharbored Thracian waters sped,
Or Amphitrite's bed.
For what night leaves undone,
Smit by the morrow's sun
Perisheth. Father Zeus, whose hand
Doth wield the lightning brand,
Slay him beneath thy levin bold, we pray,
Slay him, O slay!

(Ant. 3)
O that thine arrows too, Lycean King,
From that taut bow's gold string,
Might fly abroad, the champions of our rights;
Yea, and the flashing lights
Of Artemis, wherewith the huntress sweeps
Across the Lycian steeps.
Thee too I call with golden-snooded hair,
Whose name our land doth bear,
Bacchus to whom thy Maenads Evoe shout;
Come with thy bright torch, rout,
Blithe god whom we adore,
The god whom gods abhor.

[Enter OEDIPUS.]

OEDIPUS

Ye pray; 'tis well, but would ye hear my words
And heed them and apply the remedy,
Ye might perchance find comfort and relief.
Mind you, I speak as one who comes a stranger
To this report, no less than to the crime;
For how unaided could I track it far
Without a clue? Which lacking (for too late
Was I enrolled a citizen of Thebes)
This proclamation I address to all:—
Thebans, if any knows the man by whom
Laius, son of Labdacus, was slain,
I summon him to make clean shrift to me.
And if he shrinks, let him reflect that thus
Confessing he shall 'scape the capital charge;
For the worst penalty that shall befall him
Is banishment—unscathed he shall depart.
But if an alien from a foreign land
Be known to any as the murderer,
Let him who knows speak out, and he shall have
Due recompense from me and thanks to boot.
But if ye still keep silence, if through fear
For self or friends ye disregard my hest,
Hear what I then resolve; I lay my ban
On the assassin whosoe'er he be.
Let no man in this land, whereof I hold
The sovereign rule, harbor or speak to him;
Give him no part in prayer or sacrifice
Or lustral rites, but hound him from your homes.
For this is our defilement, so the god
Hath lately shown to me by oracles.
Thus as their champion I maintain the cause
Both of the god and of the murdered King.
And on the murderer this curse I lay
(On him and all the partners in his guilt):—
Wretch, may he pine in utter wretchedness!
And for myself, if with my privity
He gain admittance to my hearth, I pray
The curse I laid on others fall on me.
See that ye give effect to all my hest,
For my sake and the god's and for our land,
A desert blasted by the wrath of heaven.
For, let alone the god's express command,
It were a scandal ye should leave unpurged
The murder of a great man and your king,
Nor track it home. And now that I am lord,
Successor to his throne, his bed, his wife,
(And had he not been frustrate in the hope
Of issue, common children of one womb
Had forced a closer bond twixt him and me,
But Fate swooped down upon him), therefore I
His blood-avenger will maintain his cause
As though he were my sire, and leave no stone
Unturned to track the assassin or avenge
The son of Labdacus, of Polydore,
Of Cadmus, and Agenor first of the race.
And for the disobedient thus I pray:
May the gods send them neither timely fruits
Of earth, nor teeming increase of the womb,
But may they waste and pine, as now they waste,
Aye and worse stricken; but to all of you,
My loyal subjects who approve my acts,
May Justice, our ally, and all the gods
Be gracious and attend you evermore.

CHORUS

The oath thou profferest, sire, I take and swear.
I slew him not myself, nor can I name
The slayer. For the quest, 'twere well, methinks
That Phoebus, who proposed the riddle, himself
Should give the answer—who the murderer was.

OEDIPUS

Well argued; but no living man can hope
To force the gods to speak against their will.

CHORUS

May I then say what seems next best to me?

OEDIPUS

Aye, if there be a third best, tell it too.

CHORUS

My liege, if any man sees eye to eye
With our lord Phoebus, 'tis our prophet, lord
Teiresias; he of all men best might guide
A searcher of this matter to the light.

OEDIPUS

Here too my zeal has nothing lagged, for twice
At Creon's instance have I sent to fetch him,
And long I marvel why he is not here.

CHORUS

I mind me too of rumors long ago—
Mere gossip.

OEDIPUS

Tell them, I would fain know all.

CHORUS

'Twas said he fell by travelers.

OEDIPUS

So I heard,
But none has seen the man who saw him fall.

CHORUS

Well, if he knows what fear is, he will quail
And flee before the terror of thy curse.

OEDIPUS

Words scare not him who blenches not at deeds.

CHORUS

But here is one to arraign him. Lo, at length
They bring the god-inspired seer in whom
Above all other men is truth inborn.
[Enter TEIRESIAS, led by a boy.]

OEDIPUS

Teiresias, seer who comprehendest all,
Lore of the wise and hidden mysteries,
High things of heaven and low things of the earth,
Thou knowest, though thy blinded eyes see naught,
What plague infects our city; and we turn
To thee, O seer, our one defense and shield.
The purport of the answer that the God
Returned to us who sought his oracle,
The messengers have doubtless told thee—how
One course alone could rid us of the pest,
To find the murderers of Laius,
And slay them or expel them from the land.
Therefore begrudging neither augury
Nor other divination that is thine,
O save thyself, thy country, and thy king,
Save all from this defilement of blood shed.
On thee we rest. This is man's highest end,
To others' service all his powers to lend.

TEIRESIAS

Alas, alas, what misery to be wise
When wisdom profits nothing! This old lore
I had forgotten; else I were not here.

OEDIPUS

What ails thee? Why this melancholy mood?

TEIRESIAS

Let me go home; prevent me not; 'twere best
That thou shouldst bear thy burden and I mine.

OEDIPUS

For shame! no true-born Theban patriot
Would thus withhold the word of prophecy.

TEIRESIAS

Thy words, O king, are wide of the mark, and I
For fear lest I too trip like thee...

OEDIPUS

Oh speak,
Withhold not, I adjure thee, if thou know'st,
Thy knowledge. We are all thy suppliants.

TEIRESIAS

Aye, for ye all are witless, but my voice
Will ne'er reveal my miseries—or thine. [2]

OEDIPUS

What then, thou knowest, and yet willst not speak!
Wouldst thou betray us and destroy the State?

TEIRESIAS

I will not vex myself nor thee. Why ask
Thus idly what from me thou shalt not learn?

OEDIPUS

Monster! thy silence would incense a flint.
Will nothing loose thy tongue? Can nothing melt thee,
Or shake thy dogged taciturnity?

TEIRESIAS

Thou blam'st my mood and seest not thine own
Wherewith thou art mated; no, thou taxest me.

OEDIPUS

And who could stay his choler when he heard
How insolently thou dost flout the State?

TEIRESIAS

Well, it will come what will, though I be mute.

OEDIPUS

Since come it must, thy duty is to tell me.

TEIRESIAS

I have no more to say; storm as thou willst,
And give the rein to all thy pent-up rage.

OEDIPUS

Yea, I am wroth, and will not stint my words,
But speak my whole mind. Thou methinks thou art he,
Who planned the crime, aye, and performed it too,
All save the assassination; and if thou
Hadst not been blind, I had been sworn to boot
That thou alone didst do the bloody deed.

TEIRESIAS

Is it so? Then I charge thee to abide
By thine own proclamation; from this day
Speak not to these or me. Thou art the man,
Thou the accursed polluter of this land.

OEDIPUS

Vile slanderer, thou blurtest forth these taunts,
And think'st forsooth as seer to go scot free.

TEIRESIAS

Yea, I am free, strong in the strength of truth.

OEDIPUS

Who was thy teacher? not methinks thy art.

TEIRESIAS

Thou, goading me against my will to speak.

OEDIPUS

What speech? repeat it and resolve my doubt.

TEIRESIAS

Didst miss my sense wouldst thou goad me on?

OEDIPUS

I but half caught thy meaning; say it again.

TEIRESIAS

I say thou art the murderer of the man
Whose murderer thou pursuest.

OEDIPUS

Thou shalt rue it
Twice to repeat so gross a calumny.

TEIRESIAS

Must I say more to aggravate thy rage?

OEDIPUS

Say all thou wilt; it will be but waste of breath.

TEIRESIAS

I say thou livest with thy nearest kin
In infamy, unwitting in thy shame.

OEDIPUS

Think'st thou for aye unscathed to wag thy tongue?

TEIRESIAS

Yea, if the might of truth can aught prevail.

OEDIPUS

With other men, but not with thee, for thou
In ear, wit, eye, in everything art blind.

TEIRESIAS

Poor fool to utter gibes at me which all
Here present will cast back on thee ere long.

OEDIPUS

Offspring of endless Night, thou hast no power
O'er me or any man who sees the sun.

TEIRESIAS

No, for thy weird is not to fall by me.
I leave to Apollo what concerns the god.

OEDIPUS

Is this a plot of Creon, or thine own?

TEIRESIAS

Not Creon, thou thyself art thine own bane.

OEDIPUS

O wealth and empiry and skill by skill
Outwitted in the battlefield of life,
What spite and envy follow in your train!
See, for this crown the State conferred on me.
A gift, a thing I sought not, for this crown
The trusty Creon, my familiar friend,
Hath lain in wait to oust me and suborned
This mountebank, this juggling charlatan,
This tricksy beggar-priest, for gain alone
Keen-eyed, but in his proper art stone-blind.
Say, sirrah, hast thou ever proved thyself
A prophet? When the riddling Sphinx was here
Why hadst thou no deliverance for this folk?
And yet the riddle was not to be solved
By guess-work but required the prophet's art;
Wherein thou wast found lacking; neither birds
Nor sign from heaven helped thee, but I came,
The simple Oedipus; I stopped her mouth
By mother wit, untaught of auguries.
This is the man whom thou wouldst undermine,
In hope to reign with Creon in my stead.
Methinks that thou and thine abettor soon
Will rue your plot to drive the scapegoat out.
Thank thy grey hairs that thou hast still to learn
What chastisement such arrogance deserves.

CHORUS

To us it seems that both the seer and thou,
O Oedipus, have spoken angry words.
This is no time to wrangle but consult
How best we may fulfill the oracle.

TEIRESIAS

King as thou art, free speech at least is mine
To make reply; in this I am thy peer.
I own no lord but Loxias; him I serve
And ne'er can stand enrolled as Creon's man.
Thus then I answer: since thou hast not spared
To twit me with my blindness—thou hast eyes,
Yet see'st not in what misery thou art fallen,
Nor where thou dwellest nor with whom for mate.
Dost know thy lineage? Nay, thou know'st it not,
And all unwitting art a double foe
To thine own kin, the living and the dead;
Aye and the dogging curse of mother and sire
One day shall drive thee, like a two-edged sword,
Beyond our borders, and the eyes that now
See clear shall henceforward endless night.
Ah whither shall thy bitter cry not reach,
What crag in all Cithaeron but shall then
Reverberate thy wail, when thou hast found
With what a hymeneal thou wast borne
Home, but to no fair haven, on the gale!
Aye, and a flood of ills thou guessest not
Shall set thyself and children in one line.
Flout then both Creon and my words, for none
Of mortals shall be striken worse than thou.

OEDIPUS

Must I endure this fellow's insolence?
A murrain on thee! Get thee hence! Begone
Avaunt! and never cross my threshold more.

TEIRESIAS

I ne'er had come hadst thou not bidden me.

OEDIPUS

I know not thou wouldst utter folly, else
Long hadst thou waited to be summoned here.

TEIRESIAS

Such am I—as it seems to thee a fool,
But to the parents who begat thee, wise.

OEDIPUS

What sayest thou—"parents"? Who begat me, speak?

TEIRESIAS

This day shall be thy birth-day, and thy grave.

OEDIPUS

Thou lov'st to speak in riddles and dark words.

TEIRESIAS

In reading riddles who so skilled as thou?

OEDIPUS

Twit me with that wherein my greatness lies.

TEIRESIAS

And yet this very greatness proved thy bane.

OEDIPUS

No matter if I saved the commonwealth.

TEIRESIAS

'Tis time I left thee. Come, boy, take me home.

OEDIPUS

Aye, take him quickly, for his presence irks
And lets me; gone, thou canst not plague me more.

TEIRESIAS

I go, but first will tell thee why I came.
Thy frown I dread not, for thou canst not harm me.
Hear then: this man whom thou hast sought to arrest
With threats and warrants this long while, the wretch
Who murdered Laius—that man is here.
He passes for an alien in the land
But soon shall prove a Theban, native born.
And yet his fortune brings him little joy;
For blind of seeing, clad in beggar's weeds,
For purple robes, and leaning on his staff,
To a strange land he soon shall grope his way.
And of the children, inmates of his home,
He shall be proved the brother and the sire,
Of her who bare him son and husband both,
Co-partner, and assassin of his sire.
Go in and ponder this, and if thou find
That I have missed the mark, henceforth declare
I have no wit nor skill in prophecy.
[Exeunt TEIRESIAS and OEDIPUS]

CHORUS

(Str. 1)
Who is he by voice immortal named from Pythia's rocky cell,
Doer of foul deeds of bloodshed, horrors that no tongue can tell?
A foot for flight he needs
Fleeter than storm-swift steeds,
For on his heels doth follow,
Armed with the lightnings of his Sire, Apollo.
Like sleuth-hounds too
The Fates pursue.

(Ant. 1)
Yea, but now flashed forth the summons from Parnassus' snowy peak,
"Near and far the undiscovered doer of this murder seek!"
Now like a sullen bull he roves
Through forest brakes and upland groves,
And vainly seeks to fly
The doom that ever nigh
Flits o'er his head,
Still by the avenging Phoebus sped,
The voice divine,
From Earth's mid shrine.
(Str. 2)
Sore perplexed am I by the words of the master seer.
Are they true, are they false? I know not and bridle my tongue for 
fear,
Fluttered with vague surmise; nor present nor future is clear.
Quarrel of ancient date or in days still near know I none
Twixt the Labdacidan house and our ruler, Polybus' son.
Proof is there none: how then can I challenge our King's good name,
How in a blood-feud join for an untracked deed of shame?

(Ant. 2)
All wise are Zeus and Apollo, and nothing is hid from their ken;
They are gods; and in wits a man may surpass his fellow men;
But that a mortal seer knows more than I know—where
Hath this been proven? Or how without sign assured, can I blame
Him who saved our State when the winged songstress came,
Tested and tried in the light of us all, like gold assayed?
How can I now assent when a crime is on Oedipus laid?

CREON

Friends, countrymen, I learn King Oedipus
Hath laid against me a most grievous charge,
And come to you protesting. If he deems
That I have harmed or injured him in aught
By word or deed in this our present trouble,
I care not to prolong the span of life,
Thus ill-reputed; for the calumny
Hits not a single blot, but blasts my name,
If by the general voice I am denounced
False to the State and false by you my friends.

CHORUS

This taunt, it well may be, was blurted out
In petulance, not spoken advisedly.

CREON

Did any dare pretend that it was I
Prompted the seer to utter a forged charge?

CHORUS

Such things were said; with what intent I know not.

CREON

Were not his wits and vision all astray
When upon me he fixed this monstrous charge?

CHORUS

I know not; to my sovereign's acts I am blind.
But lo, he comes to answer for himself.
[Enter OEDIPUS.]

OEDIPUS

Sirrah, what mak'st thou here? Dost thou presume
To approach my doors, thou brazen-faced rogue,
My murderer and the filcher of my crown?
Come, answer this, didst thou detect in me
Some touch of cowardice or witlessness,
That made thee undertake this enterprise?
I seemed forsooth too simple to perceive
The serpent stealing on me in the dark,
Or else too weak to scotch it when I saw.
This _thou_ art witless seeking to possess
Without a following or friends the crown,
A prize that followers and wealth must win.

CREON

Attend me. Thou hast spoken, 'tis my turn
To make reply. Then having heard me, judge.

OEDIPUS

Thou art glib of tongue, but I am slow to learn
Of thee; I know too well thy venomous hate.

CREON

First I would argue out this very point.

OEDIPUS

O argue not that thou art not a rogue.

CREON

If thou dost count a virtue stubbornness,
Unschooled by reason, thou art much astray.

OEDIPUS

If thou dost hold a kinsman may be wronged,
And no pains follow, thou art much to seek.

CREON

Therein thou judgest rightly, but this wrong
That thou allegest—tell me what it is.

OEDIPUS

Didst thou or didst thou not advise that I
Should call the priest?

CREON

Yes, and I stand to it.

OEDIPUS

Tell me how long is it since Laius...

CREON

Since Laius...? I follow not thy drift.

OEDIPUS

By violent hands was spirited away.

CREON

In the dim past, a many years agone.

OEDIPUS

Did the same prophet then pursue his craft?

CREON

Yes, skilled as now and in no less repute.

OEDIPUS

Did he at that time ever glance at me?

CREON

Not to my knowledge, not when I was by.

OEDIPUS

But was no search and inquisition made?

CREON

Surely full quest was made, but nothing learnt.

OEDIPUS

Why failed the seer to tell his story <em>then</em>?

CREON

I know not, and not knowing hold my tongue.

OEDIPUS

This much thou knowest and canst surely tell.

CREON

What's mean'st thou? All I know I will declare.

OEDIPUS

But for thy prompting never had the seer
Ascribed to me the death of Laius.

CREON

If so he thou knowest best; but I
Would put thee to the question in my turn.

OEDIPUS

Question and prove me murderer if thou canst.

CREON

Then let me ask thee, didst thou wed my sister?

OEDIPUS

A fact so plain I cannot well deny.

CREON

And as thy consort queen she shares the throne?

OEDIPUS

I grant her freely all her heart desires.

CREON

And with you twain I share the triple rule?

OEDIPUS

Yea, and it is that proves thee a false friend.

CREON

Not so, if thou wouldst reason with thyself,
As I with myself. First, I bid thee think,
Would any mortal choose a troubled reign
Of terrors rather than secure repose,
If the same power were given him? As for me,
I have no natural craving for the name
Of king, preferring to do kingly deeds,
And so thinks every sober-minded man.
Now all my needs are satisfied through thee,
And I have naught to fear; but were I king,
My acts would oft run counter to my will.
How could a title then have charms for me
Above the sweets of boundless influence?
I am not so infatuate as to grasp
The shadow when I hold the substance fast.
Now all men cry me Godspeed! wish me well,
And every suitor seeks to gain my ear,
If he would hope to win a grace from thee.
Why should I leave the better, choose the worse?
That were sheer madness, and I am not mad.
No such ambition ever tempted me,
Nor would I have a share in such intrigue.
And if thou doubt me, first to Delphi go,
There ascertain if my report was true
Of the god's answer; next investigate
If with the seer I plotted or conspired,
And if it prove so, sentence me to death,
Not by thy voice alone, but mine and thine.
But O condemn me not, without appeal,
On bare suspicion. 'Tis not right to adjudge
Bad men at random good, or good men bad.
I would as lief a man should cast away
The thing he counts most precious, his own life,
As spurn a true friend. Thou wilt learn in time
The truth, for time alone reveals the just;
A villain is detected in a day.

CHORUS

To one who walketh warily his words
Commend themselves; swift counsels are not sure.

OEDIPUS

When with swift strides the stealthy plotter stalks
I must be quick too with my counterplot.
To wait his onset passively, for him
Is sure success, for me assured defeat.

CREON

What then's thy will? To banish me the land?

OEDIPUS

I would not have thee banished, no, but dead,
That men may mark the wages envy reaps.

CREON

I see thou wilt not yield, nor credit me.

OEDIPUS

[None but a fool would credit such as thou.] [3]

CREON

Thou art not wise.

OEDIPUS

Wise for myself at least.

CREON

Why not for me too?

OEDIPUS

Why for such a knave?

CREON

Suppose thou lackest sense.

OEDIPUS

Yet kings must rule.

CREON

Not if they rule ill.

OEDIPUS

Oh my Thebans, hear him!

CREON

Thy Thebans? am not I a Theban too?

CHORUS

Cease, princes; lo there comes, and none too soon,
Jocasta from the palace. Who so fit
As peacemaker to reconcile your feud?
[Enter JOCASTA.]

JOCASTA

Misguided princes, why have ye upraised
This wordy wrangle? Are ye not ashamed,
While the whole land lies striken, thus to voice
Your private injuries? Go in, my lord;
Go home, my brother, and forebear to make
A public scandal of a petty grief.

CREON

My royal sister, Oedipus, thy lord,
Hath bid me choose (O dread alternative!)
An outlaw's exile or a felon's death.

OEDIPUS

Yes, lady; I have caught him practicing
Against my royal person his vile arts.

CREON

May I ne'er speed but die accursed, if I
In any way am guilty of this charge.

JOCASTA

Believe him, I adjure thee, Oedipus,
First for his solemn oath's sake, then for mine,
And for thine elders' sake who wait on thee.

CHORUS

(Str. 1)
Hearken, King, reflect, we pray thee, but not stubborn but relent.

OEDIPUS

Say to what should I consent?

CHORUS

Respect a man whose probity and troth
Are known to all and now confirmed by oath.

OEDIPUS

Dost know what grace thou cravest?

CHORUS

Yea, I know.

OEDIPUS

Declare it then and make thy meaning plain.

CHORUS

Brand not a friend whom babbling tongues assail;
Let not suspicion 'gainst his oath prevail.

OEDIPUS

Bethink you that in seeking this ye seek
In very sooth my death or banishment?

CHORUS

No, by the leader of the host divine!
(Str. 2)
Witness, thou Sun, such thought was never mine,
Unblest, unfriended may I perish,
If ever I such wish did cherish!
But O my heart is desolate
Musing on our striken State,
Doubly fall'n should discord grow
Twixt you twain, to crown our woe.

OEDIPUS

Well, let him go, no matter what it cost me,
Or certain death or shameful banishment,
For your sake I relent, not his; and him,
Where'er he be, my heart shall still abhor.

CREON

Thou art as sullen in thy yielding mood
As in thine anger thou wast truculent.
Such tempers justly plague themselves the most.

OEDIPUS

Leave me in peace and get thee gone.

CREON

I go,
By thee misjudged, but justified by these.
[Exeunt CREON]

CHORUS

(Ant. 1)
Lady, lead indoors thy consort; wherefore longer here delay?

JOCASTA

Tell me first how rose the fray.

CHORUS

Rumors bred unjust suspicious and injustice rankles sore.

JOCASTA

Were both at fault?

CHORUS

Both.

JOCASTA

What was the tale?

CHORUS

Ask me no more. The land is sore distressed;
'Twere better sleeping ills to leave at rest.

OEDIPUS

Strange counsel, friend! I know thou mean'st me well,
And yet would'st mitigate and blunt my zeal.

CHORUS

(Ant. 2)
King, I say it once again,
Witless were I proved, insane,
If I lightly put away
Thee my country's prop and stay,
Pilot who, in danger sought,
To a quiet haven brought
Our distracted State; and now
Who can guide us right but thou?

JOCASTA

Let me too, I adjure thee, know, O king,
What cause has stirred this unrelenting wrath.

OEDIPUS

I will, for thou art more to me than these.
Lady, the cause is Creon and his plots.

JOCASTA

But what provoked the quarrel? make this clear.

OEDIPUS

He points me out as Laius' murderer.

JOCASTA

Of his own knowledge or upon report?

OEDIPUS

He is too cunning to commit himself,
And makes a mouthpiece of a knavish seer.

JOCASTA

Then thou mayest ease thy conscience on that score.
Listen and I'll convince thee that no man
Hath scot or lot in the prophetic art.
Here is the proof in brief. An oracle
Once came to Laius (I will not say
'Twas from the Delphic god himself, but from
His ministers) declaring he was doomed
To perish by the hand of his own son,
A child that should be born to him by me.
Now Laius—so at least report affirmed—
Was murdered on a day by highwaymen,
No natives, at a spot where three roads meet.
As for the child, it was but three days old,
When Laius, its ankles pierced and pinned
Together, gave it to be cast away
By others on the trackless mountain side.
So then Apollo brought it not to pass
The child should be his father's murderer,
Or the dread terror find accomplishment,
And Laius be slain by his own son.
Such was the prophet's horoscope. O king,
Regard it not. Whate'er the god deems fit
To search, himself unaided will reveal.

OEDIPUS

What memories, what wild tumult of the soul
Came o'er me, lady, as I heard thee speak!

JOCASTA

What mean'st thou? What has shocked and startled thee?

OEDIPUS

Methought I heard thee say that Laius
Was murdered at the meeting of three roads.

JOCASTA

So ran the story that is current still.

OEDIPUS

Where did this happen? Dost thou know the place?

JOCASTA

Phocis the land is called; the spot is where
Branch roads from Delphi and from Daulis meet.

OEDIPUS

And how long is it since these things befell?

JOCASTA

'Twas but a brief while were thou wast proclaimed
Our country's ruler that the news was brought.

OEDIPUS

O Zeus, what hast thou willed to do with me!

JOCASTA

What is it, Oedipus, that moves thee so?

OEDIPUS

Ask me not yet; tell me the build and height
Of Laius? Was he still in manhood's prime?

JOCASTA

Tall was he, and his hair was lightly strewn
With silver; and not unlike thee in form.

OEDIPUS

O woe is me! Mehtinks unwittingly
I laid but now a dread curse on myself.

JOCASTA

What say'st thou? When I look upon thee, my king,
I tremble.

OEDIPUS

'Tis a dread presentiment
That in the end the seer will prove not blind.
One further question to resolve my doubt.

JOCASTA

I quail; but ask, and I will answer all.

OEDIPUS

Had he but few attendants or a train
Of armed retainers with him, like a prince?

JOCASTA

They were but five in all, and one of them
A herald; Laius in a mule-car rode.

OEDIPUS

Alas! 'tis clear as noonday now. But say,
Lady, who carried this report to Thebes?

JOCASTA

A serf, the sole survivor who returned.

OEDIPUS

Haply he is at hand or in the house?

JOCASTA

No, for as soon as he returned and found
Thee reigning in the stead of Laius slain,
He clasped my hand and supplicated me
To send him to the alps and pastures, where
He might be farthest from the sight of Thebes.
And so I sent him. 'Twas an honest slave
And well deserved some better recompense.

OEDIPUS

Fetch him at once. I fain would see the man.

JOCASTA

He shall be brought; but wherefore summon him?

OEDIPUS

Lady, I fear my tongue has overrun
Discretion; therefore I would question him.

JOCASTA

Well, he shall come, but may not I too claim
To share the burden of thy heart, my king?

OEDIPUS

And thou shalt not be frustrate of thy wish.
Now my imaginings have gone so far.
Who has a higher claim that thou to hear
My tale of dire adventures? Listen then.
My sire was Polybus of Corinth, and
My mother Merope, a Dorian;
And I was held the foremost citizen,
Till a strange thing befell me, strange indeed,
Yet scarce deserving all the heat it stirred.
A roisterer at some banquet, flown with wine,
Shouted "Thou art not true son of thy sire."
It irked me, but I stomached for the nonce
The insult; on the morrow I sought out
My mother and my sire and questioned them.
They were indignant at the random slur
Cast on my parentage and did their best
To comfort me, but still the venomed barb
Rankled, for still the scandal spread and grew.
So privily without their leave I went
To Delphi, and Apollo sent me back
Baulked of the knowledge that I came to seek.
But other grievous things he prophesied,
Woes, lamentations, mourning, portents dire;
To wit I should defile my mother's bed
And raise up seed too loathsome to behold,
And slay the father from whose loins I sprang.
Then, lady,—thou shalt hear the very truth—
As I drew near the triple-branching roads,
A herald met me and a man who sat
In a car drawn by colts—as in thy tale—
The man in front and the old man himself
Threatened to thrust me rudely from the path,
Then jostled by the charioteer in wrath
I struck him, and the old man, seeing this,
Watched till I passed and from his car brought down
Full on my head the double-pointed goad.
Yet was I quits with him and more; one stroke
Of my good staff sufficed to fling him clean
Out of the chariot seat and laid him prone.
And so I slew them every one. But if
Betwixt this stranger there was aught in common
With Laius, who more miserable than I,
What mortal could you find more god-abhorred?
Wretch whom no sojourner, no citizen
May harbor or address, whom all are bound
To harry from their homes. And this same curse
Was laid on me, and laid by none but me.
Yea with these hands all gory I pollute
The bed of him I slew. Say, am I vile?
Am I not utterly unclean, a wretch
Doomed to be banished, and in banishment
Forgo the sight of all my dearest ones,
And never tread again my native earth;
Or else to wed my mother and slay my sire,
Polybus, who begat me and upreared?
If one should say, this is the handiwork
Of some inhuman power, who could blame
His judgment? But, ye pure and awful gods,
Forbid, forbid that I should see that day!
May I be blotted out from living men
Ere such a plague spot set on me its brand!

CHORUS

We too, O king, are troubled; but till thou
Hast questioned the survivor, still hope on.

OEDIPUS

My hope is faint, but still enough survives
To bid me bide the coming of this herd.

JOCASTA

Suppose him here, what wouldst thou learn of him?

OEDIPUS

I'll tell thee, lady; if his tale agrees
With thine, I shall have 'scaped calamity.

JOCASTA

And what of special import did I say?

OEDIPUS

In thy report of what the herdsman said
Laius was slain by robbers; now if he
Still speaks of robbers, not a robber, I
Slew him not; "one" with "many" cannot square.
But if he says one lonely wayfarer,
The last link wanting to my guilt is forged.

JOCASTA

Well, rest assured, his tale ran thus at first,
Nor can he now retract what then he said;
Not I alone but all our townsfolk heard it.
E'en should he vary somewhat in his story,
He cannot make the death of Laius
In any wise jump with the oracle.
For Loxias said expressly he was doomed
To die by my child's hand, but he, poor babe,
He shed no blood, but perished first himself.
So much for divination. Henceforth I
Will look for signs neither to right nor left.

OEDIPUS

Thou reasonest well. Still I would have thee send
And fetch the bondsman hither. See to it.

JOCASTA

That will I straightway. Come, let us within.
I would do nothing that my lord mislikes.
[Exeunt OEDIPUS and JOCASTA]

CHORUS

(Str. 1)
My lot be still to lead
The life of innocence and fly
Irreverence in word or deed,
To follow still those laws ordained on high
Whose birthplace is the bright ethereal sky
No mortal birth they own,
Olympus their progenitor alone:
Ne'er shall they slumber in oblivion cold,
The god in them is strong and grows not old.

(Ant. 1)
Of insolence is bred
The tyrant; insolence full blown,
With empty riches surfeited,
Scales the precipitous height and grasps the throne.
Then topples o'er and lies in ruin prone;
No foothold on that dizzy steep.
But O may Heaven the true patriot keep
Who burns with emulous zeal to serve the State.
God is my help and hope, on him I wait.

(Str. 2)
But the proud sinner, or in word or deed,
That will not Justice heed,
Nor reverence the shrine
Of images divine,
Perdition seize his vain imaginings,
If, urged by greed profane,
He grasps at ill-got gain,
And lays an impious hand on holiest things.
Who when such deeds are done
Can hope heaven's bolts to shun?
If sin like this to honor can aspire,
Why dance I still and lead the sacred choir?

(Ant. 2)
No more I'll seek earth's central oracle,
Or Abae's hallowed cell,
Nor to Olympia bring
My votive offering.
If before all God's truth be not bade plain.
O Zeus, reveal thy might,
King, if thou'rt named aright
Omnipotent, all-seeing, as of old;
For Laius is forgot;
His weird, men heed it not;
Apollo is forsook and faith grows cold.
[Enter JOCASTA.]

JOCASTA

My lords, ye look amazed to see your queen
With wreaths and gifts of incense in her hands.
I had a mind to visit the high shrines,
For Oedipus is overwrought, alarmed
With terrors manifold. He will not use
His past experience, like a man of sense,
To judge the present need, but lends an ear
To any croaker if he augurs ill.
Since then my counsels naught avail, I turn
To thee, our present help in time of trouble,
Apollo, Lord Lycean, and to thee
My prayers and supplications here I bring.
Lighten us, lord, and cleanse us from this curse!
For now we all are cowed like mariners
Who see their helmsman dumbstruck in the storm.
[Enter Corinthian MESSENGER.]

MESSENGER

My masters, tell me where the palace is
Of Oedipus; or better, where's the king.

CHORUS

Here is the palace and he bides within;
This is his queen the mother of his children.

MESSENGER

All happiness attend her and the house,
Blessed is her husband and her marriage-bed.

JOCASTA

My greetings to thee, stranger; thy fair words
Deserve a like response. But tell me why
Thou comest—what thy need or what thy news.

MESSENGER

Good for thy consort and the royal house.

JOCASTA

What may it be? Whose messenger art thou?

MESSENGER

The Isthmian commons have resolved to make
Thy husband king—so 'twas reported there.

JOCASTA

What! is not aged Polybus still king?

MESSENGER

No, verily; he's dead and in his grave.

JOCASTA

What! is he dead, the sire of Oedipus?

MESSENGER

If I speak falsely, may I die myself.

JOCASTA

Quick, maiden, bear these tidings to my lord.
Ye god-sent oracles, where stand ye now!
This is the man whom Oedipus long shunned,
In dread to prove his murderer; and now
He dies in nature's course, not by his hand.
[Enter OEDIPUS.]

OEDIPUS

My wife, my queen, Jocasta, why hast thou
Summoned me from my palace?

JOCASTA

Hear this man,
And as thou hearest judge what has become
Of all those awe-inspiring oracles.

OEDIPUS

Who is this man, and what his news for me?

JOCASTA

He comes from Corinth and his message this:
Thy father Polybus hath passed away.

OEDIPUS

What? let me have it, stranger, from thy mouth.

MESSENGER

If I must first make plain beyond a doubt
My message, know that Polybus is dead.

OEDIPUS

By treachery, or by sickness visited?

MESSENGER

One touch will send an old man to his rest.

OEDIPUS

So of some malady he died, poor man.

MESSENGER

Yes, having measured the full span of years.

OEDIPUS

Out on it, lady! why should one regard
The Pythian hearth or birds that scream i' the air?
Did they not point at me as doomed to slay
My father? but he's dead and in his grave
And here am I who ne'er unsheathed a sword;
Unless the longing for his absent son
Killed him and so I slew him in a sense.
But, as they stand, the oracles are dead—
Dust, ashes, nothing, dead as Polybus.

JOCASTA

Say, did not I foretell this long ago?

OEDIPUS

Thou didst: but I was misled by my fear.

JOCASTA

Then let I no more weigh upon thy soul.

OEDIPUS

Must I not fear my mother's marriage bed.

JOCASTA

Why should a mortal man, the sport of chance,
With no assured foreknowledge, be afraid?
Best live a careless life from hand to mouth.
This wedlock with thy mother fear not thou.
How oft it chances that in dreams a man
Has wed his mother! He who least regards
Such brainsick phantasies lives most at ease.

OEDIPUS

I should have shared in full thy confidence,
Were not my mother living; since she lives
Though half convinced I still must live in dread.

JOCASTA

And yet thy sire's death lights out darkness much.

OEDIPUS

Much, but my fear is touching her who lives.

MESSENGER

Who may this woman be whom thus you fear?

OEDIPUS

Merope, stranger, wife of Polybus.

MESSENGER

And what of her can cause you any fear?

OEDIPUS

A heaven-sent oracle of dread import.

MESSENGER

A mystery, or may a stranger hear it?

OEDIPUS

Aye, 'tis no secret. Loxias once foretold
That I should mate with mine own mother, and shed
With my own hands the blood of my own sire.
Hence Corinth was for many a year to me
A home distant; and I trove abroad,
But missed the sweetest sight, my parents' face.

MESSENGER

Was this the fear that exiled thee from home?

OEDIPUS

Yea, and the dread of slaying my own sire.

MESSENGER

Why, since I came to give thee pleasure, King,
Have I not rid thee of this second fear?

OEDIPUS

Well, thou shalt have due guerdon for thy pains.

MESSENGER

Well, I confess what chiefly made me come
Was hope to profit by thy coming home.

OEDIPUS

Nay, I will ne'er go near my parents more.

MESSENGER

My son, 'tis plain, thou know'st not what thou doest.

OEDIPUS

How so, old man? For heaven's sake tell me all.

MESSENGER

If this is why thou dreadest to return.

OEDIPUS

Yea, lest the god's word be fulfilled in me.

MESSENGER

Lest through thy parents thou shouldst be accursed?

OEDIPUS

This and none other is my constant dread.

MESSENGER

Dost thou not know thy fears are baseless all?

OEDIPUS

How baseless, if I am their very son?

MESSENGER

Since Polybus was naught to thee in blood.

OEDIPUS

What say'st thou? was not Polybus my sire?

MESSENGER

As much thy sire as I am, and no more.

OEDIPUS

My sire no more to me than one who is naught?

MESSENGER

Since I begat thee not, no more did he.

OEDIPUS

What reason had he then to call me son?

MESSENGER

Know that he took thee from my hands, a gift.

OEDIPUS

Yet, if no child of his, he loved me well.

MESSENGER

A childless man till then, he warmed to thee.

OEDIPUS

A foundling or a purchased slave, this child?

MESSENGER

I found thee in Cithaeron's wooded glens.

OEDIPUS

What led thee to explore those upland glades?

MESSENGER

My business was to tend the mountain flocks.

OEDIPUS

A vagrant shepherd journeying for hire?

MESSENGER

True, but thy savior in that hour, my son.

OEDIPUS

My savior? from what harm? what ailed me then?

MESSENGER

Those ankle joints are evidence enow.

OEDIPUS

Ah, why remind me of that ancient sore?

MESSENGER

I loosed the pin that riveted thy feet.

OEDIPUS

Yes, from my cradle that dread brand I bore.

MESSENGER

Whence thou deriv'st the name that still is thine.

OEDIPUS

Who did it? I adjure thee, tell me who
Say, was it father, mother?

MESSENGER

I know not.
The man from whom I had thee may know more.

OEDIPUS

What, did another find me, not thyself?

MESSENGER

Not I; another shepherd gave thee me.

OEDIPUS

Who was he? Would'st thou know again the man?

MESSENGER

He passed indeed for one of Laius' house.

OEDIPUS

The king who ruled the country long ago?

MESSENGER

The same: he was a herdsman of the king.

OEDIPUS

And is he living still for me to see him?

MESSENGER

His fellow-countrymen should best know that.

OEDIPUS

Doth any bystander among you know
The herd he speaks of, or by seeing him
Afield or in the city? answer straight!
The hour hath come to clear this business up.

CHORUS

Methinks he means none other than the hind
Whom thou anon wert fain to see; but that
Our queen Jocasta best of all could tell.

OEDIPUS

Madam, dost know the man we sent to fetch?
Is the same of whom the stranger speaks?

JOCASTA

Who is the man? What matter? Let it be.
'Twere waste of thought to weigh such idle words.

OEDIPUS

No, with such guiding clues I cannot fail
To bring to light the secret of my birth.

JOCASTA

Oh, as thou carest for thy life, give o'er
This quest. Enough the anguish I endure.

OEDIPUS

Be of good cheer; though I be proved the son
Of a bondwoman, aye, through three descents
Triply a slave, thy honor is unsmirched.

JOCASTA

Yet humor me, I pray thee; do not this.

OEDIPUS

I cannot; I must probe this matter home.

JOCASTA

'Tis for thy sake I advise thee for the best.

OEDIPUS

I grow impatient of this best advice.

JOCASTA

Ah mayst thou ne'er discover who thou art!

OEDIPUS

Go, fetch me here the herd, and leave yon woman
To glory in her pride of ancestry.

JOCASTA

O woe is thee, poor wretch! With that last word
I leave thee, henceforth silent evermore.
[Exit JOCASTA]

CHORUS

Why, Oedipus, why stung with passionate grief
Hath the queen thus departed? Much I fear
From this dead calm will burst a storm of woes.

OEDIPUS

Let the storm burst, my fixed resolve still holds,
To learn my lineage, be it ne'er so low.
It may be she with all a woman's pride
Thinks scorn of my base parentage. But I
Who rank myself as Fortune's favorite child,
The giver of good gifts, shall not be shamed.
She is my mother and the changing moons
My brethren, and with them I wax and wane.
Thus sprung why should I fear to trace my birth?
Nothing can make me other than I am.

CHORUS

(Str.)
If my soul prophetic err not, if my wisdom aught avail,
Thee, Cithaeron, I shall hail,
As the nurse and foster-mother of our Oedipus shall greet
Ere tomorrow's full moon rises, and exalt thee as is meet.
Dance and song shall hymn thy praises, lover of our royal race.
Phoebus, may my words find grace!

(Ant.)
Child, who bare thee, nymph or goddess? sure thy sure was more than 
man,
Haply the hill-roamer Pan.
Of did Loxias beget thee, for he haunts the upland wold;
Or Cyllene's lord, or Bacchus, dweller on the hilltops cold?
Did some Heliconian Oread give him thee, a new-born joy?
Nymphs with whom he love to toy?

OEDIPUS

Elders, if I, who never yet before
Have met the man, may make a guess, methinks
I see the herdsman who we long have sought;
His time-worn aspect matches with the years
Of yonder aged messenger; besides
I seem to recognize the men who bring him
As servants of my own. But you, perchance,
Having in past days known or seen the herd,
May better by sure knowledge my surmise.

CHORUS

I recognize him; one of Laius' house;
A simple hind, but true as any man.
[Enter HERDSMAN.]

OEDIPUS

Corinthian, stranger, I address thee first,
Is this the man thou meanest!

MESSENGER

This is he.

OEDIPUS

And now old man, look up and answer all
I ask thee. Wast thou once of Laius' house?

HERDSMAN

I was, a thrall, not purchased but home-bred.

OEDIPUS

What was thy business? how wast thou employed?

HERDSMAN

The best part of my life I tended sheep.

OEDIPUS

What were the pastures thou didst most frequent?

HERDSMAN

Cithaeron and the neighboring alps.

OEDIPUS

Then there
Thou must have known yon man, at least by fame?

HERDSMAN

Yon man? in what way? what man dost thou mean?

OEDIPUS

The man here, having met him in past times...

HERDSMAN

Off-hand I cannot call him well to mind.

MESSENGER

No wonder, master. But I will revive
His blunted memories. Sure he can recall
What time together both we drove our flocks,
He two, I one, on the Cithaeron range,
For three long summers; I his mate from spring
Till rose Arcturus; then in winter time
I led mine home, he his to Laius' folds.
Did these things happen as I say, or no?

HERDSMAN

'Tis long ago, but all thou say'st is true.

MESSENGER

Well, thou mast then remember giving me
A child to rear as my own foster-son?

HERDSMAN

Why dost thou ask this question? What of that?

MESSENGER

Friend, he that stands before thee was that child.

HERDSMAN

A plague upon thee! Hold thy wanton tongue!

OEDIPUS

Softly, old man, rebuke him not; thy words
Are more deserving chastisement than his.

HERDSMAN

O best of masters, what is my offense?

OEDIPUS

Not answering what he asks about the child.

HERDSMAN

He speaks at random, babbles like a fool.

OEDIPUS

If thou lack'st grace to speak, I'll loose thy tongue.

HERDSMAN

For mercy's sake abuse not an old man.

OEDIPUS

Arrest the villain, seize and pinion him!

HERDSMAN

Alack, alack!
What have I done? what wouldst thou further learn?

OEDIPUS

Didst give this man the child of whom he asks?

HERDSMAN

I did; and would that I had died that day!

OEDIPUS

And die thou shalt unless thou tell the truth.

HERDSMAN

But, if I tell it, I am doubly lost.

OEDIPUS

The knave methinks will still prevaricate.

HERDSMAN

Nay, I confessed I gave it long ago.

OEDIPUS

Whence came it? was it thine, or given to thee?

HERDSMAN

I had it from another, 'twas not mine.

OEDIPUS

From whom of these our townsmen, and what house?

HERDSMAN

Forbear for God's sake, master, ask no more.

OEDIPUS

If I must question thee again, thou'rt lost.

HERDSMAN

Well then—it was a child of Laius' house.

OEDIPUS

Slave-born or one of Laius' own race?

HERDSMAN

Ah me!
I stand upon the perilous edge of speech.

OEDIPUS

And I of hearing, but I still must hear.

HERDSMAN

Know then the child was by repute his own,
But she within, thy consort best could tell.

OEDIPUS

What! she, she gave it thee?

HERDSMAN

'Tis so, my king.

OEDIPUS

With what intent?

HERDSMAN

To make away with it.

OEDIPUS

What, she its mother.

HERDSMAN

Fearing a dread weird.

OEDIPUS

What weird?

HERDSMAN

'Twas told that he should slay his sire.

OEDIPUS

What didst thou give it then to this old man?

HERDSMAN

Through pity, master, for the babe. I thought
He'd take it to the country whence he came;
But he preserved it for the worst of woes.
For if thou art in sooth what this man saith,
God pity thee! thou wast to misery born.

OEDIPUS

Ah me! ah me! all brought to pass, all true!
O light, may I behold thee nevermore!
I stand a wretch, in birth, in wedlock cursed,
A parricide, incestuously, triply cursed!
[Exit OEDIPUS]

CHORUS

(Str. 1)
Races of mortal man
Whose life is but a span,
I count ye but the shadow of a shade!
For he who most doth know
Of bliss, hath but the show;
A moment, and the visions pale and fade.
Thy fall, O Oedipus, thy piteous fall
Warns me none born of women blest to call.

(Ant. 1)
For he of marksmen best,
O Zeus, outshot the rest,
And won the prize supreme of wealth and power.
By him the vulture maid
Was quelled, her witchery laid;
He rose our savior and the land's strong tower.
We hailed thee king and from that day adored
Of mighty Thebes the universal lord.

(Str. 2)
O heavy hand of fate!
Who now more desolate,
Whose tale more sad than thine, whose lot more dire?
O Oedipus, discrowned head,
Thy cradle was thy marriage bed;
One harborage sufficed for son and sire.
How could the soil thy father eared so long
Endure to bear in silence such a wrong?

(Ant. 2)
All-seeing Time hath caught
Guilt, and to justice brought
The son and sire commingled in one bed.
O child of Laius' ill-starred race
Would I had ne'er beheld thy face;
I raise for thee a dirge as o'er the dead.
Yet, sooth to say, through thee I drew new breath,
And now through thee I feel a second death.
[Enter SECOND MESSENGER.]

SECOND MESSENGER

Most grave and reverend senators of Thebes,
What Deeds ye soon must hear, what sights behold
How will ye mourn, if, true-born patriots,
Ye reverence still the race of Labdacus!
Not Ister nor all Phasis' flood, I ween,
Could wash away the blood-stains from this house,
The ills it shrouds or soon will bring to light,
Ills wrought of malice, not unwittingly.
The worst to bear are self-inflicted wounds.

CHORUS

Grievous enough for all our tears and groans
Our past calamities; what canst thou add?

SECOND MESSENGER

My tale is quickly told and quickly heard.
Our sovereign lady queen Jocasta's dead.

CHORUS

Alas, poor queen! how came she by her death?

SECOND MESSENGER

By her own hand. And all the horror of it,
Not having seen, yet cannot comprehend.
Nathless, as far as my poor memory serves,
I will relate the unhappy lady's woe.
When in her frenzy she had passed inside
The vestibule, she hurried straight to win
The bridal-chamber, clutching at her hair
With both her hands, and, once within the room,
She shut the doors behind her with a crash.
"Laius," she cried, and called her husband dead
Long, long ago; her thought was of that child
By him begot, the son by whom the sire
Was murdered and the mother left to breed
With her own seed, a monstrous progeny.
Then she bewailed the marriage bed whereon
Poor wretch, she had conceived a double brood,
Husband by husband, children by her child.
What happened after that I cannot tell,
Nor how the end befell, for with a shriek
Burst on us Oedipus; all eyes were fixed
On Oedipus, as up and down he strode,
Nor could we mark her agony to the end.
For stalking to and fro "A sword!" he cried,
"Where is the wife, no wife, the teeming womb
That bore a double harvest, me and mine?"
And in his frenzy some supernal power
(No mortal, surely, none of us who watched him)
Guided his footsteps; with a terrible shriek,
As though one beckoned him, he crashed against
The folding doors, and from their staples forced
The wrenched bolts and hurled himself within.
Then we beheld the woman hanging there,
A running noose entwined about her neck.
But when he saw her, with a maddened roar
He loosed the cord; and when her wretched corpse
Lay stretched on earth, what followed—O 'twas dread!
He tore the golden brooches that upheld
Her queenly robes, upraised them high and smote
Full on his eye-balls, uttering words like these:
"No more shall ye behold such sights of woe,
Deeds I have suffered and myself have wrought;
Henceforward quenched in darkness shall ye see
Those ye should ne'er have seen; now blind to those
Whom, when I saw, I vainly yearned to know."
Such was the burden of his moan, whereto,
Not once but oft, he struck with his hand uplift
His eyes, and at each stroke the ensanguined orbs
Bedewed his beard, not oozing drop by drop,
But one black gory downpour, thick as hail.
Such evils, issuing from the double source,
Have whelmed them both, confounding man and wife.
Till now the storied fortune of this house
Was fortunate indeed; but from this day
Woe, lamentation, ruin, death, disgrace,
All ills that can be named, all, all are theirs.

CHORUS

But hath he still no respite from his pain?

SECOND MESSENGER

He cries, "Unbar the doors and let all Thebes
Behold the slayer of his sire, his mother's—"
That shameful word my lips may not repeat.
He vows to fly self-banished from the land,
Nor stay to bring upon his house the curse
Himself had uttered; but he has no strength
Nor one to guide him, and his torture's more
Than man can suffer, as yourselves will see.
For lo, the palace portals are unbarred,
And soon ye shall behold a sight so sad
That he who must abhorred would pity it.
[Enter OEDIPUS blinded.]

CHORUS

Woeful sight! more woeful none
These sad eyes have looked upon.
Whence this madness? None can tell
Who did cast on thee his spell,
prowling all thy life around,
Leaping with a demon bound.
Hapless wretch! how can I brook
On thy misery to look?
Though to gaze on thee I yearn,
Much to question, much to learn,
Horror-struck away I turn.

OEDIPUS

Ah me! ah woe is me!
Ah whither am I borne!
How like a ghost forlorn
My voice flits from me on the air!
On, on the demon goads. The end, ah where?

CHORUS

An end too dread to tell, too dark to see.

OEDIPUS

(Str. 1)
Dark, dark! The horror of darkness, like a shroud,
Wraps me and bears me on through mist and cloud.
Ah me, ah me! What spasms athwart me shoot,
What pangs of agonizing memory?

CHORUS

No marvel if in such a plight thou feel'st
The double weight of past and present woes.

OEDIPUS

(Ant. 1)
Ah friend, still loyal, constant still and kind,
Thou carest for the blind.
I know thee near, and though bereft of eyes,
Thy voice I recognize.

CHORUS

O doer of dread deeds, how couldst thou mar
Thy vision thus? What demon goaded thee?

OEDIPUS

(Str. 2)
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.

CHORUS

O thy despair well suits thy desperate case.
Would I had never looked upon thy face!

OEDIPUS

(Ant. 2)
My curse on him whoe'er unrived
The waif's fell fetters and my life revived!
He meant me well, yet had he left me there,
He had saved my friends and me a world of care.

CHORUS

I too had wished it so.

OEDIPUS

Then had I never come to shed
My father's blood nor climbed my mother's bed;
The monstrous offspring of a womb defiled,
Co-mate of him who gendered me, and child.
Was ever man before afflicted thus,
Like Oedipus.

CHORUS

I cannot say that thou hast counseled well,
For thou wert better dead than living blind.

OEDIPUS

What's done was well done. Thou canst never shake
My firm belief. A truce to argument.
For, had I sight, I know not with what eyes
I could have met my father in the shades,
Or my poor mother, since against the twain
I sinned, a sin no gallows could atone.
Aye, but, ye say, the sight of children joys
A parent's eyes. What, born as mine were born?
No, such a sight could never bring me joy;
Nor this fair city with its battlements,
Its temples and the statues of its gods,
Sights from which I, now wretchedst of all,
Once ranked the foremost Theban in all Thebes,
By my own sentence am cut off, condemned
By my own proclamation 'gainst the wretch,
The miscreant by heaven itself declared
Unclean—and of the race of Laius.
Thus branded as a felon by myself,
How had I dared to look you in the face?
Nay, had I known a way to choke the springs
Of hearing, I had never shrunk to make
A dungeon of this miserable frame,
Cut off from sight and hearing; for 'tis bliss
to bide in regions sorrow cannot reach.
Why didst thou harbor me, Cithaeron, why
Didst thou not take and slay me? Then I never
Had shown to men the secret of my birth.
O Polybus, O Corinth, O my home,
Home of my ancestors (so wast thou called)
How fair a nursling then I seemed, how foul
The canker that lay festering in the bud!
Now is the blight revealed of root and fruit.
Ye triple high-roads, and thou hidden glen,
Coppice, and pass where meet the three-branched ways,
Ye drank my blood, the life-blood these hands spilt,
My father's; do ye call to mind perchance
Those deeds of mine ye witnessed and the work
I wrought thereafter when I came to Thebes?
O fatal wedlock, thou didst give me birth,
And, having borne me, sowed again my seed,
Mingling the blood of fathers, brothers, children,
Brides, wives and mothers, an incestuous brood,
All horrors that are wrought beneath the sun,
Horrors so foul to name them were unmeet.
O, I adjure you, hide me anywhere
Far from this land, or slay me straight, or cast me
Down to the depths of ocean out of sight.
Come hither, deign to touch an abject wretch;
Draw near and fear not; I myself must bear
The load of guilt that none but I can share.
[Enter CREON.]

CREON

Lo, here is Creon, the one man to grant
Thy prayer by action or advice, for he
Is left the State's sole guardian in thy stead.

OEDIPUS

Ah me! what words to accost him can I find?
What cause has he to trust me? In the past
I have bee proved his rancorous enemy.

CREON

Not in derision, Oedipus, I come
Nor to upbraid thee with thy past misdeeds.
(To BYSTANDERS)
But shame upon you! if ye feel no sense
Of human decencies, at least revere
The Sun whose light beholds and nurtures all.
Leave not thus nakedly for all to gaze at
A horror neither earth nor rain from heaven
Nor light will suffer. Lead him straight within,
For it is seemly that a kinsman's woes
Be heard by kin and seen by kin alone.

OEDIPUS

O listen, since thy presence comes to me
A shock of glad surprise—so noble thou,
And I so vile—O grant me one small boon.
I ask it not on my behalf, but thine.

CREON

And what the favor thou wouldst crave of me?

OEDIPUS

Forth from thy borders thrust me with all speed;
Set me within some vasty desert where
No mortal voice shall greet me any more.

CREON

This had I done already, but I deemed
It first behooved me to consult the god.

OEDIPUS

His will was set forth fully—to destroy
The parricide, the scoundrel; and I am he.

CREON

Yea, so he spake, but in our present plight
'Twere better to consult the god anew.

OEDIPUS

Dare ye inquire concerning such a wretch?

CREON

Yea, for thyself wouldst credit now his word.

OEDIPUS

Aye, and on thee in all humility
I lay this charge: let her who lies within
Receive such burial as thou shalt ordain;
Such rites 'tis thine, as brother, to perform.
But for myself, O never let my Thebes,
The city of my sires, be doomed to bear
The burden of my presence while I live.
No, let me be a dweller on the hills,
On yonder mount Cithaeron, famed as mine,
My tomb predestined for me by my sire
And mother, while they lived, that I may die
Slain as they sought to slay me, when alive.
This much I know full surely, nor disease
Shall end my days, nor any common chance;
For I had ne'er been snatched from death, unless
I was predestined to some awful doom.
So be it. I reck not how Fate deals with me
But my unhappy children—for my sons
Be not concerned, O Creon, they are men,
And for themselves, where'er they be, can fend.
But for my daughters twain, poor innocent maids,
Who ever sat beside me at the board
Sharing my viands, drinking of my cup,
For them, I pray thee, care, and, if thou willst,
O might I feel their touch and make my moan.
Hear me, O prince, my noble-hearted prince!
Could I but blindly touch them with my hands
I'd think they still were mine, as when I saw.
[ANTIGONE and ISMENE are led in.]
What say I? can it be my pretty ones
Whose sobs I hear? Has Creon pitied me
And sent me my two darlings? Can this be?

CREON

'Tis true; 'twas I procured thee this delight,
Knowing the joy they were to thee of old.

OEDIPUS

God speed thee! and as meed for bringing them
May Providence deal with thee kindlier
Than it has dealt with me! O children mine,
Where are ye? Let me clasp you with these hands,
A brother's hands, a father's; hands that made
Lack-luster sockets of his once bright eyes;
Hands of a man who blindly, recklessly,
Became your sire by her from whom he sprang.
Though I cannot behold you, I must weep
In thinking of the evil days to come,
The slights and wrongs that men will put upon you.
Where'er ye go to feast or festival,
No merrymaking will it prove for you,
But oft abashed in tears ye will return.
And when ye come to marriageable years,
Where's the bold wooers who will jeopardize
To take unto himself such disrepute
As to my children's children still must cling,
For what of infamy is lacking here?
"Their father slew his father, sowed the seed
Where he himself was gendered, and begat
These maidens at the source wherefrom he sprang."
Such are the gibes that men will cast at you.
Who then will wed you? None, I ween, but ye
Must pine, poor maids, in single barrenness.
O Prince, Menoeceus' son, to thee, I turn,
With the it rests to father them, for we
Their natural parents, both of us, are lost.
O leave them not to wander poor, unwed,
Thy kin, nor let them share my low estate.
O pity them so young, and but for thee
All destitute. Thy hand upon it, Prince.
To you, my children I had much to say,
Were ye but ripe to hear. Let this suffice:
Pray ye may find some home and live content,
And may your lot prove happier than your sire's.

CREON

Thou hast had enough of weeping; pass within.

OEDIPUS

I must obey,
Though 'tis grievous.

CREON

Weep not, everything must have its day.

OEDIPUS

Well I go, but on conditions.

CREON

What thy terms for going, say.

OEDIPUS

Send me from the land an exile.

CREON

Ask this of the gods, not me.

OEDIPUS

But I am the gods' abhorrence.

CREON

Then they soon will grant thy plea.

OEDIPUS

Lead me hence, then, I am willing.

CREON

Come, but let thy children go.

OEDIPUS

Rob me not of these my children!

CREON

Crave not mastery in all,
For the mastery that raised thee was thy bane and wrought thy fall.

CHORUS

Look ye, countrymen and Thebans, this is Oedipus the great,
He who knew the Sphinx's riddle and was mightiest in our state.
Who of all our townsmen gazed not on his fame with envious eyes?
Now, in what a sea of troubles sunk and overwhelmed he lies!
Therefore wait to see life's ending ere thou count one mortal blest;
Wait till free from pain and sorrow he has gained his final rest.

What a handsome figure of a dragon. No wonder I fall madly in love with the Alani Dragon now, the avatar, it's a gorgeous dragon picture.
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  Quote TheAlaniDragonRising Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 29-Jan-2012 at 18:54
What a handsome figure of a dragon. No wonder I fall madly in love with the Alani Dragon now, the avatar, it's a gorgeous dragon picture.
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  Quote TheAlaniDragonRising Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 29-Jan-2012 at 19:00
Here's Virgil's Eclogues

The ten bucolic poems freely imitating Theocritus' Idylls, and creating a pastoral world of love and song.



Edited by TheAlaniDragonRising - 29-Jan-2012 at 19:02
What a handsome figure of a dragon. No wonder I fall madly in love with the Alani Dragon now, the avatar, it's a gorgeous dragon picture.
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  Quote TheAlaniDragonRising Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 29-Jan-2012 at 21:37
This work is by Statius, and is called, Thebaid and Achilleid. I'll put the first it on here, and the rest will have links.

ACHILLEID BOOK 1A, TRANSLATED BY J. H. MOZLEY

[1] Tell, O goddess, of great-hearted Aeacides and of the progeny that the Thunderer feared and forbade to inherit his father’s heaven.1 Highly renowned are the warrior’s deeds in Maeonian song,2 but more remains untold: suffer me – for such is my desire – to recount the whole story of the hero, to summon him forth from his hiding-place in Scyros with the Dulichian trumpet,3 and not to stop short at the dragging of Hector, but to lead the youth through the whole tale of Troy. Only do thou, O Phoebus, if with a worthy draught I drained the former fount, vouchsafe new springs and weave my hair with propitious chaplets; for not as a newcomer do I seek entrance to the Aonian4 grove, nor are these the first fillets that magnify my brow. The fields of Dirce5 know it, and Thebes counts my name among her forefathers of old time and with her own Amphion.

[14] But thou whom far before all others the pride of Italy and Greece regards with reverent awe, for whom the laurels twain of poet and warrior-chief flourish in mutual rivalry – already one of them grieves to be surpassed6– grant pardon, and allow me anxiously to toil in this dust awhile. Thine is the theme whereat with long nor yet confident preparation I am labouring, and great Achilles plays the prelude unto thee.7

[20] The Dardan shepherd had set sail from the Oebalian shore,8 having wrought sweet havoc in thoughtless Amyclae, and fulfilling the presage of his mother’s9 dream was retracing his guilty way, where Helle10 deep sunk below the sea and now a Nereid holds sway over the detested waves: when Thetis – ah! never vain are a parent’s auguries! – started with terror beneath the glassy flood at the Idaean oars.11 Without delay she sprang forth from her watery bower, accompanied by her train of sisters: the narrowing shores of Phrixus swam, and the straitened sea had not room for its mistresses.

[30] As soon as she had shaken the brine from off her, and entered the air of heaven: “There is danger to me,” said she, “in yonder fleet, and threat of deadly harm; I recognize the truth of Proteus’ warnings. Lo! Bellona brings from the vessel amid uplifted torches a new daughter-in-law to Priam; already I see the Ionian and Aegean seas pressed by a thousand keels; nor does it suffice that all the country of the Grecians conspires with the proud sons of Atreus, soon will my Achilles be sought for by land and sea, ay, and himself will wish to follow them. Why indeed did I suffer Pelion and the stern master’s cave12 to cradle his infant years? There, if I mistake not, he plays, the rogue, at the battle of the Lapiths, and already takes his measure with his father’s spear. O sorrow! O fears that came to late to a mother’s heart! Could I not, unhappy that I am, when first the timber of Rhoeteum was launched upon my flood, have raised a mighty sea and pursued with a tempest on the deep the adulterous robber’s sails and led on all my sisters against him? Even now – but ‘tis too late, the outrage hath been wrought in full. Yet will I go, and clinging to the gods of ocean and the right hand of second Jove13 – nought else remains – entreat him in piteous supplication by the years of Tethys and his aged sire for one single storm.”

[51] She spoke, and opportunely beheld the mighty monarch; he was coming from Oceanus his host, gladdened by the banquet, and his countenance suffused with the nectar of the deep: wherefore the winds and tempests are silent and with tranquil song proceed the Tritons who bear his armour and the rock-like sea-monsters and the Tyrrhenian herds,14 and gambol around and below him, saluting their king; he towers on high above the peaceful waves, urging on his team with his three-pronged spear: frontwise they run at furious speed amid showers of foam, behind they swim and blot out their footprints with their tails:– when Thetis: “O sire and ruler of the mighty deep, seest thou to what uses thou hast made a way o’er the hapless ocean? The crimes of the nations pass by with unmolested sails, since the Pagasaean bark broke through the sanctions of the waters and profaned their hallowed majesty on Jason’s quest of plunder. Lo! freighted with another wicked theft, the spoils of hospitality, sails the daring arbiter of unjust Ida, destined to cause what sorrow alas! to heaven and earth, and what to me! Is it thus we requite the joy of the Phrygian triumph,15 is this the way of Venus, is this her gift to her dear ward? These ships at least – no demigods nor our own Theseus do they carry home16 – o’erwhelm, if thou still hast any regard for the waters, or give the sea into my power; no cruelty do I purpose; suffer me to fear for my own son. Grant me to drive away my sorrow, nor let it be thy pleasure that out of all the seas I find a home in but a single coast and the rocks of an Ilian tomb.” 17

[77] With torn cheeks she made her prayer, and with bare bosom would fain hinder the cerulean steeds. But the ruler of the seas invites her into his chariot, and soothes her thus with friendly words: “Seek not in vain, Thetis, to sink the Dardanian fleet: the fates forbid it, ‘tis the sure ordinance of heaven that Europe and Asia should join in bloody conflict, and Jupiter hath issued his decree of war and appointed years of dreary carnage. What prowess of thy son in the Sigean dust, what vast funeral trains of Phrygian matrons shalt thou victoriously behold, when thy Aeacides shall flood the Trojan fields with streaming blood, and anon forbid the choked rivers to flow and check his chariot’s speed with Hector’s corpse and mightily o’erthrow my walls,18 my useless toil! Cease now to complain of Peleus and thy inferior wedlock: thy child shall be deemed begotten of Jove; nor shalt thou suffer unavenged, but shalt use thy kindred seas: I will grant thee to raise the billows, when the Danaans return and Caphareus19 shows forth his nightly signals and we search together for the terrible Ulesses.” 20

[95] He spoke; but she, downcast at the stern refusal, for but now she was preparing to stir up the waters and make war upon the Ilian craft, devised in her mind another plan, and sadly turned her strokes toward the Haemonian land. Thrice strove she with her arms, thrice spurned the clear water with her feet, and the Thessalian waves are washing her snow-white ankles. The mountains rejoice, the marriage-bowers fling open their recesses, and Spercheus in wide, abundant streams flows to meet the goddess and laps her footsteps with his fresh water. She delights not in the scene, but wearies her mind with schemes essayed, and taught cunning by her devoted love seeks out the aged Chiron. His lofty home bores deep into the mountain, beneath the long, overarching vault of Pelion; part had been hollowed out by toil, part worn away by its own age. Yet the images and couches of the gods are shown, and the places that each had sanctified by his reclining and his sacred presence21; within are the Centaur’s wide and lofty stalls, far different from those of his wicked brethren. Here are no spears that have tasted human blood, nor ashen clubs broken in festal conflict, nor mixing-bowls shattered upon kindred foemen, but innocent quivers and mighty hides of beasts. These did he take while yet in the prime of age; but now, a warrior no more, his only toil was to learn herbs that bring health to creatures doubting of their lives, or to describe to his pupil upon his lyre the heroes of old time.

[119] On the threshold’s edge he awaited his return from hunting, and was urging the laying of the feast and brightening his abode with lavish fire: when far off the Nereid was seen climbing upward from the shore; he burst forth from the forests – joy speeds his going – and the well-known hoof-beat of the sage rang on the now unwonted plain. Then bowing down to his horse’s shoulders he leads her with courtly hand within his humble dwelling and warns her of the cave.

[126] Long time has Thetis been scanning every corner with silent glance: then, impatient of delay, she cries: “Tell me, Chiron, where is my darling? Why spends the boy any time apart from thee? Is it not with reason that my sleep is troubled, and terrible portents from the gods and fearful panics – would they were false! – afflict his mother’s heart? For now I behold swords that threaten to pierce my womb, now my arms are bruised with lamentation, now savage beasts assail my breasts; often – ah, horror! – I seem to take my son down to the void of Tartarus, and dip him a second time in the springs of Styx. The Carpathian seer22 bids me banish these terrors by the ordinance of a magic rite, and purify the lad in secret waters beyond the bound of heaven’s vault, where is the farthest shore of Ocean and father Pontus23 is warmed by the ingliding stars. There awful sacrifices and gifts to gods unknown – but ‘tis long to recount all, and I am forbidden; give him to me rather.”

[141] Thus spoke his mother in lying speech – nor would he have given him up, had she dared to confess to the old man the soft raiment and dishonourable garb.24 Then he replies: “Take him, I pray, O best of parents, take him, and assuage the gods with humble entreaty. For thy hopes are pitched too high, and envy needs much appeasing. I add not to thy fears, but will confess the truth: some swift and violent deed – the forebodings of a sire deceive me not – is preparing, far beyond his tender years. Formerly he was wont to endure my anger, and listen eagerly to my commands nor wander far from my cave: now Ossa cannot contain him, nor mighty Pelion and all the snows of Thessaly. Even the Centaurs often complain to me of plundered homes and herds stolen before their eyes, and that they themselves are driven from field and river; they devise violence and fraud, and utter angry threats. Once when the Thessalian pine bore hither the princes of Argos, I saw the young Alcides and Theseus – but I say no more.”

[158] Cold pallor seized the daughter of Nereus: lo! he was come, made larger by much dust and sweat, and yet for all his weapons and hastened labours still pleasant to the sight; a radiant glow25 shimmers on his snow-white countenance, and his locks shine more comely than tawny gold. The bloom of youth is not yet changed by new-springing down, a tranquil flame burns in his glance, and there is much of his mother in his look: even as when the hunter Apollo returns from Lycia and exchanges his fierce quiver for the quill. By chance too he is in joyful mood – ah, how joy enhances beauty! – ; beneath Pholoë’s cliff he had stricken a lioness lately delivered and had left her in the empty lair, but had brought the cubs and was making them show their claws. Yet when he sees his mother on the well-known threshold, away he throws them, catches her up and binds her in his longing arms, already violent in his embrace and equal to her in height. Patroclus follows him, bound to him even then by a strong affection, and strains to rival all his mighty doings, well-matched in the pursuits and ways of youth, but far behind in strength, and yet to pass to Pergamum with equal fate.

[178] Straightway with rapid bound he hies him to the nearest river, and freshens in its waters his steaming face and hair: just as Castor enters the shallows of Eurotas on his panting steed, and tricks out anew the weary splendours of his star. The old man marvels as he adorns him, caressing now his breast, now his strong shoulders: her very joy pierces his mother’s heart. Then Chiron prays her to taste the banquet and the gifts of Bacchus, and contriving various amusements for her beguiling at last brings forth the lyre and moves the care-consoling strings, and trying the chords lightly with his finger gives them to the boy. Gladly he sings of the mighty causes of noble deeds: how many behests of his haughty stepmother the son of Amphitryon performed, how Pollux with his glove smote down the cruel Bebryx, with what a grip the son of Aegeus enfolded and crushed the limbs of the Minoan bull, lastly his own mother’s marriage-feast and Pelion trodden by the gods. Then Thetis relaxed her anxious countenance and smiled. Night draws them on to slumber: the huge Centaur lays him down on a stony couch, and Achilles lovingly twines his arms about his shoulders – though his faithful parent is there – and prefers the wonted breast.

[198] But Thetis, standing by night upon the sea-echoing rocks, this way and that divides her purpose, and ponders in what hiding-place she will set her son, in what country she shall choose to conceal him. Nearest is Thrace, but steeped in the passionate love of war; nor does the hardy folk of Macedon please her, nor the sons of Cecrops,26 sure to excite to noble deeds, nor Sestos and the bay of Abydos, too opportune for ships; she decides to roam the lofty Cyclades. Of these she spurns Myconos and humble Seriphos, and Lemnos cruel to its men,27 and Delos, that gives all the world a welcome. Of late from the unwarlike palace of Lycomedes28 had she heard the sound of maiden bands and the echo of their sport along the shore, what time she was sent to follow Aegaeon29 freed from his stubborn bonds and to count the hundred fetters of the god. This land finds favour, and seems safest to the timid mother. Even so a bird already taking anxious thought, as her deliver draws nigh, on what branch to hang her empty home, here foresees winds, there bethinks her fearfully of snakes, and there of men; at last in her doubt a shady spot finds favour; scarce ahs she alighted on the boughs, and straightway loves the tree.

[217] One more care abides in her mind and troubles the sad goddess, whether she shall carry her son in her own bosom o’er the waves, or use great Triton’s aid, whether she shall summon the swift winds to help her, or the Thaumantian30 that is wont to drink the main. Then she calls out from the waves and bridles with a sharp-edged shell her team of dolphins twain, which Tethys, mighty queen, had nourished for her in an echoing vale beneath the sea; – none throughout all Neptune’s watery realm had such renown for their sea-green beauty, nor greater speed of swimming, nor more of human sense; – these she halts in the deep shore-water, lest they take harm from the touch of naked earth. Then in her own arms she carries Achilles, his body utterly relaxed in a boy’s slumber, from the rocks of the Haemonian cave down to the placid waters and the beach that she had bidden be silent; Cynthia lights her way and shines out with full orb. Chiron escorts31 the goddess, and careless of the sea entreats her speedy return, and hides his moistened eyes and high upon his horse’s body gazes out towards them as suddenly they are whirled away, and now – and now are lost to view, where for a short while the foamy marks of their going gleam white and the wake dies away into the watery main. Him destined never more to return to Thessalian Tempe now mournful Pholoë bewails, now cloudy Othrys,32and Spercheos with diminished flood and the silent grotto of the sage; the Fauns listen for his boyish songs in vain, and the Nymphs bemoan their long-hoped-for nuptials.

[242] Now day o’erwhelms the stars, and from the low and level main Titan wheels heavenward his dripping steeds, and down from the expanse of air falls the sea that the chariot bore up; but long since had the mother traversed the waves and gained the Scyrian shores, and the weary dolphins had been loosed from their mistress’ yoke: when the boy’s sleep was stirred, and his opening eyes grew conscious of the inpouring day. In amaze at the light that greets him he asks, where is he, what are these waves, where is Pelion? All he beholds is different and unknown, and he hesitates to recognize his mother. Quickly she caresses him and soothes his fear: “If, dear lad, a kindly lot had brought me the wedlock that it offered, in the fields of heaven should I be holding thee, a glorious star, in my embrace, nor a celestial mother should I fear the lowly Fates or the destinies of earth. But now unequal is they birth, my son, and only on thy mother’s side is the way of death barred for thee; moreover, times of terror draw nigh, and peril hovers about the utmost goal. Retire we then, relax awhile they mighty spirit, and scorn not this raiment of mine. If the Tirynthian took in his rough hand Lydian wool and women’s wands,33 if it becomes Bacchus to trail a gold-embroidered robe behind him, if Jupiter put on a woman’s form,34 and doubtful sex weakened not the mighty Caeneus,35 this way, I entreat thee, suffer me to escape the threatening, baleful cloud. Soon will I restore the plains and the fields where the Centaurs roam: by this beauty of thine and the coming joys of youth I pray thee, if for thy sake I endured the earth and an inglorious mate, if at they birth I fortified thee with the stern waters of Styx36 – ay, would I had wholly! – take these safe robes awhile, they will in no wise harm thy valour. Why doest thou turn away? What means that glance? Art thou ashamed to soften thee in this garb? Dear lad, I swear it by my kindred waters, Chiron shall know nought of this.”

[274] So doth she work on his rough heart, vainly cajoling; the thought of his sire and his great teacher oppose her prayer and the rude beginnings of his mighty spirit. Even so, should one try to subdue with earliest rein a horse full of the mettlesome fire of ungoverned youth, he having long delighted in stream and meadow and his own proud beauty, gives not his neck to the yoke, nor his fierce mouth to the bridle, and snorts with rage at passing beneath a master’s sway and marvels that he learns another gait.

[283] What god endued the despairing mother with fraud and cunning? What device drew Achilles from his stubborn purpose? It chanced that Scyros was keeping festal day in honour of Pallas, guardian of the shore, and that the sisters, offspring of peace-loving Lycomedes, had on this sacred morn gone forth from their native town – a licence rarely given – to pay tribute of the spring, and bind their grave tresses with the leaf of the goddess and scatter flowers upon her spear. All were of rarest beauty, all clad alike and all in lusty youth, their years of girlish modesty now ended, and maidenhood ripe for the marriage-couch. But as far as Venus by comparison doth surpass the green Nymphs of the sea, or as Diana rises taller by head and shoulders than the Naiads, so doth Deidamia, queen of the lovely choir, outshine and dazzle her fair sisters. The bright colour flames upon her rosy countenance, a more brilliant light is in her jewels, the gold has a more alluring gleam; as beauteous were the goddess herself, would she but lay aside the serpents on her breast, and doff her helm and pacify her brow. When he beheld her far in advance of her attendant train, the lad, ungentle as he was and heart-whole from any touch of passion, stood spellbound and drank in strange fire through all his frame. Nor does the love he has imbibed lie hidden, but the flame pulsating in his inmost being returns to his face and colours the glow upon his cheeks, and as he feels its power runs o’er his body with a light sweat. As when the Massagetae darken milk-white bowls with blood-red dye, or ivory is stained with purple, so by varying signs of blush and pallor does the sudden fire betray its presence. He would rush forward and unprovoked fiercely break up the ceremonies of his hosts, reckless of the crowd and forgetful of his years, did not shame restrain him and awe of the mother by his side. As when a bullock, soon to be the sire and leader of a herd, though his horns have not yet come full circle, perceives a heifer of snowy whiteness, the comrade of his pasture, his spirit takes fire, and he foams at the mouth with his first passion; glad at heart the herdsmen watch him and check his fury.

[318] Seizing the moment his mother purposely accosts him: “Is it too hard a thing, my son, to make pretence of dancing and join hands in sport among these maidens? Hast thou aught such ‘neath Ossa and the crags of Pelion? O, if it were my lot to match two loving hearts, and to bear another Achilles in my arms!”

[323] He is softened, and blushes for joy, and with sly and sidelong glance repels the robes less certainly. His mother sees him in doubt and willing to be compelled, and casts the raiment o’er him; then she softens his stalwart neck and bows his strong shoulders, and relaxes the muscles of his arms, and tames and orders duly his uncombed tresses, and sets her own necklace about the neck she loves; then keeping his step within the embroidered skirt she teaches him gait and motion and modesty of speech. Even as the waxen images that the artist’s thumb will make to live take form and follow the fire and the hand that carves them, such was the picture of the goddess as she transformed her son. Nor did she struggle long; for plenteous charm remains to him though his manhood brook it not, and he baffles beholders by the puzzle of his sex that by a narrow margin hides its secret.

[338] They go forward, and Thetis unsparingly plies her counsels and persuasive words: “Thus then, my son, must thou manage thy gait, thus thy features and thy hands, and imitate thy comrades and counterfeit their ways, lest the king suspect thee and admit thee not to the women’s chambers, and the crafty cunning of our enterprise be lost.” So speaking she delays not to put correcting touches to his attire. Thus when Hecate37returns wearied to her sire and brother from Therapnae, haunt of maidens, her mother bears her company as she goes, and with her own hand covers her shoulders and bared arms, herself arranges the bow and quiver, and pulls down the girt-up robe, and is proud to trim the disordered tresses.

[349] Straightway she accosts the monarch, and there in the presence of the altars: “Here, O king, “ she says, “I present to thee the sister of my Achilles – seest thou not how proud her glance and like her brother’s? – so high her spirit, she begged for arms and a bow to carry on her shoulders, and like an Amazon to spurn the thought of wedlock. But my son is enough care for me; let her carry the baskets at the sacrifice, do thou control and tame her wilfulness, and keep her to her sex, till the time for marriage come and the end of her maiden modesty; nor suffer her to engage in wanton wrestling-matches, nor to frequent the woodland haunts. Bring her up indoors, in seclusion among girls of her own age; above all remember to keep her from the harbour and the shore. Lately thou sawest the Phrygian38 sails: already ships that have crossed the sea have learnt treason to mutual loyalties.”

[363] The sire accedes to her words, and receives the disguised Achilles by his mother’s ruse – who can resist when gods deceive? Nay more, he venerates her with a suppliant’s hand, and gives thanks that he was chosen; nor is the band of duteous Scyrian maidens slow to dart keen glances at the face of their new comrade, how she o’ertops them by head and neck, how broad her expanse of breast and shoulders; then they invite her to join the dance and approach the holy rites, and make room for her in their ranks and rejoice to be near her. Just as Idalian birds,39 cleaving the soft clouds and long since gathered in the sky or in their homes, if a strange bird from some distant region has joined them wing to wing, are at first all filled with amaze and fear; then nearer and nearer they fly, and while yet in the air have made him one of them and hover joyfully around with favouring beat of pinions and lead him to their lofty resting-places.

[379] Long, ere she departs, lingers the mother at the gate, while she repeats advice and implants whispered secrets in his ear and in hushed tones gives her last counsels. Then she plunges into the main, and gazing back swims far away, and entreats with flattering prayers the island-shore: “O land that I love, to whom by timid cunning I have committed the pledge of my anxious care, a trust that is great indeed, mayst thou prosper and be silent, I beg, as Crete was silent for Rhea40; enduring honour and everlasting shrines shall gird thee, nor shalt thou be surpassed by unstable41 Delos; sacred alike to wind and wave shalt thou be, and clam abode of Nereïds among the shallows of the Cyclades, where the rocks are shattered by Aegean storms, an isle that sailors swear by – only admit no Danaan keels, I beg! `Here are only the wands of Bacchus, nought that avails for war;’ that tale bid rumour spread, and while the Dorian armaments make ready and Mavors rages from world to world – he may, for aught I care – let Achilles be the maiden daughter of good Lycomedes.”

[397] Meanwhile avenging Europe, inflamed by war’s sweet frenzy and the monarchs’ complaining entreaties, excites her righteous ire; more earnestly pleads that son of Atreus whose spouse abides at home, and by his telling makes the Ilian crime more grievous: how without aid of Mars or force of arms the daughter of heaven42 and child of mighty Sparta was taken, and justice, good faith and the gods spurned by one deed of rapine. Is this then Phrygian honour? Is this the intercourse of land with land? What awaits the common folk, when wrong so deadly attacks the foremost chieftains? All races, all ages flock together: nor are they only aroused whom the Isthmian barrier with its rampart fronting on two seas encloses and Malea’s wave-resounding promontory, but where afar the strait of Phrixus sunders Europe and Asia; and the peoples that fringe Abydos’ shore, bound fast by the waters of the upper sea.

[413] The war-fever rises high, thrilling the agitated cities. Temese43 tames her bronze, the Euboean coast shakes with its dockyards, Mycenae echoes with innumerable forges, Pisa makes new chariots, Nemea gives the skins of wild beasts, Cirrha vies in packing tight the arrow-bearing quivers, Lerna in covering heavey shields with the hides of slaughtered bullocks. Aetolia and fierce Acarnania send infantry to war, Argos collects her squadrons, the pasture-lands of rich Arcadia are emptied, Epiros bridles her swift-footed nurslings,44ye shades of Phocis and Aonia grow scant by reason of the javelins, Pylos and Messene strain their fortress-engines. No land but bears its burden; ancestral weapons long renounced are torn from lofty portals, gifts to the gods melt in the flame; gold reft from divine keeping Mars turns to fiercer use. Nowhere are the shady haunts of old: Othrys is lesser grown, lofty Taygetus sinks low, the shorn hills see the light of day. Now the whole forest is afloat: oaks are hewn to make a fleet, the woods are diminished for oars. Iron is forced into countless uses, for riveting prows, for armour of defence, for bridling chargers, for knitting rough coats of mail by a thousand links, to smoke with blood, to drink deep of wounds, to drive death home in conspiracy with poison; they make the dripping whetstones thin with grinding, and add wrath to sluggish sword-points. No limit is there to the shaping of bows or heaping up of bullets or the charring of stakes or the heightening of helms with crests. Amid such commotion Thessaly alone bewails her indolent repose, and brings a twofold complaint against the Fates, that Peleus is too old and Achilles not yet ripe of age.

[441] Already the lord of war had drained the land of Pelops and the Grecian world, madly flinging aboard both men and horses. All aswarm are the harbours and the bays invisible for shipping, and the moving fleet stirs its own storms and billows; the sea itself fails the vessels, and their canvas swallows up every breath of wind.

[447] Aulis, sacred to Hecate, first gathers together the Danaan fleet, Aulis, whose exposed cliff and long-projecting ridge climb the Euboean sea, coast beloved by the mountain-wandering goddess, and Caphereus, that raises his head hard by against the barking waves. He, when he beheld the Pelasgian ships sail by, thrice thundered from peak to wave, and gave presage of a night of fury.45 There assembles the armament for Troy’s undoing, there the vast array is sworn, while the sun completes an annual course. Then first did Greece behold her own might; then a scattered, dissonant mass took form and feature, and was marshalled under one single lord. Even so does the round hunting-net confine the hidden beasts, and gradually hem them in as the toils are drawn close. They in panic of the torches and the shouting leave their wide pathless haunts, and marvel that their own mountain is shrinking, till from every side they pour into the narrow vale; the herds startle each other, and are tamed by mutual fear; bristly boar and bear and wolf are driven together, and the hind despises the captured lions.

[467] But although the twain Atridae make war in their own cause together, though Sthenelus and Tydeus’ son surpass in eager valour their fathers’ fame, and Antilochus heeds not his years, and Ajax shakes upon his arm the seven leaders of the herd46 and the circle vast as a city-wall, though Ulysses, sleepless in counsel and deeds of arms, joins in the quarrel, yet all the host yearns ardently for the absent Achilles, lovingly they dwell upon Achilles’ name, Achilles alone is called for against Hector, him and none other do they speak of as the doom of Priam and of Troy. For who else grew up from infancy crawling on fresh-dug snow in the Haemonian valleys? Whom else did the Centaur take in hand and shape his rude beginnings and tender years? Whose line of ancestry runs nearer heaven? Whom else did a Nereid take by stealth through the Stygian waters and make his fair limbs impenetrable to steel? Such talk do the Grecian cohorts repeat and interchange. The band of chieftains yields before him and gladly owns defeat. So when the pale denizens of heaven flocked into the Phlegraean camp,47 and already Gradivus was towering to the height of his Odrysian48 spear and Tritonia raised her Libyan snakes and the Delian strongly bent his mighty bow, Nature in breathless terror stood looking to the Thunderer alone – when would he summon the lightnings and the tempests from the clouds, how many thunderbolts would he ask of fiery Aetna?

[491] There, while the princes, surrounded by the mingled multitudes of their folk, hold counsel of times for sailing and for war, Protesilaus amid great tumult rebukes the prophet Calchas and cries – for to him was given the keenest desire to fight, and the glory even then of suffering death the first: “O son of Thestor, forgetful of Phoebus and thy own tripods, when wilt thou open thy god-possessed lips more surely, or why dost thou hide the secret things of Fate?49 Seest thou how all are amazed at the unknown Aeacides and clamour for him? The Calydonian hero50 seems nought in the people’s eyes, and so too Ajax born of mighty Telamon and lesser Ajax, so do we also: but Mars and the capture of Troy will prove the truth. Slighting their leaders – for shame! – they all love him as a deity of war. Quickly speak, or why are thy locks enwreathed and held in honour? In what coasts lies he hidden? In what land must we seek him? For report has it that he is living neither in Chiron’s cave nor in the halls of Peleus his sire. Come, break in upon the gods, harry the fates that lie concealed! Quaff greedily, if ever thou dost, thy draughts of laurelled fire! We have relieved thee of dread arms and cruel swords, and never shall a helm profane thy unwarlike locks, yet blest shalt thou be and foremost of our chiefs, if of thyself thou doest find great Achilles for the Danaans.” 51

[514] Long since has the son of Thestor been glancing round about him with excited movements, and by his first pallor betrayed the incoming of the god; soon he rolls fiery, bloodshot eyes, seeing neither his comrades nor the camp, but blind and absent from the scene he now overhears the mighty councils of gods in the upper air, now accosts the prescient birds, now the stern sisters’ threads, now anxiously consults the incense-laden altars, and quickly scans the shooting flames and feeds upon the sacred vapours.52 His hair streams out, and the fillet totters on his stiffened locks, his head rolls and he staggers in his gait. At last trembling he looses his weary lips from their long bellowings, and his voice has struggled free from the resisting frenzy: “Whither bearest thou, O Nereid, by thy woman’s guile great Chiron’s mighty pupil? Send him hither: why dost thou carry him away? I will not suffer it: mine is he, mine! Thou art a goddess of the deep, but I too am inspired by Phoebus. In what hiding-places triest thou to conceal the destroyer of Asia? I see her all bewildered among the Cyclades, in base stealth seeking out the coast. We are ruined! The accomplice land of Lycomedes finds favour. Ah! horrid deed! see, flowing garments drape his breast. Rend them, boy, rend them, and yield not to thy timid mother. Woe, woe! he is rapt away and is gone! Who is that wicked maiden yonder?”

[536] Here tottering he ceased, the madness lost its force, and with a shudder he collapsed and fell before the altar. Then the Calydonian hero accosts the hesitating Ithacan: “’Tis us53 that task summons; for I could not refuse to bear thee company, should thy thought so lead thee. Though he be sunk in the echoing caves of Tethys far removed and in the bosom of watery Nereus, thou wilt find him. Do thou but keep alert the cunning and foresight of thy watchful mind, and arouse thy fertile craft: no prophet, methinks, would make bold in perplexity to see the truth before thee.”

[545] Ulysses in joy makes answer: “So may almighty God bring it to pass, and the virgin guardian of thy sire grant to thee! But fickle hope gives me pause; a great enterprise is it indeed to bring Achilles and his arms to our camp, but should the fates say nay, how woeful a disgrace were it to return! Yet will I not leave unventured the fulfilment of the Danaans’ desire. Ay, verily, either the Pelean hero shall accompany me hither, or the truth lies deep indeed and Calchas hath not spoken by Apollo.”

[543] The Danai shout applause, and Agamemnon urges on the willing pair; the gathering breaks up, and the dispersing ranks depart with joyful murmurs, even as at nightfall the birds wing their way homeward from the pastures, or kindly Hybla sees the swarms returning laden with fresh honey to their cells. Without delay the canvas of the Ithacan is already calling for a favouring breeze, and the merry crew are seated at the oars.

ACHILLEID BOOK 1A

ACHILLEID BOOK 1B - 2

THEBAID BOOK 1

THEBAID BOOK 2

THEBAID BOOK 3

THEBAID BOOK 4

THEBAID BOOK 5

THEBAID BOOK 6

THEBAID BOOK 7

THEBAID BOOK 8

THEBAID BOOK 9

THEBAID BOOK 10

THEBAID BOOK 11

THEBAID BOOK 12




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Argonautica by Valerius Flaccus

ARGONAUTICA BOOK 1, TRANSLATED BY J. H. MOZLEY

[1] My song is of the straits first navigated by the mighty sons of gods, of the prophetic ship that dared to seek the shores of Scythian Phasis, that burst unswerving through the clashing rocks, to slink at length to rest in the starry firmament.

[5] Phoebus, be thou my guide, if there stands in a pure home the tripod that shares the secrets of the Cymaean prophetess, if the green laurel lies on a worthy brow. And thou too, that didst win still greater glory for opening up the sea, after the Caledonian ocean had borne thy sails,1the ocean that of yore would not brook the Phrygian Iuli, do thou, holy sire, raise me above the nations and the cloud-wrapped earth, and be favourable unto me as I hymn the wondrous deeds of old time heroes. Thy son shall tell of the overthrow of Idume – for well he can – of his brother foul with the dust of Solyma,2 as he hurls the brands and spreads havoc in every tower. In thy honour shall he ordain sacred rites and shall raise temples to his house,3 what time thou, Sire, shinest all over the sky; for if thy star guides then Cynosura shall not be a surer beacon to Tyrian ships, nor Helice, whom Grecian helmsmen must watch, but beneath thy guidance Greece and Sidon and Nile shall send forth their fleets. Look kindly now on me and aid my essay, that the sound of my voice may fill the cities of Latium.

[22] From his earliest years Pelias, now old and long the terror of nations, had ruled Haemonia: his were the rivers that go down to the Ionian sea, his good fortune was it to drive his plough on Othrys and Haemus and the slopes of Olympus. Yet had his mind no rest, through dread of his brother’s offspring and the threats of heaven; for the soothsayers foretold that through him destruction should come upon the king, and the victims at the altar repeated their fearful warnings: moreover, above all the great renown of the hero himself weighed upon his mind, and prowess never welcome to a tyrant. Wherefore he sought to forestall his fears and to destroy the son of Aeson, brooding how and when he might take his life. But nowhere was there any sign of warfare nor of any monsters throughout the cities of Greece; long ago had Alcides covered his temples with the huge jaws of the Cleonaean beast, long since had Arcadia been guarded from Lerna’s serpent, and the horns of the two bulls4 broken; the wrath of the sea and the perils of the mighty ocean – these he approves. Then facing the youth with calm countenance and anger banished from his brow, he first accosted him, and his look lent weight to his lying words:

[40] “Give thy consent, I pray thee, to this enterprise, fairer far than any deeds of olden time, yea thy whole heart. Thou hast heard how Phrixus of the seed of Cretheus our kinsman fled from the altars of his father. Him the savage Aeetes who dwells in Scythia and the frost-bound Phasis (alas! for the shame of the great Sun!), murdered amid the genial cups and ceremonial of the stricken banquet, recking nought of me or of heaven. This is no mere voice of rumour; the young man himself I see, groaning piteously, with my own eyes I see him, when at last slumber binds my tired limbs, and with its ceaseless complainings his mangled shade and Helle, goddess of the wide sea, trouble my sleep. Had I but my former strength, then shouldst thou see Colchis even now pay penalty, shouldst see here the head and weapons of the king. The years have long since dulled the old fire, and my son is scarce ripe for rule and war and seafaring: do thou who hast even now the cares and the spirit of a man, do thou, my pride, go, bring back the fleece of Nephele’s ram to its Grecian sanctuary, and think not thyself too frail for so perilous a task.”

[58] With such words did he urge on the youth, nay rather command him, and then held his peace; no word spake he of the Cyanean crags that clash upon the Scythian main, no word of the fleece held by the monstrous dragon with the flickering forked tongues, whom the princess called forth from the inmost chambers by charms and by food, to give him honey-cakes dark with the venom of strange lands.5

[64] Soon was his secret guile laid bare, and it was plain to Jason that the king cared nought for the fleece, but that by his hate alone he himself was driven forth to the terrible seas. Yet how to obey? how to set out in quest of Colchis? Had he but Perseus’ winged sandals now or the car and the fabled teams of dragons of him6 who first set the mark of the ploughshares upon lands that knew not Ceres, and preferred the golden ear to the acorn. Alas! what is he to do? Shall he summon to his aid a fickle populace, already girding at their aged lord, and the elders that long since have pitied Aeson? Or shall he trust rather to the aid of Juno and Pallas of the ringing armour, and launch forth at the king’s command, if haply, the sea subdued, some renown could arise from so great a task? Thou, Glory, thou alone doest fire man’s hearts and minds! thee he beholds fresh, untouched by time, standing upon the shore of Phasis, calling to the young heroes. At last his trust in heaven gives strength to his doubting, troubled heart, and raising his hands devoutly to the stars:

[81] “Almighty Queen,” he says, “whom when turbulent Jove was brandishing a murky tempest in the darkened sky, I bore on my own shoulders across Enipeus swollen by the storms of rain, away to the fields and safety, and could scarce believe thou wert a goddess, until I beheld how thou wast summoned back by the sound of thunder and thy husband’s beck, and rapt away in sudden and fearful wise,7 O grant me to reach Scythia and Phasis; and thou, virgin Pallas, save me! Then with my own hands will I offer that fleece in your temples; my father too shall offer up victims with gilded horns upon the fire, and snow-white herds shall stand round about the altars.”

[91] The goddesses hearkened, and moving swift through the air went upon their different ways. To the walls of Thespiae and her well-loved Argus Pallas flies lightly down; she bids him labour to fashion a ship and fell the timber with his axe, and now she goes forth at his side into Pelion’s shady forests; while Juno throughout all the cities of Argos and of Macedon proclaims abroad how Aeson’s son is making trial of the winds that his fathers never proved, how the ship stands ready and in her pride of oars is claiming men whom she may bring safe home and exalt to heaven by their glorious deeds.

[100] And now every captain approved renown in warfare is athirst for the voyage, and all they who in the first flower of manhood have passed not beyond essays, nor been given the chance of glorious deeds. But they whose labour was in the fields and with the peaceful plough are aroused by the sight of Fauns about the thickets and ways in the clear light of day, and woodland goddesses and rivers with lofty horns, singing the high praises of the vessel.

[107] Forthwith the hero of Tiryns speeds unsummoned from Inachian Argos; his arrows dipped in burning poison from Arcadia and his bow, a light burden for glad shoulders, the boy Hylas bears; fain would he, but his small hand cannot yet match the weight nor grasp the club. And now frenzied Juno upbraids them with these words, and breaks again into her old complainings: “O that all the flower of the Grecian youth were not hastening to new destinies, and that these were now the behests of Eurystheus my servant! 8 O then long ere this hand I myself scattered storms and darkness abroad with the fierce trident, and had hurled my husband’s fires, even against his will. Even now I would not have this man the ally an the strength of our ship, nor may I ever trust in the help of Hercules, or be beholden for so much to so proud a comrade.”

[120] So spake she, and turned her eyes toward the Haemonian waters. There she sees all astir with the throng of men, and at the same moment the forest felled on every side and the shores ringing with the deft blows of the axe; already Thespian Argus is cleaving pines with the thin saw, and lo! the side is being made and the planks are being softened into pliancy over a slow frame9; the oars are ready, and Pallas is seeking a yard for the sail-bearing mast. When the ship stood firm in its huge bulk, proof against long tracts of sea, and when fine wax had filled the lurking holes, Argus adds paintings of varied grace.

[130] On one side Thetis, whom a god had hoped to win, is being borne upon the back of a Tyrrhene fish to the bridal chamber of Peleus; the dolphin is speeding over the sea; she herself is sitting with her veil drawn down over her eyes, and is sorrowing that Achilles shall not be born greater than Jupiter.10 Panope and her sister Doto and Galatea with bare shoulders, revelling in the waves, escort her toward the caverns; Cyclops from the Sicilian shore calls Galatea back. Opposite to this is a fire and a bed of green leaves, a banquet and wines, and in the midst of the sea-gods the son of Aeacus with his wife; they have drunk, and now Chiron is touching the lyre. On the other side is Pholoe and Rhoetus mad with much wine, and the strife that broke out over the Atracian maid.11 Bowls and tables are flying, altars of the gods and cups, the marvellous work of ancient craftsmen. Here may one recognise Peleus, lord of the spear, and here Aeson raging with his sword. Monychus is toiling beneath the weight of his conqueror Nestor, mounted on his unwilling back; Clanis is sealing death to Actor with a blazing oak tree; Nessus the black centaur is bleeding, and in the midst of all Hippasus leaning against he coverlets is burying his head in an empty golden goblet.

[149] But though the men gaze in wonder at these sights the son of Aeson marvels not, and thus he reasons with himself: “Alas! for those of us who have fathers or sons alive! Is this the ship in which we thoughtless souls are sent forth in the face of a clouded sky? shall the ocean spend its wrath on Aeson alone? shall I not snatch away the young Acastus to undergo the same fortunes and the same perils? Then let Pelias desire a safe voyage for the hated ship, and join with our mothers to appease the waves by prayer!”

[156] This is he faint to attempt, when on the left the thunder-bearer of Jove draws near from on high and bears aloft a lamb caught in his strong talons. But from the folds hard by with a shout the fearful shepherds pursue and the barking dogs; too swift the ravisher has mounted into the air, and flies off over the Aegean deep. Jason hails the omen, and joyfully sets out to the halls of haughty Pelias. Then first the king’s son comes running toward him, and casts his arms about him in cousinly embrace.

[164] “Nay, Acastus,” says the leader, “I am not come, as thou deemest, to utter ignoble plaints; I am minded to make thee partner of our enterprise; for I hold not Telamon nor Canthus nor Idas nor Tyndareus’ son more worthy than thou art to seek the fleece of Helle. Lo! what mighty tracts of land, what vast expanse of sky it is granted us to know! To what great ends are we opening the paths of the sea! At this time perchance thou thinkest the labour too heavy: yet when the vessel shall speed joyfully home, and give me back my loved Iolcos, ah! how shalt thou sign as I tell of all the nations we have seen!”

[173] The prince suffered him not to say more; “Enough, enough! I am ready for anything to which thou callest. And think not, friend,” he says, “that I am a laggard, or that I trust more in the kingdom of my fathers than in thee, so but thou grant me to win beneath thy guidance the first rewards of my prowess, and to grow to the measure of a cousin’s fame. Nay, I myself, lest a father’s too timorous care hinder me, will escape from him unawares, and of a sudden will be with you when you are ready, what time the vessel puts off from the strand.” He ceased; the other joys to see such courage and to hear this promise, and turns his eager footsteps to the shore.

[184] Meanwhile the thronging Minyae, admonished by the command of their leader, put their shoulders to the vessel, and bending forwards with straining knees run down into the water. Then rose the sailors’ cry as they panted, and the sound of Orpheus’ soothing lyre. Next in joy they pile altars; chiefly unto thee, lord of the waters, is reverence paid, unto thee, unto the West Winds and unto Glaucus upon the shore Ancaeus sacrifices an ox decked with dark blue filets, unto Thetis a heifer. None more sure than he at cleaving the fat necks with the deadly axe.

[193] Jason himself thrice pours a libation to the father of the sea from a goblet and says: “O thou with thy nod dost make to tremble the realms of foam, and doest engirdle all lands with the brine, grant me thy favour. Yea, I know that I alone of all mankind am venturing on unlawful paths and do deserve tempests; yet it is not of my own accord that I go, nor after all is it my will to pile mountain on mountain, or to call down lightning from Olympus’ summit. O be not swayed by Pelias’ vows; he hath devised these cruel commands, this voyage to Colchis, to bring sorrow on me and on my kin. To me hath he – only with unresentful waters do thou receive this my life and the vessel with its freight of kings.” Thus he spake, and poured the rich offering plenteously on the fire.

[205] As soon as the flame, struggling among the heap of entrails, sent forth a tongue of fire and climbed the throbbing flesh of the bull, lo! along the shore the holy Mopsus possessed of the god, wondrous to view, shook the fillets and his hair, tossing in the wind, and the laurel garland. At length speech issued, speech whereat men shuddered; then was silence ordered for the seer. “Alas! what is this sight I see! Lo! Neptune, freshly roused by our daring, is summoning the gods of ocean, a vast assemblage. They cry aloud, and all exhort him to defend the law. So, even so, Juno, clasp thy brother,12 yea, clasp him to thy heart; and do thou, Pallas, not fail thy ship; oh now, even now turn aside thine uncle’s threats. They have yielded, they have received the vessel on the sea. I find my way now through many a change of fortune! Ah! wherefore does fair Hylas of a sudden veil his locks with rushes? Whence the pitcher upon his shoulders that blue raiment upon his snowy limbs? Thou Pollux, whence hast thou these wounds? Ah! mark the fierce flames from the heaving nostrils of the bulls! Helms are springing forth and spears from every furrow, and lo! at every moment shoulders! What strife is this I see around the fleece? What woman is this, drenched with slaughter, that cleaves the air upon winged serpents? Whom doth she strike with the sword? Unhappy Jason, snatch the little ones away! Yonder I discern the bridal chambers all ablaze!”

[227] Long enough hath the seer been daunting the Minyae and their leader with this dark utterance. But then in answer Idmon, Phoebus’ son, not pale with sickly fear, nor awful to look upon with upstanding hair, but instinct with destiny and the calm influence of Apollo (to him the Father gave by his ordinance the foreknowledge of omens divine, whether he inquired of flames or close-viewed entrails smooth, or of the air thick with fowls that cannot lie), prophesied thus to his comrades and to Mopsus: “As surely as the seer Apollo and that first tongue of flame teach me, so do I behold all our course full of toil and grievous to be borne; yet shall the ship with long suffering overcome all things. Great hearts, be strong, and struggle forward to the sweet embraces of father and mother.” The tears fell as he spoke, for already he divined by the flames that for him Argos was closed for evermore.

[240] Scarce had he uttered these words, when the Aesonian captain spake further: “Inasmuch as ye see the decrees of heaven, my comrades, and mighty hopes are vouchsafed to so great an enterprise, do ye also now bring thereto the might and courage of your sires. Not mine is it to blame the Thessalian tyrant for the honour he doth his kin, or his suspected wiles; it is god, god that by this fair omen enjoins this on us; Jupiter himself hath willed the fellowship of men throughout his world, and their union in such mighty tasks. Come then all ye with me, and achieve, though fortune be doubtful, such things as ye may recall with gladness, such things as may urge on our grandsons. Yet, friends, do ye spend the coming night joyously upon the strand in sweet converse and in merriment.” Thus do they. The young men lay them down upon the soft sea-weed, and the hero of Tiryns conspicuous on his couch. Straightway the servitors take the entrails off the spits, and place the bread in the baskets.

[255] And now speeding down from the mountain-tops came Chiron, holding up to view Achilles who called to his sire from afar. As soon as the child saw Peleus start at the well-known voice and stretch out his arms in wide embrace, he sprang forward and hung long on his dear neck. The foaming goblets of strong wine tempt him not, the chasing of the ancient metal fair to look on holds not his gaze: rather he marvels at the captains, drinking in their loud words, and brings his face close to the lion-skin of Hercules. But Peleus in joy clasps his son and kisses him eagerly, and looking up to the heavens he cries: “Surely as ye wish that Peleus speed over calm wave and that he desire a following breeze, even so, ye gods, do ye preserve this life. All else do thou, Chiron, vouchsafe. Let my little son marvel to hear thee speak of clarions and of wars; do thou teach him to wield his boyish weapons in the chase, and ere long to grasp my spear.” Then were all filled with passion for the voyage; with courage high they long to pass over the deep. They vow they will have the distant fleece of Phrixus, and that Argo will return decked in ivy-clusters.

[274] The sun sank and all the daylight drew away across the waters as the Minyae rejoiced. Scattered along the curving shore lights shine, but to no sailors yet do they show the land.13 And now the Thracian bard with the melody of his lyre beguiles the night, singing how Phrixus stood, his temples bound about with fillets, of how he fled from the sinful altar veiled in cloud, and left Athamas to Learchus, Ino’s son; of how the golden ram bore the lad into the pitying waves, of how Helle sat grasping the horns. Seven times had Aurora fulfilled her course, and seven nights had the Moon completed in heaven, when Sestos, that from afar the waters seemed not to sunder from Abydos, began to part from its twin city.14 Then the sister whose name shall live for all time forsakes Aeolus’ son, saved, alas! in vain from her cruel stepmother. Still with weary hands she strains far behind the wet fleece, but the waves draw down her garments heavy now with the drenching water, and her hands slip off the smooth gold. What grief was thine, Phrixus, when rapt on by the whirling tide thou didst look back and see the face of the hapless maid as she called to thee – her hands only – then her hair spread out upon the waters.

[293] And now there was an end of drinking and of merriment, and laid upon quiet couches all were still; alone amid the ranks of the sleepers the leaders is left and courts not slumber. The aged Aeson and Alcimede, sleepless too, gaze at him with brimming eyes and would not hold him back. Jason ministers to them with gentle speech and soothes their troubled hearts. Soon, when their eyelids had sunk overcome with deep sleep, the shining guardian15 of the wreath-bound vessel seemed to exhort the leader with these words: “An oak from Dodona, the servant of Chaonian Jupiter, thou seest here. With thee I launch upon the ocean, and the Saturnian goddess could not have torn me from the prophetic woods had not heaven been promised to me. The hour is at hand; up, an end to delay! and even though while we roam over all the ocean the uncertain sky be veiled in cloud, trust even now in heaven and in me, and banish your fears.” She ceased. He in fear, favourable thou the omen from heaven was, sprang from his couch. Straightway Tithonus’ bounteous wife, ruffling the sea with the new-born sunlight, brought all the Minyae before him. They hasten to and fro on the decks; these make ready the yard on the high mast, others try the oars for the fist time on the glassy surface, Argus from the lofty prow draws in the cable.

[315] The wailings of mothers grow louder and the stout hearts of fathers sicken; long they cling weeping in one another’s embrace. But the voice of Alcimede sounds far above all other lamentations; her ravings overmaster the cries of the women, even as the martial trumpet overwhelms the Idaean pipe. And thus she speaks: “My son, thou art going forth to hardships undeserved, and we must part; and yet it has not been given me to subdue my spirit to meet this misfortune, but ever feared I wars and strange lands on thy behalf. To other gods must I make vows. If the Fates bring thee back to me, if the sea can be appeased by the prayers of trembling mothers, then can I endure the light of life and the long fear. But if Fortune have other things in store for thee, then, kind Death, have pity on us parents, while fear alone is ours and anguish is not yet upon us. Ah, woe! how could I have feared Colchis and the fleece of the vanished Phrixus? And now what days, what nights of sleepless anxiety I foresee! How oft shall I swoon at sound of the hoarse breakers on the shore, in terror at the Scythian main and the Scythian sky, and as touching thee put no trust in our sunny skies, unthankful for them! Cast thine arms about me, I pray, and leave me with words that shall ever sound in mine ears, and even now close these eyes with they dear hands.”

[335] Thus did Alcimede grieve; but Aeson stouter of heart raised his spirit with these words: “Ah, had I but such strength as of old I had when this hand crushed Pholus, as he threatened me with a figured bowl, crushed him with a golden cup as heavy: I would have been the first to plant my arms upon the brazen stern, and would rejoice to heave the ship onward with quivering oar. But thy father’s prayers have prevailed, and the high gods have heard my vows. For I behold a host of kings on this our sea, and thee their captain. Such, such were all those whom I was wont to lead and to follow. And now that day alone remains – may Jupiter grant my prayer! – that day when as conqueror of the Scythian king and the Scythian ocean, thy shoulders ablaze with the rescued fleece, I receive thee, and my deeds give way before thy youth.” So spake he. Jason held up his mother, who had sunk upon his breast, and received his aged father upon his broad neck.

[350] And now there was an end: and the third blast of the trumpet with its mournful signal loosed the embraces that made wind and ship tarry. Each man gives his name his oar and to his bench.

[353] Here to larboard Telamon has his place, loftier than he Alcides takes his seat to starboard, the rest of the youth go to this side or to that; the nimble Asterion, whom as he slipped from his mother’s womb his father, the Piresian Cometes, bathed at the joining of two rivers, where the sluggish Enipeus feels the might of Apidanus . . .

[358] On one side Talaus strains, and Leodocus presses his brother’s back with his oar; lordly Argos sent the pair to join the host. On this side too is Idmon, sent despite warning omens; but it is shameful for a man to dread the future.

[362] Here too Iphitus, son of Naubolus, rises to strike the curling waves, here Neptune’s son cleaves his father’s sea, even Euphemus who dwells in Psamathe, washed with the sounding waters, and ever yawning Taenarus, and from the sandy shores of Pella Deucalion of the unerring javelin, and Amphion renowned in the close fight, whom Hypso at one birth brought forth and could not nor wished to tell their faces apart, so like they were.

[369] Next Clymenus, striking his breast with the strong oar, and his brother Iphiclus move the vessel, and Nauplius soon with cruel beacon to drive the Greeks upon thy rocks, Caphareus, and Oileus, who will one day lament the bolt that Jupiter hurled not, as his son’s body hissed over the Aegean waves;16

[374] Cepheus too who did aid Amphitryon’s son, sweating beneath the burden of the beast of Erymanthus on the threshold of Tegea, and Amphidamas (though his brother, fuller of years, chose rather to let the fleece of Phrixus fall to Ancaeus), and Eurytion, his neck covered with the hair he let grow, until he return and his father crop it at the Aonian altars.

[380] Thou too, Nestor, art drawn to the waves of the renown of the Thessalian ship, thou who one day shalt marvel to see the ocean plain white with the Mycenaean sails, and a thousand eager captains.

[383] Here sits Mopsus the prophet, no empty pledge of the fatherhood of Phoebus; his white cloak falling about his scarlet buskins touches the soles of his feet, a helmet bound with fillet shades his brow, and a laurel spray from Peneus crowns the peak.

[387] On Hercules’ side too Tydeus rises to his oar, and Periclymenus, son of Neleus, whom small Methone and Elis rich in horses and Aulon exposed to the waves saw break his adversary’s face with the gauntlets.

[391] Thou also, son of Poeas, twice destined to see Lemnos, art rowing to Phrixean Colchis, famed now for thy father’s spear, but one day shalt thou ply the arrows of Hercules.

[394] Next on the same side is Butes, rich from the shores of Attica, for countless are the bees that he shuts in his hives, boasting of their long cloud that darkness the day, while he opens the honey-laden cells and lets the kings go forth to flowery Hymettus.

[398] Thou followest him, Phalerus, and on thy arms is stamped the picture of thy fortune; a snake is slipping from a spreading tree, and thrice and four times is coiling its fiery back about thy small body; close by thy father stands in dread looking at his uncertain bow; Eribotes also bears arms carved in terrible fashion.

[403] And Peleus was there, trusting in the parents of his bride and in his goddess wife, and from the high prow gleams thy lance, Aeacides, taller far than all other spears, even as on Pelion’s summit it overtopped the mountain ashes.

[407] Also Actor’s son leaves his child17 in Chiron’s cave, side by side with his dear Achilles, to study the chords of the harp, and side by side to hurl a boy’s light javelins, and to learn to mount and ride upon the back of his genial master.

[411] And he whom report did not falsely make the son of Lycaeus, Phlias, with locks falling from his head in his father’s manner. Nor does Ancaeus’ mother fear to entrust her son to the ocean, whom she bore when pregnant by the king of the sea.

[414] So too Erginus, offspring of Neptune, comes down with a light heart to the waters; he can tell the guile of the deep, and the stars of the clear night, and what wind Aeolus is planning to unprison from his caves; him may Tiphys without fear trust to rule the vessel and to watch the heavens, when weary-eyed with ceaseless gazing on the bear.

[420] The hero18 of Sparta wears thongs of bull’s hide studded with wounding lead, that to the empty airs at least he may deal his random blows, and that the Pagasean ship may watch the grandson of Oebalus filling the shore with his harmless sport; and Castor skilled rather at breaking in the mouths of horses with the Thessalian bridle, who, until he should find the beast that bore the trembling Helle, left Cyllarus to fatten upon the grass of Amyclae. On both alike there gleams a purple cloak bright with Taenarian dye, fair work that their mother wove on twin looms; twice had she broidered massive Taygetus and its leafy woods, twice in pliant gold the streaming Eurotas; each is borne upon his own horse, worked in snow-white thread, and on the breast of each their swan-father is flying.19

[433] But thou, Meleager, see, the clasp is loosening thy gathered raiment, and lays bare thy strong shoulders and thy broad breast that proudly vies with Hercules in strength of muscle.

[436] Here in serried throng are the Cyllenian brethren:20 Aethalides so sure at sending the arrows with the rebounding string: thou, Eurytus, skilled at clearing a way with thy sword through the midst of the enemy: and Echion, of no mean esteem among the Minyae for his father’s calling, who brings the peoples the messages of his captain. But thee, Iphis, Argo, that shall never return aided by thy arms, shall leave alas! but ashes on the Scythian strand, and shall mourn for the oar resting idle in thy row.

[444] The plains of Pherae send thee too, Admetus, blest in so glorious a shepherd, for it is in thy fields that the god of Delos pays for having struck down Steropes with his thankless bow. Ah! how often his sister, meeting him as a servant in her familiar woods, did weep, whenever he wooed the coolness of the oaks of Ossa or marred his sorry locks in the thick waters of Boebeis.

[450] Canthus rises up over the thwarts and churns the waters with his oar; him will the alien spear send rolling in the dust of Aeaea; but meantime the glory of a bright-orbed shield is at his side, borne once by his father Abas; Euripus with its waves divides the golden covering, and flees from the sands of Chalcis, and thou, Neptune, shaking the high bridles of thy wolves,21 half beast, half fish, in the midst art rising up from oyster-bearing Geraestus.

[457] Nor does it await thee, Polyphemus, to return in the ship of Pallas and find the last remains of thy father burning before the city, though his servants had long delayed the due rites, if only thou wouldest come.

[460] With shorter oar now Idas strikes the blue waters and his seat far away, last in his row. But his brother Lynceus is being kept for high ends, he whom Arene bore, one that can pierce the earth and with penetrating gaze discover the secrets of Styx; from mid-ocean he will point the helmsman to the land, will point out the stars to the ship, and when Jupiter has veiled the clear heaven in shadow Lynceus alone will pierce the clouds.

[468] Furthermore, the offspring of Cecropian Orithyia, Zetes and his brother, are free that they may trim the quivering braces.

[470] Nor yet does Odyrsian Orpheus spend himself upon the thwarts or plough the sea with an oar, but with his song he teaches the oars to swing, that they clash not everywhere upon the surface of the tide.

[473] To Iphiclus too Aeson’s son remits the young men’s toils upon the sea: Phylace had sent him forth wearied with years, no longer to share in the tasks, but that he may give the men shrewd counsels, and may fire them with the praise of their mighty forefathers.

[477] To thee, Argus, falls the care of thine own vessel, thou with the skill that Pallas hath bestowed on thee art the gift of Thespiae’s city; it is thy lot to see that the ship on no side let in the stealthy water, and to seal the wounds cleft by the waves with pitch or pliant wax.

[481] The watchful Tiphys, Hagnius’ son, hung his gaze upon the Arcadian constellation,22favoured mortal, that found use for the laggard stars, and giving men power to steer their path across the sea with heaven as their guide.

[484] Lo! hurrying by short paths down the mountain slope the exultant leader, rejoicing at his cunning, recognises Acastus, bristling with javelins and aglow with glittering shield. Soon as he leapt into the midst of the ship through the shields and the men, Jason with flashing steel cut the cables; even as the huntsman flies from the forest and from the despoiled lair, urging forward the horse that fears for its master, and clasping the tiger cubs to his breast; deftly but trembling has he seized them, while the fierce mother is far from her young, hunting upon the other side of Amanus. The ship moves forward to the measured strokes of the oars; the mothers stand upon the shore, and with their gaze follow the bright sails and the shields of the heroes flashing in the sunlight, until at length the ocean overtops the mast and immeasurable space takes the vessel out of their sight.

[498] Then the Father from his starry citadel beholding these glorious deeds of the Greeks and how the mighty work went forward, is glad; for he cares not for the ease of his sire’s rule.23 With him all the gods rejoice, and the Fates mark how the coming age and the paths over the waters increase for their own gain. But not like them untroubled by the peril of his Scythian child the Sun-god pours forth these words from his breast: “Supreme Creator, for whom as the years go round our light completes and renews its manifold changes, are these things thy will? Is it beneath thy guidance and with thy favouring consent that the Grecian vessel now sails the sea? May I too break forth into complaints? – they are but just! Through fear of this and that none might move an envious hand against my son, I chose not the wealth of some middle land24 or the teeming fields of a rich country – let Teucer and the Libyan and the stock of thine own Pelops hold the most fruitful spots25 – nay, in chill fields oppressed by thy fierce cold and by icebound rivers did we settle. Even from these would my son withdraw and retreat without recompense still further did not a region dense with clouds, a stranger to spring, lie beyond and beat back our rays. How can that terrible land, how can savage Phasis be an offence to other rivers, or my offspring to nations so remote? What, is the Grecian fleece a possession won by force? Nay, but my son would not consent to join forces with the exiled Phrixus and came not as an avenger to the Inoan altars, but did persuade him to tarry with a portion of his kingdom and his daughter’s hand, and now sees before him grandchildren of a Grecian stock, and calls for sons-in-law upon the lands united to himself in blood. Turn the vessel’s course, sire, and open not the sea for them to my hurt; the wood of Padus knows enough of my ancient sorrows, and the sisters who weep as they look upon their father.” 26

[528] The Lord of War gave loud assent and shook his head, for he saw the fleece assailed that hung as a trophy in his honour; on the other side Pallas and Juno girded at the complaint of the two gods.

[531] Then spake the Father: “All these things have been established by us from of old and now move forward each in its appointed order and remain unalterable from the beginning of things; for there was no stock of ours in any land when I laid down the laws of destiny; wherefore I had the power to deal justly when I was founding a line of kings to last throughout the ages. So then I will unfold the decrees that I made in my providence. The region that stretches down from the measureless East to the sea of the virgin Helle as far as the Tanais has long been rich in horses and famed for its men, and none has dared to rise against her in valorous chivalry and to win renown in war: so did I myself cherish the land and its destinies. But now her last day is hastening on and we are leaving Asia tottering to her fall, while the Greeks now claim of me their time of prosperity. Therefore have my oak trees, the tripods and the spirits of their ancestors sent forth this band upon the sea. For thee, Bellona, has a path fashioned through the billows and through storms.

[544] “Nor is it the fleece alone that is fated to rouse resentment and the still closer pang that comes from a ravished maid, but also – and no resolve is more firmly fixed in my mind – there shall soon come from Phrygian Ida a shepherd who shall bring lamentation and rage and a rich requital to the Greeks.27 Ah, what wars shalt thou see when the suitors pour forth from the fleet! How many times shall Mycenae bewail its wintry bivouacs before Troy! How many a prince, how many sons of gods, how many a mighty man shalt thou see fall, and Asia yield to the high fates! Thereafter am I resolved upon the end of the Danai, and shortly will take other nations into my care. Let mountains, forests, lakes and all the barriers of ocean open out before them; hope and fear shall decide the day for all alike. I myself by shifting the seat of empire upon earth shall make trial which kingdom I shall elect to let rule longest over all peoples, and in whose hands I can without fear leave the reins of power once bestowed.” 28

[561] Then he turns his eyes to the blue Aegean sea, gazing upon mighty Hercules and the sons of Leda, and speaks thus: “Strain forward to the stars, my heroes; it was only after the battle with fierce Iapetus and the toils of Phlegra that Olympus’ palace set me over the universe; painful and wearisome for you have I made the path to heaven. Only so did my Bacchus after traversing the world, only so did Apollo after his life upon earth return.” So he spoke, and through the void aimed a shaft that burned a long furrow in the clouds; and as it neared the ship it broke in twain and sought the two sons of Tyndareus, and forthwith settled with tranquil flame on the midst of their brows and harmlessly shed abroad its bright radiance, to which hapless mariners one day would cry for help.

[574] Meantime fierce Boreas from his eyrie in Pangaeus spied the sails set to the wind in the midst of the deep, and straightway turns his rapid course to Aeolia and the Tyrrhene caves. Every forest groans beneath the speeding wings of the god, the crops are laid, and the sea darkens beneath his hurtling flight. There stands in the Sicilian sea on the side of retreating Pelorum a crag, the terror of the straits; high as are the piles it lifts into the air, even so deep are those that sink below the surface of the waters. Hard by may one see another land with rocks and caverns no less terrible; in the former dwell Acamas and naked Pyragmon, the latter is the home of squalls and winds and shipwrecking storms; from here they pass to the lands and over the wide ocean, from here in bygone days would they spread turmoil in the heavens and in the disastrous sea – for at that time no Aeolus was their master, when the intruding sea broke Calpe off from Libya, when Oenotria to her sorrow lost the lands of Sicily and the waters burst into the heart of the mountains – until the All-powerful thundered from the sky upon the trembling blasts and appointed them a king, whom the fierce band were bidden to revere: iron and a twofold wall of rocks quell the East winds within the mountain. When this king can no longer curb their roaring mouths, then of his own will he unbars the doors and by granting egress lulls their savage complaints.

[597] Boreas now with these tidings drives him from his lofty throne: “Ah! what monstrous deed, Aeolus, have I spied from the heights of Pangaeus! Grecian heroes have devised a strange engine with the axe, and now go forward triumphing joyously over the seas with a huge sail, nor have I power of myself to stir up the sea from its sandy depths, as I had or ever I was fettered and imprisoned. This it is that gives them courage and confidence in the vessel they have built, that they see Boreas ruled by a king. Grant me to overwhelm the Greeks with their mad bark: the thought of my children29 moves me not, only do thou quench these threats of mortal man, while still the shores of Thessaly and as yet no other lands have seen their sails.”

[608] He ceased speaking: but within all the winds began to roar and clamour for the open sea. Then did Hippotades30 drive against the mighty door with a whirling blast. Joyfully from the prison burst the Thracian horses, the West wind and the South wind of the night-dark pinions with all the sons of the storms, and the East wind, his hair dishevelled with the blasts, and tawny with much sand; they drew the tempest on, and in thunderous advance together drive the curling waves to shore, and stir not the trident’s realms alone, for at the same time the fiery sky falls with mighty peal, and night buries all things beneath a pitchy sky.

[618] The oars are dashed from the rower’s hands; the ship’s head is turned aslant, and on her side she receives the sounding shocks; a sudden whirlwind tears away the sails that flap over the tottering mast. What dread came then upon the trembling Minyae, when the darkling heavens shone and flashing lightning fell ahead of the terror-stricken ship, and the yardarm dipped to larboard and tossed up the water of the gulfy waves upon its point! They think not in their ignorance that storm and wind arose at a god’s behest, but that even thus is the sea. Then with sorrowful cry: “So this was why our fathers feared unlawfully to profane the waters. Scarcely have we weighed anchor when lo! the Aegean rises with fearful tumult. Is this the sea where clash the Cyanean rocks? Or can there be waters yet more perilous awaiting us wretched men? Leave all hope of seafaring, ye dwellers upon land, and once more31 shun the holy waves.”

[633] Thus did they cry, sorrowing the while that they must die a dullard’s death. Amphitryon’s great-hearted son gazes on his quivers and his oak-club, useless now; the rest in fear join for the last time in converse, clasp hands and weary their lips, sunk in contemplation of the woeful sight, and forthwith the timbers are loosened and the vessel drinks in the sea through a gaping cleft. Now the East wind lashes and turns the ship this way and that; now the South wine roaring with the West carries it along: all round the waters boil, when suddenly Neptune armed with his three-pronged spear raised his dark-blue head from the depths. “This ship,” said he, “let Pallas and my sister, softening my heart with their tears, save from me; yea, let the vessels come from Pharos and from Tyre, and think they are but doing what is lawful. O many are the sails that I shall see ere long torn away by the South winds, and the waves ringing with cries of affliction! Neither my son Orion nor the Bull fierce with his train of Pleiads32 is the cause of this strange form of death. Thou, Argo, thou hast devised death for unhappy nations, and thou, Tiphys, never henceforth doest deserve that any mother pray that thou mayest find peace in Elysium and among the spirits of the holy dead.” 33

[651] So spoke the Father and lulled the sea and the beaten shores, and rove away the South winds, in whose train dark curling waters, surge-laden folds of heavy billows and the rainstorm far behind move on together to the seas of the Aeolian gate.34 The day unprisoned shone forth, a rainbow disclosed the sky, and the clouds rose again to the mountain summits. Now the vessel stands high out of calm waters, and Thetis and father-in-law35 Nereus with mighty arms supports it from the bottom of the sea.

[659] Therefore the leader covers his shoulders in a sacred robe and takes a goblet pertaining unto Aeson, which Salmoneus for joy at his presents had left him in friendship’s name and repaid his arrows and quiver with its gold, not yet the madman he was when he strove to fashion the weapons of high Jupiter from a four-forked beam, and seeking to rival him in his onslaught against Athos or Rhodope himself burnt the tall forests of unhappy Pisa and the hapless fields of Elis. From this goblet he pours a libation into the sea and begins to speak: “O ye gods to whom belongs the rule over water and sounding storm, whose palace measures all the depth of the mighty sky, and thou Father, whose lot are the seas and the twy-formed gods, whether that darkness was but chance, or, even as the heavenly vault moves round, the sea also must needs stand clam and then again be upheaved, or the strange and sudden spectacle of a ship and armed warriors drove thee to such savage anger, grant that I may at least have paid ample atonement, and may thy godhead, O Lord, look kindlier on me now. O let me restore these lives to the land, and let me embrace the portals of my home again. Then in every place shall many a sacrifice feed thy well-deserving altars, wherever it be that thou, Father, standest terrible to view with thy chariot and horses, while on either side a huge Triton holds the flowing reins – throughout our cities shalt thou be established in all thy majesty.”

[681] So he spake. Then rose a shout, and all with uplifted hands approved their leader’s words. Even so when the heavy anger of the gods and Sirius, ravager of the Calabrian fields, has swooped down upon pen and cornland, a fearful band of countryfolk gathers in an ancient wood, while a priest dictates reverent vows for them in their distress. But lo! they see the southern breezes come gliding downwards; the hollow vessel flies onward with loosened reins, cleaving the brine and dashing up the foam with its three-forked brazen prow. Tiphys is at the helm, and silently his helpers sit to do his bidding; even as by the throne of highest Jupiter all things are round about him alert and ready for the god, winds, showers, lightning, thunder, and rivers still in their springs.

[694] But, on a sudden, fear keener than any anxiety and bodings of misfortune rack the leader, in that he had assailed the king’s son and having cruelly seized Acastus by treachery had left the remainder of his kin exposed to death and his father in the toils of crime, and had not fenced about his unguarded life with arms, while he himself now far away has won safety; for upon them will all the king’s wrath burst. Nor are these fears idle, but he has misgivings for things that will come to pass.36

[700] Savage Pelias rages as from a high peak he beholds the sails of his enemy, and knows not how his anger can find vent. Nor courage, nor empire avail; hemmed in by the barrier of the sea his soldiery chafe, and the brine sparkles with their weapons and torches. Even so when winged Daedalus37 soared away from Ida that rang with the clash of bronze, his comrade with shorter pinions at his side, even so did Minos’ warriors in vain utter a cry of rage as the strange cloud rose from the homes of man, and every horseman wearied his eyes in aimless gazing, and returned to Gortyn with quivers unemptied. Moreover, Pelias lying stretched upon the ground in the threshold of Acastus’ chamber presses with his lips the places where the lad has trod and the empty traces of him, and with his white locks dishevelled goes over every step: “It may be that there rise before thee too,” he cries, “the vision of thy mourning father and the sight of my grief; and now thou seest all around thee treachery and a thousand risks of a cruel death. Where, unhappy child, to what shores can I follow thee? It is not toward the homes of Scythia or the mouth of Pontus that he cruel man directs his voyage; but thee, my boy, ensnared by the love of empty renown, the hard-hearted wretch even now torments to bring anguish on my old age. What! had the straits been navigable by the high ships, would I not of my own accord have given him men and vessels? O my house, O spirits of my ancestors that trusted to no purpose in your offspring!”

[724] He spoke, and straightway frenzy and threatening rage made him fearful to look upon: “Here too, thou robber, are the mans to wound thee, and here what shall move thy tears – thy loved father.” At the same time he walks to and fro in the lofty palace, muttering to himself, and turning over plots most cruel: even such, when Thyoneus has turned his savage horns against the guilty Thracians, and now the mountains of unhappy Haemus filled with madness a thousandfold, now the tall forests of Rhodope groan – such was Lycurgus38 before whom wife and sons in flight speed down the long colonnades.

[730] Just then unto the lord of Tartarus and unto the Stygian ghosts was Alcimede bringing holy offerings in fear for her mighty son, if shades summoned forth might give her surer knowledge. Even Aeson himself, who shares her anxiety but who hides such unmanly fears in his heart, yields and is led by his wife. In a trench stands blood and a plenteous offering to hidden Phlegethon, and with fierce cries an aged witch calls upon her departed ancestors and the grandson of great Pleione.39 And now at the sound of the spell rose a face, unsubstantial, and Cretheus gazed upon his mournful son and daughter-in-law, and when he had sipped the blood he began to utter these words: “Banish all fear! he is flying over the ocean, and as he draws ever nearer more and more does Aea marvel at the manifold miracles of heaven, and fierce Colchis is shaken by the prophecies. Alas! to what destinies doth he move forward! His coming is the terror of nations! A little while and he shall return glorying in the spoils and the brides of Scythia; then would I, even I, long to burst the weight of earth. But against thee the violent king prepareth a deadly crime and arms, brother against brother, and is nursing the fierce fires of his passion. Why dost though not snatch away thy life, and quickly escape from these trembling limbs? Come then, thou art my son, already the silent throng of the sanctified call thee to their glades, and Aeolus thy father who flits in the sequestered fields.”

[752] Meanwhile the sorrowing home shuddered with the despairing cries of the slaves, and throughout the walls of the city the rumour spreads that the king is levying a thousand troops and is already giving command to those summoned. In haste the priest leaves the blazing altars and the grove and casts aside his robes, and Aeson in fear at these sudden happenings looks around him wondering what he should devise. Even as a lion hemmed round by a thick mass of men will hesitate a long while, and with huge gaping jaws wrinkles up cheeks and yes, so do doubts crowd upon the prince – is he to seize a feeble sword? shall he in his old age wield the weapons of early youth? shall he stir up the elders and the fickle folk of the kingdom? But his wife, with outstretched hands, clinging to his breast, cries: “Nay, but thou shalt take me as partner in whatever fortune shall shortly be thine; I will not prolong my life, nor look upon my son without thee, I who had endured long enough the light of day when first he set sail over the main, I who had strength to bear this deep sorrow.” So she spoke through her tears.

[767] And now Aeson bethinks him by what end he may outstrip the threats of the king, how he may embrace a worthy fate: his son, his home, the race of Aeolus and the wars he has fought demand a noble death. Furthermore, he sees before him his second son of unripe years, into whom he would fain instil high courage and the knowledge of brave deeds, and the memory in days to come of his father’s death.

[774] Therefore he returns to the holy rites. Beneath the gloom of an ancient cypress, squalid and ghastly with darksome hue, a bull still stood, dark blue fillets on his horns, his brow rough with the foliage of yew; the beast too was downcast, panting and restless, and terrified at the sight of the shade. The witch, according to the custom of her evil race, had kept him, chosen above all others, to use him now at last for these hellish practices. When Aeson saw that the bull still remained at the hour of the awful rites unslain, he dooms him to death, and with one hand upon the horns of the fated victim speaks for the last time:

[784] “O ye who received from Jupiter your reign and the light of life not idly spent, names known to me in councils and in wars, names hallowed by the good report of your grandchildren; and thou, my father, summoned forth from the shades to view my death and to endure again the forgotten sorrows of men on earth, O grant me entry to the abode of quiet, and may the victim that I send before me win favour for me in your dwelling. And thou, O maid, that dost report guilty deeds to Jove,40 who lookest down upon earth with unerring eyes, ye avenging goddesses, thou Divine Law, and thou Retribution, aged mother of Furies, enter into the sinful palace of the king, and bring upon him your fierce torches. Let accursed fear ravish his maddened heart; nor let him deem that my son alone will come with grim weapons in his bark, but let his mind be troubled with fleets and the banners of Pontus and indignant princes from an outraged shore41; let him ever in fear hurry down to the water’s edge, calling to his warriors; let death long delayed shut every path of escape he essays, let him not outstrip my curses, but let him behold every moment the heroes returning and the road sparkling with the fleece of gold. I shall stand vaunting, and move before him with countenance and hands triumphant. Then, if there still remain some monstrous deed ye have not dared, some secret horror, some manner of death as yet unknown, oh grant to his old age – the traitor! – a shameful end, a death unseemly. And I pray that he may never be deemed worthy to fall by the War-god’s hand, by arms of by the sword of my son; let the band he trusteth, let his own kin that he holds dear tear in sunder and mutilate the aged man, and never bury his limbs in a tomb.42 Such be the retribution that my son exacts from the king, and all the nations, alas! whom the king has sent to sea.”

[812] Then he appeases the goddess of triple form, and with his last sacrifice offers a prayer to the Stygian abodes, rehearsing backward a spell soon, soon to prove persuasive; for without that no thin shade will the dark ferryman take away, and bound they stand at the mouth of Orcus.43 The chief of the Furies stood close by him, and touched with heavy hand the cup that steamed with deadly venom; eagerly they drank and drained the blood from the bowl.

[819] A tumult arose; with a shout there burst in soldiers bearing stern commands and weapons drawn at the king’s behest. They behold the aged pair already in the grip of doom, their eyes dulled in death, and spewing forth a poisonous stream of blood; and thee, child, innocent on the threshold of life and pale at the sight of thy parents’ death, they mutilate and set thee with thy kindred. Near by Aeson shuddered as he passed away, and his ghost carried the memory to the clouds above.44

[827] Beneath our pole, cut off from the things of the upper world, deep down lies the palace of the Tartarean Father; never would it share the fate of the toppling sky, even if the mass were sent rolling . . . wide-mouthed Chaos lies, so huge that it could swallow all matter, wearied with its own burden, and the falling universe. Here are the twin doors of the shades below; one, by stern law ever open ,receives nations and kings; but the other none may try, none may struggle to unbar; seldom only and of itself does it open, whenever a leader comes with glorious wounds upon his breast, whose home bears trophies of helmets and chariot-wheels, or one who strove to ease the cares of man, whose honour was kept lively, who had banished fear and knew not desire, or if a priest in fillets and pure apparel draws near. All such the son of Atlas45 guides forward, moving with gentle step, a torch in his hand. Afar the path gleams with the light of the god, until they come to the woods and the pleasant dwellings of the sanctified and the meads where all the year sun and sunlit days endure, where are revels and dancing and singing, and such things as the nations have no desire of now. Into this resting-place and these everlasting walls the father leads his son with his wife. Then he shows them what terrible torments await Pelias by the left gate, how many monstrous creatures stand upon the threshold. They marvel at the mighty uproar, at the onrushing host; they marvel at the region where kindly virtue is rewarded in the world below.

The following is the links to the above and the rest of the work.


ARGONAUTICA BOOK 1

1. Jason & King Pelias
2. Assembly of the Argonauts
3. Death of Aeson

ARGONAUTICA BOOK 2

1. Women of Lemnos
2. Hercules & the Sea Monster
3. The Hellespont

ARGONAUTICA BOOK 3

1. Cyzicus
2. Hylas & the Naiads

ARGONAUTICA BOOK 4

1. Wresling of Amcyus
2. Phineus & the Harpies
3. The Clashing Rocks

ARGONAUTICA BOOK 5

1. The Black Sea
2. Jason & King Aeetes

ARGONAUTICA BOOK 6

1. Colchian-Scythian War
2. Hera & the Love of Medea

ARGONAUTICA BOOK 7

1. Jason & Medea
2. Jason & the Bronze Bulls

ARGONAUTICA BOOK 8

1. Theft of the Golden Fleece
2. Marriage of Jason & Medea
3. Absyrtus' Pursuit




Edited by TheAlaniDragonRising - 30-Jan-2012 at 15:09
What a handsome figure of a dragon. No wonder I fall madly in love with the Alani Dragon now, the avatar, it's a gorgeous dragon picture.
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SENECA THE YOUNGER - OEDIPUS

OEDIPUS, TRANSLATED BY FRANK JUSTUS MILLER

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

OEDIPUS, king of Thebes; the son, as he supposed, of Polybus, king of Corinth, and Merope his wife, but found to be the son of Laïus and Jocasta.
JOCASTA, wife of Oedipus, found to be also his mother.
CREON, a Theban prince, brother of Jocasta.
TIRESIAS, the prophet of Thebes, now old and blind.
MANTO, daughter of Tiresias.
OLD MAN, sent from Corinth to announce to Oedipus the death of Polybus.
PHORBAS, shepherd in charge of the royal flocks of Thebes.
MESSENGER, who announces the self-inflicted blindness of Oedipus and the suicide of Jocasta.
CHORUS of Theban elders.

THE SCENE is laid before the royal palace of Thebes; the play opens in the early morning of the day within which the tragedy is consummated.

ARGUMENT

An oracle once came to Laïus, king of Thebes, that he should perish by his own son’s hands. When, therefore, a son was born to him, he gave the infant to his chief shepherd to expose on Mount Cithaeron. But the tender-hearted rustic gave the babe instead to a wandering herdsman of Polybus, the king of Corinth.
Years later a reputed son of Polybus, Oedipus by name, fearing an oracle which doomed him to slay his father and wed his mother, fled from Corinth, that so he might escape this dreadful fate. As he fared northward he met and slew an old man who imperiously disputed the narrow way with him. Upon arriving at the Theban land he read the riddle of the Sphinx, and so destroyed that monster which Juno had sent to harass the land which she hated; and for this service Oedipus was made the husband of Jocasta, the widowed queen of Laïus (recently slain, so said report, by a band of robbers, on the high road), and set upon the vacant throne.
Now other years have passed, and sons and daughters have been born to the royal pair. But now a dreadful pestilence afflicts the State. Oedipus has sent Creon to consult the oracle, to learn the cause and seek the means of deliverance from the scourge. And while he waits his messenger’s return the murky dawn still finds him grieving for his kingdom’s wretched plight.

OEDIPUS
[1] Now night is driven away; the hesitant sun returns, and rises, sadly veiling his beams in murky cloud; with woeful flame he brings a light of gloom and will look forth upon our homes stricken with ravening plague, and day will reveal the havoc which night has wrought.

[6] Does any man rejoice in royalty? O deceitful good, how many ills dost hide beneath thy smiling face! As lofty peaks do ever catch the blasts, and as the cliff, which with its jutting rocks cleaves the vast deep, is beaten by the waves of even a quiet sea, so does exalted empire lie exposed to fate. How happily had I escaped the sceptre of my father, Polybus! An exile freed from cares,1 fearless, wandering, upon a kingdom (be heaven and the gods my witness) I came by chance. Things unspeakable I fear – that by my hand my father shall be slain. Of this the Delphic laurels warn me, and another, still greater crime they assign to me. Is any wickedness greater than a murdered sire? O hapless filial love! – I am ashamed to tell my doom – Phoebus threatens the son with his father’s chamber, with bed made infamous, defiled by unhallowed passion. ‘Twas the fear of this that drove me from my father’s realm. Not as a fugitive2 did I leave my home; of my own will, distrustful of myself, O Nature, I made thy laws secure. When thou dreadest some great calamity, though thou thinkst it cannot befall, still do thou fear. I dread all things exceedingly, and I do not trust myself unto myself.

[28] Now, even now the fates were aiming some blow at me; for what am I to think when this pestilence, so deadly to Cadmus’ race, so widespread in its destruction, spares me along? For what evil am I reserved? Midst the ruins of my city, midst funerals to be lamented with tears ever fresh, midst the slaughter of a nation, I stand unscathed – aye! Prisoner at Phoebus’ bar. Couldst thou hope that to crimes like thine a wholesome kingdom would be granted? I have made heaven pestilent.3

[37] No soft breeze with its cool breath relieves our breasts that pant with heat, no gentle Zephyrs blow; but Titan augments the scorching dog-stars’s fires, close-pressing upon the Nemean Lion’s4 back. Water has fled the streams, and from the herbage verdure. Dirce is dry, scant flows Ismenus’ stream, and with its meagre wave scarce wets the naked sands. With paling light glides Phoebus’ sister athwart the sky, and the gloomy heavens are wan in the lowering day. No star in clear nights glitters, but a heavy, black fog broods o’er the lands. The citadels of the heavenly gods and their homes on high are veiled in hellish aspect. The ripened corn withholds its fruitful harvest, and though the golden crop waves high its wheaten ears, the grain dies shrivelled on its parched stalk. No class is free from death; but every age and sex is smitten alike. Young men with old, fathers with sons, are joined by the deadly plague; husband and wife by a single fire are burned, and funerals lack bitter tears and lamentations. Nay, the persistent bane of our so great a woe hath of itself dried our eyes and, as oft in utmost misery, our tears have perished. Here to the final flames a stricken father bears his son; there a crazed mother carries her child and hastens back to bring another to the selfsame pyre. Nay more, in their very grief new grief arises and mist funeral rites their own rites befall. Anon, with others’ fires they burn the bodies of their own; yes, fire is stolen, for the wretched have no shame. No separate mounds cover the hallowed bones. Mere burning is enough; how small a part is turned to ashes! No ground is left for tombs; nor woods refuse more pyres. Neither prayers nor any skill avails the stricken. Healers fall victims; the disease drags down those who seek to aid.

[71] Prostrate at the altars, I stretch suppliant hands, begging my fates to hasten, that I may anticipate my country’s ruin and not fall after all the rest, and mine become the last funeral of my realm. Oh, divinities too harsh, Oh, heavy fate! To me alone in all this people is death denied, so ready for all others? Come, fly the land thy baleful hand has tainted, leave the tears, the deaths, the pest-laden air which thou bringest with thee, ill-omened guest; fly quickly! (long since ‘twere well) – even to thy parents!5

JOCASTA
[Who has entered in time to hear her husband’s last words.]
[81] What boots it, husband, to make woe heavier by lamentation? This very thing, methinks, is regal – to face adversity and, the more dubious thy station and the more the greatness of empire totters to its fall, the more firm to stand, brave with unfaltering foot. ‘Tis not a manly thing to turn the back to Fortune.

OEDIPUS
[87] Far from me is the crime and shame of cowardice, and my valour knows not dastard fears. Should swords be drawn against me, against even the fierce Giants would I boldly bear opposing hands. The Sphinx, weaving her words in darkling measures, I fled not; I faced the bloody jaws of the fell prophetess and the ground white with scattered bones. And when from a lofty cliff, already hovering over her prey, she prepared her pinions and, lashing her tail like a savage lion, stirred up her threatening wrath, I asked her riddle. Thereupon came a sound of dread; her jaws crashed, and her talons, brooking no delay, eager for my vitals, tore at the rocks. The lot’s intricate, guile-entangled words, the grim riddle of the winged beast, I solved.

[103] [To himself.] Why too late dost thou now in madness pray for death? Thou hadst thy chance to die. This sceptre is thy meed of praise, this thy reward for the Sphinx destroyed. That dust, that cursed dust of the artful monster is warring against me still; that pest which I destroyed is now destroying Thebes. One only salvation is left us now, if any way of salvation Phoebus shows.

CHORUS
[110] Thou art falling, O noble race of Cadmus, with all thy city. Reft of its tillers thou seest thy land, O pitiable Thebes. Destruction feeds, O Bacchus, on that soldiery of thine, thy comrades to farthest Ind, who dared to ride on the Eastern plains and plant thy banners on the world’s first edge. The Arabs, blest with their cinnamon groves, they saw, and fleeing horsemen, the backs of the treacherous Parthians,6 to be feared for their flying shafts; they pierced to the shores of the ruddy sea,7 whence Phoebus discloses his rising beams, opens the gates of day, and with nearer torch darkens the naked Indians.

[124] We, the offspring of an unconquered stock, are perishing, are falling ‘neath the fierce onslaught of fate. Each hour a new train moves on to Death; the long array of a mournful band hastes to the shades; the gloomy procession jams, and for the throng that seeks burial the seven gates spread not wide enough. The grievous wrack of carnage halts and funeral crowds funeral in unbroken line.

[133] First the plague struck the slow-moving sheep; to their bane did the woolly flock crop the rich herbage. Ready to smite his victim’s neck, the priest had taken his stand; while his upraised hand aimed the unerring blow, the bull, his horn glimmering with gold, sank dully down. Shattered by the blow of a heavy axe, the neck yawned open8; but no blood, only foul gore, oozing from the dark wound, stained the steel. The prancing steed, slowing in mid-course, fell down and flung his rider over his sinking shoulder.

[145] The abandoned cattle lie stricken in the fields; the bull pines away amidst his dying kine. The herdsman deserts his dwindling herd, midst this wasting bullocks dying. No more do stags fear ravenous wolves; subsides the mad lion’s roar; no fierceness now among the shaggy bears. The lurking serpent has lost its bane; parched and dying he lies, his venom dried.

[154] No more do the woods, crowned with their own foliage, shed dusky shadows on the mountain-sides; the fields no more grow green with fertile glebe, no more do the vine’s full branches bend ‘neath the load of its own deity; all things have felt our plague.

[160] They have burst the bars of abysmal Erebus, the throng of sisters with Tartarean torch,9 and Phlegethon,9 changing his own course, has mingled Styx with our Sidonian10streams. Dark Death opens wide his greedy, gaping jaws and unfolds all his wings, and the boatman11 who plies the troubled stream with roomy skiff, tough hardy in his vigorous old age, can scarce draw back his arms wearied with constant poling, worn out with ferrying the fresh throng o’er. Nay more, they say that the dog12 has burst his chains of Taenarian iron, and is wandering through our fields; that the earth has rumbled; that ghosts go stealing through the groves, larger than mortal forms; that twice have Cadmean forests trembled and shed their snows; twice has Dirce welled up with blood; in the silent night Amphion’s hounds have bayed.

[180] O dire appearance and new form of death, far heavier than death! Benumbing languor fetters the listless limbs; the sickly cheeks burn red; small spots overspread the face. Then hot vapours scorch the body’s very citadel13 and distend the cheeks with blood; the eyes stand staring, and accursèd fire14 feeds upon the limbs. There is a ringing in the ears; black blood drips from the strained nostrils and bursts the swelling veins. Full oft does a grating cough rack the inmost frame. Now they strain cold stones close to their breasts; or where new freedom in the house permits, since the watcher has been borne forth, ye15 hasten to the springs, and with full draughts feed your fevered thirst. Prostrate the crowds lie at the altars and pray for death – this alone the compliant gods bestow. They seek the shrines, not that they may appease the divinities with gifts, but joying to glut the very gods.

[CREON is seen returning from his mission.16]

OEDIPUS
[202] Who, pray, is he who seeks the palace with hasty steps? Is Creon at hand, noble in blood and deed, or does my sick fancy see false for true?

CHORUS
[205] He is at hand, Creon, by all our prayers desired.

[Enter CREON.]

OEDIPUS
[206] With dread am I shaken, fearing the trend of fate,17 and my fluttering heart wavers betwixt two moods; where joy with grief commingled lies in doubt, the uncertain soul fears though it longs to know.

[210] O brother of my consort, if to weary hearts thou bringest any aid, quickly declare thy news.

CREON
[212] Doubtful lies the answer and involved the doom.

OEDIPUS
[213] Who grants a doubtful help to sufferers, grants none.

CREON
[214] In mazy riddles is the Delphic god wont to hide his secrets.

OEDIPUS
[215] Speak out, though it be doubtful; to read riddles to Oedipus alone is given.

CREON
[217] The god bids the king’s murder be atoned by banishment and the murdered Laïus be avenged. Not sooner shall the bright sun course the heavens, and give wholesome draughts of unpolluted air.

OEDIPUS
[221] And who was the murderer of the illustrious king? Tell whom Phoebus names, that he may pay the penalty.

CREON
[223] May it be safe, I pray, to have gold of things to sight and hearing dreadful. Numbness has settled though my limbs; my chill blood freezes. When Phoebus’ hallowed shrine I entered with reverent feet and raised pious hands in due supplication to the god, the double peaks of snow-clad Parnassus gave an angry roar; the overhanging laurel of Phoebus trembled and shook its foliage, and suddenly the holy waters of the Castalian spring stood still. The priestess of Leto’s son began to fling loose her bristling locks and, deep stirred, to suffer Phoebus. She had not yet reached the cave, when, with a mighty roar, words louder than voice of man leaped forth:18

[233] “Kind shall the stars return to the Theban city of Cadmus,
If, O fugitive guest, Ismenian Dirce thou leavest,
Stained with the blood of a king, from infancy known to Apollo.
Brief shall be to thee the joys of thy impious slaughter:
With thee war shalt thou bring, and war to thy sons leave behind thee,
Foully returned, once more to the impious womb of thy mother.”

OEDIPUS
[239] That which, at Heaven’s warning, I am now prepared to do should fittingly have been done in honour of the dead king’s dust, that none might treacherously profane the sacred sceptre. Kings have most need to guard the life of kings; none hath care for him when dead whom alive he fears.

CREON
[244] Our care for the dead is greater fear dispelled.

OEDIPUS
[245] Did any fear prevent a pious duty?

CREON
[246] Aye, the Sphinx and the dire threats of her accursèd chant.

OEDIPUS
[247] Now at Heaven’s command let the crime be expiated. Whoever of the gods dost look with favour upon kingdoms – thou,19 thou whose are the laws of the swift-revolving heavens; and thou,20 greatest glory of the unclouded sky, who presidest over the twelve signs21 in thy changing course, who doest unroll the slow centuries with swift wheel; and thou, his sister,22 ever faring opposite to thy brother, Phoebe, night-wanderer; thou23whom the winds obey, who over the level deep dost speed thy azure care; and thou24who dost allot homes devoid of light – do ye all attend: Him by whose hand Laïus fell may no peaceful dwelling, no friendly household gods, no hospitable land in exile entertain; over shameful nuptials may he lament and impious progeny; may he, too, slay his own father with his own hand and do – can aught heavier be entreated? – whatever I have fled from. There shall be no place for pardon. I swear by the sway which I now, a stranger, bear, and by that which I abandoned; by my household gods; by thee, O father Neptune, who in double stream dost play against my shores on either side25 with scanty waves. And do thou26 thyself come as witness to my words, thou who doest inspire the fate-speaking lips of Cirrha’s priestess: So may my father spend peaceful age and end his days secure on his lofty throne; so may Merope know the nuptial torches of her Polybus alone, as by no grace shall the guilty one escape my hand.

[274] But tell me, where was the impious crime committed? Did he die in open battle or by treachery?

CREON
[276] Seeking holy Castalia’s leafy groves, he trod a way hedged in by close-pressing thickets, where the road, three-forking, branches out upon the plains. One road cuts through Phocis, the land that Bacchus loves, whence lofty Parnassus, leaving the lowlands, by a gentle slope lifts heavenward his two peaks; but one leads off to the land27 of Sisyphus bathed by two seas; a third into the Olenian fields, through a low valley winding, reaches the vagrant waters and crosses the cool shallows of Elis’ stream. Here as he fared, relying on peaceful times, a band of robbers suddenly attacked him with the sword and wrought the crime unwitnessed.

[TIRESIAS is seen approaching.]
[288] But in the nick of time, stirred by Phoebus’ oracle, Tiresias, through slow with trembling limbs, comes hurrying, and with him Manto, leading her sightless father.

[Enter TIRESIAS, old and blind, led by his daughter MANTO.]

OEDIPUS
[291] O thou to the gods consecrate, thou next to Phoebus’ self, explain the oracle; tell whom the fates demand.

TIRESIAS
[293] That my tongue is slow to speak, that it craves delay, it behoves thee not, O great-souled Oedipus, to wonder; from the blind much of the truth is hidden. But whither my country, whither Phoebus calls me, I will follow. Let us search out the fates; if my blood were fresh and warm, I would receive the god in my own breast.28 Drive to the altars a pure white bull and a heifer whose neck has never borne the curved yoke. Do thou, my child, who guidest thy blind father, report the clear tokens of the prophetic sacrifice.
[The victims are stations at the altars as directed.]

MANTO
[303] A perfect victim stands before the sacred altars.

TIRESIAS
[304] To our vows invoke Heaven’s presence with the accustomed prayer, and heap the altars with the Orient’s gift of frankincense.

MANTO
[306] Now have I heaped incense on the gods’ sacred hearth.

TIRESIAS
[307] What of the flame? Doth is already seize upon the generous feast?

MANTO
[308] It flashed up with sudden light, and suddenly died down.

TIRESIAS
[309] Did the fire stand clear and bright? Did it lift a pure, pointed flame straight skyward and, spreading, unfold its topmost crest upon the air, or sidewise does it creep uncertain of its course, and with wavering smoke fall murkily?

MANTO
[314] Not one appearance only had the changeful flame. As when rain-bringing Iris entwines her various colours, who, over a great space of heaven sweeping, by her painted bow proclaims the storm, so wouldst thou be in doubt what colour is lacking, what is present in the flame; dark-blue, mingled with yellow spots, it hovered, then was blood-red, and at last trailed off in blackness.

[321] But see, the combative flame is separating into two parts and the discordant embers of one sacred pile are rent in twain – O father, I tremble as I gaze: Bacchus’ gift poured out changes to blood, and dense smoke wreathes the king’s head; denser still it settles about his very face and with its thick cloud has hidden light in gloom. O father, tell us what it means.

TIRESIAS
[328] What can I tell, halting mid conflicting voices of a soul amazed? What shall I say? Dire ills they are, but hidden in mystery. ‘Tis the gods’ wont with clear signs to manifest their wrath. What is it which they would, and again would not, reveal? What grim menace are they concealing? Something which shames the gods. Quick, bring the victims hither, and with salted meal sprinkle the bullocks necks. With placid mien do they suffer the rites and the outstretched hands?

MANTO
[337] Facing east, the bull, lifting high his head, shrank from the day and turned in terror from the sun’s bright face.

TIRESIAS
[340] With one blow smitten do they fall to earth?

MANTO
[341] The heifer threw herself upon the ready steel and with one blow fell; but the bull, twice smitten, hither and yon wanders uncertain and feebly drives forth his scarce-resisting life.

TIRESIAS
[345] Does the blood spurt quick from out a narrow thrust, or does it but slowly o’erflood a deep-driven blow?

MANTO
[347] The blood of one through the proper path, where the breast gapes wide, pours in a stream; the other’s grievous wounds are stained with but scanty drops; nay, backward turning, the blood flows copiously through mouth and eyes.

TIRESIAS
[351] These ill-omened sacrifices rouse dread forebodings. But describe to me the sure marks of the entrails.

MANTO
[353] Father, what is this? With no gentle motion, as is their wont, do the entrails shake and quiver, but my whole hand do they cause to tremble and blood spurts afresh from the veins. The heart, diseased through and through, is withered and lies deep hidden, and the reins are of livid hue. A great part of the entrails is wanting, and from the rotting liver black gall oozes forth, and see – ever fatal omen for sole sovereignty – two heads rise side by side with equal bulge; yet each cloven head is hidden in but thin membrane, refusing a lurking place to secret things. The hostile29 side rises with sturdy strength and shows seven swelling veins; but all these an intercepting line cuts straight across, preventing their return. The positions have been changed; no organ lies in its own place, but all things reversed: on the right side lie the lungs all clogged with blood, and with no room for breath; on the left is not the region of the heart; no caul with soft covering stretches its rich folds over the entrails. Nature is subverted; even the womb follows not its law. Let us look close and see whence comes this stiffness in the entrails. What monstrosity is this? A foetus in an unmated heifer! nor does it lie in accustomed fashion, but fills its mother in an unnatural place. Moaning it moves its limbs, and its weak members twitch with convulsive rigors. Livid gore has stained the entrails black. [She ceases her inspection as the bodies of the victims suddenly begin to move.] The sadly mangled forms essay to move, and one disembowelled body strives to rise and menaces the priests with its horns; the entrails flee from my hand. Nor is that wound which strikes thy ears the deep lowing of the herd, nor are frightened cattle bellowing anywhere; it is the lowing of the altar-fires, the affrighted murmurings of the hearth.

OEDIPUS
[384] What do these signs of the terrifying rites portend? Declare; with no timid ear will I drink in thy words. Extremest ills are wont to make men calm.

TIRESIAS
[387] Thou wilt look with envy upon these ills for which thou seekest aid.

OEDIPUS
[388] Tell me the one thing the gods would have me know: who has defiled his hands with the murder of the king?

TIRESIAS
[390] Neither the birds which on light pinion cut the depths of heaven, nor vitals plucked from still living breasts, can summon up the name. We must essay some other path: the king himself must be recalled from the regions of the perpetual night, that, released from Erebus, he may point out his murderer. We must unseal the earth, must implore the implacable divinity of Dis, must draw forth hither the people of infernal Styx. Say to whom thou wilt assign the awful mission; for ‘tis not right for thee, whose are the highest powers of state, to look upon the shades.

OEDIPUS
[399] Thee, Creon, this task demands, to whom as next in succession my kingdom looks.

TIRESIAS
[401] While we are loosing the bars of abysmal Styx let the people’s hymn sound with the praise of Bacchus.

[Exuent CREON, TIRESIAS, and MANTO.]

CHORUS 30
[403] Bind your streaming locks with the nodding ivy, and in your soft hands grasp the Nysaean thyrsus!

[405] Bright glory of the sky, come hither to the prayers which thine own illustrious Thebes, O Bacchus, offers to thee with suppliant hands. Hither turn with favour thy virginal face; with thy star-bright countenance drive away the clouds, the grim threats of Erebus, and greedy fate. Thee it becomes to circle thy locks with flowers of the springtime, thee to cover thy head with Tyrian turban, or thy smooth brow to wreathe with the ivy’s clustering berries; now to fling loose thy lawless-streaming locks, again to bind them in a knot close-drawn; in such guise as when, fearing thy stepdame’s31 wrath, thou didst grow to manhood with false-seeming limbs, a pretended maiden with golden ringlets, with saffron girdle binding thy garments. So thereafter this soft vesture has pleased thee, folds loose hanging and the long-trailing mantle. Seated in thy golden chariot, thy lions with long trappings covered, all the vast coast of the Orient saw thee, both he who drinks of the Ganges and whoever breaks the ice of snowy Araxes.

[429] On an unseemly ass old Silenus attends thee, his swollen temples bound with ivy garlands; while thy wanton initiates lead the mystic revels. Along with thee a troop of Bassarids in Edonian dance beat the ground, now on Mount Pangaeus’ peak, now on the top of Thracian Pindus; now midst Cadmean dames has come a maenad, the impious comrade of Ogygian Bacchus, with sacred fawn-skins girt about her loins, her hand a light thyrsus brandishing. Their hearts maddened by thee, the matrons have set their hair a-flowing; and at length, after the rending of Pentheus’ limbs, the Bacchanals, their bodies now freed from the frenzy, looked on their infamous deed as though they knew it not.

[444] Cadmean Ino, foster-mother of shining Bacchus, holds the realms of the deep, encircled by bands of Nereids dancing; over the waves of the mighty deep a boy holds sway, new come, the kinsman of Bacchus, no common god, Palaemon.

[449] Thee, O boy, a Tyrrhenian band once captured and Nereus allayed the swollen sea; the dark blue waters he changed to meadows. Thence flourish the plane-tree with vernal foliage and the laurel-grove dear to Phoebus; the chatter of birds sounds loud through the branches. Fast-growing ivy clings to the oars, and grape-vines twine at the mast-head. On the prow an Idaean lion roars; at the stern crouches a tiger of Ganges. Then the frightened pirates swim in the sea, and plunged in the water their bodies assume new forms: the robbers’ arms first fall away; their breasts smite their bellies and are joined in one; a tiny hand comes down at the side; with curving back they dive into the waves, and with crescent-shaped tail they cleave the sea; and now as curved dolphins they follow the fleeing sails.

[467] On its rich stream has Lydian Pactolus borne thee, leading along its burning banks the golden waters; the Massgetan who mingles blood with milk in his goblets has unstrung his vanquished bow and given up his Getan arrows; the realms of axe-wielding Lycurgus have felt the dominion of Bacchus; the fierce lands of the Zalaces have felt it, and those wandering tribes whom neighbouring Boreas smites, and the nations which Maeotis’ cold water washes, and they on whom the Arcadian32 constellation looks down from the zenith and the wagons twain.32 He has subdued the scattered Gelonians; he has wrested their arms form the warrior maidens33; with downcast face they fell to earth, those Thermodontian hordes, gave up at length their light arrows, and became maenads. Sacred Cithaeron has flowed with the blood of Ophionian34 slaughter; the Proetides fled to the woods, and Argos, in his stepdame’s very presence, paid homage to Bacchus.

[487] Naxos, girt by the Aegean sea, gave him in marriage a deserted maiden,35compensating her loss with a better husband. Out of the dry rock there gushed Nyctelian36 liquor; babbling rivulets divided the grassy meadows; deep the earth drank in the sweet juices, white fountains of snowy milk and Lesbian wine mingled with fragrant thyme. The new-made bride is led to the lofty heavens; Phoebus a stately anthem sings, with his locks flowing down his shoulders, and twin Cupids brandish their torches. Jupiter lays aside his fiery weapons and, when Bacchus comes, abhors his thunderbolt.

[504] While the bright stars of the ancient heavens shall run in their courses; while the ocean shall encircle the imprisoned earth with its waters; while the full moon gather again her lost radiance; while the Day Star shall herald the dawn of the morning and while the lofty Bears shall know naught of caerulean37 Nereus; so long shall we worship the shining face of beauteous Lyaeus.38

[Enter CREON, returned from the rites of necromancy.]

OEDIPUS
[509] Although thy very face displays signs of woe, declare by whose life we are to appease the gods.

CREON
[511] Thou bidst me speak what fear would leave unsaid.

OEDIPUS
[512] If falling Thebes is not enough to move thee, at least be moved by the tottering sceptre of a kindred house.

CREON
[514] Thou wilt long not to have known what thou desirest o’ermuch to know.

OEDIPUS
[515] An idle remedy for ills is ignorance. What! wilt e’en bury revelations of the public weal?

CREON
[517] Where foul the medicine, ‘tis loathsome to be healed.

OEDIPUS
[518] Speak out thy tidings, or, by severe suffering broken, thou shalt know what the power of an angered king can do.

CREON
[520] Kings hate the words whose speaking they compel.

OEDIPUS
[521] To Erebus shalt thou be sent, a cheap sacrifice for all, unless by thy speech thou disclose the secrets which the rites reveal.

CREON
[523] Let me be silent. Can any less liberty be sought from kings?

OEDIPUS
[524] Often, e’en more than speech, to king and kingdom dumb liberty brings bane.

CREON
[526] When silence is not allowed, what is allowed?

OEDIPUS
[527] He weakens power who is silent when bidden to speak.

CREON
[528] Words forced from me I pray thee hear with calm.

OEDIPUS
[529] Was any ever punished for speech compelled?

CREON
[530] Far from the city is a grove dusky with ilex-trees near the well-watered vale of Dirce’s fount. A cypress, lifting its head above the lofty wood, with mighty stem holds the whole grove in its evergreen embrace; and an ancient oak spreads its gnarled branches crumbling in decay. The side of one devouring time has torn away; the other, falling, its roots rent in twain, hangs propped against a neighbouring trunk. Here are the laurel with bitter berries, slender linden-trees, Paphian myrtle, and the alder, destined to sweep its oarage over the boundless sea; and here, mounting to meet the sun, a pine-tree lifts its knotless bole to front the winds. Midmost stands a tree of mighty girth, and with its heavy shade overwhelms the lesser trees and, spreading its branches with mighty reach, it stands, the solitary guardian of the wood. Beneath this tree a gloomy spring o’erflows, that knows nor light nor sun, numb with perpetual chill; an oozy swam surrounds the sluggish pool.

[548] Hither when the aged priest came, there was no delay; the place furnished night.39Then a ditch is dug and into it are thrown brands plucked from funeral pyres. The priest shrouds his body in a mournful pall and waves a branch.40 His gloomy robe sweeps o’er his feet; in the squalid garb of mourning the old man advances, his hoary hair bound with a wreath of death-dealing yew. Black-fleeced41 sheep and oxen of sable hue are backward dragged. The flame devours the feast, and the living victims writhe in the deadly fire. Then he summons the spirits of the dead, and thee who rulest the spirits, and him42 who blocks the entrance to the Lethaean stream; o’er and o’er and o’er he repeats a magic rune, and fiercely, with frenzied lips, he chants a charm which either appeases or compels the flitting ghosts. He makes libation of blood upon the altars, burns the victims whole, and soaks the trench with plenteous blood. Of snowy milk likewise he makes libation, pours wine with his left43 hand, repeats his chants, and, with gaze on ground, summons the ghosts with deeper tone and wild.

[569] Loud bayed the pack of Hecate; thrice the deep valley gave out a mournful noise; the whole place was shaken and the ground was stricken from below. “My prayers are heard,” says the priest; “prevailing words I uttered; blind Chaos is burst open, and for the tribes of Dis a way is given to the upper world.” All the wood shrank down, its foliage bristling; the stout oaks were split and the whole grove shook with horror; the earth also shrank back, and from her depths gave forth a groan – whether Hell brooked it ill that its deep abyss was assailed, or Earth of herself, that she might give passage to the dead, with crashing noise burst her close barriers; or else in mad rage three-headed Cerberus shook his heavy chains.

[582] Suddenly the earth yawned and opened wide with gulf immeasurable. Myself, I saw the numb pools amidst the shadows; myself, the wan gods and night in very truth. My frozen blood stood still and clogged my veins. Forth leaped a savage cohort and stood full-armed, the whole viper brood, the troop of brothers sprung from Dircaean44 teeth. Then grim Erinys shrieked, and blind Fury and Horror, and all the forms which spawn and lurk midst the eternal shades: Grief, tearing her hair; Disease, scarce holding up her wearied head; Age, burdened with herself; impending Fear, and greedy Pestilence, the Ogygian people’s curse. Our spirits died within us. Even she45 who knew the rites and the arts of her aged sire stood amazed. But he, undaunted and bold from his lost sight, summons the bloodless throng of cruel Dis.

[598] Straightway, like clouds, the shadowy forms flit forth and snuff the air of open heaven. Not as many falling leaves does Eryx show; nor does Hybla in mid-spring as many flowers produce, when in close masses cling the swarming bees; as many waves break not on the Ionian sea; as many birds, fleeing cold Strymon’s threats, leave not the wintry land and, cleaving the sky, change Arctic snows for the warm valley of the Nile; as were the throngs which the priest’s call summoned forth. Eagerly the shivering ghosts seek the shelter of the shady grove. First from the gound, his right hand grasping a wild bull by the horns, Zethus emerges, and Amphion, in his left holding the shell which by its sweet music drew the rocks. And midst her children Tantalis,46 at last safe in her pride, holds up her head with insolent arrogance, and numbers o’er her shades. A mother worse than she, Agave comes, still raging; her the whole band follows who rent their king in pieces, and after the Bacchanals mangled Pentheus comes, even now savage and holding to his threats.

[619] At length, when often called, one lifts his shame-stricken head and, shrinking afar from all the throng, seeks to hide himself. The seer presses hard after him and redoubles his Stygian prayers, until he bring out to open view the features that fain would hide – Laïus! I shudder as I tell it. There he stood, a sight of horror, his limbs streaming o’er with blood, his ragged locks matted with foul filth; and with raving lips he spoke: “O savage house of Cadmus, rejoicing even in kindred blood, brandish the thyrsus, with frenzied hands rend thy sons – ‘twere better so; for Thebes’ crowning crime is – the love of mother. O fatherland, not by the wrath of Heaven, but by sin art thou despoiled. ‘Tis not the plague-fraught south wind with its destructive blast, nor yet the earth, too little watered by the rain from heaven, that with its dry breath is harming thee; but thy blood-stained king, who as the price of cruel murder has seized the sceptre and the incestuous chamber of his sire, detested son! – but worse the mother than the son, again pregnant in her unhallowed womb; and to his own origin he returned and brought his mother impious progeny, and (a thing the beasts scarce do) himself begot brothers to himself – entanglement of evil, a monster more confused than his own Sphinx. Thee, thee, who in thy blood-stained hand dost hold the sceptre, thee and thy whole city will I, thy father, still unavenged, pursue; and with me Erinys as bridesmaid of thy nuptials will I bring, yea, I will bring her sounding with her lash; thine incestuous house will I overturn and thy household with unnatural strife will I destroy.

[647] “Wherefore speedily expel ye the king from out your borders, in exile drive him to any place so-ever with his baleful step. Let him leave the land; then, blooming with flowers of spring, shall it renew its verdure, the life-giving air shall give pure breath again, and their beauty shall come back to the woods; Ruin and Pestilence, Death, Suffering, Corruption and Distress, fit company for him, shall all depart together. And he himself with hastening steps shall long to flee our kingdom, but I will set wearisome delays before his feet and hold him back. He shall creep, uncertain of his way, with the staff of age groping out his gloomy way.47 Rob ye him of the earth; his father will take from him the sky.” 47

OEDIPUS
[659] An icy chill has crept through my bones and limbs; all that I feared to do I am accused of having done. But Merope, still wed to Polybus, refutes the charge of incest; and Polybus, alive and well, cleanses my hands. Each parent clears me from the charge of blood and incest: what room is left for crime? As for Laïus, Thebes mourned his loss long ere I set foot on Boeotian soil. Is the old priest lying, or is some god oppressing Thebes?48– Now, now I hold the confederates of a crafty plot: the priest invents these charges, using the gods as a screen for trickery and to thee he promises my sceptre.

CREON
[671] I, should I wish my sister driven from the throne? If sacred fealty to my kindred house held me not fixed in my present station, yet that high estate itself, ever o’erfraught with care, would frighten me. Let it be thine in safety to lay off this burden, nor let it o’erwhelm thee when thou wouldst withdraw. Now more safely wilt thou set thyself in humbler place.

OEDIPUS
[678] Dost even urge me of free will to lay down the heavy cares of state?

CREON
[679] Thus would I counsel those to whom the way e’en yet is open to either choice; but as for thee ‘tis necessary now to bear thy lot.

OEDIPUS
[682] Whoso longs to reign, his surest way is to praise humble life and prate of ease and sleep. Calm is oft counterfeited by a restless soul.

CREON
[685] Does not my long loyalty plead enough for me?

OEDIPUS
[686] To traitors loyalty gives opening for treason.

CREON
[687] Free from a king’s burdens, I enjoy a king’s advantages; my home is honoured by throngs of citizens, and no day rises to dawning from the night on which my royal kinsman’s bounty does not overflow my house; apparel, rich food, deliverance, all are granted to many through my favour. What should I think still lacking to a lot so blest?

OEDIPUS
[694] What sill is lacking49; prosperity has no bounds.

CREON
[695] Shall I then, my cause unheard, fall like a criminal?

OEDIPUS
[696] Did ye show due regard unto my life? Did Tiresias hear my cause? And yet ye hold me guilty. Ye set the example; I but follow it.

CREON
[699] What if I am innocent?

OEDIPUS
[699] Doubts as if certainties kings are wont to fear.

CREON
[700] Who trembles with vain fear, true fear deserves.

OEDIPUS
[701] Set free the guilty, and he hates; let all that’s doubtful perish.

CREON
[703] Thus is hatred bred.

OEDIPUS
[703] He who fears hatred overmuch knows not to rule; fear is the guard of kingdoms.

CREON
[705] Who harshly wields the sceptre with tyrannic sway, fears those who fear; terror recoils upon its author’s head.

OEDIPUS
[707] [To attendants.] Shut up the guilty man in a rocky dungeon and guard him well. I to the royal palace will return.

[CREON is led away by attendants. Exit OEDIPUS.]

CHORUS
[709] Not thou50 the cause of our great perils, not on thy account do the fates assail the house of Labdacus; nay, ‘tis the ancient wrath of the gods that follows us. Castalia’s grove lent its shade to the Sidonian wanderer51 and Dirce bathed the colonists from Tyre, what time great Agenor’s son,51 weary with tracking Jove’s thefts52 over all the world, in fear halted beneath our trees, worshipping his sister’s ravisher; and, by the advice of Phoebus, bidden to follow a straying heifer which had never bent beneath the plough or the slow wain’s curving yoke, he gave over his quest53 and named a nation54 from that ill-omened heifer.

[725] From that time on, our land has e’er produced strange monsters: either a serpent, rising from the valley’s depths, hisses on high above the ancient oaks and overtops the pines; ever higher, above the Chaonian trees he lefts his dark-blue head, although his greater part still lies upon the ground; or else the earth, teeming with impious birth, brings forth armed men: loud resounding the battle-call from the curving horn, and the brazen trumpet sent forth its piercing notes. Their tongues and lips, ne’er nimble before, were first employed in the battle-cry of their unfamiliar voice.

[738] The kindred bands filled the plains, and this offspring, worthy the seed that had been sown, measured their life by a single day; born after the passing of the Morning Star, they perished ere Hesperus arose. The wanderer55 quaked at prodigies so strange, and fearfully awaited the assault of the new-born folk; until the savage youth56 fell in death, and their mother57 beheld the children she had but now brought forth returned to her own bosom. With this may the horror of civil strife have passed! May the Thebes of Hercules58know those fratricidal struggles only!

[751] What of the doom of Cadmus’ grandson, when the antlers of the long-lived stag covered his brow with their strange branches, and his own hounds pursued the master? Headlong from the woods and mountains the swift Actaeon fled, and with feet more nimble, scouring glades and rocky places, shuddered at the feathers59 fluttering in the breeze, and avoiding the snares he himself had set; at length he gazed into the still pool’s water and saw his horns and his beast-like countenance. ‘Twas in tha same pool the goddess60 of too stern chastity had bathed her virgin limbs!

OEDIPUS
[764] My soul broods o’er its cares and renews its fears. That by my crime Laïus fell, gods both of heaven and hell affirm; and yet my soul conscious of innocence and known to itself better than to the gods, makes denial. Retracing the dim path of memory, I see one met on the way fallen ‘neath the blow of my stout staff and given o’er to Dis; but first the old man arrogantly from his car thrust the younger from the way. Yet that was far from Thebes, where Phocis’ land parts the three-forked roads.

[Enter JOCASTA.]
[773] O thou, my soul’s own mate, resolve by doubts, I pray thee; what span of life had Laïus at his death? In the fresh prime of life died he, or in broken age?

JOCASTA
[776] Midway between age and youth, but nearer age.

OEDIPUS
[777] Did a great thong gird the king about?

JOCASTA
[778] The most mistook the uncertain path and strayed; a few by faithful toil kept near his car.

OEDIPUS
[780] Did any companion share the royal fate?

JOCASTA
[781] One did faith and valour cause to share his fate.

OEDIPUS
[782] [Aside.] I have the guilty man; the number tallies, and the place. [To JOCASTA.] But add the time.

JOCASTA
[783] Now is the tenth harvest being reaped.

[Enter an old Corinthian messenger.]

OLD MAN
[784] [To OEDIPUS.] The Corinthians summon thee to thy father’s throne. Polybus has gained his everlasting rest.

OEDIPUS
[786] How heartless Fortune assails me on every hand! But tell me by what fate my sire is fallen.

OLD MAN
[788] Soft slumber set his aged spirit free.

OEDIPUS
[789] My father lies died, and by no violence. I call to witness that now I may lift clean hands to heaven, hands that need fear no charge of crime. But the more fearful part of my fates remains.

OLD MAN
[793] All fears thy father’s kingdom will dispel.

OEDIPUS
[794] I would seek my father’s kingdom, but from my mother do I shrink.

OLD MAN
[795] Dost fear thy mother, who, in anxious suspense, longs for thy coming.

OEDIPUS
[796] ‘Tis love itself bids me flee.

OLD MAN
[797] Wilt leave her widowed?

OEDIPUS
[797] There dost thou touch on the very thing I fear!

OLD MAN
[798] Speak out; what hidden fear weighs on thy soul? ‘Tis my wont to offer kings a loyal silence.

OEDIPUS
[800] Warned by the Delphic oracle, I dread my mother’s bed.

OLD MAN
[801] Then cease thy empty fears, thy horrible forebodings; Merope was not in truth thy mother.

OEDIPUS
[803] What did she hope to gain by a changeling son?

OLD MAN
[804] Kings’ children hold rude loyalty in check.61

OEDIPUS
[805] The secrets of the chamber – tell how thou knowest them.

OLD MAN
[806] ‘Twas these hands gave thee, a tiny babe, unto thy mother.

OEDIPUS
[807] Thou gav’st me to my mother; but who gave to thee?

OLD MAN
[808] A shepherd, ‘neath Cithaeron’s snowy peak.

OEDIPUS
[809] What chance brought thee within that wood?

OLD MAN
[810] On that mountain-side was I tending my horned flocks.

OEDIPUS
[811] Now name also the sure marks upon my body.

OLD MAN
[812] Thy soles had been pierced with iron, and thou hast thy name62 from thy swollen and crippled feet.

OEDIPUS
[814] Who was he who gave thee my body as a gift? I seek to know.

OLD MAN
[815] He fed the royal flocks; there was humbler band of shepherds under him.

OEDIPUS
[817] Tell me his name.

OLD MAN
[817] An old man’s early memory grows faint, failing through weakness and long disuse.

OEDIPUS
[819] Couldst recognize the man by face and feature?

OLD MAN
[820] Perchance I might; some trifling mark oft-times calls back the memory of things that time hath buried and made dim.

OEDIPUS
[822] Let all the flocks be driven hither to the sacred altars, their guides with them; go, slaves, and quickly summon those with whom is the herds’ chief control.
[The slaves depart on the errand.]

OLD MAN
[825] Whether design or chance conceals these things, suffer to lie hid for ever what has lain hid so long; truth often is made clear to the discoverer’s bane.

OEDIPUS
[828] Can any bane greater than all this be feared?

OLD MAN
[829] Great, be thou sure, is that bane which thou seekst with toil so great. Here meet, from that side and from this, the public weal and the king’s, and both are in equal balance. Keep thy hand from both; challenge thou nothing; let the fates unfold themselves.63

OEDIPUS
[833] ‘Tis not expedient to disturb a happy state; that is with safety changed which is at its worst.

OLD MAN
[835] Dost seek for a nobler thing than royal lineage? Beware lest thou rue the finding of thy parentage.

OEDIPUS
[837] I will seek certainty even of rueful birth; so resolved am I to know.

[Enter PHORBAS.]
[838] [To himself.] Behold the ancient, heavey with years, once keeper of the royal flocks, Phorbas. [To OLD MAN.] Dost recall the old man’s name or features?

OLD MAN
[841] His form comes easily to my memory; but that face, while not well known, again is not unknown to me.

[843] [To PHORBAS.] While Laïus held the throne, didst ever as a slave drive rich flocks on Cithaeron’s tracts?

PHORBAS
[845] Cithaeron, abounding ever in fresh pasturage, in summer-time gave feeding-ground for my flocks.

OLD MAN
[847] Dost thou know me?

PHORBAS
[847] My memory falters and is in doubt.

OEDIPUS
[848] Didst thou once give a boy to this man here? Speak out. Thou falterest? Why do thy cheeks change colour? Why seekst for words? Truth scorns delay.

PHORBAS
[851] Thou stirrest matters o’erclouded by long lapse of time.

OEDIPUS
[852] Speak, lest pain force thee to the truth.

PHORBAS
[853] I did give him an infant, a worthless gift; ever could he have enjoyed the light or sky.

OLD MAN
[855] Far be the omen! He lives and I pray may live.

OEDIPUS
[856] Why dost thou say that the child thou gavest did not survive?

PHORBAS
[857] Through both his feet a slender iron rod was driven, binding his legs together. A swelling64 engendered in the wound, galled the child’s body, a loathsome plague.

OEDIPUS
[860] [To himself.] Why seekest further? Now doth fate draw near. [To PHORBAS.] Who was the babe? Speak out.

PHORBAS
[861] My loyalty forbids.

OEDIPUS
[862] Hither with fire, someone! Now shall flames banish loyalty.

PHORBAS
[863] Is truth to be sought along such cruel ways? Pardon I beg.

OEDIPUS
[864] If I seem harsh to thee, and headstrong, vengeance is in thy hands; speak thou the truth. Who was he? Of what sire begot? Of what mother born?

PHORBAS
[867] Born of thy – wife.

OEDIPUS
[868] Yawn, earth! And do thou, king of the dark world, ruler of shades, to lowest Tartarus hurl this unnatural interchange ‘twixt brood and stock. Citizens, heap stones upon my accursed head; slay me with weapons. Let father, let son assail me with the sword; let husband and brothers arm hands against me, and let the sick populace snatch brands from the pyres and hurl them at me. The crime of the age I wander, hate of the gods, destruction of holy law, the very day I drew the untried air already worthy death. [To himself.] Now be stout of soul, now dare some deed worthy of thy crimes. Go, get thee to the palace with hurrying feet; congratulate thy mother on her house enriched by children.
[Exit.]

CHORUS
[882] Were it mine to shape fate at my will, I would trim my sails to gentle winds, lest my yards tremble, bent ‘neath a heavy blast. May soft breezes, gently blowing, unvarying, carry my untroubled barque along; may life bear me on safely, running in middle course.

[892] While, in fear of the Cretan king, madly the lad65 sought the stars, in strange devices trusting, and strove to vanquish true birds in flight, and laid his commands on pinions all too false, his name he robbed the sea of its own name.66 But shrewd old Daedalus, balancing a middle path, stopped midway of the clouds, awaiting his winged son (as a bird flees the threatening hawk and gathers her scattered and frightened brood), until the boy in the sea plied hands enmeshed in the shackles of his daring flight. Whatsoever exceeds the allotted bounds, hangs in a place unsure.

[Enter a messenger from within the palace.]
[911] But what is this? The doors creak open; behold, a servant of the king, stricken with woe, beast with his hand upon his head. Tell us what news thou bringst.

MESSENGER
[915] When Oedipus grasped his foretold fate, and his breed unspeakable, he condemned himself as convicted of the crime and, seeking the palace with deadly purpose, entered within that hateful roof with hurried step. As over the fields a Libyan lion rages, with threatening front and shaking his tawny mane; so he, his face fierce with passion, with eyes wild staring, with groans and deep mutterings, limbs with cold sweat streaming, froths and threatens, and his mighty, deep-buried anguish overflows. He, raging in soul, plans some monstrous deed to match his destiny.

[926] “Why do I delay punishment?” he cries; “let someone with the sword assail this guilty breast, or overwhelm me with burning fire or stones. What tigress, what ravening bird will pounce upon my vitals? Do thou thyself, thou all-holding haunt of crime, O curst Cithaeron, send thy wild beasts against me from thy forests, send thy maddened dogs – once more send Agave.67 O soul, why shrinkst from death? ‘Tis death alone saves innocence from fortune.”

[935] With this he lays impious hand on hilt and draws his sword. “So then? With brief suffering like this canst atone for so great crimes, and with one blow wilt pay all debts? Thy death – for thy father ‘tis enough; what then to thy mother, what to thy children shamefully begot, what to her who with utter ruin is atoning for thy crime, thy mourning country, wilt thou give? Thou canst not pay!68 Let that same Nature who in Oedipus alone reverses established laws, devising strange births, be changed anew for my punishment. Be it thine to live again, to die again, ever to be reborn, that at each birth thou mayst pay new penalties. Now use thy wit, poor wretch; let that which may not oft befall, befall thee long – choose thou a lasting death. Search out a way whereon to wander, not mingling with the dead and yet removed from the living; die thou, but reaching not thy sire. Dost hesitate, O soul?”

[952] Lo, with sudden shower a flood o’erwhelms his face and waters his cheeks with weeping. “And is it enough to weep? Only thus far shall mine eyes o’erflow with some few drops? Nay, driven from their sockets, let them follow the tears they shed. Ye gods of wedlock, is it enough? These eyes must be dug out!” He speaks and raves with wrath; his cheeks burn threatening with ferocious fire, and his eyeballs scarce hold themselves in their place; his face is full of reckless daring and mad savagery, as of one in boundless rage; with groans and dreadful cries, his hands into his eyes he thrusts. But his starting eyes stand forth to meet them and, eagerly following their kindred hands, rush upon their wound. With hooked fingers he greedily searches out his eyes and, torn from their very roots, he drags both eyeballs out; still stay his hands in the empty sockets and, deep fixed, tear with their nails the deep-set hollows of his eyes and empty cavities; vainly he rages, and with excessive fury raves.

[971] The hazard of light is o’er; he lifts his head, surveys the regions of the sky with his empty sockets, and makes trial of the night. The shreds which still hang from eyes unskilfully plucked out he breaks away, and in triumph cries aloud to all the gods: “Spare now my land, I pray you; now have I done justice, I have paid the debt I owed; at last have I found night worthy of my wedlock.” A hideous shower drenches his face and his mangled brow spouts streams of blood from his bursting veins.

CHORUS
[980] By fate are we driven; yield ye to fate. No anxious cares can change the threads of its inevitable spindle. Whate’er we mortals bear, whate’er we do, comes from on high69; and Lachesis maintains the decrees of her distaff which by no hand may be reversed. All things move on in an appointed path, and our first day fixed our last. Those things God may not change which speed on their way, close woven with their causes. To each his established life goes on, unmovable by any prayer. To many their very fear is bane; for many have come upon their doom while shunning doom.

[995] The gates have sounded, and he himself, with none to guide and sightless, gropes his way.

[Enter OEDIPUS.]

OEDIPUS
[998] All’s well, ‘tis finished; to my father have I paid my debt. How sweet the darkness! What god, at length appeased, has shrouded my head in this dark veil? Who has forgiven my crimes? I have escaped the conscious eye of day. Nothing, thou parricide, dost owe to thy right hand; the light hath fled from thee. This is the face becometh Oedipus.

[Enter JOCASTA.]

CHORUS
[1004] See, there, with hurried step, frantic, beside herself, Jocasta rushes forth, just as, in frenzied rage, the Cadmean mother70 tore her son’s head away and realized her deed. She hesitates, longs and yet fears to speak to the afflicted one. Now shame has given way to grief; but her first words falter on her lips.

JOCASTA
[1009] What shall I call thee? Son? Dost question it? Thou art my son; does “son” shame thee? Though thou wouldst not, speak, my son – why doest thou turn away thy head, thy sightless face?

OEDIPUS
[1012] Who wills not that I enjoy my darkness? Who restores my eyes? My mother’s, lo, my mother’s voice! I have worked in vain. ‘Tis unlawful that we meet again. Let the vast sea roll between our impious selves, let remote lands separate, and if beneath this world there hangs another, facing other stars and a straying sun, let it take one of us.

JOCASTA
[1019] Fate’s is that fault of thine: by fate no one is made guilty.

OEDIPUS
[1020] Now spare thy words, mother, spare my ears, by these remnants of my mangled body, I beseech thee, by the unhallowed offspring of my blood, by all that in our names is right and wrong.71

JOCASTA
[1024] Why art benumbed, my soul? Since thou hast shared his guilt, why dost refuse to share his punishment? Through thee, incestuous one, all grace of human law has been confused and lost. Die then, and let out thy impious spirit with the sword. Not if the father of the gods himself, shaking the universe, with deadly hand should hurl his glittering bolts at me, could I ever pay penalty equal to my crimes – I, a mother accurst. Death is my darling wish; let the way of death be sought.

[1032] [To OEDIPUS.] Come, lend thy hand against thy mother, if thou art parricide; this lacks to crown thy work.

[1034] [To herself.] Nay, let me seize his sword; by this blade lies slain my husband – nay, why not call him by his true name? – my husband’s father. Shall I pierce my breast with this, or thrust it deep into my bared throat? Thou knowest not to choose a place? Strike here, my hand, through this capacious womb, which bore my husband and my sons!
[She stabs herself and falls dead.]

CHORUS
[1040] There lies she slain. Her hand dies on the wound, and the sword is driven out by strong streams of blood.

OEDIPUS
[1042] Thee, O fate-revealer, thee, guardian and god of truth, do I upbraid. My father only did I owe the fates; twice parricide and more guilty than I feared, I have slain my mother; for ‘tis by my sin that she is done to death. O lying Phoebus, I have outdone the impious fates.

[1047] With quaking step pursue thy darkling ways; with faltering feet grope through blind night with apprehensive hand. Make haste, planting uncertain steps, go, speed thee, fly! – but stop, lest thou stumble and fall upon thy mother.

[1052] All ye who are weary in body and burdened with disease, whose hearts are faint within you, see, I fly, I leave you; lift your heads. Milder skies come when I am gone. He who, though near to death, still keeps some feeble life, may freely now draw deep, life-giving draughts of air. Go, bear ye aid to those given up to death; all pestilential humours of the land I take with me. Ye blasting Fates, thou quaking terror of Disease, Wasting, and black Pestilence, and mad Despair, come ye with me, with me. ‘Tis sweet to have such guides.
[Exit.]

THE END.

http://www.theoi.com/Text/SenecaOedipus.html



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SENECA, HERCULES FURENS

HERCULES FURENS, TRANS. BY FRANK JUSTUS MILLER

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

HERCULES, son of Jupiter and Alcmena, but the reputed son of Amphitryon.
JUNO, sister and wife of Jupiter, and queen of Heaven.
AMPHITRYON, husband of Alcmena.
THESEUS, king of Athens and friend of Hercules.
LYCUS, the usurping king of Thebes, who has, prior to the opening of the play, slain King Creon in battle.
MEGARA, wife of Hercules and daughter of Creon.
CHORUS of Thebans.

ARGUMENT

The jealous wrath of Juno, working through Eurystheus, has imposed twelve mighty and destructive tasks on Hercules, her hated stepson. But these, even to the last and worst, the bringing of Cerberus to the upper world, he has triumphantly accomplished. Abandoning her plan of crushing him by toils like these, she will turn his hand against himself, and so accomplish his destruction. Upon the day of his return from hell she brings a madness on him, and so precipitates the tragedy which forms the action of the play.

JUNO
[1] The sister of the Thunderer (for this name only is left to me), I have abandoned Jove, always another’s lover; widowed, have left the spaces of high heaven and, banished from the sky, have given up my place to harlots; I must dwell on earth, for harlots hold the sky.1 Yonder the Bear, high up in the icy North, a lofty constellation, guides the Argive ships; yonder, where in the warm springtime the days grow long, he2 shines who bore the Tyrian Europa across the waves; there the Atlantides,3 far wandering, put forth their band dreadful to ships and sea alike. Here Orion with threatening sword terrifies the gods, and golden Perseus has his stars; the bright constellation of the twin Tyndaridae shines yonder, and they at whose birth the unsteady land stood firm.4 And not alone has Bacchus himself or the mother of Bacchus attained the skies; that no place might be free from outrage, the heavens wear the crown of the Cretan maid.5

[19] But I lament ancient wrongs; one land, the baneful and savage land of Thebes, scattered thick with shameless mistresses, how oft has it made me stepdame! Yet, though Alcmena be exalted and in triumph hold my place; though her son, likewise, obtain his promised star (for whose begetting the world lost a day, and Phoebus with tardy light shone forth from the Eastern sea, bidden to keep his bright car sunk beneath Ocean’s waves), not in such fashion shall my hatred have its end; my angry soul shall keep up a long-living wrath, and my raging smart, banishing peace, shall wage unending wars.

[30] What wars? Whatever fearsome creature the hostile earth produces, whatever the sea or the air has borne, terrific, dreadful, noxious, savage, wild, has been broken and subdued. He rises anew and has thrives on trouble; he enjoys my wrath; to his own credit he turns my hate; imposing too cruel tasks, I have but proved his sire, but give room for glory. Where the Sun, as he brings back, and where, as he dismisses day, colours both Ethiop races with neighbouring torch, his unconquered valour is adored, and in all the world he is storied as a god. Now I have no monsters left, and ‘tis less labour for Hercules to fulfil my orders than for me to order; with joy he welcomes my commands. What cruel biddings of his tyrant could harm this impetuous youth? Why, he bears as weapons what he once fought and overcame; he goes armed by lion and by hydra.6

[46] Nor is earth vast enough for him; behold, he has broken down the doors of infernal Jove, and brings back to the upper world the spoils7 of a conquered king. I myself saw, yes, saw him, the shadows of nether night dispersed and Dis overthrown, proudly displaying to his father a brother’s spoils. Why does he not drag forth, bound and loaded down with fetters, Pluto himself, who drew a lot equal to Jove’s? Why does he not lord it over conquered Erebus and lay bare the Styx? It is not enough merely to return; the law of the shades has been annulled, a way back has been opened from the lowest ghosts, and the mysteries of dread Death lie bared. But he, exultant at having burst the prison of the shades, triumphs over me, and with arrogant hand leads through the cities of Greece that dusky hound. I saw the daylight shrink at sight of Cerberus, and the sun pale with fear; upon me, too, terror came, and as I gazed upon the three necks of the conquered monster I trembled at my own command.

[63] But I lament too much o’er trivial wrongs. ‘Tis for heaven we must fear, lest he seize the highest realms who has overcome the lowest – he will snatch the sceptre from his father. Nor will he come to the stars by a peaceful journey as Bacchus did; he will seek a path through ruin, and will desire to rule in an empty universe. He swells with pride of tested might, and has learned by bearing them that the heavens can be conquered by his strength; he set his head beneath the sky, nor did the burden of that immeasurable mass bend his shoulders, and the firmament rested better on the neck of Hercules.8 Unshaken, his back upbore the stars and the sky and me down-pressing. He seeks a way to the gods above.

[75] Then on, my wrath, on, and crush this plotter of big things; close with him, thyself rend him in pieces with thine own hands. Why to another entrust such hate? Let the wild beasts go their ways, let Eurystheus rest, himself weary with imposing tasks. Set free the Titans who dared to invade the majesty of Jove; unbar Sicily’s mountain cave, and let the Dorian land,9 which trembles whenever the giant struggles, set free the buried frame of that dread monster; let Luna10 in the sky produce still other monstrous creatures. But he has conquered such as these. Dost then seek Alcides’ match? None is there save himself; now with himself let him war. Rouse the Eumenides from the lowest abyss of Tartarus; let them be here, let their flaming locks drop fire, and let their savage hands brandish snaky whips.

[89] Go now, proud one, seek the abodes of the immortals and despise man’s estate. Dost think that now thou hast escaped the Styx and the cruel ghosts? Here will I show thee infernal shapes. One in deep darkness buried, far down below the place of banishment of guilty souls, will I call up – the goddess Discord, whom a huge cavern, barred by a mountain, guards; I will bring her forth, and drag out from the deepest realm of Dis whatever thou hast left; hateful Crime shall come and reckless Impiety, stained with kindred blood, Error, and Madness, armed ever against itself – this, this be the minister of my smarting wrath!

[100] Begin, handmaids of Dis, make haste to brandish the burning pine; let Megaera lead on her band bristling with serpents and with baleful hand snatch a huge faggot from the blazing pyre. To work! claim vengeance for outraged Styx. Shatter his heart; let a fiercer flame scorch his spirit than rages in Aetna’s furnaces. That Alcides may be driven on, robbed of all sense, by mighty fury smitten, mine must be the frenzy first – Juno, why rav’st thou not? Me, ye sisters, me first, bereft of reason, drive to madness, if I am to plan some deed worthy a stepdame’s doing. Let my request be changed; may he come back and find his sons unharmed, that is my prayer, and strong of hand may he return. I have found the day when Hercules’ hated valour is to be my joy. Me has he overcome; now may he overcome himself and long to die, though late returned from the world of death. Herein may it profit me that he is the son of Jove, I will stand by him and, that his shafts may fly from string unerring, I’ll poise them with my hand, guide the madman’s weapons, and so at last be on the side of Hercules in the fray. When he has done this crime, then let his father admit those hands to heaven!

[123] Now must my war be set in motion; the sky is brightening and the shining sun steals up in saffron dawn.

CHORUS
[125] Now stars shine few and faint in the sinking sky; vanquished night draws in her wandering fires as the new day is born, and Phosphor brings up the rear of the shining host; the icy sign high in the north, the Bears of Arcas, with their seven stars, with wheeling pole11 summons the dawn. Now, upborne by his azure steeds, Titan peeps forth from Oeta’s crest; now the rough brakes, made famous by Theban Bacchants, touched by the dawn, flush red, and Phoebus’ sister12 flees away, to return again. Hard toil arises, sets all cares astir, opens all doors.

[139] The shepherd, turning out his flock, plucks pasturage still white with frosty rime. In the open mead the young bullock sports at will, his forehead not yet broken with young horns; the kine at leisure fill again their udders; the sportive kid with unsteady, aimless course wanders on the soft turf; perched on the topmost bough, shrill-voiced, amid her complaining young, the Thracian paramour13 is eager to spread her wings to the morning sun; and all around a mingled throng sounds forth, proclaiming the dawn of day with varied notes. The sailor, life ever at risk, commits his canvas to the winds, while the breeze fills its flapping folds. Here the fisher, perched on the wave-worn rocks, either rebaits his cheated hooks or, with firm grip, watches anxiously for his prize; meantime, his line feels the quivering fish.

[159] Such are the tasks of those whose is the peaceful calm of harmless lives, whose home rejoices in the tiny store that is its own; overweening hopes stalk abroad in cities, and trembling fears. One, sleepless, haunts the haughty vestibules and unfeeling doors of his rich patrons; another endlessly heaps up abundant wealth, gloats over his treasures, and is still poor amid piled-up bold. Yonder dazed wretch, with empty wind puffed up, popular applause and the mob more shifting than the sea uplift; this, trafficking in the mad wrangles of the noisy court, shamelessly lets out for hire his passions and his speech. Known to but few is untroubled calm, and they, mindful of time’s swift flight, hold fast the days that never will return. While the fates permit, live happily; life speeds on with hurried step, and with winged days the wheel of the headlong year is turned. The harsh sisters14ply their tasks, yet do they not spin backward the threads of life. But men are driven, each one uncertain of his own, to meet the speeding fates; we seek the Stygian waves of our own accord. With heart too brave, Alcides, thou dost haste to visit the grieving ghosts; at the appointed time the Parcae come. No one may linger when they command, no one may postpone the allotted day; the urn receives the nations hurried to their doom.

[192] Let glory laud another to many lands, and let babbling fame sing his praise through every city and lift him to a level with the stars of heaven; let another fare towering in his car; but me let my own land, beside my lonely, sheltered hearth, protect. The inactive reach hoary age, and in a lowly estate but secure stands the mean lot of a humble home; from a lofty height ambitious courage falls.

[202] But sad Megara comes hither with streaming hair, her flock of children round her, and, slow with age, the father of Alcides moves.

[Enter from the palace MEGARA with her children, and AMPHITRYON. They take their stand at the altar.]

AMPHITRYON
[204] O mighty ruler of Olympus, judge of all the world, set now at length a limit to our crushing cares, an end to our disasters. No day has ever dawned for me untroubled; no reward from my son’s toil is ever given; the end of one ill is but the step to one beyond. Straightway on his return a new foe is ready for him; before he can reach his happy home, bidden to another struggle he sets forth; there is no chance to rest, no time left free, save while fresh commands are being given. From his very birth relentless Juno has pursued him; was even his infancy exempt? He conquered monsters before he could know that they were monsters. Serpents twain with crested heads advanced their fangs against him; the infant crawled to meet them, gazing at the snakes’ fiery eyes with mild and gentle look; with serene face he raised their close-coiled folds and, crushing their swollen throats with his baby hands, he practised for the hydra.

[222] The nimble hind of Maenalus, raising her head bounteously adorned with gold, was caught by his long pursuit15; the lion, mightiest dread of Nemea, crushed by the arms of Hercules roared his last. Why should I tell of the horrid stalls of the Bistonian herd and the king16 given as food to his own herds? of the shaggy boar of Maenalus, whose wont it was on the thick-wooded heights of Erymanthus to harry the groves of Arcady? or of the bull, the crushing terror of a hundred towns?17 Among his herds in the distant land of Spain the three-shaped shepherd18 of the Tartesian shore was killed and his cattle driven as spoil from the farthest west; Cithaeron has fed the herd once to Ocean known. When bidden19 to enter the regions of the summer sun, those scorched realms which midday burns, he clove the mountains on either hand and, rending the barrier, made a wide path20 for Ocean’s rushing stream. Next he essayed the rich grove’s dwellings and bore off the watchful dragon’s golden spoil.21 Lerna’s fell monster, pest manifold, did he not quell at last by fire and teach to die? And the Stymphalian birds, wont to hide the day with veiling wings, did he not bring down from the very clouds? Thermodon’s unwed queen22 of ever virgin couch could not prevail against him, nor did his hands, bold to attempt all glorious deeds, shirk the foul labour of the Augean stalls.

[249] But what avails all this? He is banished from the world which he defended. All the earth has felt that the giver of its peace is lost to it. Once again prosperous and successful crime goes by the name of virtue; good men obey the bad, might is right and fear oppresses law. Before my eyes I saw the sons, defenders of their father’s23 kingdom, fall dead by the murderer’s24 hand, and the king himself fall, last scion of Cadmus’ famous line; I saw the royal crown that decked his head torn from him, head and all. Who could lament Thebes enough? O land, fertile in gods, before what lord dost thou tremble now? The city from whose fields and fecund bosom a band of youth25 stood forth with swords ready drawn, whose walls Jove’s son, Amphion, built, drawing its stones by his tuneful melodies – to which not once alone came the father of the gods, quitting the sky – this city, which has welcomed gods and has created gods and (may the word be lawful) perchance will yet create them, is oppressed by a shameful yoke. O seed of Cadmus and Ophion’s race, to what depths have you fallen! You tremble before a dastard exile, of his own land deprived, to ours a burden. But he who avenges crime on land and sea, who with righteous hand breaks cruel sceptres, now far away endures a master26 and brooks what he elsewhere forbids – and Lycus, the exile, rules the Thebes of Hercules! But not for long; he will be present with us and exact punishment, and suddenly to the sight of the stars will he come forth. He will find a way – or make one. Oh, be present and return in safety, I pray, and come at last victorious to thy vanquished home!

MEGARA
[279] Come forth, my husband, burst through the darkness shivered by thy hand; if there is no backward way, and the road is closed, rend earth asunder and return; and whatever lies hid in the hold of murky night, let forth with thee. Even as once, rending the hills asunder, seeking for the rushing stream27 a headlong path, thou stoodst, what time Tempe, cleft by that mighty shock, opened wide – before the thrust of thy breast, this way and that the mountain yielded and through the broken mass the Thessalian torrent raced in its new bed – even so, seeking thy parents, children, fatherland, burst through, bearing away with thee the bounds of things; and all that greedy time through all the march of years has hidden away, restore; and drive out before thee the self-forgetting dead, peoples that fear the light. Unworthy of thee is the spoil, if thou bringst back only what was commanded. But I speak too frowardly, all ignorant of the fate in store for us. Oh, whence shall come that day for me when I shall clasp thee and thy right hand and lament thy long-delayed returns that have no though of me? To thee, O leader of the gods, a hundred bulls never broken to the yoke shall yield their necks; to thee, goddess of fruits,28 will I perform thy secret rites; to thee in speechless faith silent Eleusis shall toss long trains of torches. Then shall I deem their lives restored unto my brothers, my father himself governing his own realm and flourishing. But if some greater power is holding thee in durance, we follow thee. Either defend us all by thy safe return, or drag us all with thee – thou wilt drag us down, nor will any god lift up our broken house.

AMPHITRYON
[309] O ally of my blood, preserving with chaste faith the couch and children of the great-souled Hercules, have better thought and rouse thy courage. Surely he will come home, as is his wont from every task the greater.

MEGARA
[313] What the wretched overmuch desire, they easily believe.

AMPHITRYON
[314] Nay, what they fear overmuch they think can never be set aside or done away. Fear’s trust inclineth ever to the worse.

MEGARA
[317] Submerged, deep-buried, crushed beneath all the world, what way has he to upper air?

AMPHITRYON
[319] The same he had when across the parched desert and the sands, billowing like the stormy sea, he made his way, and across the strait with twice-receding, twice-returning waves; and when, his barque abandoned, he was stranded, a prisoner on Syrtes’ shoals, and, though his vessel was held fast, he crossed o’er seas on foot.29

MEGARA
[325] Unrighteous fortune seldom spares the highest worth; no one with safety can long front so frequent perils. Whom calamity oft passes by she finds at last.

[Enter LYCUS.]

[329] But see, ferocious and with threats upon his brow, the same in gait and spirit, Lycus comes, brandishing another’s sceptre in his hand.

LYCUS
[332] Ruling the rich domains of Thebes and all that sloping Phocis encompasses with its rich soil, whatever Ismenus waters, whatever Cithaeron views from his high peak, and slender Isthmus, keeping asunder its twin straits, no ancient rights of an ancestral home do I possess, a slothful heir; not mine are noble ancestors, nor a race illustrious with lofty titles, but valour glorious. Who vaunts his race, lauds what belongs to others. But usurped sceptres are held in anxious hand; all safety is in arms; what thou knowest thou holdest against the will of citizens, the drawn sword must guard. One alien soil kingship stands not sure; but one there is who can get my power on firm foundations, if joined to me in royal wedlock by torch and couch – Megara. From her noble line my newness shall gain richer hue. Nor do I think she will refuse and scorn my bed; but if stubbornly and with headstrong will she shall decline, it is my resolve to give to utter ruin the whole house of Hercules. Shall hatred and the common people’s talk restrain my hand? ‘Tis the first art of kings, the power to suffer hate. Let us make trial, therefore; chance has given us occasion; for Megara herself, her head close-veiled in mourning vestments, stands by the altar of her protecting gods, and close by her side keeps the true sire of Hercules.

MEGARA
[358] What new thing plans that fellow, that destruction and pestilence of our race? What does he attempt?

LYCUS
[359] O thou whose illustrious name is drawn from royal stock, graciously listen to my words a little while with patient ear. If mortals should cherish everlasting hate and if mad rage, once felt, should never drop from our hearts, but if the victor should keep and the vanquished prepare arms, nothing will wars leave us; then on the wasted farms the fields will lie untilled, the torch will be set to homes, and deep ashes will overwhelm the buried nations. ‘Tis expedient for the victor to with for peace restored; for the vanquished ‘tis necessity. – Come, share my throne; let us be joined in purpose; accept this pledge of faith – touch hands with me. Why in grim-faced silence dost thou stand?

MEGARA
[372] I touch a hand stained with my father’s blood and with my brothers’ double murder? Sooner shall the East extinguish, the West bring back, the day; sooner shall snow and flame be in lasting harmony and Scylla join the Sicilian and Ausonian shores; and sooner far shall swift Euripus with his alternating tides rest sluggish upon Euboea’s strand! My father hast thou taken from me, my kingdom, brothers, my ancestral home – what is there else? There is one thing left to me, dearer than brother and father, kingdom and home – my hate of thee, which it is my grief that I must share with all the populace. How small a part of it is mine! Rule on, swollen with pride, lift thy spirits high; an avenging god pursues the proud. I know the Theban realm; why mention the crimes which mothers have endured and dared? Why speak of the double infamy and the confused names of husband, son and sire?30 Why speak of the brothers’31 twofold camps? the two funeral-pyres? The daughter of Tantalus, presumptuous mother,32 stiffens with grief and, mournful on Phrygian Sipylus, drips tears – a stone. Nay, Cadmus himself reared a head fierce with its crest and, traversing Illyria’s realm in flight, left the long trail of his dragging body.33 Thee do such precedents of doom await. Lord it as thou wilt, only the accustomed destinies of our realm summon thee.

LYCUS
[397] Come, mad woman, have done with this wild talk, and learn from Alcides to endure the commands of kings. Although I wield a sceptre seized by my victorious hand, though I rule all things without fear of laws which arms o’ermaster, still will I say a few words in mine own cause. ‘Twas in a cruel war thy father fell, sayest thou? thy brothers, too? Arms observe no bounds; nor can the wrath of the sword, once drawn, be easily checked or stayed; war delights in blood. But he fought for his realm, sayest thou; we, impelled by insatiable ambition? Of war men ask the outcome, not the cause. But now let all the past be forgotten; when the victor has laid down his arms, it is meet that the vanquished, too, lay down his hate. That thou on bended knee shouldst pray to me as thy sovereign I do not ask; this of itself is pleasing to me, that thou dost take thy overthrow with a high spirit. Worthy art thou to be a king’s mate; then let us wed.

MEGARA
[414] Cold horror creeps through my bloodless limbs. What outrage has struck my ears? No terror felt I when peace was broken and war’s loud crash rang around our walls; dauntlessly I bore it all; but marriage – I shudder at it; now do I indeed seem captive. Let chains load down my body, and let me die a lingering death by slow starvation; still shall no power o’ercome my loyalty. Alcides, I shall die thine own.

LYCUS
[422] Does a husband buried in the depths produce such spirit?

MEGARA
[423] He reached the depths that he might gain the heights.

LYCUS
[424] The weight of the boundless earth crushes him.

MEGARA
[425] By no weight will he be crushed who upbore the heavens.

LYCUS
[426] Thou shalt be forced.

MEGARA
[426] Who can be forced has not learned how to die.

LYCUS
[427] Say rather, what royal gift I shall prepare for my new bride.

MEGARA
[428] Thy death or mine.

LYCUS
[429] Fool, thou shalt die.

MEGARA
[429] So shall I meet my husband.

LYCUS
[430] Is a slave more to thee than I, a king?

MEGARA
[431] How many kings has that slave given to death!

LYCUS
[432] Why, then, does he serve a king and endure the yoke?

MEGARA
[433] Do away with harsh commands – what then will valour be?

LYCUS
[434] To oppose oneself to beast and monsters think’st thou valour?

MEGARA
[435] ‘Tis valour’s part to subdue what all men fear.

LYCUS
[436] The shades of Tartarus bury the braggart deep.

MEGARA
[437] There is no easy way to the stars from earth.

LYCUS
[438] Who is his father that he hopes for a home in heaven?

AMPHITRYON
[439] Unhappy wife of great Hercules, be still; ‘tis my place to restore to Alcides his father and true lineage. [To LYCUS.] After all the great hero’s memorable deeds, after peace has been gained by his hand for all that he sun, rising and setting, sees, after so many monsters tamed, after Phlegra34 stained with impious blood, after his protection of the gods, is not his fathering yet clear? Claim we Jove falsely? Then believe Juno’s hate.

LYCUS
[447] Why blaspheme Jove? The race of mortals cannot mate with heaven.

AMPHITRYON
[449] That is the common origin of many gods.

LYCUS
[450] But were they slaves35 ere they became divine?

AMPHITRYON
[451] The Delian as a shepherd tended flocks at Pherae – 36

LYCUS
[452] But he did not in exile roam o’er all the world.

AMPHITRYON
[452] What? He whom an exiled mother brought forth on a roaming isle?

LYCUS
[453] Did Phoebus encounter savage monsters or wild beasts?

AMPHITRYON
[454] A dragon was the first to stain Phoebus’ shafts.

LYCUS
[455] Knowest thou not what heavy ills he bore in infancy?

AMPHITRYON
[456] Ripped by a thunderbolt from his mother’s womb, a boy37 in after-time stood next his sire, the Thunderer. What? he who rules the stars, who shakes the clouds, did he not lie hid in infancy in a cave of rocky Ida? Such lofty birth must pay its price of care, and ever has its cost dear to be born a god.

LYCUS
[463] Whome’er thou shalt see wretched, known him man

AMPHITRYON
[464] Whome’er thou shalt see brave, call him not wretched.

LYCUS
[465] Are we to call him brave from whose shoulders fell the lion’s skin and club, made present for a girl,38 and whose side shone resplendent, decked out in Tyrian robes? Call him brave, whose bristling locks dripped with nard, who busied those famous hands with unmanly strummings on the tambourine, whose warlike brow a barbaric turban crowned?

AMPHITRYON
[472] But dainty Bacchus does not blush to sprinkle with perfume his flowing locks, nor in his soft hand to brandish the slender thrysus, when with mincing gait he trails his robe gay with barbaric gold. After much toil, valour still seeks relief.

LYCUS
[477] The fact the ruined house of Eurytus confesses, and the flocks of maidens harried like so many sheep; no Juno, no Eurystheus ordered this; these works are his very own.

AMPHITRYON
[480] Thou knowest not all; his own work it is that Eryx was crushed by his own gauntlets and that Libyan Antaeus shared Eryx’ fate; that the altars which dripped the blood of strangers drank, and justly, too, Busiris’ blood; his own work is Cycnus, though proof against wound and sword, forced to suffer death untouched by wounds; and threefold Geryon by one hand overcome. Thou shalt share the fate of these – and yet they never defiled with lust the marriage-bed.

LYCUS
[489] What is Jove’s right is a king’s right, too. Thou gavest thy wife39 to Jove, to a king shall he give his40; and taught by thy example thy daughter shall learn this old-time lesson – when the husband also gives consent, to take the better man. But should she stubbornly refuse to wed me by the torches’ rite, even by force will I get me a noble stock from her.

MEGARA
[495] Ye shades of Creon, ye household gods of Labdacus, ye nuptial torches of incestuous Oedipus, now to our union grant its accustomed doom. Now, now, ye bloody daughters of King Aegyptus, be present here, your hands deep-stained in blood. One Danaïd is lacking from the tale – I will complete the crime.

LYCUS
[501] Since my suit thou dost stubbornly refuse and threatenest thy king, now shalt thou know what royal power can do. Embrace the altar – no god shall snatch thee from me, not though earth’s mass could be pushed aside and Alcides brought back in triumph to the upper world. [To attendants.] Heap high the logs; let the temple fall blazing on its suppliants; apply the torch and let one pyre consume the wife and all her brood.

AMPHITRYON
[509] This boon as father of Alcides I ask of thee, which becomes me well to ask, that I be first to fall.

LYCUS
[511] He who inflicts on all the penalty of death knows not how to be a king. Impose contrasting penalties: forbid the wretched, command the happy man to die. Now while the pyre feeds on the burning beams, with promised gifts will I worship him who rules the sea.
[Exit.]

AMPHITRYON
[516] O mightiest of gods, O ruler and sire of the immortals, at whose hurtling bolts mortals tremble, check thou the impious hand of this mad king – why make vain prayers unto the gods? Where’er thou art, hear thou, my son. But why with sudden motion does the rocking temple totter? Why does earth rumble? Infernal crashing has sounded from the lowest pit. Our prayer is heard; it is, it is the resounding tread of Hercules!

CHORUS
[524] O Fortune, jealous of the brave, in allotting thy favours how unjust art thou unto the good! “Let Eurystheus lord it in untroubled ease; let Alcmena’s son in endless wars employ on monsters the hand that bore the heavens; let him cut off the hydra’s teeming necks; let him bring back the apples from the cheated sisters when the dragon, set to watch over the precious fruit, has given his ever-waking eyes to sleep.” 41

[533] He invaded the wandering homes of Scythia and nations strangers to their ancestral haunts42; he trod the sea’s frozen ridge, a still ocean with silent shores. There the frozen waters are without waves, and where but now ships had spread full sail, a path is worn by the long-haired Sarmatae. There lies the sea, changing as the seasons change, ready to hear now ship, now horseman. There she43 who rules o’er tribes unwed, with a golden girdle about her loins, stripped the glorious spoil from her body, her shield and the bands of her snow-white breast, on bended knee looking up to her victor.

[547] With what hope, driven headlong to the depths, bold to tread ways irretraceable, dist thou see Sicilian Proserpina’s realms? There beneath no southern, no western wind do the seas rise with swollen waves; there the stars of the twin Tyndaridae come not to the aid of timorous ships; sluggish stands the mere44 with black abyss, and, when Death, pale-visaged with greedy teeth, has brought countless tribes to the world of shades, one ferryman transports those many peoples.

[558] Oh, that thou mayest o’ercome the laws of cruel Styx, and the relentless distaffs of the Fates. He45 who as king lords it o’er countless peoples, what time thou wast making war on Pylos, Nestor’s land, brought to combat with thee his plague-dealing hands, brandishing his three-forked spear, yet fled away, with but a slight wound smitten, and, though lord of death, feared he would die. Fate’s bars burst thou with thy hands; to the sad nether regions open a view of light, and let the trackless path46 now give easy passage to the upper world!

[569] Orpheus had power to bend the ruthless lords of the shades by song and suppliant prayer, when he sought back his Eurydice. The art which had drawn the trees and birds and rocks, which had stayed the course of rivers, at whose sound the beasts had stopped to listen, soothes the underworld with unaccustomed strains, and rings out clearer in those unhearing realms. Eurydice the Thracian brides bewail; even the gods, whom no tears can move, bewail her; and they who with awful brows investigate men’s crimes and sift out ancient wrongs, as they sit in judgment47 bewail Eurydice. At length death’s lord exclaims: “We own defeat; go forth to the upper world, yet by this appointed doom – fare thou as comrade behind thy husband, and thou, look not back upon thy wife until bright day shall have revealed the gods of heaven, and the opening of Spartan Taenarus shall be at hand.” True love hates delay and brooks it not; while he hastes to look upon his prize, ‘tis lost.

[590] The realm which could be overcome by song, that realm shall strength have power to overcome.

[Enter HERCULES just returned from the lower world, accompanied by THESEUS; apparently, also, he is leading the dog, CERBERUS, though this point seems less clear as the play develops.]

HERCULES
[592] O lord of kindly light, glory of heaven, who in thy flame-bearing car dost circle both spaces48 of the sky, and dost show thy shining face to the broad lands, pardon, O Phoebus, if any unlawful sight thine eyes have seen; at another’s bidding have I brought to light the hidden things of earth. And thou, O judge and sire of heavenly beings, hide thy face behind thy thunderbolt; and thou who, next in power, dost control the seas, flee to thy lowest waters. Whoever from on high looks down on things of earth, and would not be defiled by a strange, new sight, let him turn away his gaze, lift his eyes to heaven, and shun the portent. Let only two look on this monster – him who brought and her who ordered it. To appoint me penalties and tasks earth is not broad enough for Juno’s hate. I have seen places unapproached by any, unknown to Phoebus, those gloomy spaces which the baser pole hath yielded to infernal Jove; and if the regions of the third estate pleased me, I might have reigned. The chaos of everlasting night, and something worse than night, and the grim gods and the fates – all these I saw and, having flouted death, I have come back. What else remains? I have seen and revealed the lower world. If aught is left to do, give it to me, O Juno; too long already dost thou let my hands lie idle. What dost thou bid me conquer?

[616] But why do hostile soldiers guard the shrine and dreadful arms beset the sacred portal?

AMPHITRYON
[618] Can it be that my hopes deceive my sight, or has that world-subduer, the pride of Greece, come back from the silent halls of mournful gloom? Is that my son? My limbs are numb with joy. O son, sure, though late, deliverance of Thebes, do I really clasp thee risen to upper air, or am I mocked, enjoying but an empty shade? Is it thou indeed? Aye, now I recognize the bulging thews, the shoulders, the hand famed for its huge club.

HERCULES
[626] Whence this squalid garb, father? Why is my wife clad in mourning weeds? Why are my sons covered with loathsome rags? What disaster overwhelms my house?

AMPHITRYON
[629] The father of thy wife is slain; Lycus has seized the throne; thy sons, thy father, thy wife he claims for death.

HERCULES
[631] O ungrateful land, was there none to aid the house of Hercules? Did it see this monstrous wrong, the world I succoured? – but why waste the day in idle plaints? Let the victim49 be offered up, let my manhood bear this brand of shame, and let the final foe of Hercules be – Lycus. I haste me, Theseus, to drain his detested blood; remain thou here, lest some unexpected force assail. War summons me; delay thy embraces, father; wife, delay them. Let Lycus take the news to Dis that now I have returned.
[Exit HERCULES.]

THESEUS
[640] Banish that tearful look from thine eyes, O queen, and do thou,50 since thy son is safe, check thy falling tears. If I know Hercules, Lycus shall pay the penalty he owes to Creon. “Shall pay” is slow – he pays; that, too, is slow – he has paid.

AMPHITRYON
[645] May the god who can, fulfil our desire and favour our fallen estate. And do thou, great-hearted companion of our great son, unfold his heroic deeds in order; tell how long a way leads to the gloomy shades, and how the Tartarean dog bore his galling bonds.

THESEUS
[650] Thou dost force me to recall deeds which strike terror to my soul even in security. Scarcely yet do I trust assuredly to breathe the vital air; the sight of my eyes is dimmed, and my dull vision can scarce bear the unaccustomed light.

AMPHITRYON
[654] But, Theseus, master whate’er of dread yet dwells deep in thy heart and rob not thyself of toils’ best fruit; things ‘twas hard to bear ‘tis pleasant to recall. Tell thou the awful tale.

THESEUS
[658] All the world’s holy powers, and thou51 who rulest the all-holding realm, and thou52whom, stolen from Enna, thy mother sought in vain, may it be right, I pray, boldly to speak of powers hidden away and buried beneath the earth.

[662] The Spartan land a famous ridge uplifts where Taenarus with its dense forests invades the sea. Here the home of hateful Pluto unbars its mouth; a nigh cliff cracks asunder, and a huge chasm, a bottomless abyss, spreads its vast jaws wide and opens for all peoples a broad path. Not in utter darkness does the way first begin; a slender gleam of the light left behind and a doubtful glow as of the sun in eclipse falls there and cheats the vision. Such light the day mingled with night is wont to give, at early dawn or at late twilight. From here ample spaces spread out, void regions, whereto the entire human race turns and hastens. It is no toil to go; the road itself draws them down. As oft-times the waves sweep on unwilling ships, so does the downward breeze drive, and the greedy void, and never do the clutching shades permit a backward step. Within the abyss, Lethe, measureless in sweep, glides smoothly on with placid stream, and takes away our cares; and, that there may be no power to retrace the path, with windings manifold it takes its sluggish way, even as the vagrant Maeander with its inconstant waters plays along, now retreats upon itself, now presses on, in doubt whether to seek the seashore or its source. The foul pool of Cocytus’ sluggish stream lies here; here the vulture, there the dole-bringing owl utters its cry, and the sad omen of the gruesome screech-owl sounds. The leaves shudder, black with gloomy foliage where sluggish Sleep clings to the overhanging yew, where sad Hunger lies with wasted jaws, and Shame, too late, hides her guilt-burdened face. Dread stalks there, gloomy Fear and gnashing Pain, sable Grief, tottering Disease and iron-girt War; and last of all slow Age supports his steps upon a staff.

AMPHITRYON
[697] Is any land there fruitful of corn or wine?

THESEUS
[698] No meadows bud, joyous with verdant view, no ripened corn waves in the gentle breeze; not any grove has fruit-producing boughs; the barren desert of the abysmal fields lies all untilled, and the foul land lies torpid in endless sloth – sad end of things, the world’s last estate. The air hangs motionless and black night broods over a sluggish world. All things are with grief dishevelled, and worse than death itself is the abode of death.

AMPHITRYON
[707] What of him who holds sway over the dark realm? Where sits he, governing his flitting tribes?

THESEUS
[709] There is a place in dark recess of Tartarus, which with a heavy pall dense mists enshroud. Hence flow from a single source two streams, unlike: one, a placid river (by this do the gods sear), with silent current bears on the sacred Styx; the other with mighty roar rushes fiercely on, rolling down rocks in its flood, Acheron, that cannot be recrossed. The royal hall of Dis stands opposite, girt by a double moat, and the huge house is hid by an o’ershadowing grove. Here in a spacious cavern the tyrant’s doors overhang; this is the road for spirits, this is the kingdom’s gate. A plain lies round about this where sits the god, where with haughty mien his awful majesty assorts the new-arriving souls. Lowering is his brow, yet such as wears the aspect of his brothers and his high race; his countenance is that of Jove, but Jove the thunderer; chief part of that realm’s grimness is its own lord, whose aspect whate’er is dreaded dreads.

AMPHITRYON
[731] Is the report true that in the underworld justice, though tardy, is meted out, and that guilty souls who have forgot their crimes suffer due punishment? Who is that lord of truth, that arbiter of justice?

THESEUS
[731] Not one inquisitor alone sits on the high judgment-seat and allots his tardy sentences to trembling culprits. In yonder court they pass to Cretan Minos’ presence, in that to Rhadamanthus’, here the father53 of Thetis’ spouse gives audience. What each has done, he suffers; upon its author the crime comes back, and the guilty soul is crushed by its own form of guilt. I have seen bloody chiefs immured in prison; the insolent tyrant’s back torn by plebeian hands. He who reigns mildly and, though lord of life, keeps guiltless hands, who mercifully and without bloodshed rules his realm, checking his own spirit, he shall traverse long stretches of happy life and at last gain the skies, or else in bliss reach Elysium’s joyful land and sit in judgment there. Abstain from human blood, all ye who rule: with heavier punishment your sins are judged.

AMPHITRYON
[747] Does any certain place enclose the guilty? and, as rumour has it, do sinners suffer cruel punishment in bonds unending?

THESEUS
[750] Ixion whirls, racked on a flying wheel; a huge stone rests on the neck of Sisyphus; in mid-stream an old man54 with parched lips catches at the waves; the water bathes his chin and, when at last it has given him, though oft deceived, a pledge of faith, the wave perishes at his lips; fruits mock his hunger. To the vulture Tityos gives never-ending feasts; the Danaïdes bear their brimming urns in vain; the impious Cadmeïds roam in their madness, and the ravenous bird55 torments Phineus at his board.

AMPHITRYON
[760] Now tell my son’s famous struggle. Is it his willing uncle’s gift, or his spoil, he brings?

THESEUS
[762] A rock funereal o’erhangs the slothful shoals, where the waves are sluggish and the dull mere is numbed. This stream an old man tends, clad in foul garb and to the sight abhorrent, and ferries over the quaking shades. His beard hangs down unkempt; a knot ties his robe’s misshapen folds; haggard his sunken cheeks; himself his own boatman, with a long pole he directs his craft. Now, having discharged his load, he is turning his boat towards the bank, seeking the ghosts again; Alcides demands passage, while the crowd draws back. Fierce Charon cries: “Whither in such haste, bold man? Halt there thy hastening steps.” Brooking no delay, Alcmena’s son o’erpowers the ferryman with his own pole and climbs aboard. The craft, ample for whole nations, sinks low beneath one man; as he takes his seat the o’erweighted boat with rocking sides drinks in Lethe on either hand. Then the monsters he had conquered are in a panic, the fierce Centaurs and the Lapithae whom too much wine had inflamed to war; and, seeking the farthest fens of the Stygian swamp, Lerna’s labour56 plunges deep his fertile heads.

[782] Next after this there appears the palace of greedy Dis. Here the savage Stygian dog frightens the shades; tossing back and forth his triple heads, with huge bayings he guards the realm. Around his head, foul with corruption, serpents lap, his shaggy man bristles with vipers, and in his twisted tail a long snake hisses. His rage matches his shape. Soon as he feels the stir of feet he raises his head, rough with darting snakes, and with ears erect catches at the onsped sound, wont as he is to hear even the shades. When the son of Jove stood closer, within his cave the dog crouches hesitant and feels a touch of fear. Then suddenly, with deep bayings, he terrifies the silent places; the snakes hiss threateningly along all his shoulders. The clamour of his dreadful voice, issuing from triple throats, fills even the blessed shades with dread. Then from his left arm the hero looses the fierce-grinning jaws, thrusts out before him the Cleonaean57 head and, beneath that huge shield crouching, plies his mighty club with victorious right hand. Now here, now there, with unremitting blows he whirls it, redoubling the strokes. At last the dog, vanquished ceases his threatenings and, spent with struggle, lowers all his heads and yields all wardship of his cavern. Both rulers58 shiver on their throne, and bid lead the dog away. Me also they give as boon to Alcides’ prayer.

[807] Then, stroking the monster’s sullen necks, he binds him with chains of adamant. Forgetful of himself, the watchful guardian of the dusky realm droops his ears, trembling and willing to be led, owns his master, and with muzzle lowered follows after, beating both his sides with snaky tail. But when he came to the Taenarian borders, and the strange gleam of unknown light smote on his eyes, though conquered he regained his courage and in frenzy shook his ponderous chains. Almost he bore his conqueror away, back dragging him, forward bent, and forced him to give ground. Then even to my aid Alcides looked, and with our twofold strength we drew the dog along, mad with rage and attempting fruitless war, and brought him out to earth. But when he saw the bright light of day and viewed the clear spaces of the shining sky, black night rose over him and he turned his gaze to ground, closed tight his eyes and shut out the hated light; backward he turned his face and with all his necks sought the earth; then in the shadow of Hercules he hid his head. – But see, a dense throng comes on, glad shouting, with laurel wreaths upon their brows and chanting the well-won praises of great Hercules.

CHORUS
[830] Eurystheus, brought to the light by birth untimely, had bidden thee explore the world’s foundations; this only was lacking to thy tale of labours, to despoil the king of the third estate. Thou wast bold to enter blind approach, where a way leads to the far-off shades, a gloomy way and fearsome with dark woods, but crowded with vast accompanying throngs.

[838] Great as the host that moves through citystreets, eager to see the spectacle in some new theatre; great as that which pours to the Elean59 Thunderer, when the fifth summer has brought back the sacred games; great as the throng which (when the time comes again for night to lengthen and the balanced Scales, yearning for quiet slumber, check Phoebus’ car) surges to Ceres’ secret rites, and the initiates of Attica, quitting their homes, swiftly hasten to celebrate their night – so great is the throng that is led through the silent plains. Some go slow with age, sad and sated with long life; some still can run, being of happier age – maidens, not yet in wedlock joined, youths with locks still unshorn, and babes that have but lately learned the name of “mother.” To these last alone, that they be not afraid, ‘tis given to lessen night’s gloom by torches borne ahead; the rest move sadly through the dark. O ye dead, what thoughts are yours when, light now banished, each has sorrowing felt his head o’erwhelmed ‘neath all the earth? There are thick chaos, loathsome murk, night’s baleful hue, the lethargy of a silent world and empty clouds.

[864] Late may old age bear us thither! None comes too late unto that land, whence never, when once come, can he return. Why does it please us to hasten cruel fate? For all this throng which wanders up and down the earth’s vast spaces shall go to the world of shades and shall set sail on Cocytus’ lifeless stream. For thee, O Death, all things are growing; all that the setting sun, all that the rising, sees – oh, spare thou those who are sure to come – for thee are we all preparing. Though thou be slow, we hasten of ourselves; the hour which first gave life is plucking it away.

[875] Thebes’ joyful day is here. Lay hold on the altars, ye suppliants; slay the fat victims; let husbands and wives together start up the festal dance; let the tillers of the fertile field lay by the yoke and rest.

[882] Peace reigns by the hand of Hercules from the land of dawn to the evening star, and where the sun, holding mid-heaven, gives to shapes no shadows. Whatever land is washed by Tethys’ far-reaching circuit Alcides’ toil has conquered. He has crossed the streams of Tartarus, subdued the gods of the underworld, and has returned. And now no fear remains; naught lies beyond the underworld.

[893] Now, priest, bedeck thy bristling60 hair with his well-loved poplar.

[Enter HERCULES, fresh from the slaying of LYCUS.]

HERCULES
[895] Felled by my conquering hand, Lycus face down has smitten the earth. Next, whoever had been the tyrant’s comrade lies low, the comrade also of his punishment. And now as victor will I bring offerings to my father and to the heavenly gods, slay victims, and honour the altars with due sacrifice.

[900] Thee, thee, O ally and helper of my toils, I pray, O warlike Pallas, on whose left arm the targe with its petrifying face sends forth fierce threats; may he, too, be near, the tamer61 of Lycurgus and the ruddy sea,62 who bears a spear-point hidden beneath his vine-wreathed staff; and ye, twin deities, Phoebus and Phoebus’ sister, the sister more ready with her arrows, Phoebus with his lyre; and whatever brother of mine dwells in the sky – but not a brother from my stepdame born.

[908] [To his attendants.] Hither drive fat herds; whatever the fields of Indians produce, whatever fragrant thing the Arabs gather from their trees, heap on the altars; let the rich smoke roll on high. Let wreaths of poplar bedeck our hair; but thee, O Theseus, an olive-branch, with thy own race’s leaves, shall crown. The Thunderer shall my hand adore; do thou63 invoke the founders of our city, the wooded caves of savage Zethus, Dirce of far-famed water, and the Tyrian house-gods of our pilgrim king.64 Heap incense on the flames.

AMPHITRYON
[918] O son, first purify thy hands, dripping with thy slaughtered foeman’s blood.

HERCULES
[920] Would that I could pour out to the gods the blood of the man I hate; no more pleasing stream had stained the altars; no greater, richer victim can be sacrificed to Jove than an unrighteous king.

AMPHITRYON
[924] Pray that thy father end thy toils, that at least rest and repose be given to the weary.

HERCULES
[926] Myself will I frame prayers worthy of Jupiter and me: May heaven abide in its own place, and earth and sea; may the eternal stars hold on their way unhindered; may deep peace brood upon the nations; may the harmless country’s toil employ all iron, and may swords lie hid; may no raging tempest stir up the sea, no fires leap forth from angered Jove, no river, fed by winter’s snows, sweep away the uptorn fields. Let poisons cease to be. Let no destructive herb swell with harmful juice. May savage and cruel tyrants rule no more. If earth is still to produce any wickedness, let her make haste, and if she is preparing any monster, let it be mine.65

[The madness planned by JUNO beings to come upon him.]
[939] But what is this? Shadows have begirt midday. Phoebus fares with darkened face though there be no cloud. Who puts the day to flight and drives it back to dawn? Whence does an unfamiliar night rear its black head? Whence do so many stars fill the sky though it is day? See where the lion, my first toil, glows in no small part of heaven, is all hot with rage, and makes ready his fangs. Forthwith he will seize some star; threatening he stands with gaping jaws, and breathes forth fires, and shakes the mane upon his flaming neck; whatever stars sickly autumn and cold winter with its frozen tracts bring back, with one bound will he o’erleap, and attack and crush the neck of the vernal Bull.

AMPHITRYON
[952] What sudden ill is this? Why, my son, dost turn thy keen eyes now here, now there, and look upon an unreal sky with troubled gaze?

HERCULES
[955] The earth has been subdued, the swollen seas are at rest, the infernal realms have felt my onset; heaven is as yet untried, a task worthy of Alcides. To the lofty regions of the universe on high let me make my way, let me seek the skies; the stars are my father’s promise.66 And what if he should not keep his word? Earth has not room for Hercules, and at length restores him unto heaven. See, the whole company of the gods of their own will summons me, and opens wide the door of heaven, with one alone forbidding. And wilt thou unbar the sky and take me in? Or shall I carry off the doors of stubborn heaven? Dost even doubt my power? I’ll free Saturn from his bonds, and against my unfilial67 father’s lawless sway I’ll loose my grandsire. Let the Titans prepare war, with me to lead their rage; rocks, woods and all, will I bring, and with my right hand I’ll snatch up ridges full of Centaurs. Now with twin mountains I’ll construct a pathway to the realms above; Chiron shall see his own Pelion ‘neath Ossa, and Olympus, set as third in order, shall reach clean to heaven – or else I’ll hurl it there!

AMPHITRYON
[973] Have done with these horrible imaginings: Repress the mad fury of thy proud heart, no longer sane.

HERCULES
[976] What’s this? The baleful Giants are taking arms. Tityos has escaped the shades and, with breast all torn and empty, has almost reached the sky. Cithaeron is tottering, lofty Pellene quakes, and Tempe’s beauty fades. Here one Giant has seized Pindus’ peak, there one has seized Oete, while horribly Mimas rages. Fiery Erinys cracks her brandished scourge, and closer, closer yet, holds out before my face brands burnt on funeral pyres. Cruel Tisiphone, her head with snakes encircled, since the dog was stolen away has blocked the empty gate with her outstretched torch.

[He catches sight of his children.]
[987] But look! here lurk the children of the king, my enemy, the abominable spawn of Lycus; to your detested father this hand forthwith shall send you. Let my bowstring discharge swift arrows – so it is meet that the shafts of Hercules should fly.

AMPHITRYON
[991] To what deed is his blind fury driven? He has bent his huge bow, the tips drawn close together; he has opened his quiver; shrilly sings the shaft, discharged with force – it has struck the neck full in the middle and sped out past the wound.

HERCULES
[995] The rest of the brood will I rout out and all their hiding-places. Why delay? A greater struggle awaits me at Mycenae, that there, by these hands overthrown, the Cyclopean rocks may fall.

[He begins to tear at the doors of the shrine in which his remaining sons have taken refuge.]
[999] Let the doors fly, one here, one there, the barriers cast down and burst the posts asunder; let the smitten roof reel. The whole palace is alight; I see hiding there the son of a cursed sire.
[He seizes the child and drags him from the scene.]

AMPHITRYON
[Standing where he can see what is going on within the palace.]
[1002] See how he stretches out coaxing hands to his father’s knees, and with piteous voice begs – oh impious crime, grim and horrid sight! With his right hand he has caught the pleading child, and, madly whirling him again and yet again, has hurled him; his head crashed loudly against the stones; the room is drenched with scattered brains. But Megara, poor woman, sheltering her little son within her bosom, flees like a mad creature from her hiding-place.

HERCULES
[Behind the scene to MEGARA, also behind the scene.]
[1010] Though thou run and hide in the Thunderer’s bosom, everywhence shall this hand seek thee and hale thee forth.

AMPHITRYON
[1012] [To MEGARA.] Wither dost thou flee, poor child? What flight of what hiding-place dost thou seek? There is no place safe from Hercules enraged. Embrace him, rather, and essay to calm him with soothing prayers.

THE VOICE OF MEGARA
[1014] Husband, spare me now, I beg. See, I am Megara. This is thy son, with thine own looks and bearing. See, how he stretches out his hands.

THE VOICE OF HERCULES
[1017] I have caught my stepdame. Come, pay me thy debt, and free o’ermastered Jove from a degrading yoke.68 But before the mother let this little monster perish.

THE VOICE OF MEGARA
[1021] What wouldst thou, madman? Thine own blood wilt thou shed?

AMPHITRYON
[1022] Stricken with terror of his sire’s blazing eyes, the child died ere he felt the blow; fear snatched his life away. Against his wife now he poises his heavy club – her bones are crushed, her head is gone from her mangled body, gone utterly.

[1026] [To himself.] Darest thou abide this sight, O too stubborn age? If thou art weary of grief, death thou hast ready; expose they breast to those shafts, or turn against it that club smeared with our children’s gore. [Calling to HERCULES.] Make away with thy pretended sire, this blot upon thy name, lest he make discord midst thy praise.

CHORUS
[1032] Why, old man, dost wantonly challenge death? Whither wouldst go, senseless? Flee and securely hide thee, and save the hands of Hercules from the crime left.

[Re-enter HERCULES.]

HERCULES
[1035] ‘Tis well; the shameless king’s house is utterly destroyed. To thee, wife of almighty Jove, have I slaughtered this devoted flock; vows worthy of thee have I paid right joyfully, and Argos69 shall give still other victims.

AMPHITRYON
[1039] Not yet hast thou made full atonement, son; complete the sacrifice. See, a victim stands before the altar; with bent neck he awaits the stroke. I offer myself to death, I run to meet it, I follow after it; smite – but what is this? The glance of his eyes wanders, and faintness dulls his vision. Do I see the hands of Hercules a-tremble? His eyelids fall in slumber, and his tired neck sinks beneath his drooping head; now his knees give way and his whole body goes crashing to the ground, like an ash-tree felled in the woods, or a falling mass of rock that will give a breakwater to the sea.

[1048] [To HERCULES.] Livest thou still, or has that same madness given thee to death which sent thy kindred to their doom? [He examines the prostrate body.] He sleeps; his chest heaves with measured breathing. Let him have time for rest, that deep slumber may break the force of his madness and relive his troubled heart. Ye slaves, remove his weapons, lest in rage he seek them yet again.

CHORUS
[1054] Let heaven mourn, and the great father of high heaven, and fertile earth, and wandering waves of the restless main; and thou above all, who ever the lands and stretches of the sea dost shed thy rays, and dispellest night with comely face, O glowing Sun; equally with thee hath Alcides seen the lands of thy setting and thy rising, and hath known both thy dwellings.

[1063] O free his soul from such monstrous ills, free him, ye gods, and turn to better things his darkened spirit. And do thou, O Sleep, vanquisher of woes, rest of the soul, the better part of human life, thou winged son of thy mother Astraea, sluggish brother of cruel Death, thou who dost mingle false with true, sure yet gloomy guide70 to what shall be; O thou, who art peace after wanderings, haven of life, day’s respite and night’s comrade, who comest alike to king and slave, who doest compel the human race, trembling at death, to prepare for unending night – sweetly and gently soothe his weary spirit; hold him fast bound in heavy stupor; let slumber chain his untamed limbs, and leave not his savage breast until his former mind regain its course.

[1082] See, prone on the ground, he revolves in his fierce heart his savage dreams; not yet has the baleful power of so great woe been overcome; wont to recline his weary head on his heavy club, he feels for its ponderous trunk with empty hand, tossing his arms in fruitless movement. Not yet has he dispelled all his surging madness, but as the waves, stirred up by a mighty wind, still keep their long, tumultuous roll, and still are swollen though the wind has ceased, [so does his former rage still rack the hero.] Banish71 the mad passions of thy soul; let the hero’s piety and manly courage come again. Or rather, let his mind still be stirred by uncontrolled emotion; let his blind error go on the way it has begun; madness alone can now make thee innocent. Next best to guiltless hands is ignorance of guilt.

[1100] Now let Hercules’ breast resound beneath the blows of his palms; let those arms that were wont to upbear the universe be smitten by his victorious hands; let the heavens hear his mighty groans, let the queen of the dark world hear, and fierce Cerberus, crouching in his lowest cave, his necks still bound with chains; let Chaos re-echo the outcries of his grief, and the spreading waves of the broad deep, and mid-air which no less had felt thy shafts; the breast beset by so great ills must by no light blow be smitten; with one lamentation three kingdoms must resound. And thou, brave reed, which hung so long as ornament and weapon from his neck, and thou, heavy quiver, lay savage blows on his untamed back; let the stout oak club mangle his strong shoulders with its hard knots bruise his breast; let his weapons make lament for his mighty woes.

[1135] Go ye, ill-fated brood, ye boys, along the gloomy way of your father’s famous task, not destined to be partakers of his praise by taking bloody vengeance on savage kings; never taught in Argive wrestling school to ply the limbs, brave with boxing-glove and brave with hand, never yet taught to wound the maned lion with well-hurled javelin, but yet already bold to poise and throw with steady hand the slender Scythian dart, and shoot the deer that seek safety in flight – go to the haven of the Styx, go, harmless shades whom on the very threshold of life your sire’s mad crime o’ercame; go, go to the presence of the angered kings.72

HERCULES
[Waking up in his right mind.]
[1138] What place is this? What region, what quarter of the world? Where am I? Beneath the sun’s rising or beneath the wheeling course of the frozen Bear? Is this the boundary set to Ocean’s stream by that farthest land on the western sea? What air is this I breathe? What soil lies beneath my weary frame? Surely I have returned to earth –

[His eyes fall on his murdered children.]
[1143] How is it that I see bloody corpses lying before my house? Is my mind not yet free from infernal phantoms? Even after my return do troops of ghastly things still throng before my eyes? With shame I confess it – I am afraid; something, some great calamity my heart forebodes. Where art thou, father? Where is my wife, so proud of her brood of sons? Why is my left shoulder bare of the lion’s spoil? Whither has it gone, that shield of mine, at once a soft couch, too, for the sleep of Hercules? Where are my shafts? my bow? Who ahs been able to steal away my arms while I still live? Who has gained so great spoils of me, and has not shuddered at even a sleeping Hercules? Glad would I be to see my conqueror, glad. Come forth, thou brave hero, whom my sire, leaving heaven, has begotten, a later son, at whose begetting night stood still, longer than at mine –

[He recognizes his dead wife and children.]
[1159] What horror do I see? My sons, with bloody murder destroyed, lie here, my wife lies slain. What Lycus holds sway now? Who ahs dared perpetrate such outrages in Thebes, though Hercules has returned? Whoever dwellest by Ismenus’ stream, on Attic plains, in the kingdom of Dardanian Pelops, lapped by two seas, come to my aid, tell me the doer of this cruel murder. On all let mine anger sweep; my foeman is he who points not out the foe. Vanquisher of Alcides, hidest thou? Come out; whether thou dost seek vengeance for the savage horses of the bloody Thracian73 or for Geryon’s flock, or the Libyan heroes,74I am ready for the fray. Here I stand defenceless, e’en though with my own arms thou shouldst assail me armourless.

[1173] Why does Theseus avoid my eyes, why does my father? Why do they hide their faces? Postpone your tears. Who ahs given my loved ones to death, all of them at once, tell me – why, father art thou silent? But do thou tell, Theseus! Nay, Theseus, tell me by thy loyalty! – They both in silence turn away and hide their faces as if in shame, while tears steal down their cheeks. In woes so great what room is there for shame? Has the ruthless lord75 of Argos, has the hostile band of dying Lycus, in ruin so vast overwhelmed me? O father, by the glory of my deeds, I pray thee, and by thy sacred name76 always next77 hallowed in my sight, speak out! who has overthrown my house? To whom have I fallen prey?

AMPHITRYON
[1186] In silence, as they may, let troubles pass.

HERCULES
[1187] And I be unavenged?

AMPHITRYON
[1187] Oft vengeance has brought bane.

HERCULES
[1188] Has any e’er borne such woes supinely?

AMPHITRYON
[1189] Yes, he who greater woes has feared.

HERCULES
[1189] But than these, father, can aught still greater of heavier be feared?

AMPHITRYON
[1191] How small the part of thy calamity is that thou knowest!

HERCULES
[1192] Have pity, father; see, I stretch out suppliant hands. What? from my hands he started back – here lurks the sin. Whence this blood? What of that shaft, still dripping with the blood of boys? It has been dipped in Hydra’s gore – ah, now my own weapons do I recognize. No need to ask the hand that used them! Who could have bent the bow or what hand drawn the string which scarce yields to me? I turn to you again; father, is this my deed? Silent still – ‘tis mine.

AMPHITRYON
[1200] Truly the woe is thine; the crime thy stepdame’s. This mischance is free from sin.

HERCULES
[1202] Now from every quarter of the sky, O father, thunder in thy wrath; though thou hast forgotten me, with tardy hand at least avenge thy grandsons. Let the starry heavens resound, and the skies dart lightnings from pole to pole; let the Caspian crags78 claim my fettered body, and let the ravenous bird – Why are Prometheus’ crags unoccupied? Why, the bare, steep side of Caucasus which, on its lofty summit, feeds beasts and birds of prey? Let those clashing rocks79 which confine the Scythian sea stretch my fettered hands apart this way and that o’er the deep, and, when with recurrent change they come together and when, as the crags rush from either side, the rocks force up to heaven the interposing flood, may I lie there the mountains’ tortured curb. Nay, I will build me a huge pile of logs and burn my body spattered with impious gore. Thus, thus must I do – to the nether gods will I give back Hercules.

AMPHITRYON
[1219] His heart, not yet eased of frenzy’s tumult, ahs shifted its wrath’s aim and now, sure sign of madness, he rages against himself.

HERCULES
[1221] Ye dire abodes of fiends, prison-house of the dead, ye regions set apart for the guilty throng, if any place of banishment lies hidden away beneath hell itself, unknown to Cerberus and me, hide me there, O earth; to the remotest bounds of Tartarus will I go and there abide. O heart too fierce! Who can weep worthily for you, my children, scattered through all my house? This face, hardened with woe, has forgotten how to weep. Give my bow here, give me my arrows, here give me my huge club.

[He bends the corpses and addresses each in turn.]
[1231] For thee will I break my shafts, for thee, poor boy, will I rend my bow; but to thy shades my heavy club shall burn; my quiver itself, full of Lerna’s darts, shall go with thee to the pyre. So let my arms pay the penalty. You, too, with my weapons will I burn, O cursed, O stepdame’s hands.

AMPHITRYON
[1237] What man anywhere hath laid on error the name of guilt?

HERCULES
[1238] Oft hath great error held the place of guilt.

AMPHITRYON
[1239] Now must thou be Hercules; bear thou this weight of trouble.

HERCULES
[1240] Shame, quenched by madness, has not so far gone from me that with unhallowed presence I should scare all peoples. Arms, Theseus, my arms! I pray you quickly give back what you have stolen. If my mind is sane give back to my hands their weapons; if madness still remains, fly, O my father; I shall find a path to death.

AMPHITRYON
[1247] By the holy ties of birth, by the right of both my names, whether thou dost call me foster-father or true sire, by these grey hairs, which pious sons revere, spare thyself, I pray, to my lonely age and to my weary years. Sole prop of my fallen house, sole light of my woe-darkened life, save thyself for me. No enjoyment of thee, no fruit of thy toils has fallen to my lot; but always have I had to fear either the stormy seas or monsters; every cruel king that rages in all the world with guilt on his hands or altars is cause of dread to me; always do I, thy father, yearn for the joy of touch and sight of thee, my ever-absent son.

HERCULES
[1258] Why I should longer stay my soul in the light of day, and linger here, there is no cause; all that was dear to me I’ve lost: reason, arms, honour, wife, children, strength – and madness too! No power could purge a tainted spirit; by death must sin be healed.

AMPHITRYON
[1263] Thou’lt slay thy father.

HERCULES
[1263] Lest I do so, I’ll die.

AMPHITRYON
[1264] Before thy father’s eyes?

HERCULES
[1264] I have taught him to look on impious deeds.

AMPHITRYON
[1265] Nay, rather think upon thy deeds glorious to all, and seek from thyself pardon for one sin.

HERCULES
[1267] Shall he give remission to himself who to none other gave it? As for my glorious deeds, at others’ hest I did them; this alone is mine. Help me, father; whether love move thee, or my sad fate, or the tarnished glory of my manhood. Bring me my weapons; by my right hand let fate be vanquished.

THESEUS
[1272] Enough thy father’s prayers have power to move, but let my weeping move thee, too. Up! and with thy wonted force break through adversity. Now get back thy courage which was ne’er unequal to any hardship; now must thou greatly play the man – forbid Hercules to rage!

HERCULES
[1278] If I keep to life, I have wrought wrong; if I die, have borne it. I am in haste to purge the earth. Long since a monstrous form, impious, savage, inexorable, wild, has stalked before my eyes; come, hand, grapple with this task greater than the last of all thy labours. Coward, dost thou shrink, brave against boys alone and trembling mothers? My arms, I say! Unless they are given me, either I will cut down all the woods of Thracian Pindus and Bacchus’ groves and Cithaeron’s ridges, and along with my own body I will burn them up; or else all the dwellings of Thebes with their households and their masters, the temples with all their gods, I will pull down upon myself and lie buried ‘neath a city’s wreck; and if, hurled on my shoulders, the walls shall fall with too light a weight, and if, buried beneath the seven gates, I be not crushed enough, then all the mass which lies at the centre of the universe and separates gods from men will I overthrow upon my head.

AMPHITRYON
[1295] I return thine arms.

HERCULES
[1295] The words are worthy the sire of Hercules. See, slain by this shaft fell my boy.

AMPHITRYON
[1297] ‘Twas Juno shot the arrow by thy hand.

HERCULES
[1298] ‘Tis I who shall use it now.

AMPHITRYON
[1298] Oh, how my woeful heart trembles with fear and smites on my anxious breast!

HERCULES
[1300] The shaft is notched.

AMPHITRYON
[1300] Ah, now wilt thou sin of thine own will and knowledge.

HERCULES
[1301] Speak out; what wouldst have me do?

AMPHITRYON
[1302] I make no prayer; for me woe is assured – thou alone canst preserve my son to me, but not even thou canst snatch him from me. I have passed my greatest fear; wretched thou canst not make me, but blest, thou canst. Decide, then, as thou wilt decide, but know that in so doing thy cause and fame stand at hazard and doubtful issue; either thou livest or slayest me. This flitting soul, weary with age and no less with woe weary, I hold upon my very lips. So grudgingly does any man grant his father life? [He seizes a sword and sets its point to his breast.] I will brook no more delay; with the fatal steel thrust home will I pierce my breast; here, here shall lie the crime of a sane Hercules.

HERCULES
[1314] Now hold, father, hold, recall thy hand! Strong soul of mine, yield, do a father’s will; add this task also to Hercules’ toils – and live! Theseus, lift thou from the ground my father’s fainting limbs. My hands defiled shrink from that pious touch.

AMPHITRYON
[1319] But this hand I clasp joyfully; by its help I’ll walk and, holding it close to my aching heart, banish my griefs.

HERCULES
[1321] Whither shall I flee? Where shall I hide me, or in what land bury me? What Tanaïs, what Nile, what Tigris, raging with Persian torrents, what warlike Rhine, or Tagus, turbid with the golden sands of Spain, can cleanse this hand? Though cold Maeotis should pour its northern sea upon me, though the whole ocean should stream along my hands, still will the deep stains cling. To what countries, man of sin, wilt thou betake thee? The rising or the setting sun wilt seek? Know in every land, I have lost place for exile. The world shrinks from my presence, the stars, moving askance, turn away their courses; Titan himself looked upon Cerberus with kindlier face. O faithful friend, Theseus, seek a hiding-place for me, remote, obscure; since, though witness of others’ sins, thou dost ever love the sinners, grant me now grace and recompense for favours past. Take me back, I pray thee, and restore me to the nether shades; put me in thy stead, loaded with thy chains; that place will hide me – but it, too, knows me!

THESEUS
[1341] My land awaits thee. There Gradivus once cleansed his hands from blood80 and gave them back to war; thee, Alcides, does that land call, land which can free the immortals from their stains.81

THE END.

HERCULES FURENS 1

HERCULES FURENS 2


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SENECA, TROADES

TROADES, TRANSLATED BY FRANK JUSTUS MILLER

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

AGAMEMNON, king of the Greek forces in the war against Troy
PYRRHUS, son of Achilles, one of the active leaders in the final events of the war.
ULYSSES, king of Ithaca, one of the most powerful and crafty of the Greek chiefs before Troy.
CALCHAS, a priest and prophet among the Greeks.
TALTHYBIUS, a Greek messenger.
AN OLD MAN, faithful to Andromache.
ASTYANAX, little son of Hector and Andromache.
HECUBA, widow of Priam, one of the Trojan captives.
ANDROMACHE, widow of Hector, a Trojan captive.
HELENA, wife of Menelaüs, king of Sparta, and afterwards of Paris, a prince of Troy; the exciting cause of the Trojan war.

THE SCENE is laid on the seashore, with the smouldering ruins of Troy in the background.
THE TIME is the day before the embarkation of the Greeks on their homeward journey.

ARGUMENT

The long and toilsome siege of Troy is done. Her stately palaces and massive walls have been overthrown and lie darkening the sky with their still smouldering ruins. Her heroic defenders are either slain or scattered, seeking other homes in distant lands. The victorious Greeks have gathered the rich spoils of Troy upon the shore, among these the Trojan women, who have suffered the usual fate of women when a city is sacked. They await the lot which shall assign them to their Grecian lords and scatter them among the cities of their foes. All things are ready for the start.
But now the ghost of Achilles has risen from the tomb, and demanded that Polyxena be sacrificed to him before the Greeks shall be allowed to sail away. And Calchas, also, bids that Astyanax be slain, for only thus can Greece be safe from any future Trojan war. And thus the Trojan captives, who have so long endured the pains of war, must suffer still this double tragedy.

HECUBA
[1] Whoever trusts in sovereignty and strongly lords it in his princely hall, who fears not the fickle gods and has given up his trustful soul to joy, on me let him look and on thee, O Troy. Never did fortune give larger proof on how frail ground stand the proud. O’erthrown and fallen is mighty Asia’s prop,1 famous work of gods; she to whose assistance came he2who drinks chill Tanaïs, spreading its sevenfold mouths, he3 who first greets the new-born day, where mingle the warm waters of Tigris with the ruddy sea, and she4 who sees o’er her borders the wandering Scythians and with her virgin hordes scourges the Pontic shore – e’en she by the sword is razed, Pergamum upon herself has fallen. See! The towering glories of her high-piled wall lie low, her dwellings consumed by fire; the flames lick round her palace, and all the house of Assaracus smokes on every side. The flames check not the victor’s greedy hands; Troy is plundered even while she burns; the face of day, obscured as by an impenetrable cloud, is black and foul with the ashes of Ilium. With wrath still unglutted the victor stands, eyeing long-lingering Ilium, and at last, spite of his savage hate, forgives the ten long years; he quakes even at her ruins and, though he sees her overthrown, yet trusts not his own witness that she could have been overthrown. The plunderer hurries away the Dardan spoils, booty which a thousand ships cannot contain.

[28] I call to witness the divinity of the gods, hostile to me, the ashes of my country, thee,5 ruler of Phrygia, whom, buried beneath thy whole realm, Troy covers, and the shades of thee6 with whose standing Ilium stood, and you, great troops of children mine, ye lesser shades: whatever disaster has befallen us, whatever evils Phoebus’ bride,7raving with frenzied lips, foretold, though the god forbade that she should be believed, I, Hecuba, big with child,8 saw first, nor did I keep my fears unuttered, and I before Cassandra was a prophetess unheeded. ‘Tis not the crafty Ithacan,9 nor the night-prowling comrade10 of the Ithacan, who has scattered firebrands ‘mongst you, nor the lying Sinon – mine is that fire, by my brands are you burning.

[41] But why lamentest thou the downfall of a city overthrown, old age that clingest too long to life? Think thou, ill-fated, on these recent griefs; Troy’s fall is now an ancient woe. I saw the accursed murder of the king and at the very altar (crime past belief) the arms of Aeacides,11 when he, with left hand clutching the old man’s hair, bent back the royal head and into the deep wound savagely thrust the impious steel; and when with right good will he had plucked away the deep-driven sword, it came unwetted from the old man’s throat. Ah, whose rage might not have been stayed from savage slaughter by one close drawing to the last period of mortal life, by the gods who beheld the crime, and by what was once the sanctuary of a fallen realm? Priam, that father of so many princes, lies unentombed and lacks a funeral torch, though Troy is burning. And yet the gods are not satisfied; behold, the urn by lot is choosing lords for the matrons and maids of Priam’s house, and I, a spoil unprized, shall follow some new lord. One promises himself the wife of Hector, one prays that Helenus’ wife be his, and one, Antenor’s; nor is one wanting who seeks thy couch, Cassandra; my lot is dreaded, I only am a terror to the Greeks.

[63] Do your wailings falter? O throng of mine, captives as ye are, smite breasts with palms, make loud laments, due rites for Troy perform. Long since ‘twere time for fatal Ida to resound, home of the ill-omened judge.12

CHORUS
[68] No untrained company, stranger to tears, dost thou bid mourn; this have we done for years unceasing, from when the Phrygian guest13 touched at Grecian Amyclae, and the waves were cleft by the pine sacred to mother Cybele.14 Ten times has Ida whitened with her snows, ten times been stripped for our funeral pyres, and in the Sigean fields ten harvests has the trembling reaper cut, since when no day has been without its grief. But now we have new cause for weeping. On with your lamentation, and do thou, O queen, lift high thy wretched hand. We, the common throng, will follow our mistress; well trained in mourning are we.

HECUBA
[83] Trusty comrades of my fate, unbind your locks; over your sorrowing shoulders let them flow, defiled with Troy’s warm dust. Fill your hands – so much may we take from Troy. Let the band their bared arms make ready; let down your robes and bind their folds; down to the waist let your forms be bared. For what husband dost veil thy breast, O captive modesty? Let our mantles gird up the loose-flowing tunics,15 let mad hands be free for raining the blows of woe – ‘tis well, this attire is well; now do I recognize my Trojan band. Repeat once more your old lamentations; exceed your wonted manner of weeping; ‘tis for Hector we weep.

CHORUS
[99] We have all loosed our locks at many a funeral torn; our hair has fall’n free from its knot, and hot ashes have sprinkled our faces. From our bared shoulders our garments fall and cover only our loins with their folds. Now naked breasts invite our hands; now, now, O Grief, put forth thy strength. Let the Rhoetean shores resound with our mourning, and let Echo, who dwells in the caves of the mountains, not, after her wont, curtly repeat our final words alone, but give back our full mourning for Troy. Let ever sea hear us, and sky. Smite, hands, bruised breasts with mighty beating; I am not content with the accustomed sound – ‘tis for Hector we weep.

HECUBA
[117] For thee16 my right hand smites my arms, and bleeding shoulders it smites for thee; for thee my hand beats on my head, for thee my breasts with a mother’s palms are mangled. Let flow and stream with blood, bleeding afresh, whatever wound I made at thy funeral. O prop of thy country, hindrance of fate, thou bulwark for weary Phrygians, thou wast our country’s wall; propped on thy shoulders, ten years she stood; with thee she fell, and Hector’s last day was his country’s, too.

[130] Turn now your mourning; for Priam shed your tears; Hector has enough.

CHORUS
[132] Receive our mourning, O ruler of Phrygia; receive our tears, twice-captured old man. Naught has Troy suffered once in thy reign; nay, twice she endured the battering of her Dardanian walls by Grecian steel and twice17 felt the arrows of Hercules. After Hecuba’s sons were borne out to burial, after that troop of princes, thou, father, dost close the long funeral train and, slaughtered as a victim to mighty Jove,18 on Sigeum’s strand headless thou liest.

HECUBA
[142] Otherwhere turn ye your tears; not to be pitied is my Priam’s death, ye Trojans. Cry ye all, “Happy Priam!” Free fares he to the deep land of spirits, nor ever will bear on his conquered neck the yoke of the Grecians; he does not look upon the two sons of Atreus, nor behold crafty Ulysses; he will not, as booty of Argolic triumph, bend neck ‘neath their trophies; he will not yield hands to be bound which have wielded the sceptre, nor, following the car of Agamemnon, wearing gold fetters, will he make show for wide-spreading Mycenae.

CHORUS
[157] “Happy Priam,” say we all. With him, in departing, he has taken his kingdom; now in the peaceful shades of Elysium’s grove he wanders, and happy midst pious souls he seeks for his Hector. Happy Priam, happy whoe’er, dying in battle, has with his death made an end of all.

[Enter TALTHYBIUS.]

TALTHYBIUS
[164] O delay, ever long for Greeks in harbour, whether they would seek war or seek fatherland!

CHORUS
[166] Tell thou what cause delays the Grecian fleet, what god blocks the homeward paths.

TALTHYBIUS
[168] My spirit is afraid; shivering horror makes my limbs to quake. Portents transcending truth scarce gain belief – but I saw it, with my own eyes I saw. The sun was just grazing the hill-tops with his morning rays and day had vanquished night, when suddenly the earth with hidden rumblings rocked convulsive and brought to light her innermost recesses; the woods tossed their tops and the lofty forest and sacred grove resounded with huge crashing; and rocks came falling from the shivered heights of Ida. Nor did the earth only tremble; the sea, too, felt its own Achilles near and stilled its waters. Then was the valley rent asunder, revealing caverns measureless, and yawning Erebus gave passage-way through the cleft earth to the world above and opened up the tomb.19 Forth leaped the mighty shade of the Thessalian chief, such shape as when practising for thy fate, O Troy, he laid low the Thracian20 arms, or smote the son21 of Neptune with white plumes gleaming; or when, amidst the ranks raging in furious battle, he choked rivers with corpses, and Xanthus, seeking his way, wandered slowly along with bloody stream; or when he stood in his proud car victorious, plying the reins and dragging Hector – and Troy.

[190] The shout of the enraged hero filled all the shore: “Go, go, ye cowards, bear off the honours due to my spirit; loose your ungrateful ships to sail away over my22 seas. At no small price did Greece avert the wrath of Achilles, and the great cost shall she avert it. Let Polyxena, once pledged to me, be sacrificed to my dust by the hand of Pyrrhus and bedew my tomb.” So speaking with deep voice, he bade farewell to day and, plunging down to Dis once more, closed the huge chasm as the earth was again united. The tranquil waters lie motionless, the wind has given up its threats, the calm sea murmurs with gentle waves, from the deep the band of Tritons has sounded the wedding hymn.

[Enter PYRRHUS and AGAMEMNON.]

PYRRHUS
[203] When thou wast spreading joyful sails for thy return over the sea, Achilles was quite forgot, who by his sole hand made Troy to totter, so that – whate’er delay was added after his death – she but stood wavering which way to fall. Though thou shouldst wish and haste to give him what he seeks, thou wouldst give too late; already have all the chiefs made choice of their spoils. What meaner prize can be given to his great worth? Or was his desert but slight who, bidden to shun the war and idly spend a long old age, surpassing the years of the ancient Pylian,23 put off his mother’s wiles and those disguising garments, confessing himself a man by his choice of arms? When Telephus, unbridled ruler of inhospitable realm, refused him passage through warlike Mysia, he with his royal blood first dyed that inexperienced hand, and found that same hand brave and merciful. Thebes fell and conquered Eëtion saw his kingdom taken; by a like disaster little Lyrnesos, perched on a high hill, was overthrown, and the land famous for Briseïs’ capture; Chyrse, too, lies low, cause of strife for kings, and Tenedos, well known in fame, and fertile Scyros, which on its rich pasturage feeds the Thracian flocks, and Lesbos, cleaving in twain the Aegean sea, and Cilla, sacred to Phoebus; and what of the lands which the Caÿcus washes, his waters swollen by the floods of spring?

[229] This great overthrow of nations, this widespread terror, all these cities wrecked as by a tornado’s blast, to another could have been glory and the height of fame; to Achilles they were but deeds upon the way. ‘Twas thus my father came, and so great wars he waged while but preparing war. Though I speak not of other merits, would not Hector alone have been enough? My father conquered Ilium; you have plundered it. Proud am I to rehearse my great sire’s illustrious praises and glorious deeds: Hector lies low, slain before his father’s eyes, and Memnon before his uncle’s, in sorrow for whose death his mother24with wan face ushered in a mournful day, while the victor shuddered at the lesson of his own work, and Achilles learned that even sons of goddesses can die. Then fell the fierce Amazon,25 our latest dread. Thou art Achilles’ debtor, if rightly thou estimate his worth, even if he should ask a maiden from Mycenae and from Argos.26 Dost hesitate and now of a sudden deem wrong what has already been approved,27 and count it cruel to sacrifice Priam’s daughter to Peleus’son? And yet thine own daughter for Helen’s sake thou, her sire, didst immolate. I claim but what is already use and precedent.

AGAMEMNON
[250] Ungoverned violence is a fault of youth; in the case of others ‘tis the first fervour of their years that sweeps them on, but with Pyrrhus ‘tis his father’s heat. The blustering airs and threats of arrogant Aeacides I once bore unmoved. The greater the might, the more should be the patience to endure.

[255] Why with cruel bloodshed dost thou besmirch the noble shade of an illustrious chief? This ‘twere fitting first to learn, what the victor ought to do, the vanquished, suffer. Ungoverned power no one can long retain; controlled, it lasts; and the higher Fortune has raised and exalted the might of man, the more does it become him to be modest in prosperity, to tremble at shifting circumstance, and to fear the gods when they are overkind. That greatness can be in a moment overthrown I have learned by conquering. Does Troy make us too arrogant and bold? We Greeks are standing in the place whence she has fallen. In the past, I grant, I have been headstrong in government and borne myself too haughtily; but such pride has been broken by that cause which could have produced it in another, e’en Fortune’s favour. Thou, Priam, mak’st me proud – and fearful, too.

[271] Should I count sovereignty anything but a name bedecked with empty glamour, a brow adorned with a lying coronet? Brief chance will plunder these, mayhap without the aid of a thousand ships or ten long years: Fate hangs not over all so long. For my part, I will confess – thy pardon for saying it, O Argive land! – I wished to see the Phrygians beaten down and conquered; but overthrown and razed to the ground – would that I could have spared them that. But wrath, the fiery foeman, victory given to night’s charge, these cannot be kept in hand. All that any might have deemed unworthy in me or brutal, this resentment wrought and darkness, whereby fury is spurred to greater fury, and the victorious sword, whose blood-lust, when once stained with blood, is madness. All that can survive of ruined Troy let it survive; enough and more of punishment has been exacted. That a royal maid should fall, be offered to a tomb, should water the ashes of the dead, and that men should call foul murder marriage, I will not permit. The blame of all comes back on me; he who, when he may, forbids not sin, commands it.

PYRRHUS
[292] And shall Achilles’ ghost gain no reward?

AGAMEMNON
[293] It shall; all shall sing his praises and unknown lands shall hear his mighty name. But if his dust can be appeased only by on-poured blood, let Phrygian cattle, rich spoil, be slain, and let blood flow which will cause no mother’s tears. What custom this? When was a human victim offered up in honour of human dead? Save thy father from scorn and hate, whom thou art bidding us honour by a maiden’s death.

PYRRHUS
[301] O thou swollen with pride so long as prosperity exalts thy soul, but faint of heart when the alarms of war resound, tyrant of kings! Is now thy heart inflamed with sudden love and of a new mistress? Art thou alone so often to bear off our spoils? With this right hand will I give to Achilles the victim due. If thou dost refuse and keep her from me, a greater will I give, worthy the gift of Pyrrhus; too long has my hand refrained from killing kings, and Priam claims his peer.

AGAMEMNON
[310] Nay, I deny not that ‘tis Pyrrhus’ most glorious deed of war that Priam lies slain by thy brutal sword, and he thy father’s suppliant.28

PYRRHUS
[313] Yea, I know my father’s suppliants – and enemies, too. And yet in my father’s presence Priam prayed; thou, quaking with o’ermastering fear, not brave enough to make thy own plea, didst delegate thy prayers to Ajax and the Ithacan, staying hid in thy tend and trembling at thy foe.29

AGAMEMNON
[318] But no fear then, I grant it, had thy father, and mid Grecian carnage and their blazing ships idly he lay, thoughtless of war and arms, strumming with dainty quill on tuneful lyre.

PYRRHUS
[322] Then mighty Hector, though he scorned thy arms, still feared Achilles’ songs, and midst so great general dread deep peace lay on the ship-camp of Thessaly.30

AGAMEMNON
[325] Yea, and in that same ship-camp of Thessaly deep peace, again, did Hector’s father find.

PYRRHUS
[327] ‘Tis a high, a kingly act to give life to a king.

AGAMEMNON
[328] Why then from a king did thy right hand take life?

PYRRHUS
[329] The merciful will oft give death instead of life.

AGAMEMNON
[330] And is it now in mercy thou seekest a maiden for the tomb?

PYRRHUS
[331] So now thou deemst the sacrifice of maids a crime?

AGAMEMNON
[332] To put country before children befits a king.

PYRRHUS
[333] No law spares the captive or stays the penalty.

AGAMEMNON
[334] What law forbids not, shame forbids be done.

PYRRHUS
[335] Whate’er he will, ‘tis the victor’s right to do.

AGAMEMNON
[336] Least should he will who has much right.

PYRRHUS
[337] Darest fling such words to those whom, overwhelmed beneath thy heavy sway for ten long years, Pyrrhus freed from the yoke?

AGAMEMNON
[339] Does Scyrus give such airs?

PYRRHUS
[339] ‘Tis free from the crime of brothers.31

AGAMEMNON
[340] Hemmed by the waves –

PYRRHUS
[340] Yes, of a kindred sea.32 Atreus and Thyestes – well do I know their noble house.

AGAMEMNON
[342] Thou son of a maiden’s secret shame and of Achilles, but scarce yet a man –

PYRRHUS
[344] Of that Achilles who by right of lineage extends throughout the realm of the immortals and claims the universe: the sea through Thetis, through Aeacus the shades, the heavens through Jove.

AGAMEMNON
[347] Of that Achilles who lies slain by Paris’ hand.

PYRRHUS
[348] Whom e’en a god would not contend with face to face.

AGAMEMNON
[349] I could check thy words and curb thy recklessness by punishment; but my sword knows how to spare e’en captives. Rather, let Calchas, the interpreter of the gods, be called. If the fates demand, I will give her up.

[Enter CALCHAS.]
[353] Thou who didst free the Pelasgian fleet from bonds, and dist end the wars’ delays, who by thy art doest unlock the sky, to whom the entrails’ secrets, to whom the crashing heavens and the star with its long, flaming trail disclose the fates, thou whose utterances ever cost me dear: what is God’s will, declare, O Calchas, and by thy wisdom guide us.

CALCHAS
[360] ‘Tis at the accustomed price fate grants the Danaï their voyage. A maiden must be sacrificed on the Thessalian chieftain’s tomb; but in the barb in which Thessalian brides are wed, or Ionian or Mycenaean, let Pyrrhus lead his father’s bride to him. ‘Tis so she shall be given duly. But it is not this cause alone which delays our ships; blood nobler than thy blood, Polyxena, is due. Whom the fates seek, from the high watch-tower let him fall, Priam’s grandson, Hector’s son, and let him perish there. Then with its thousand sails may the fleet fill the seas.

CHORUS
[371]Is it true, or does the tale cheat timid souls, that spirits live on when bodies have been buried, when the wife has closed her husband’s eyes, when the last day has blotted out the sun, when the mournful urn holds fast our dust? Profits it not to give up the soul to death, but remains it for wretched mortals to live still longer? Or do we wholly die and does no part of us remain, when with the fleeting breath the spirit, mingling with vapours, has passed into the air, and the lighted fire has touched the naked body?

[382] All that the rising sun and all that the setting knows, all that the ocean laves with its blue waters, twice ebbing and twice flowing, time with the pace of Pegasus shall gather in. With such whirlwind speed as the twelve signs fly along, with such swift course as the lord33 of stars hurries on the centuries, and in such wise as Hecate hastens along her slanting ways, so do we all seek fate, and nevermore does he exist at all who has reached the pool34 whereby the high gods swear. As smoke from burning fires vanishes, staining the air for once brief moment; as clouds, which but now we saw lowering, are scattered by the cold blasts of Boreas, so shall this spirit which rules our bodies flow away. There is nothing after death, and death itself is nothing, the final goal of a course full swiftly run. Let the eager give up their hopes; their fears, the anxious; greedy time and chaos engulf us altogether. Death is a something that admits no cleavage,35destructive to the body and unsparing of the soul. Taenarus and the cruel tyrant’s36kingdom and Cerberus, guarding the portal of no easy passage – all are but idle rumours, empty words, a tale light as a troubled dream. Dost ask where thou shalt lie when death has claimed thee? Where they lie who were never born.

[Enter ANDROMACHE, leading her little son, ASTYANAX, and accompanied by an aged man-servant.]

ANDROMACHE
[409] Ye Phrygian woman, mournful band, why do you tear your hair, beat on your wretched breasts, and water your cheeks with weeping unrestrained? Trivial woes have we endured if our sufferings can be told by tears. Ilium has fallen but now for you; for me she fell long since, when the cruel foeman behind the swift car dragged his limbs – my own, and his axle-tree, on Pelion hewed, groaned loud, straining beneath Hector’s weight. On that day overwhelmed and ruined, whatever has happened since I bear, benumbed with woe, stony, insensible. And now, escaping the Greeks, I should follow my husband, if this child held me not. He tames my spirit and prevents my death; he forces me still to ask something of the gods, has prolonged my suffering. He has robbed me of the richest fruit of sorrows, the scorn of fear. All chance of happiness has been snatched away from me; calamity has still a door of entrance. Most wretched ‘tis to fear when you can hope for naught.

OLD MAN
[426] What sudden terror has stirred thy stricken soul?

ANDROMACHE
[427] Some greater woe from woe already great arises. The fate of falling Ilium is not yet stayed.

OLD MAN
[429] What new disasters, though he wish, will the god discover?

ANDROMACHE
[430] The bars of deep Styx and its darksome caves are opened and, lest terror be wanting to our overthrow, our buried foemen come forth from lowest Dis. To the Greeks only is a backward passage given? Death surely is impartial. That terror37 disturbs and alarms all Phrygians alike; but this vision38 of dread night doth terrify my soul alone.

OLD MAN
[437] What vision hast thou to tell? Speak out thy fears before us all.

ANROMACHE
[438] Two portions of her course had kindly night well-nigh passed, and the seven stars had turned their shining car; at last long unfamiliar calm came to my troubled heart, and a brief slumber stole o’er my weary cheeks – if, indeed, the stupor of a mind all dazed be slumber – when suddenly Hector stood before my eyes, not in such guise as when, forcing the fight against the Argives, he attacked the Grecian ships with torches from Ida’s pines, not as when he raged in copious slaughter against he Danaï and bore off true spoils from a feigned Achilles39; not such his face, blazing with battle light, but weary, downcast, heavy with weeping, like my own, covered with matted locks. Even so, ‘twas joy to have looked upon him. Then, shaking his head, he said: “Rouse thee from slumber and save our son, O faithful wife! hide him; ‘tis the only hope of safety. Away with tears! Dost grieve because Troy has fallen? Would she were fallen utterly!40 Make haste, remove to any place soever the little scion of our house.” Cold horror and trembling banished sleep; quaking with terror, I turned my eyes now here, now there, taking no thought of my son, and piteously seeking Hector; but from my very arms his cheating ghost was gone.

[461] O son, true offspring of a mighty sire, sole hope of Phrygians, sole comfort of our stricken house, child of an ancient, too illustrious line, too like thy father, thou; such features my Hector had, such was he in gait, such in bearing; so carried he his brave hands, so bore he his shoulders high, such august, commanding look had he as with head thrown proudly back he tossed his flowing locks. O son, born too late for the Phrygians, too soon for thy mother, will that time ever come and that happy day when, as defender and avenger of the Trojan land, thou shalt establish Pergama restored, bring back its scattered citizens from flight, and give again their name to fatherland and Phrygians? But, remembering my own lot, I shrink from such proud prayers; this is enough for captives – may we but live!

[476] Ah me, what place will be faithful to my fears? where shall I hide thee? That citadel, once rich in treasure and its god-built walls, amongst all nations famed and envied, is now deep dust, wasted utterly by fire; an of that huge city not even enough is left wherein a child may hide. What place shall I choose to cheat them? There is my dear lord’s great tomb, hallowed, awe-inspiring to the foe, which of huge bulk and at mighty cost his father reared, a prince not niggardly in his grief. To his sire shall I best entrust the child. Cold sweat streams down all my limbs. Ah me! I shudder at the omen of the place of death.

OLD MAN
[497] In wretchedness, seize any refuge; in safety, choose.

ANDROMACHE
[496] What that he cannot hide without great danger of betrayal?

OLD MAN
[492] Have none to see thy guile.

ANDROMACHE
[493] If the foe inquire?

OLD MAN
[498] He perished in the city’s downfall; this cause alone has saved many from destruction – the belief that they have perished.

ANDROMACHE
[490] Scant hope is left; the crushing weight of his noble birth lies heavy on him. What will it profit him to have hidden, when he must fall into their hands?

OLD MAN
[495] The victor’s first onslaughts are the deadliest.

ANDROMACHE
[498] [To ASTYANAX.] What place, what spot, remote and inaccessible, will keep thee safe? Who will bring help in our sore need? Who will protect? O Hector, who didst always shield thine own, shield them even now; guard thou a wife’s pious theft and to thy faithful ashes take him to live again. Enter the tomb, my son – why dost thou shrink back and reject this safe hiding-place? I recognize thy breeding; thou art ashamed of fear. But put away thy high spirit and old-time courage; put on such spirit as misfortune grants. See how small a company of us remains – a tomb, a child, a captive woman; we must yield to ills. Come, boldly enter the sacred home of thy buried father. If the fates befriend the wretched, thou hast a safe retreat; if the fates deny thee life, thou hast a tomb.

[ASTYANAX enters the tomb and the gates are closed and barred behind him.]

OLD MAN
[512] The bars protect their charge; and, that thy fear may not hale him forth, retire thou far from here and withdraw thyself apart.

ANDROMACHE
[515] Who fears from near at hand, fears often less; but if thou thinkest well, we will betake us elsewhere.
[ULYSSES is seen approaching.]

OLD MAN
[517] Be still a little while, utter no word or cry; the leader of the Cephallenians hither bends his accursed steps.

ANDROMACHE
[With a final appealing look towards the tomb.]
[519] Yawn deep, O earth, and thou, my husband, rive the rent earth to its lowest caves and hide the charge I give thee in the deep bosom of the Styx. Ulysses is here, with step and look of one in hesitation; in his heart he weaves some crafty stratagem.

[Enter ULYSSES.]

ULYSSES
[524] As the minister of harsh fate I beg this first, that, although the words are uttered by my lips, thou count them not my words; it is the voice of all the Grecian chiefs, whom Hector’s son is keeping from their late home-coming; ‘tis the fates demand him. A fretting mistrust of uncertain peace will ever possess the Danaï, and fear ever will force them to look behind and not let them lay down their arms, so long as thy son, Andromache, and Hector’s shall give heart to the conquered Phrygians. Calchas, the augur, gives this response; and if Calchas, the augur, were silent upon this, yet Hector used to say it, and I dread even a son of his; the generous scion grows to its parent’s likeness. So that little companion of the mighty herd, his first horns not yet sprouting through the skin, suddenly, with high-borne neck and proudly lifted brow, leads his father’s herd and rules the drove; the slender shoot which has sprung up from a lopped-off trunk in a little while rises to match the parent tree, gives back shade to the earth and a sacred grove to heaven; so do the embers of a great fire, carelessly left behind, regain their strength. I know that grief is no impartial judge; still, if thou weigh the matter with thyself, thou wilt forgive a soldier if, after ten winters and as many harvest seasons, now veteran he fears war, fears still other bloody battles and Troy never wholly o’erthrown. A great matter moves the forebodings of the Danaï – another Hector. Free the Greeks from fear. This one cause holds our ships, already launched; this cause stays the fleet. And think me not cruel because, at the bidding of the lot, I seek Hector’s son; I would have sought Orestes.41Bear thou what thy conqueror has borne.42

ANDROMACHE
[556] Oh, that thou wert within thy mother’s reach, my son, and that I knew what hap holds thee now snatched from my arms, or what place – not though my breast were pierced with hostile spears, and my hands bound with cutting chains, not though scorching flames hemmed me on either side, would I ever put off a mother’s loyalty. O son, what place, what fate, hath gotten thee now? On some pathless way dost thou roam the fields? Has the vast burning of thy fatherland consumed thy frame? or has some rude conqueror revelled in thy blood? Slain by some wild beast’s fangs, dost feed the birds of Ida?

ULYSSES
[568] Have done with lies; ‘tis not easy for thee to deceive Ulysses; we have out-matched the wiles of mothers and even of goddesses.43 Away with vain designs; where is thy son?

ANDROMACHE
[571] Where is Hector? Where all the Phrygians? Where is Priam? Thou seekest one; I seek for all.

ULYSSES
[573] Thou shalt be forced to tell what of thyself thou wilt not.

ANDROMACHE
[574] She is safe who is able, who ought, who longs to die.

ULYSSES
[575] When death draws near it drives out boastful words.

ANDROMACHE
[576] If thou desirest, Ulysses, to force Andromache through fear, threaten her with life; for ‘tis my prayer to die.

ULYSSES
[578] Stripes, fire, and every form of torture shall force thee against thy will, through pain, to speak out what thou concealest, and from thy heart shall tear its inmost secrets; necessity is oft a greater force than love.

ANDROMACHE
[582] Bring on thy flames, wounds, devilish arts of cruel pain, and starvation and raging thirst, plagues of all sorts from every source, and the sword thrust deep within these vitals, the dungeon’s pestilential gloom yea, all a victor dares in rage – and fear.

ULYSSES
[587] ‘Tis foolish confidence to hide what thou must at once betray.

ANDROMACHE
[588] My dauntless mother-love admits no fears.

ULYSSES
[589] This very love, in which thou now dost stubbornly withstand us, warns the Danaï to take thought for their little sons. After a war so distant, after ten years of strife, I should feel less the fears which Calchas rouses, if ‘twas for myself I feared. Thou art preparing war against Telemachus.

ANDROMACHE
[594] Unwillingly, Ulysses, will I give to the Danaï cause for joy, but I must give it; confess, O grief, the woes which thou wouldst conceal. Rejoice, ye sons of Atreus, and do thou bear joyful tidings to the Pelasgians as is thy wont – Hector’s son is dead.44

ULYSSES
[598] What surety givest thou the Danaï that this is true?

ANDROMACHE
[599] So may the conqueror’s worst threat befall, may fate set me free by an early and easy passing, may I be buried in my own soil, may his native earth rest light on Hector, according as my son, deprived of light, lies amongst the dead and, given to the tomb, has received the due of those who live no more.44

ULYSSES
[605] That the fates have been fulfilled by the removal of Hector’s stock, and that peace is secure, this news will I joyfully bear to the Danaï – [Aside.] What doest thou, Ulysses? The Danaï will believe thy word, but whose word, thou? A mother’s – or would any mother feign her offspring’s death, and not shrink from the omen of the abhorrent word? Yet omens they fear who have naught worse to fear. She has confirmed her truth by oath; if the oath is false, what is the worse thing she can be fearing? Now, my heart, summon up thy craft, thy tricks, thy wiles, now all Ulysses; truth is never lost.45 Watch the mother. She grieves, she weeps, she groans; now here, now there she wanders restlessly, straining her ears to catch each uttered word; this woman’s fear is greater than her grief. Now have I need of skill.

[619] [To ANDROMACHE.] Other parents ‘twere fitting to console in sorrow; but thou art to be congratulated, poor soul, that thou hast lost thy son, for a cruel death awaited him, cast headlong from the tower which still stands solitary midst the fallen walls.

ANDROMACHE
[623] [Aside.] Life deserts my limbs, they quake, they fail; my blood stands still, congealed with icy cold.

ULYSSES
[625] [Aside.] She trembles; by this, yes, by this means must I test her. Her fear has betrayed the mother; this fear will I redouble.

[627] [To his attendants.] Go, go quickly! This enemy, hidden away by his mother’s guile, this last plague of the Pelasgian name, wherever he is hiding, hunt him out and bring him hither. [Pretending that the boy is discovered, and then speaking as if to the man who has found him.] Good! He is caught! Come, make haste and bring him in! [To ANDROMACHE.] Why dost thou look around and tremble? Surely he is already dead.

ANDROMACHE
[632] Oh, that I were afraid. ‘Tis but my wonted fear, sprung use from long use. The mind unlearns but slowly what it has learned for long.

ULYSSES
[634] Since the boy has forestalled the lustral rites we owed the walls and cannot fulfil the priest’s command, snatched from us by a better fate, the word of Calchas is that only thus can a peaceful homecoming be granted to our ships, if the waves be appeased by the scattering of Hector’s ashes and his tomb be utterly levelled with the ground. Now, since the boy has escaped the death he owed, needs must hands be laid upon his hallowed resting-place.46

ANDROMACHE
[642] [Aside.] What shall I do? My mind is distracted by a double fear: here, for my son; there, for my husband’s sacred dust. Which shall prevail? I call the unpitying deities to witness, and that true deity, my husband’s shade, that in my son naught else endears him to me, Hector, than thyself. May he live, that so he may recall thy face. – But shall thy ashes, torn from the tomb, be sunk beneath the sea? Shall I permit thy scattered bones to be flung upon the vasty deep? Sooner let the boy meet death. – But canst thou, his mother, see him given up to murder infamous? Canst see him sent whirling over the lofty battlements? I can, I will endure it, will suffer it, so but my Hector after death be not scattered by the victor’s hand. – But he can still feel suffering, while death has placed the other beyond its reach. Why dost thou waver? decide whom thou wilt snatch from vengeance. Ungrateful woman, dost thou hesitate? On that side is thy Hector – nay, herein thou errest – Hector is in both47; but the boy can still feel pain, and is destined perchance to avenge his father’s death – both cannot be saved. What then? Save of the two, my soul, him whom the Danaï dread.

ULYSSES
[663] I will fulfil the oracle; the tomb will I raze to its foundations.

ANDROMACHE
[664] The tomb ye sold?48

ULYSSES
[664] I’ll keep right on, and from the mound’s top I’ll drag the sepulchre.

ANDROMACHE
[665] To heaven’s faith I appeal, and Achilles’ faith; Pyrrhus, protect thy father’s gift.

ULYSSES
[667] This mound shall at once lie level with the plain.

ANDROMACHE
[668] Such sacrilege, truly, the Greeks had left undared. Temples you have profaned, even of your favouring gods; but our tombs your mad rage had spared. I will resist, will oppose my unarmed hands against you, armed; passion will give strength. Like the fierce Amazon who scattered the Argive squadrons, or like some god-smit Maenad who, armed with the thyrsus only, with frenzied march frightens the forest glades and, beside herself, has given wounds, nor felt them, so will I rush against you and fall in the tomb’s defence, an ally of its dust.

ULYSSES
[678] [To his men.] Do you hold back, and does a woman’s tearful outcry and futile rage move you? My orders – be quick and do them.

ANDROMACHE
[680] [Struggling with the men.] Me, me destroy here with the sword sooner. Ah me, I am thrust back. O Hector, burst the bars of death, heave up the earth, that thou mayst quell Ulysses. Even as a shade thou art enough – he49 has brandished his arms in his hand, he is hurling firebrands – ye Danaï, do you see Hector? or do I alone see him?

ULYSSES
[685] I’ll pull it down to its foundations, all of it.

ANDROMACHE
[686] [Aside, while the men begin to demolish the tomb.] What art thou doing? dost thou lay low together in common ruin both son and husband? Perhaps thou wilt be able to appease the Danaï by prayer. – But even now the huge weight of the bomb will crush the hidden boy – poor lad! let him perish no matter where, so but sire o’erwhelm not son, and son harm not sire.

[She casts herself at the knees of ULYSSES.]
[691] At thy knees I fall, a suppliant, Ulysses, and this hand, which no man’s feet have known, I lay upon thy feet. Pity a mother, calmly and patiently listen to her pious prayers, and the higher the gods have exalted thee, the more gently bear down upon the fallen. What is given to misery is a gift to Fortune.50 So may thy chaste wife’s couch see thee again; so may Laertes prolong his years till he welcome thee home once more; so may thy son succeed thee, and, by his nature’s happy gifts, surpassing all your prayers, transcend his grandsire’s years, his father’s gifts: pity a mother. This one only comfort is left in my affliction.

ULYSSES
[704] Produce thy son – and pray.

ANDROMACHE
[Going to the tomb, calls ASTYANAX.]
[706] Hither from thy hiding-place come out, sad object of a wretched mother’s theft.

[ASTYANAX appears from the tomb.]
[708] Here he is, Ulysses, here is the terror of a thousand ships! [To ASTYANAX.] Lower thy hands and, prone at thy master’s feet, pray thou with appealing touch; and deem naught base which fortune imposes on the wretched. Forget thy royal ancestry, the illustrious sway of thy noble grandsire o’er all lands, forget Hector, too; play the captive and on bended knee, if thou feelst not yet thine own doom, copy thy mother’s tears.

[She turns to ULYSSES.]
[718] Troy aforetime also51 saw the tears of a boy-king, and little Priam averted the threats of fierce Alcides. He, yes he, fierce warrior, to whose vast strength all savage creatures yielded, who burst through the doors of Dis and made the dark retraceable, conquered by his small enemy’s tears, exclaimed: “Take the reins and rule thy state, sitting high on thy father’s throne; but wield the sceptre with better faith.” This it was to be taken by such a conqueror; learn ye the merciful wrath of Hercules. Or is it the arms alone of Hercules that please thee?52 See, there lies at thy feet a suppliant, no less than that other suppliant, and pleads for life –as for Troy’s throne, let Fortune bear that whithersoe’er she will.

ULYSSES
[736] The grief of a stricken mother moves me, true, and yet the Pelasgian mothers move me more, to whose great sorrow that boy of thine is growing.

ANDROMACHE
[739] These ruins, these ruins of a city brought to dust, shall he wake to life? Shall these hands raise Troy again? Troy has no hopes if she has but such as these. Not such our overthrow53 that we Trojans can be a fear to any. Does thought of his father rouse pride in him? ‘Twas a father dragged in the dust. That father himself after Troy’s fall would have given up courage, which great misfortunes break. If revenge be sought, what greater revenge couldst thou seek? Let the yoke of bondage be placed upon his high-born neck, let a slave’s lot be granted him. Does any refuse this to a prince?

ULYSSES
[749] ‘Tis not Ulysses, but Calchas refuses this to thee.

ANDROMACHE
[750] O thou contriver of fraud, cunning master in crime, by whose warlike prowess none has ever fallen, by whose tricks and by cunning of whose vicious mind even Pelasgians54are undone, dost seek to hide behind seer and blameless gods? This is the deed of thine own heart. Thou nocturnal soldier, brave to do a mere boy to death, at last thou darest some deed alone and in the open day.

ULYSSES
[757] Ulysses’ courage the Danaï know full well, and all too well the Phrygians. But leisure we lack to waste the day in empty words; the fleet is weighing anchor.

ANDROMACHE
[760] Generously grant a brief delay while I, his mother, do the last service to my son, and with a farewell embrace satisfy my yearning grief.

ULYSSES
[762] Would that I might have compassion on thee; but what alone I may, I will give thee time and respite. Weep thy fill; weeping lightens woe.

ANDROMACHE
[766] [To ASTYANAX.] O sweet pledge of love, O glory of our fallen house, last loss of Troy, thou terror of the Danaï, thy mother’s vain hope, for whom in my madness I used so oft to pray thy sire’s war-earned praises, thy grandsire’s years; God has denied my prayers. Thou shalt not with kingly might wield Ilium’s sceptre in thy royal hall, shalt not give laws unto the nations, nor send conquered tribes beneath thy yoke; thou shalt not smite fleeing Greeks nor drag Pyrrhus at thy chariot-wheels. Thy slender hand shall wield no boyish weapons, nor shalt thou boldly chase the wild beasts scattered through broad forest-glades, nor on the appointed lustral day, celebrating the sacred festival of the Trojan Game,55 shalt thou, a princely boy, lead on thy charging squadrons; nor among the altars, with swift and nimble feet, while the curved horn blares out stirring measures, shalt thou at Phrygian shrines celebrate the ancient dance. O mode of death sadder than cruel war! A sight more tearful than great Hector’s death shall the walls behold.

ULYSSES
[785] Break off now thy tears, thou mother; great grief sets no limit to itself.

ANDROMACHE
[787] For my tears, Ulysses, the respite I ask is small; grant me a few tears yet, that with my own hand I may close his eyes while he still lives. [To ASTYANAX.] Thou diest, little indeed, but already to be feared. Thy Troy awaits thee; go, depart in freedom; go, look on Trojans who are free.56

ASTYANAX
[792] Pity me, mother.

ANDROMACHE
[792] Why clingest thou to my breast, and graspest the vain protection of thy mother’s hands? As, when the lion’s roar is heard, the young bull draws close to its mother’s trembling flank, but see! the savage lion thrusts the dam away and, with huge jaws grasping the lesser booty, crushes and bears it off, so shall thy enemy snatch thee from my breast. Now, son, take my kisses and tears, take my torn locks and, full of me, hasten to thy sire. Yet bear, too, some few words of a mother’s plaint: “If spirits still feel their former cares, and if love perishes not in the funeral flames, dost thou permit Andromache to serve a Greek lord, O cruel Hector? Indifferent and sluggish dost thou lie? Achilles has come back.” Take now once again these locks, and take these tears, all that is left from my poor husband’s funeral, take kisses to deliver to thy sire. This cloak leave as comfort for thy mother; my tomb has touched it, and my beloved shades. If any of his dust is hidden here, I’ll hunt it with my lips.

ULYSSES
[812] [To his attendants.] There is no limit to her weeping – away with this hindrance to the Argive fleet.

[Exeunt ULYSSES and his attendants, the former leading the little ASTYANAX.]

CHORUS
[814] What place of dwelling calls to our captive band? Thessalian mountains and Tempe’s shady vale, or Phthia, land more fitted to produce warriors, and rocky Trachin, famous for its breed of brave herds, or Iochos, the vast sea’s mistress?57 Crete, spacious with her hundred towns, little Gortynis and barren Tricce, or Mothone, abounding in tiny rills, the land of caves beneath Oeta’s wooded heights which sent not once only to Troy’s fall the deadly bow?58 Olenos, land of scattered homes, Pleuron, which the virgin goddess59hates, or Troezen, on the broad sea’s curving shore? Pelion, proud kingdom of Prothoüs, third step to heaven? (Here, reclining at full length within his hollowed mountain cave, Chiron, tutor of a youth already pitiless,60 with his quill striking out tinkling chords, even then whetted the boy’s mighty passions by songs of war.) Or Carystos, rich in many-hued marble, or Chalcis, hard by the shore of the restless sea, where Euripus’ racing tides ever flow? Calydnae, easy of approach in any wind, or Gonoëssa, never free from winds, and Enispe, which shivers before the northern blast? Peparethos, lying close to the Attic shore, or Eleusin, rejoicing in her sacred mysteries? Shall we to the true Salamis, home of Ajax, or to Calydon, famed for the wild boar, or to those lands61 which the Titaressos bathes, destined to flow with its sluggish waters beneath the sea?62 or to Bessa, and Scarphe, or Pylos, the old man’s63 home? to Pharis or Pisae, sacred to Jupiter, and Elis, famed for victor’s crowns?

[851] Let the mournful blasts bear our misery where’er they list and give us to any land if only Sparta, which brought such woe on Troy and the Greeks alike, be far away, and far away be Argos, and Mycenae, home of savage Pelops, and Neritos,64 smaller than small Zacynthos,64 and baleful Ithaca with her crafty crags.

[858] What fate, what lord waits for thee, Hecuba, or to what land will he lead thee to be a public show? In whose kingdom shalt thou die?

[Enter HELEN.]

HELEN
[861] [Aside.] Whatever wedlock, calamitious, joyless, has mourning, murder, blood, and lamentations, is worthy of Helen’s auspices. Even in their ruin am I driven to be the Phrygians’ bane. It is my task to tell a false tale of marriage65 with Pyrrhus; mine, to dress the bride in Grecian fashion; by my craft she will be snared and by my treachery will the sister of Paris fall. Let her be deceived; for her I deem this the easier lot; ‘tis a death desirable, to die without the fear of death. Why dost hesitate to execute thy orders? To its author returns the blame of a crime compelled.

[871] [To POLYXENA.] Thou noble maid of the house of Dardanus, in more kindly wise doth heaven begin to regard the afflicted, and makes ready to dower thee with a happy bridal; such a match neither Troy herself while still secure, nor Priam, could make for thee. For the greatest ornament of the Pelasgian race, whose realm stretches wide over the plains of Thessaly, seeks thee in holy bonds of lawful wedlock. Thee will great Tethys call her own, thee, all the goddesses of the deep, and Thetis, calm deity of the swelling sea; wedded to Pyrrhus, Peleus as thy father-in-law shall call thee daughter, and Nereus shall call thee daughter. Put off thy mournful garb, don festal array, forget thou art a captive; smooth thy unkempt locks, and suffer my skilled hand to part thy hair.66 This fall, perchance, will restore thee to a more exalted throne. Many have profited by captivity.

ANROMACHE
[888] This one woe was lacking to the ruined Phrygians – to rejoice. Pergama’s ruins lie blazing around – fit time for marriage! Would any dare refuse? Would any hesitate to go to a bridal when Helen invites? Thou plague, destruction, pest of both peoples, seest thou these tombs of chieftains, the bare bones which everywhere lie unentombed o’er all the plain? These has thy marriage scattered. For thee has flowed Asia’s, has flowed Europe’s blood, whilst thou gleefully didst look out upon thy warring husbands with wavering prayer. Go on, make ready thy marriages! What need of pine-brands, what of the solemn nuptial torch, what need of fire? For this strange marriage Troy furnishes the torch. Ye Trojan dames, celebrate Pyrrhus’ nuptials, celebrate them worthily: let blows and groans resound.

HELEN
[903] Although great grief lacks reason and will not be turned aside, and sometimes hates the very comrades of its suffering, still could I maintain my cause even before a hostile judge, having borne worse things than you. Andromache mourns for her Hector, and Hecuba for her Priam; for Paris alone must Helen mourn in secret. Is it a hard, a hateful, and a galling thing to endure servitude? This yoke have I long endured, for ten years captive. Is Ilium laid low, are your household gods overthrown? It is hard to lose one’s native country, harder to fear it. You are comforted by companionship in so great misfortune; against me victor and vanquished rage alike. Which one of you each lord should drag away as his slave, has long hung on uncertain chance; me has my master dragged away at once, without waiting for the lot. Have I been the cause of wars and all this ruin to the Teucrians? Count that the truth if ‘twas a Spartan ship that clove your seas; but if, swept along by Phrygian oarsmen, I was a helpless prey, if a triumphant goddess gave me as a reward to her judge, pity the helpless prey. ‘Tis an angry judge my cause will have; the decision of that case waits on Menelaüs. But now forget your own woes a little while, Andromache, and prevail on her67 – I can scarce keep from weeping.

ANDROMACHE
[926] How great must be the woe for which Helen weeps! But why weep? Tell us what tricks, what crimes the Ithacan is devising. Must the maiden be cast down from Ida’s crags or thrown from the lofty citadel’s high rock? Must she be hurled into the vasty deep over these cliffs which lofty Sigeum with sheer sides raises, looking out on his shallow bay? Speak, speak, whatever it is thou hidest beneath thy lying looks. All woes are easier to bear than that Pyrrhus be son-in-law to Hecuba and Priam. Tell us, explain what suffering thou hast in hand, and subtract this one from our calamities – ignorance of our fate. Thou seest us ready to suffer death.

HELEN
[938] Would that the prophet of the gods bade me, too, end with the sword this lingering, hateful life, or fall before Achilles’ tomb by the mad hand of Pyrrhus, a companion of thy fate, poor Polyxena, whom Achilles bids be given to him, and be sacrificed in presence of his ashes, that in the Elysian fields he may wed with thee.

ANDROMACHE
[945] See with what joy her mighty soul has heard her doom! The becoming attire of royal robes she seeks, and allows Helen’s hand to approach her locks. Death she deemed that other, this, her bridal. But, hearing the woeful news, her wretched mother68 is in a daze; her tottering reason has given way. Arise, lift up thy courage, poor queen, strengthen thy fainting spirit.

[HECUBA falls in a faint.]
[952] On how slender a thread her frail life hangs! But very little lacks to bring – happiness to Hecuba. She breathes, she lives again. ‘Tis the wretched that death first flees.

HECUBA
[955] Does Achilles still live for vengeance on the Phrygians? Does he still war against them? O hand of Paris, too light!69 His very ashes and his tomb thirst for our blood. But late a happy throng of children girt me round, and I grew weary of sharing a mother’s love among so many kisses and so large a flock; but now this daughter alone is left, object of my prayer, my companion, comfort in affliction, my resting-place; she is Hecuba’s entire offspring, hers is the only voice that now calls me mother. O obstinate, unhappy soul, come, slip away, and spare me the sight of this one death at least. Tears overflow my cheeks and from my vanquished eyes a sudden shower falls.

ANDROMACHE
[969] ‘Tis we, Hecuba, we, we, Hecuba, who should be mourned, whom the fleet, once started on its way, will scatter to every land; but her the dear soil of her native land will cover.

HELEN
[972] Still more wilt thou envy her when thine own lot thou knowest.

ANDROMACHE
[973] Is any part of my suffering still unknown to me?

HELEN
[974] The urn has whirled and to the captives given lords.

ANDROMACHE
[975] To whom am I given as slave? Speak! Whom do I call master?

HELEN
[976] Thee, by the first lot, the youth70 of Scyros gained.

ANDROMACHE
[977] Fortunate Cassandra, whom madness and Phoebus from the lot exempt.

HELEN
[978] Her the most mighty king of kings receives.

HECUBA
[967] [To POLYXENA.] Rejoice and be glad, my daughter! How would Cassandra, how would Andromache long for thy marriage!
[979] [To HELEN.] Is there anyone who would have Hecuba called his?

HELEN
[980] To the Ithacan, against his will, hast thou fallen, a short-lived prize.

HECUBA
[981] Who so reckless and unfeeling, who so cruelly drawing lots from an unjust urn hath given royalty to royalty? What god so perverse apportions the captives? What arbiter, heartless and hard to the unfortunate, so blindly chooses our lords, and unites Hector’s mother to Achilles’ arms?71 To Ulysses am I summoned; now indeed do I seem vanquished, now captive, now beset by all disasters – ‘tis the master shames me, not the servitude. That barren land, hemmed in by stormy seas, does not contain my tomb72 – lead, lead on, Ulysses, I hold not back, I follow my master; but me my fates shall follow: upon the deep no calm peace shall come; the sea shall rage with the winds and engulf thy comrades; and thee, e’en when safe home again, shall wars and fires, my own and Priam’s evil fortunes, o’erwhelm.73 And till those shall come, meanwhile this serves in place of vengeance on thee – I have usurped thy lot, I have stolen from thee thy prizes.74

[999] But see, Pyrrhus approaches with hurried step and grim countenance. Pyrrhus, why dost thou hesitate? Come, plunge thy sword into my breast, and so unite the parents of thy Achilles’ bride. Proceed, thou murderer of old men, this blood of mine also becomes thee. [Pointing to POLYXENA.] Seize! drag her hence! Defile, ye Greeks, the gods above with deadly slaughter, defile the shades below – nay, why pray to you? I pray for seas that befit such75 rites as these; may such doom befall the whole fleet and the Pelasgians, may such befall their thousand ships, as I shall call down on my own when I set sail.

CHORUS
[1009] Sweet to the mourner is a host of mourners, sweet to hear multitudes in lamentation; lighter is the sting of wailing and of tears which a like throng accompanies. Ever, ah, ever is grief malicious; glad is it that its own fate comes on many, and that it alone is not appointed unto suffering. To bear the lot which all endure none can refuse.

[1018] Remove the fortunate: unfortunate though he be, none will so think himself. Remove those blest with heaps of gold, remove those who plough rich fields with a hundred oxen: the downcast spirits of the poor will rise again. No one is unfortunate save as compared with others. ‘Tis sweet to one set in widespread desolation to see no one with joyful countenance; but he deplores and complains of his hard fortune who, while he cleaves the waves in solitary vessel, has been flung naked into the harbour he had sought. More calmly has he endured the tempest and disaster who has seen a thousand vessels engulfed by the selfsame billows and who comes back, borne on a piece of wreckage, to safety, while Corus,76 controlling the waves, forbids their onslaught on the land. Phrixus mourned because Helle fell, when the flock’s leader, resplendent with golden fleece, bore brother and sister on his back together, and in mid-sea lost half his burden; but both Pyrrha and her husband77 checked their mourning, though they saw the sea, and saw nothing else than sea, left as they were sole remnants of the human race on earth.

[1042] But he fleet driven this way and that will separate these our laments and scatter our tears, when once the sailors, by the trumpet bidden to spread sail, shall gain the deep, by winds and speeding oarage, and the shore shall flee away. What will be the wretched captives’ feelings when all the land shall dwindle and the sea loom large, and lofty Ida shall vanish in the distance? Then son to mother, mother to her son, pointing to the place where Troy lies prostrate, will mark it afar with pointing finger, saying: “Yonder is Ilium where the smoke curls high to heaven, where the foul vapours hang.” The Trojans by that sign only will see their fatherland.

[Enter MESSENGER.]

MESSENGER
[1056] O cruel fate, harsh, pitiable, horrible! What crime so savage, so grievous, has Mars seen in ten long years? Which first shall I tell amidst my lamentations, thy woes, Andromache, or thine, thou aged woman?

HECUBA
[1060] Whosoever woes thou weepest, thou wilt weep mine. Each feels the weight of his own disaster only, but I the disasters of them all; for me do all things perish. Whoever is unfortunate is Hecuba’s.

MESSENGER
[1063] The maiden is slain; thrown from the walls the boy. But each met doom with noble spirit.

ANDROMACHE
[1065] Expound their deaths in order and relate the twofold crime; great grief hath joy to dwell on all its woes. Out with it, tell us all the tale.

MESSENGER
[1068] There is one high tower left of Troy, much used by Priam; upon its battlements and lofty pinnacles he would sit watching the war and directing the embattled lines. On this tower, nestling his grandson in his fond arms, when Hector with sword and torch pursued the Danaï fleeing in abject fear, the old man would point out to the lad his father’s battles. Around this tower, once famous, the glory of the walls, but now a solitary ruin, on all sides pours a throng of chiefs and commons, assembles here. For some, a far-off hill gives a clear view of the open space; for others, a high cliff, on whose top the eager crowd stands on tiptoe balanced. A pine-tree holds one, a laurel-tree, another, a beech-tree one; and the whole forest sways with clinging people. One climbs to the highest peak of a steep mountain, another seeks a smouldering roof or stands on an overhanging stone of a crumbling wall, and one (oh, shame!) sits heartlessly to view the show from Hector’s tomb.

[1088] Now along the plain, on every hand thronged with people, with stately step the Ithacan makes his way, leading by the hand the little grandson of Priam; and with no lagging step does the boy approach the lofty walls. When he stood on the tower’s summit, he turned his keen gaze now here, now there, undaunted in spirit. As the cub of some great beast, tiny and young, not yet strong enough to do injury with its fangs, still bristles, bites harmlessly, and swells with rage; so the boy, though in his enemy’s grasp, was proudly bold. He had moved the crowd to tears, and the chieftains, and even Ulysses. Of all the throng he alone, for whom they wept, wept not; and while Ulysses rehearsed the words and prayers appointed by the fate-revealing priest,78 and summoned the cruel gods to the sacrifice, of his own will leaped the boy down into the midst of Priam’s kingdom –

ANDROMACHE
[1104] What Colchian, what Scythian of shifting home e’er committed crime like this, or what tribe to law unknown by the Caspian sea has dared it? No blood of children stained the altars of Busiris, cruel though he was, nor did Diomedes set limbs of babes for his herds to feast on. Who will take up thy limbs and consign them to the tomb.

MESSENGER
[1110] What limbs has that steep place left? His bones were crushed and scattered by the heavy fall; the familiar marks of his noble form, his face, the illustrious likeness of his sire, have been disfigured by his body’s weight plunging to earth below; his neck was broken by the crash upon the rock, his skull was crushed, his brains dashed out – he lies a shapeless corpse.

ANDROMACHE
[1117] So also is he like his sire.

MESSENGER
[1118] After the boy fell headlong from the lofty tower, and the throng of Greeks wept for the crime it wrought, that same host turned to a second crime and to Achilles’ tomb. Its further side is gently lapped by Rhoeteum’s waters; its front is surrounded by a plain, while a valley, sloping gently up, hems in the middle space. The surging mass increases as if thronging to a theatre and has filled all the shore. Some think that by this death the fleet’s delay is ended; some joy that the foeman’s stock is cut away; the greater part of the heedless mob detest the crime – and gaze. Nor any less do the Trojans throng their own funeral and, quaking with fear, look on at the last act of the fall of Troy; when suddenly, as at a wedding, the torches come, leading the way, and the daughter79 of Tyndareus as bride’s attendant, with sad and drooping head. “So may Hermione80 be wed,” the Phrygians pray; “in such wise may base Helen to her husband be given back.” Terror holds both peoples awe-struck. The maid herself comes on with eyes in modesty cast down, but yet her face is radiant and the dying splendour of her beauty shines beyond its wont; as Phoebus’ light is wont to appear more glorious at the moment of his setting, when the stars come back to their stations and the uncertain daylight is dimmed by the approach of night. Astonished gazes the whole multitude, for all ever admire the more what must soon pass from them. Some, her beauty moves; some, her tender youth; some, the shifting changes of her fortune; but one and all, her courage, dauntless and death-confronting. On she comes and Pyrrhus follows; the hearts of all are filled with terror, wonder, pity.

[1149] Soon as the young man reached the summit of the steep mound, and stood upon the high-raised top of his father’s tomb, the dauntless maid did not shrink back, but, facing the stroke, stood there with stern look and courageous. A spirit so bold strikes the hearts of all and – strange prodigy – Pyrrhus is slow to kill. When his hand, thrust forth, had buried deep the sword, with the death-stroke her blood leaped out in a sudden stream through the gaping wound. Yet, though in the very act of death, she put not by her spirit; she fell, as if thus to make the earth heavy on Achilles, prone and with angry thud. The throng of both peoples wept; but the Phrygians mourned her with timid lamentation, while the victors wailed aloud. Thus was the rite performed. The shed blood stayed not nor flowed off on the surface of the ground; instantly the savage mound sucked it down and drank the whole draught of gore.

HECUBA
[1164] Go, go, ye Danaï, seek now your homes in safety; let your fleet now spread its sails and at ease plough the longed-for sea. A maiden and a boy have fallen; the war is done. But I, whither shall I betake my tears? Where in my old age shall I spew out this lingering life? Daughter or grandson, husband or country – which shall I lament? Shall I mourn all or, in my loneliness, myself alone? O death, object of my prayer, to boys and girls everywhere thou com’st with speed and savage violence; me alone dost thou fear and shun; sought midst swords and spears and firebrands the livelong night, thou dost evade my eager search. No foe, no falling wall, no fire has consumed my limbs; and yet how near to Priam did I stand!

MESSENGER
[1177] Haste to the sea, ye captives; already the vessels are spreading sail and the fleet is off.

THE END.

TROADES

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SENECA, MEDEA

MEDEA, TRANSLATED BY FRANK JUSTUS MILLER

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

MEDEA, daughter of Aeëtes, king of Colchis, and wife of Jason.
JASON, son of Aeson, and nephew of Pelias, the usurping king of Thessaly; organizer and leader of the Argonautic expedition to Colchis in quest of the Golden Fleece.
CREON, king of Corinth, who had received into his hospitable kingdom Medea and Jason, fugitives from Thessaly, after Medea had plotted the death of Pelias.
NURSE of Medea.
MESSENGER.
TWO SONS of Medea and Jason (personae mutae).
CHORUS OF CORINTHIANS, friendly to Jason and hostile to Medea.

THE TIME of the play is confined to the single day of the culmination of the tragedy, the day proposed by Creon for the banishment of Medea and the marriage of Jason to Creusa, daughter of Creon.
THE SCENE is in Corinth, in the court of the house of Jason.

ARGUMENT

Although the play is confined in time to the final day of catastrophe at Corinth, the background is the whole romantic story of the Argonauts: how Jason and his hero-comrades, at the instigation of Pelias, the usurping king of Thessalian Iolchos, undertook the first voyage in quest of the Golden Fleece; how, after many adventures, these first sailors reached the kingdom of Aeëtes, who jealously guarded the fleece, since upon its possession depended his kingship; how the three deadly labours were imposed upon Jason before the fleece could be won – the yoking of the fiery bulls, the contest with the giants that sprang from the sown serpent’s teeth, and the overcoming of the sleepless dragon that ever guarded the fleece; how, smitten by love of him, the beautiful barbaric Medea, daughter of the king, by the help of her magic aided Jason in all these labours and accompanied him in his flight; how to retard her father’s pursuit she slew her brother and scattered his mangled remains in the path as they fled; how again, for love of Jason, she restored his father to youth and tricked Pelias’ own daughters into slaying their aged sire; how, for this act, Medea with her husband were exiled from Thessalia and dwelt in Corinth; how, for ten happy years, she lived with her husband and two sons in this alien land, her wild past almost forgotten, her magic untouched.
But now Jason has been won away from his wife, and is about to wed Creusa, the daughter of Creon, king of Corinth. The wedding festivities have already begun when the play opens and reveals Medea invoking all the powers of heaven and hell in punishment of her false lord.

MEDEA
[1] Ye gods of wedlock, and thou, Lucina, guardian of the nuptial couch, and thou1 who didst teach Tiphys to guide his new barque to the conquest of the seas, and thou, grim ruler of the deeps of Ocean, and Titan, who dost portion out bright day unto the world, and thou who doest show thy bright face as witness of the silent mysteries, O three-formed Hecate, and ye gods by whose divinity Jason swore to me, to whom Medea may more lawfully appeal – thou chaos of endless night, ye realms remote from heaven, ye unhallowed ghosts, thou lord2 of the realm of gloom, and thou, his queen,3 won by violence but with better4 faith, with ill-omened speech I make my prayer to you. Be present, be present, ye goddesses5 who avenge crime, your hair foul with writhing snakes, grasping the smoking torch with your bloody hands, be present now, such as once ye stood in dread array beside my marriage couch; upon this new wife destruction bring, destruction on this father-in-law and the whole royal stock.

[19] I have yet curse more dire to call down on my husband – may he live. Through unknown cities may he wander, in want, in exile, in fear of life, hated and homeless; may he seek hospitality at strange doors, by now a familiar applicant; may he desire me for wife, and, that which I can pray nothing worse, may his children be like their sire and like their mother. – Already borne, borne is my vengeance! I have borne children! But why frame complaints and idle words? Shall I not go against my enemies? I’ll snatch the bridal-torches from their hands and the light from heaven. Does he behold this, the Sun, father of my race, and do men still behold him6 as, sitting in his chariot, he courses over bright heaven’s accustomed spaces? Why does he not return to his rising and measure back the day? Grant, oh, grant that I ride through the air in my father’s car; give me the reins, O sire, give me the right to guide thy fire-bearing steeds with the flaming reins; then let Corinth, with her twin shores cause of delay7 to ships, be consumed by flames and bring the two seas together.

[37] This course alone remains, that I myself bear the wedding torch unto the chamber and, after sacrificial prayers, slay victims on consecrated altars. Amid the very entrails seek thou a way for punishment, if thou livest, O soul, if there remains to thee aught of thy old-time strength. Away with womanish fears, clothe thy heart with unfeeling Caucasus. Whatever horror Pontus has beheld, or Phasis, Isthmus shall behold. Wild deeds, unheard-of, horrible, calamities at which heaven and earth alike shall tremble, my heart deep within is planning – wounds, slaughter, death, creeping from limb to limb. Ah, too trivial the deeds I have rehearsed; these things I did in girlhood. Let my grief rise to more deadly strength; greater crimes become me, now that I am a mother. Gird thyself with wrath, and prepare thee for deadly deeds with the full force of madness. Let the story of thy rejection match8 the story of thy marriage. How wilt thou leave thy husband? Even as thou didst follow him. Break off now dull delay; the home which by crime was gained, by crime must be abandoned.

CHORUS
[Chanting the epithalamium for JASON and CREUSA.]
[56] May the high gods who rule over heaven, and thy who rule the sea, with gracious divinity attend on our princes’ marriage, amid the people’s solemn applause. First to the sceptre-bearing Thunderers9 let the bull with white-shining hide offer his high-raised neck. Lucina let a heifer appease, snow-white, untouched by the yoke; and let her10 who restrains the bloody hands of rough Mars, who brings peace to warring nations and holds plenty in her rich horn, mild goddess, be given a tender victim. And do thou,11 who the torches of lawful marriage attendest, dissipating the night with propitious hand, hither come, reeling with drunken footstep, binding thy temples with garlands of roses. And thou star,12 forerunner of twilight, who returnest ever slowly for lovers – thee, mothers, thee, brides eagerly await, to see the full soon thy bright beams scattering.

[75] Our maiden in beauty far excels the Cecropian13 brides, and those who on Taÿgetus’ ridges are trained after the manner of mean by the unwalled city,14 and those who bathe in Aonia’s15 waters and Alpheus’16 sacred stream. Should he wish to be judged in beauty, all will yield to the son of Aeson, our leader – the ruthless lightning’s son17 who yokes with wild tigers, and he18 who makes tremble the tripod, the stern virgin’s19 brother; with his twin Castor, Pollux with yield, more skilful in boxing. So, so, ye heaven-dwellers, I pray you, let this bride surpass brides, this husband far excel husbands. When she has taken her stand midst her train of maidens, her one beauty shines more brightly than all. So does starlight splendour wane with the coming of the sun, and the huddled flock of the Pleiades vanish away when Phoebe, shining with borrowed light, with encircling horns encloses her full-orbed disk.20

[98] While on such beauty the young lover gazes, her cheeks are suddenly covered with rosy blushes.21 So snowy wool, dipped in purple dye, doth redden; so shines the sun when the shepherd at dawn, wet with the dew, beholds it.

[102] Do thou, O bridegroom, rescued from the marriage bonds of barbarous Phasis, wont with fear and reluctant hand to caress an unruly wife, joyfully take to thy arms the Aeolian maid22 – now at last ‘tis with the parents’ will.

[107] Sport, youths, with free banter and jesting; let your songs ring out, O youths, in responsive cadence; rarely against our lords is unrebuked licence given. Comely, noble scion23 of Lyaeus, the thyrsus-bearer, now is the time to light thy torch of frayed pinewood; toss on high the ritual fire with languishing fingers. Let saucy, sharp wit pour forth festive banterings and let the throng be free with jesting. – Let her pass in silent gloom who steals away to wed with a foreign husband.

MEDEA
[116] We are undone! Upon my ears has sounded the marriage-hymn. So great a calamity scarce I myself, scarce even yet can comprehend? Had Jason the heart to do this; having robbed me of my father, native land, and kingdom, could he leave me alone in a foreign land, cruel? Has he scorned my deservings, who saw flames and sea conquered by my crime? Does he think that all my powers of evil are so exhausted? Perplexed, witless, with mind scarce sane, I am tossed to every side. Whence can I get vengeance? I would that he had a brother!24 A wife he has; into her heart let the sword be driven. Is this enough to offset my woes? All monstrous deeds which Pelasgian, which barbaric cities know, all that thy own hands do not know, must be made ready now. Let thine own crimes urge thee on, and let them all return in memory – the bright ornament of the kingdom stolen away, and the wicked girl’s little comrade25 hewn in pieces with the sword, his murder forced upon his father’s sight, his body scattered over the deep, and the limbs of aged Pelias seethed in a brazen pot. Murder and impious bloodshed now often have I wrought! – and yet no crime have I done in wrath; ‘twas ill-omened love stirred me.

[137] But what else could Jason have done, once made subject to another’s will and power? He should have bared his breast unto the sword – nay, ah, nay, mad grief, say not so! If possible, may he live and, mindful of me, keep unharmed the gift26 I gave. The fault is Creon’s, all, who with unbridled sway dissolves marriages, tears mothers from their children, and breaks pledges bound by straitest oath; on him be my attack, let him alone pay the penalties which he owes. I will pile his home high with ashes; its dark pinnacles wrapt in flames Malea shall see. where, jutting out, it holds ships in tedious delay.

NURSE
[150] Be silent, I pray thee, and confide to secret grief thy hidden plaints. Whoe’er has dumbly borne hard blows with patient and calm soul, has been able to repay them; it is hidden wrath that harms; hatred proclaimed loses its chance for vengeance.

MEDEA
[155] Light is the grief which can take counsel and hide itself; great ills lie not in hiding. ‘Tis pleasing to face the foe.

NURSE
[157] Stay this frenzied outburst, my child; even silent calm can scarce defend thee.

MEDEA
[159] Fortune fears the brave, the cowardly overwhelms.

NURSE
[160] If there is place for courage, then should it be approved.

MEDEA
[161] It can never be that for courage there is no place.

NURSE
[162] No hope points out a way for our broken fortunes.

MEDEA
[163] Whoso has naught to hope, let him despair of naught.

NURSE
[164] The Colchians are no longer on thy side, thy husband’s vows have failed, and there is nothing left of all thy wealth.

MEDEA
[166] Medea, is left – in her thou beholdest sea and land, and sword and fire and gods and thunderbolts.

NURSE
[168] The king is to be feared.

MEDEA
[168] My father was a king.

NURSE
[169] Fearst thou not arms?

MEDEA
[169] Not though they were sprung from earth.27

NURSE
[170] Thou’lt die.

MEDEA
[170] I wish it.

NURSE
[170] Flee!

MEDEA
[170] Of flight I have repented.

NURSE
[171] Medea,

MEDEA
[171] Will I be.

NURSE
[171] Thou art a mother.

MEDEA
[171] By whom, thou seest.

NURSE
[172] Dost delay flight?

MEDEA
[172] Flee I shall, but I’ll take my vengeance first.

NURSE
[173] The avenger will pursue.

MEDEA
[173] Perchance I shall find means to stay him.

NURSE
[174] Check thy words, spare now thy threats, foolish one, and thy proud spirit humble; ‘tis well to fit thee to the times.

MEDEA
[176] Fortune can take away my wealth, but not my spirit. – But under whose blows does the king’s door upon its hinges creak? It is Creon himself, puffed with Pelasgian power.

[MEDEA has retired to the back of the stage. Exit NURSE. Enter CREON.]

CREON
[179] Medea, Colchian Aeëtes baleful child, has she not yet taken herself from my realm? She is plotting mischief; I know her guile, I know here power. Whom will she spare? Whom will she let live in peace? I was making ready to rid me of this outrageous pest by the sword’s means and with all speed; but the prayers of my daughter’s husband have prevailed. I have granted her life; let her free my boundaries from fear, and depart in safety.

[He sees MEDEA approaching.]
[186] Boldly she moves to meet me, and with threatening mien seeks closer speech. Keep her off, ye slaves, from touch and approach far off; bid her keep silence; let her learn at last to obey a king’s commands. [To MEDEA.] Hence in swift flight! remove at once thine abominable presence, dire, horrible!

MEDEA
[192] What crime, what fault is punishment by my exile?

CREON
[193] What cause expels her – that may an innocent woman ask.

MEDEA
[194] If thou’rt my judge, then hear me; if my king, command.

CREON
[195] A king’s commands, just and unjust, thou must obey.

MEDEA
[196] Unjust rule never abides continually.

CREON
[197] Go, complain to the Colchians.

MEDEA
[197] I go; but let him take me who brought me thence.

CREON
[198] Thy prayer comes too late; my resolve is fixed.

MEDEA
[199] Didst thou hear Pelias ere he suffered punishment? But say on; be a hearing granted to thine excellent case.

MEDEA
[203] How hard it is to turn away from wrath the spirit when once aroused, and how royal it seems to him who has grasped the sceptre in his proud hands to go on as he has begun, I have learned in my own royal home. For, although I am overwhelmed by piteous disaster, an exile, suppliant, lonely, forsaken, on all sides buffeted, once I had glory from my noble father, and from my grandsire, the Sun, traced illustrious descent. All the land that Phasis waters with its calm, winding stream, all the Scythian Pontus sees behind it, where the sea grows sweet with marshy waters,28 all that the unwedded hordes,29 crescent-shielded, hemmed by Thermodon’s banks, fill with alarm – over all this my father rules. High-born, blest of heaven, in royal power and splendour then I shone; then princes sued for marriage with me, whom now I must sue. Swift and fickle is fortune and, swooping down, ahs torn me from royalty and given me o’er to exile.

[221] Put thy trust in royalty, although light chance hither and thither tosses e’en mighty wealth! This is the glorious, great privilege of kings, which time can never snatch away – to succour the afflicted, on a safe hearth to shelter suppliants. This only have I brought from my Colchian realm, that by my own self I saved that great glory and illustrious flower of Greece, bulwark of the Achaeans, offspring of gods.30 Orpheus is my gift, who softens the rocks by his singing and draws trees after him; mine, too, are the twins, Castor and Pollux, and the sons of Boreas,31 and Lynceus, who with far-flung gaze sees things removed even beyond Pontus, – and all the Minyans. For of the leader32 of the leaders I say no word; for him naught is owing; I count none debtor for his sake. For you I brought back the rest; him only for myself.

[236] Come on now, and heap all kinds of shameful deeds upon me. I will confess them; but as for crimes, this only can be charged, the rescue of the Argo. Suppose modesty should please the maiden, suppose her filial duty should please her; then will the whole Pelasgian land perish with its leaders, and this thy son-in-law will first fall before the fiery breath of the fierce bull.33 Let what fortune will, oppress me; I repent not the glorious salvation of so many kings. Whatever reward I have won by all my crimes, it is in thy hands. Arraign and condemn me, if ‘tis thy pleasure; but give me back my sin.34 I am guilty, I confess it, Creon; such didst thou know me when I clasped thy knees and as suppliant sought the loyalty of thy protecting hand. Once more, some corner, some abiding-place for my woes I beg, some paltry hiding-place; if from thy city thou art pleased to drive me, let some remote nook in thy realm be given me.

CREON
[252] That I am not one to wield the sceptre with violence nor to trample upon misery with haughty foot, methinks I have not unclearly shown by choosing for son-in-law an exile, crushed and stricken with heavy fear – aye, one whom Acastus, lord of Thessaly, demands for punishment and death. He complains that his father,35 palsied and weak with age, burdened with years, was taken off, and the murdered old man’s limbs torn asunder, when, deceived by thy guile, his36 pious sisters dared an impious crime. Jason can defend his own cause if it is separate from thine; no blood has stained his innocence, his hand wielded no sword, and he has kept far off and free from company of such as thou. Thou, thou contriver of wickedness, who combinest woman’s wanton recklessness and man’s strength, with no thought of reputation, away! Purge my kingdom and take thy deadly herbs with thee; free the citizens from fear; abiding in some other land, harry37 the gods.

MEDEA
[272] Dost force me to flee? Give back then to the fugitive her ship, yea, give back her comrade.38 Why dost thou bid me flee alone? I did not come alone. If ‘tis war39 thou fearest, drive us both from thy kingdom. Why make distinction ‘twixt two culprits? ‘Tis for him Pelias lies dead, and not for me. Add flight, theft, a deserted father, a mangled brother, any crime which e’en now the bridegroom is teaching his new wives40 – ‘tis no crime of mine. Full oft have I been made guilty, but never for myself.

CREON
[281] Thy going is already overdue. Why doest contrive delay with words?

MEDEA
[282] Suppliant I make this last prayer to thee as I depart: let not the mother’s guilt drag down her guiltless sons.

CREON
[284] Go then; these will I take as father to my fatherly embrace.

MEDEA
[285] By the blest bed of this royal marriage, by thy hopes for the future, and by the estate of thrones, which fickle Fortune disturbs with changeful lot, I pray thee be bountiful of a brief stay of my flight, while I, their mother, imprint on my sons the latest kiss, perchance my dying act.

CREON
[290] For treachery thou art seeking time.

MEDEA
[291] What treachery can be feared in time so scant?

CREON
[292] No time is too brief for harm to those on evil bent.

MEDEA
[293] Dost refuse a poor mother just a little time for tears?

CREON
[294] Though my ingrained fear bids me refuse thy plea, one day shall be given to prepare for banishment.

MEDEA
[296] ‘Tis more than enough, though thou retrench it somewhat. I also am in haste.

CREON
[298] With thy life shalt thou pay penalty if before Phoebus brings the bright day thou art not gone from Isthmus.

[299] But the marriage rites summon me, summons the festal day to pray to Hymen.
[Exuent.]

CHORUS
[301] Too venturesome the man who in frail barque first cleft the treacherous seas and, with one last look behind him at the well-known shore, trusted his life to the fickle winds; who, ploughing the waters on an unknown course, could trust to a slender plank, stretching too slight a boundary between the ways of life and death.

[329] Unsullied the ages our fathers saw, with crime banished afar. Then every man inactive kept to his own shores and lived to old age on ancestral fields, rich with but little, knowing no wealth save what his home soil had yielded. Not yet could any read the sky and use the stars with which the heavens are spangled; not yet could ships avoid the rainy Hyades; not yet did the fires of the Olenian Goat nor the Attic Wain which slow old Boótes follows and controls, not yet did Boreas, not yet Zephyrus have names.

[318] Tiphys made bold to spread his canvas on the vasty deep and to write new laws for the winds: now to spread full-bellied sail, now to haul the forward sheet41 and catch cross-breezes, now to set the yards in safety midway of the mast, now to bind them at the top, when the too eager sailor prays for winds aloft the ruddy topsails flutter. The lands, well separated before by nature’s laws, the Thessalian ship42 made one, bade the deep suffer blows,43 and the sequestered sea become a part of our human fear.

[340] Heavy the penalties which that bold barque paid, brought through long terrors, when two mountains, barriers of the deep, from either side quick rushing, soared as with sound of thunder, and the sea, caught between, sprinkled their peaks and the clouds themselves. Bold Tiphys paled with fear and let the helm slip wholly from his faltering hand; Orpheus was still, his lyre mute with amaze, and the Argo herself lost voice.44What, when the maid45 of Sicilian Pelorus, her waist begirt with dogs, opened all her gaping throats together? Who did not shudder in every limb when that one monster howled with so many tongues? What, when the deadly pests46 soothed the Ausonian sea with their tuneful songs, when, sounding back on his Pierian lyre, Thracian Orpheus well-nigh forced the Siren to follow, though wont to hold ships spell-bound by her song? Of this voyage what was the prize? The golden fleece and Medea, worse evil than the sea, worthy to be the first ship’s merchandise.

[364] Now, in our time, the deep has ceased resistance and submits utterly to law; no famous Argo, framed by a Pallas’ hand, with princes to man its oars, is sought for; any little craft now wanders at will upon the deep. All bounds have been removed, cities have set their walls in new lands, and the world, now passable throughout, ahs left nothing where it once had place: the Indian drinks of the cold Arazes, the Persians quaff the Elbe and the Rhine. There will come an age in the far-off years when Ocean shall unloose the bonds of things, when the whole broad earth shall be revealed, when Tethys shall disclose new worlds and Thule not be the limit of the lands.

NURSE
[Sees MEDEA hurrying out of the house.]
[380] Dear child, whither hurriest thou abroad? Stay, curb thy passion, check thy impetuous haste.

[MEDEA gods on without heeding.]
[382] As a maenad uncertainly directs her frenzied steps when now she raves at the oncoming of the god, on snowy Pindus’ top or on Nysa’s ridges, so she runs now here, now there, with frantic rush, marks of distracted passion in her face. Her cheeks aflame, she pants with deep sobs for breath, shouts aloud, weeps floods of tears, beams with joy; she assumes the proof of every passion. Whither the weight of her wrath inclines, where it aims its threats, hangs still in doubt; she threatens, seethes with rage, complains, groans aloud. Where will this wave break itself? Madness o’erflows its bounds. No simple or half-way crime doth she ponder in her heart; she will outdo herself. I recognize the marks of her old-time rage. Something great is impending, wild, monstrous, impious.

[MEDEA now approached]
[396] I see madness in her face. May Heaven avert my fears!

MEDEA
[397] [Aside.] If thou seekst, poor soul, what limit thou shouldst set to hate, copy thy love. Can it be that unavenged I should endure this royal wedding? Shall this day go idly by so anxiously besought, so anxiously bestowed? While the central earth shall bear up the balanced heavens, while the bright universe shall pursue its unchanging rounds, while sands lack number, while day attends the sun and stars the night, while the dry47 Bears revolve about the pole, and rivers fall to the sea, my madness shall never cease its quest of vengeance and shall grow on for ever. What ferocity of beasts, what Scylla, what Charybdis, sucking up the Ausonian and Sicilian waters, or what Aetna, resting heavily on panting Titan, shall burn with such threats as I? No whirling river, no storm-tossed sea, no Pontus, raging beneath the north-west wind, no violence of fire, fanned by the gale, could imitate the onrush of my wrath. I shall lay prostrate and destroy all things.

[415] Did he48 fear Creon and the threats of Thessaly’s king?49 True love can fear no man. But grant that under compulsion he yielded and made surrender; he could at least have come to me, could have spoken some last words to his wife. This also, though bold of heart, he feared to do. Surely ‘twas in the power of the king’s son-in-law to put off the time of my cruel banishment – one day was given for my children twain. But I complain not that the time is short; it shall stretch far. This day shall do, shall do that whereof no day shall e’er be dumb. I will storm the gods, and shake the universe.

NURSE
[425] Win back thy woe-troubled heart, my mistress; calm thy soul.

MEDEA
[426] The only calm for me – if with me I see the universe o’erwhelmed in ruins; with me let all things pass away. ‘Tis sweet to drag others down when thou art perishing.
[Exit.]

NURSE
[Calling after MEDEA.]
[429] Beware how many perils are to be feared if thou persist; no one may safely assail the strong.

[Enter JASON.]

JASON
[431] O fate, ever hard, and fortune, cruel – when she rages and when she spares, equally malign! How often does God find cures for us worse than our perils; should I resolve to be faithful to my wife according to her deserts, my life would be forfeited to death; should I refuse to die, alas! I must be faithless. It is not fear, but fearful father-love that has conquered faith; surely my children would share their parents’ death. O holy Justice, if in heaven thou dwellest, I call thy divinity to witness: the sons have prevailed upon the sire. Nay, even she herself, though she is fierce of heart and ill brooks the yoke, would rather, methinks, take thought for her sons than for her marriage rights. My mind is fixed to assail her wrath with prayers.

[Enter MEDEA.]
[445] And see, at sight of me she stars up, bursts into a passion, displays her hate; all her anguish is in her face.

MEDEA
[447] We are fleeing, Jason, fleeing. ‘Tis no new thing to change our abode; but the cause of flight is new – ‘twas for thee I was wont to flee. I withdraw, I go away, whom thou art forcing to flee forth from thy home; but whither doest thou send me back? Shall I seek Phasis and the Colchians, my father’s kingdom, the fields drenched with my brother’s blood? What lands dost thou bid me seek? What waters dost show to me? The jaws of the Pontic sea through which I brought back the noble band of princes, following thee, thou wanton, through the Clashing Rocks? Is it little Iolcos or Thessalian Tempe I shall seek? All the ways which I have opened for thee I have closed upon myself. Whither dost send me back? Thou imposest exile on an exile, but givest no place. But let me go. A king’s son-in-law has commanded it; I’ll not refuse. Heap dire penalties upon me; them have I deserved. Let the angry king crush thy mistress with cruel punishments, load her hands with chains, shut her up and bury her in dungeons of eternal darkness; I shall suffer less than I deserve.

[465] O ungrateful man, let thy heart recall the bull’s fiery breath, and, midst the savage terrors of unconquered race, the fire-breathing herd on Aeëtes’ arm-bearing50 plain, the weapons of the suddenly appearing foe, when, at my order, the earth-born soldiery fell in mutual slaughter. Think, too, on the long-sought spoil of the ram of Phrixus, the sleepless dragon, bidden to close his eyes in unknown slumber, my brother given up to death, crime not done once alone in one act of crime51; think on the daughters52 who, lured by my guile, dared dismember the old man who was never to return to life. By the hopes of thy children, thine established house, by the monsters conquered, by these hands which I have never spared in thy service, by the perils we have undergone, by heaven and sea, witnesses of my marriage, have mercy on me; happy thyself, give thy suppliant her turn at happiness. Seeking a kingdom for another, I have given up my own; of all that wealth which, plundered even from the distant swart tribes of India, the Scythians heap up, that golden treasure which, since the packed palace can scarce contain it, we hang upon the trees,53 I brought away nothing in my exile save only my brother’s limbs. Those also I squandered upon thee; for thee my country has given place, for thee father, brother, maidenhood – with this dower did I wed thee. Give back to the fugitive her own.

JASON
[490] When angry Creon was bent on thy destruction, ‘twas by my tears he was prevailed upon to grant thee banishment.

MEDEA
[492] As punishment I deemed it; now, as I see, exile is a boon.

JASON
[493] Depart while still thou mayst; take thyself hence; grievous ever is the wrath of kings.

MEDEA
[494] In urging this upon me, thou art Creusa’s advocate; thou wouldst remove the rival whom she hates.

JASON
[496] What! Medea charge me with love?

MEDEA
[496] Yes, murder, too, and treachery.

JASON
[497] What crime, pray, canst thou charge to me?

MEDEA
[498] Whatever I have don.

JASON
[498] This one thing remains still for me, to become guilty of thy sins as well.

MEDEA
[500] They are, they are thine own; who profits by a sin has done the sin. Though all should holy thy wife infamous, do thou alone protect her, do thou alone call her innocent; let her be guiltless in thy sight, who for thy sake is guilty.

JASON
[504] Unwelcome is life which one is ashamed to have accepted.

MEDEA
[505] Then one should not keep a life which he is ashamed to have accepted.

JASON
[506] Nay, calm thy wrath-stirred heart; for thy sons sake be reconciled.

MEDEA
[507] I reject, forswear, disown them! Shall Creusa bear brothers to my children?

JASON
[509] Yes, a queen, to the sons of exiles; a royal lady to the fallen.

MEDEA
[510] Never may such ill day come to the wretched, as shall mingle a base breed with illustrious stock, Phoebus’ sons with the sons of Sisyphus.

JASON
[513] Why, wretched woman, dost thou drag both me and thee to ruin? Begone, I pray thee.

MEDEA
[514] Creon has heard my prayer.

JASON
[515] What can I do? Tell me.

MEDEA
[515] For me? Crime.

JASON
[516] A king on this side and on that –

MEDEA
[516] There is (and this more fearsome still) Medea. Let us54 strive together, and let the prize be Jason.

JASON
[518] I yield, worn with trouble. And do thou thyself beware lest thou tempt fate too often.

MEDEA
[520] Always has every fortune stood beneath my feet.

JASON
[521] Acastus is hard after us.

MEDEA
[521] Nearer foe is Creon; flee them both. That thou arm thy hand against thy father-in-law, and stain thyself with kindred55 blood, Medea does not compel thee; remain guiltless and escape with me.

JASON
[525] And who will resist if double war assail us, if Creon and Acastus unite their arms?

MEDEA
[527] Add the Colchians to these, add Aeetes, too, to lead them, join Scythians with Pelasgians; to destruction will I give them all.

JASON
[529] I tremble at lofty sceptres.

MEDEA
[529] See that thou lust not after them.

JASON
[530] Cut short this long discourse, lest it arouse suspicion.

MEDEA
[531] Now, O most high Jupiter, thunder throughout thy heavens, stretch forth thy hand, thine avenging flames prepare, rend the clouds and make the whole world quake. Let thy bolts be poised with hand that chooseth neither me nor him; whichever of us falls will perish guilty; against us thy bolt can make no error.

JASON
[537] Begin to think with reason, and speak with calm. If any solace from my father-in-law’s house can soothe thy flight, request it.

MEDEA
[540] To scorn the wealth of kings, my soul, as well thou knowest, hath strength and wont. I ask but this: that I may have my children as comrades of my flight, that in their bosoms I may pour forth my tears. Thee new sons await.

JASON
[544] I confess that right gladly would I yield unto thy prayer, but a father’s love forbids; for that I should permit this thing, not Creon himself, my king and father-in-law, could force me. This is my reason for living, this, my heart’s comfort, consumed as it is with cares. Sooner could I part with breath, with limbs, with light.

MEDEA
[549] [Aside.] Thus does he love his sons? ‘Tis well! I have him! The palce to wound him is laid bare. [To JASON.] As I depart, my final message, at least, grant me to speak; grant me to give the last embrace; e’en that will be a boon. With my latest utterance I beg thee now; let not any words my distracted grief has poured forth remain within my mind; let the memory of my better self stay with thee, and let these words spoken in wrath be quite forgot.

JASON
[557] All have I driven from my mind, and I also make prayer to thee that thou curb thy hot passion and be calm; peace soothes the soul’s distresses.
[Exit.]

MEDEA
[560] He has gone! Can it be so? Goest thou, forgetful of me and of all the deeds I wrought? Have we fallen from thy memory? Nay, we shall never fall therefrom. [To herself.] To thy task; summon up all thy powers and arts. The fruit of thy crimes is to count nothing crime. There is scant room for fraud; we are held in fear. There make attack where no one can fear aught. Haste thee now, dare, begin whatever Medea can – and cannot – do.

[568] [To the NURSE.] Do thou, faithful nurse, comrade of my grief and of my shifting fortunes, help my unhappy plannings. I have a robe, a gift from heaven, the glory of our house and kingdom, given by the Sun to Aeetes as a pledge of fatherhood; there is also a gleaming necklace of woven gold and a golden band which the sparkle of gems adorns, with which the air is encircled. Let my sons bring these as gifts unto the bride, but let them first be anointed and imbued with baneful poisons. Now call on Hecate. Prepare the death-dealing rites; let altars be erected, and let now their fires resound within the palace.

CHORUS
[579] No violence of fire or of swelling gale, no fearful force of hurtling spear, is as great as when a wife, robbed of her love, burns hot with hate; not when cloudy Auster has brought the winter’s rains, and Hister’s floods speeds on, wrecking bridges in its course, and wanders afield; not when the Rhone beats back the sea, or when the snows melt into streams beneath the sun’s strong rays and in mid-spring Haemus has dissolved. Blind is the fire of love when fanned by rage, cares not to be controlled, brooks no restraint, has no fear of death; ‘tis eager to advance even against the sword.

[595] Have mercy, O gods, be gracious, we beseech you, that he56 may live in safety who tamed the sea; but the lord57 of the deep is enraged that the second realm is conquered. The youth58 who dared drive the everlasting chariot, heedless of his father’s goal, himself caught the fire which in his madness he scattered o’er the sky. The familiar path has cost no mortal dear; walk thou where ‘twas safe for folk aforetime, nor break, rash man, the inviolable covenants of the universe.

[607] Whoever handled that daring ship’s famous oars and despoiled Pelion of his sacred grove’s thick shade, whoever entered between the roaming rocks59 and, having passed the perils of the deep, moored his vessel on a savage shore, to return captor of foreign gold – all by a dreadful end atoned for the sea’s outraged laws.

[616] Punishment the challenged ocean claims. First of all, Tiphys, the tamer of the deep, gave up control to an untrained helmsman; dying on a foreign shore, far from his ancestral realm, in a paltry tomb he lies midst unfamiliar shades. For this, Aulis, remembering her lost king, in her becalmed harbour holds ships chafing at delay.60

[625] That son61 of the tuneful Muse, at whose sweet melodies the swift stream stood still and the winds were hushed, when the bird, leaving off its own singing, came near him, the whole wood following after – he lay scattered over the Thracian fields, but his head floated down mournful Hebrus; he came to the familiar62 Styx and Tartarus, never to return.

[634] Alcides laid low the sons63 of Aquilo, he slew Neptune’s son64 wont to take upon him countless shapes; but he himself, after establishing peace on land and sea, after opening up the kingdoms of savage Dis, laid him down, living, on burning Oeta, and gave his body to the devouring flames, consumed by the wasting of the double blood,65 his wife’s offering.

[643] The bristling boar,66 irresistible in his thrust, laid Ancaeus low; thou, Meleager, dost impiously slay thy mother’s brother and diest by thine engraged mother’s hand. All these deserved the charge67 for which that tender boy,68 sought vainly by mighty Hercules, atoned by death – the boy snatched away, alas, midst peaceful waters. Go now, ye brave, plough the sea, whose streams ye ought to dread.

[652] Idmon, though he well knew his fate, was slain69 by a serpent on Libya’s sands; true to all, but false to himself alone, Mopsus fell and saw not Thebes again. If he70 told truth as to the future, Thetis’ husband71 shall in exile wander. Nauplius, while striving to wreck the Argives by false beacon fires, shall fall headlong into the deep; his son72 shall perish and pay the penalty of his father’s sin73; Oileus,74 too, dying midst flame and flood; redeeming from death her lord75 of Pherae, the wife76 shall perish, giving up her life for her husband’s sake. Pelias himself, who bade the prize of the golden spoil be brought away in the first ship, seething in boiling pot, wandering midst waters close confined, perished by fire. Enough now, ye gods, have ye avenged the sea; spare him77 who was ordered to the task.

NURSE
[670] [Alone.] My spirit quakes with horror; some great disaster is at hand. Monstrously grows her grief, feeds its own fires and renews its former strength. Often have I seen her in frenzy and assailing the gods,78 drawing down the sky; but greater than such deeds, greater is the monstrous thing Medea is preparing. For now that with maddened steps she has gone out and come to her baleful shrine, she lavishes all her stores and brings forth whatever e’en she herself long has dreaded, and marshals her whole train of evil powers, things occult, mysterious, hidden; and, supplicating the grim altar with her left hand, she summons destructive agencies, whatever burning Libya’s sands produce, what Taurus, stiff with arctic cold, holds fast in his everlasting snows, and all monstrous things. Drawn by her magic incantations, the scaly brood leave their lairs and come to her. Here a savage serpent drags its huge length along, darts out its forked tongue, and seeks against whom it is to come death-dealing; hearing her incantation, it stops in amaze, knots its swollen body into writhing folds, and settles them into coils. “Petty are the evils,” she cries, “and cheap is the weapon which deepest earth begets; from heaven will I seek my poisons. Now, now is the time to set in motion some plan deeper than common guile. Hither let that serpent79 descend which lies like a vast rushing stream, whose huge folds the two beasts80 feel, the greater and the less ( the greater used81 by Pelasgians; by Sidonians, the less); let Ophiuchus at length relax his choking grip and give the poison vent; in answer to my incantations let Python come, who dared to attack the twin divinities.82 Let Hydra return and every serpent cut off by the hand of Hercules, restoring itself by its own destruction. Thou, too, ever-watchful dragon,83 quitting the Colchians, come thou to my aid, thou who through my incantations wast first lulled to slumber.”

[705] When she had summoned forth the whole tribe of serpents, she assembled her evil store of baleful herbs. Whatever trackless Eryx produces on his rocky slopes; plants that grow on heights clothed in unbroken winter, the heights of Caucasus, spattered with Prometheus’ gore; plants wherewith the rich Arabians smear their arrows, and the bold Mede, girt with his quiver, or the light-armed Parthians; or those juices which, under the bold pole, high-born Sueban women gather in Hyrcanian groves; whatever the earth produces in the nest-building springtime of when frozen winter has stripped the woods of their glory and bound all things with icy fetters; all plants that bloom with deadly flower, and all whose juices breed case of death in their twisted roots – all these she handles. Haemonian Athos contributed those baneful herbs, these, mighty Pindus; on the ridges of Pangaeus that plant was lopped of its tender foliage with a bloody sickle; these Tigris fed, checking his deep flood the while; the Danube, those; these, gem-studded Hydaspes, flowing with warm waters through thirsty tracts, and the Baetis, which gave its name to its own country,84 pushing into the western sea with languorous flood. These plants felt the knife while Phoebus was making ready the day; the shoot of that was clipped at midnight; while this was severed by finger-nail with muttered charm.

[731] She seizes death-dealing herbs, squeezes out serpents’ venom, and with these mingles unclean birds, the heart of a boding owl, and a hoarse screech-owl’s vitals cut out alive. Other objects the mistress of evil lays out, arranged in separate heaps; in some is the ravening power of fire; in others numbing frost’s icy cold. She adds to her poisons words, no less fearsome than they. – But listen, her frenzied step has sounded, and she chants her incantations. All nature shudders as she begins her song.

[Enter MEDEA singing an incantation.]

MEDEA
[740] I supplicate the throng of the silent, and, you, funereal gods, murky Chaos and shadowy Dis’ dark dwelling-place, the abysses of dismal Death, girt by the banks of Tartarus. Leaving your punishments, ye ghosts, haste to the new nuptials; let the wheel stop that is whirling his body, and Ixion stand on earth; let Tantalus in peace drink his fill of the Pirenian spring. You, too, whom a fruitless toil mocks with urns full of holes, ye Danaids, come hither: this day needs your hands. On one alone, my lord’s new father, let a penalty rest heavier – let the slippery stone roll Sisyphus85 backward o’er the rocks.

[750] Now, summoned by my sacred rites, do thou,86 orb of the night, put on thy most evil face and come, threatening in all thy forms.87

[752] For thee, losing my hair from its band after the manner of my people, with bare feet have I trod the secret groves and called forth rain from the dry clouds; I have driven the seas back to their lowest depths, and the Ocean, his tides outdone, has sent his crushing waves farther into the land; and in like manner, with heaven’s law confounded the world has seen both sun and stars together, and you, ye bears, have bathed in the forbidden sea. The order of the seasons have I changed: the summer land has blossomed ‘neath my magic song, and by my compelling Ceres has seen harvest in winter-time; Phasis has turned his swift waters backward to their source, and Hister, divided into many mouths, has checked his boisterous streams and flowed sluggishly in all his beds. The waves have roared, the mad sea swelled, though the winds were still; the heart of the ancient woods has lost its shadows, when the bright day has come back to them at commandment of my voice; Phoebus has halted in mid-heaven, and the Hyades, moved by my incantations, totter to their fall. The hour is at hand, O Phoebe, for thy sacred rites.

[She offers various gifts to HECATE.]
[771] To thee I offer these wreaths wrought with bloody hands, each entwined with nine serpent coils; to thee, these serpent limbs which rebellious Typhoeus wore, who caused Jove’s throne to tremble. In this is the blood which Nessus, that traitor ferryman, bestowed as he expired. With these ashes the pyre on Oeta sank down which drank in the poisoned blood of Hercules. Here thou seest the billet of a pious sister but impious mother, Althaea, the avenger. These feathers the Harpy left in her trackless lair when she fled from Zetes. Add to these the quills of the wounded Stymphalian bird which felt the darts of Lerna.88 – You have given forth your voice, ye altars; I see my tripods shaken by the favouring deity.

[787] I see Trivia’s swift gliding car, not as when, radiant, with full face, she drives the livelong night, but as when, ghastly, with mournful aspect, harried by Thessalian threats, she skirts with nearer rein the edge of heaven. So do thou wanly shed form thy torch a gloomy light through air; terrify the peoples with new dread, and let precious Corinthian bronzes resound, Dictynna, to thy aid.89 To thee on the altar’s bloody turf we perform thy solemn rites; to thee a torch caught up from the midst of a funeral pyre has illumed the night; to thee, tossing my head and with bended neck, I have uttered my magic words; for thee a fillet, lying in funeral fashion, binds my flowing locks; to thee is brandished the gloomy branch90 from the Stygian stream; to thee with bared breast will I as a maenad smite my arms with the sacrificial knife. Let my blood flow upon the altars; accustom thyself, my hand, to draw the sword and endure the sight of beloved blood. [She slashes her arm and lets the blood flow upon the altar.] Self-smitten have I poured forth the sacred stream.

[812] But if thou complainest that too often thou art called on by my prayers, pardon, I pray; the cause, O Perses’ daughter,91 of my too oft calling on thy bows is one and the same ever, Jason.

[817] Do thou now [she takes a phial] poison Creusa’s robe that, when she has donned it, the creeping flame may consume her inmost marrow. Within this tawny gold [she takes a casket] lurks fire, darkly hid; Prometheus gave it me, even he who expiates with ever-growing live his theft from heaven, and taught me by his art how to store up its powers. Mulciber hath also given me fires which subtly lurk in sulphur; and bolts of living flame I took from my kinsman,92 Phaëthon. I have gifts from Chimaera’s middle part,93 I have flames caught from the bull’s scorched throat, which, well mixed with Medusa’s gall, I have bidden to guard their bane in silence.

[833] Give sting to my poisons, Hecate, and in my gifts keep hidden the seeds of fire. Let them cheat the sight, let them endure the touch; let burning fire penetrate to heart and veins; let her limbs melt and her bones consume in smoke, and with her blazing locks let the bride outshine her wedding torches.

[840] My prayers are heard: thrice has bold Hecate bayed loud, and has raised the accursèd fire with its baleful light. Now all my power is marshalled; hither call my sons that by their hands thou mayst send these costly gifts unto the bride.

[MEDEA’s sons are brought in.]
[843] Go, go, my sons, born of an ill-starred mother, win to yourselves by means of gifts and much beseeching your mistress and stepmother. Begone and quickly come you home again, that I may enjoy one last embrace.

[Exuent sons toward the palace; MEDEA in the opposite direction.]

CHORUS
[849] Whither is this blood-stained maenad borne headlong by mad passion? What crime with reckless fury is she preparing? Her distraught face is hard set in anger, and with fierce tossings of her head she haughtily threatens e’en the king. Who would think her an exile.

[858] Her cheeks blaze red, pallor puts red to flight; no colour in her changing aspect does she keep long. Hither and thither she wanders, as a tigress, robbed of her cubs, ranges in mad course through the jungles of Ganges.

[866] How to curb her anger Medea knows not, nor yet her love; now that anger and love have joined cause, what will the outcome be? When will the wicked Colchian be gone from the Pelasgian borders and free from terror at once our kingdom and our kings? Now, O Phoebus, speed thy chariot with no check of rein; let friendly darkness veil the light and let Hesperus, vanguard of the night, plunge deep this fearful day.

[Enter MESSENGER, running from the direction of the palace.]

MESSENGER
[879] All is lost! The kingdom’s props have fallen. Daughter and father in commingled ashes lie.

CHORUS
[881] By what snare taken?

MESSENGER
[881] By the common snare of kings – by gifts.

CHORUS
[882] What snare could have been in them?

MESSENGER
[883] Myself, I also marvel, and, though the woeful thing is done, can scarce believe it could be done. What stay is there to ruin? The greedy fire rages through the palace’s every part as if ‘twere bidden so. Already the whole house has fallen, the city is in peril.

CHORUS
[897] Let water put out the flames.

MESSENGER
[898] Nay, in this disaster this marvel, too, has happened: water feeds the flames, and the more ‘tis checked the more fiercely burns the fire; the very defences94 does it seize upon.

[Enter MEDEA, in time to hear the last words.]

NURSE
[891] [To MEDEA.] Quickly begone, Medea, from the land of Pelops; seek headlong any land thou wilt!

MEDEA
[893] What I – shall I give ground? Nay, had I fled already, for this I should return. Strange nuptials see I here.

[She becomes absorbed in her own thoughts.]
[895] Why, soul, dost falter? Follow up the attack so well begun. How small a part of thy vengeance is that in which thou art rejoicing! Thou dost love him still, mad one, if ‘tis enough for thee that Jason wifeless be. Seek thou some unaccustomed form of chastisement, and now thus prepare thyself: let all right give way; let honour begone, defeated; light is the rod which innocent hands uplift. Bend to thine anger, rouse up thy halting purpose, and with all thy strength drain from thy heart’s very depths its old-time violence. Let all that has yet been done be called but piety. To the task; let them know how petty, of what common stamp, were the crimes I wrought to serve him. In them my grief was but practising; what great deed had prentice hands the power to do? What, a girl’s rage? Now I am Medea; my wit has grown through suffering.

[911] Glad am I, glad, that I tore off my brother’s head, glad that I carved his limbs, that I robbed my father of his guarded treasure,95 glad that I armed daughters96 for an old man’s death. Seek thou fresh fields, my grief; no untrained hand wilt thou bring to any crime.

[916] Whither, then, wrath, art tending, or what weapons art thou aiming at the forsworn foe?97 A dark purpose my fierce spirit hath resolved within me, and dares not yet acknowledged to itself. Fool! fool! I have gone too fast – would that mine enemy had children by his paramour! [She pauses and then addresses herself.] All offspring that thou hast by him are Creusa’s brood. Resolved is this way of vengeance, rightly resolved; for a last deed of guilt, I see it now, must my soul make ready. Children that once were mine, do you pay penalty for your father’s crimes.

[926] Horror has smit my heart! My limbs are numb with cold and my heart with terror flutters. Wrath has given place; the mother has all come back, the wife is banished. Can I shed my children’s, my own offspring’s blood? Ah, mad rage, say not so! Far, even from me, be that unheard-of deed, that accursed guilt! What sin will the poor boys atone? Their sin is that Jason is their father, and, greater sin, that Medea is their mother. [She pauses.] Let them die, they are none of mine; let them be lost – they are my own. They are without crime and guilt, yea, they are innocent – I acknowledge it; so, too, was my brother. Why, soul, dost hesitate? Why are my cheeks wet with tears? Why do anger and love now hither, now thither draw my changeful heart? A double tide tosses me, uncertain of my course; as when rushing winds wage mad warfare, and from both sides conflicting floods lash the seas and the fluctuating waters boil, even so is my heart tossed. Anger puts love to flight, and love, anger. O wrath, yield thee to love.

[945] Hither, dear children, sole comfort of my fallen house, come hither and link your entwining limbs with mine. Let your father have you unharmed, so but your mother may have you too. But exile and flight press hard upon me; now, now will they be torn from my bosom and carried away from me, midst tears and sighs and kisses. – Let them be lost to their father; they are lost to me. My grief grows again and my hate burns hot; Erinys, as of old, claims my unwilling hand. O wrath, where thou dost lead I follow. I would that from my womb the throng of proud Niobe had sprung, and that I had been the mother of twice seven sons! Too barren have I been for vengeance – yet for my brother and my father there is enough, for I have borne two sons.

[958] Whither hastes that headlong horde of Furies? Whom seek they? Against whom are they preparing their flaming blows? Whom does the hellish host threaten with its bloody brands? A huge snake hisses, whirled with the writhing lash. Whom does Megaera seek with her deadly torch? Whose shade comes there dimly seen, its limbs all scattered? It is my brother, and ‘tis punishment he seeks. We’ll pay, yes, all the debt. Plunge your brands into my eyes, tear, burn; see, my breast is open to the Furies.

[967] O brother, bid the avenging goddesses depart from me, and go in peace to the deep-buried ghosts; to myself leave me and use this hand, brother, which has drawn the sword – [She slays the first son.] With this victim I appease thy ghost. – What means that sudden noise? ‘Tis arms they are making ready, and they seek me for my slaying. To the lofty roof of our palace will I mount, now the bloody work hath been begun. [To her remaining son.] Do thou come with me. [To her dead son.] Thy corpse also will I take hence with me. Now to the task, O soul; not in secrecy must thy great deed by lost; to the people approve thy handiwork.

[Exit MEDEA, carrying the body of her dead son and leading the living. Enter JASON in the street below shouting to the citizens.]

JASON
[978] Ye faithful souls, who mourn your princes’ doom, rally to me that we may take the author herself of this dread crime. Here, here, my brave band of warriors, bring weapons, raze this house to the very ground.

MEDEA
[Appearing on the house-top.]
[982] Now, now have I regained my regal state, my brother, my sire; and the Colchians have once more the spoil of the golden fleece; restored is my kingdom, my ravished virginity is restored. Oh, divinities, at last propitious, oh, festal day, oh, nuptial day! On! the crime is accomplished; but vengeance is not yet complete; be done with it while they hands are still about it. Why dost thou delay now, O soul? Why hesitate, though thou canst do it? Now has my wrath died within me. I am sorry for my act, ashamed. What, wretched woman, have I done? – wretched, say I? Though I repent, yet have I done it! Great joy steals on me ‘gainst my will, and lo, it is increasing. [She catches sight of JASON in the crowd below.] This one thing I lacked, that yon man should behold. Naught have I done as yet; whatever crime I’ve done is lost unless he sees it.

JASON
[Discovering her.]
[995]See, there she is herself, leaning over the sheer battlement! Someone bring fire that she may fall consumed by her own flames.

MEDEA
[997] Nay, Jason, heap up for thy sons their last funeral pyre; build them a tomb. Thy wife and father have already the services due the dead, buried by me; this son has met his doom, and this shall suffer like fate before thy eyes.

JASON
[1002] By all the gods, by our flight together, by our marriage couch, to which I have not been faithless, spare the boy. If there is any guilt, ‘tis mine. I give myself up to death; destroy my guilty head.

MEDEA
[1006] Here97 where thou dost forbid it, where it will grieve thee, will I plunge the sword. Go now, haughty man, take thee maids for wives, abandon mothers.

JASON
[1008] One is enough for punishment.

MEDEA
[1009] If this hand could be satisfied with the death of one, it would have sought no death at all. Though I slay two, still is the count too small to appease my grief. If in my womb there still lurk any pledge of thee, I’ll search my very vitals with the sword and hale it forth.

JASON
[1014] Now end what thou hast begun – I make no more entreaty – and at least spare98my sufferings this suspense.

MEDEA
[1016] Enjoy a slow revenge, hasten not, my grief; mine is the day; we are but using the allotted99 time.

JASON
[1018] O heartless one, slay me.

MEDEA
[1018] Thou biddst me pity – [She slays the second son.] ‘Tis well, ‘tis done. I had no more atonement to offer thee, O grief. Lift thy tear-swollen eyes hither, ungrateful Jason. Dost recognize thy wife? ‘Tis thus100 I am wont to flee. A way through the air has opened for me; two serpents offer their scaly necks bending to the yoke. Now, father, take back thy sons. [She throws the bodies down to him.] I through the air on my winged car shall ride.
[She mounts the car and is borne away.]

JASON
[1026] [Calling after her.] Go on through the lofty spaces of high heaven and bear witness, where thou ridest, that there are no gods.

THE END.

MEDEA

What a handsome figure of a dragon. No wonder I fall madly in love with the Alani Dragon now, the avatar, it's a gorgeous dragon picture.
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SENECA, PHAEDRA

PHAEDRA, TRANSLATED BY FRANK JUSTUS MILLER

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

HIPPOLYTUS, son of Theseus and Antiope, an Amazon.
PHAEDRA, wife of Theseus and stepmother of Hippolytus.
THESEUS, king of Athens.
NURSE of Phaedra.
MESSENGER
SLAVES AND ATTENDANTS
CHORUS of Athenian citizens.

THE SCENE is laid throughout the court in front of the royal palace at Athens, and the action is confined to the space of one day.

ARGUMENT

Theseus had wed Antiope, the Amazons, and of their union had been born Hippolytus. This youth grew up to love the chase, austere and beautiful, shunning the haunts of men and scorning the love of women. Theseus had meanwhile slain Antiope, and married Phaedra, Cretan Minos’ child.
And now, for four years past, the king has not been seen upon the earth, for, following the mad adventure of his bosom friend, Pirithoüs, he has descended into Tartarus to help him steal away its queen, and thence, men think, he will never return.
Deserted by her lord, the hapless Phaedra has conceived a hopeless passion for Hippolytus; for Venus mindful of her old armour with Mars, which Phaedra’s ancestor, Apollo [Phoebus or Sol the Sun], had exposed, has sent this madness on her, even as Pasiphaë, her mother, had been cursed with a most mad and fatal malady.

HIPPOLYTUS
[In the early morning, in the palace court at Athens. Enter HIPPOLYTUS with a large company of huntsmen armed with the various weapons of the hunt, and leading numerous dogs in leash. HIPPOLYTUS proceeds to assign the various tasks of the day to his followers.]
[1] Go, girdle the shadowy woods and the topmost ridges of the mount, ye sons of Cecrops! With nimble feet wide wandering, scour the coverts that lie ‘neath rocky Parnes and in the vale of Thria, whose swift-flowing stream lashes its banks; climb the hills ever white with Rhipean snow. Here, here let others hie, where the all alder-thickets fringe the grove, where meadows lie which Zephyr soothes with his dew-laden breath and calls forth the herbage of the spring, where scant Ilissos flows sluggishly along through meagre fields and with ungenerous stream creeps o’er unfruitful sands.

[17] Go ye by the left path where Marathon opens out her forest glades, where with their small following the suckling mothers seek nightly forage; and ye, where rugged Acharneus tempers his frosts beneath the warm south-wind.

[23] Let one tread sweet Hymettus’ cliff, another, small Aphidnae; too long unharried is that spot where Sunium thrusts out the shores of the curving sea. If any feels the lure of the forest, Phlye calls for him; there is the haunt of the boar, terror of husbandmen, famed by now for many a wound.

[31] But do you cast off the leashes from the dogs that hunt in silence; still let thongs hold the keen Molossians fast, and let the savage Cretans tug on the stout bonds with well-worn necks. But the Spartans (for their breed is bold and eager for the prey) hold in carefully with a tighter knot. The time will come when the hollow rocks will re-echo with their bayings; now, with heads low-hung, let them snuff the air with keen nostrils, and with muzzles to earth quest through the forest haunts, while the light is still dim, while the dewy ground still retains the well-marked trail.

[44] Let some of you make speed to load your necks with the heavy, wide-meshed nets, and others, with the smooth-wrought snares. Let a line decked out with crimson feathers hedge the deer with empty terror. Thou shalt brandish the dart, thou with right and left hand together hurl the heavy oak-shaft with broad iron head; do thou lie in hiding and with shouts drive the game on the headlong rush; and thou, when victory is won, shalt free flesh from hide with thy curved hunting-knife.

[54] And do thou be with thy follower, O manlike goddess,1 for whose sovereignty earth’s secret places are reserved, whose darts with unerring aim seek out the prey which drinks the cool Araxes or sports on Ister’s frozen streams. Thy hand aims at Gaetulian lions, thine at Cretan deer; and now with lighter stroke dost thou pierce swift-fleeing does. The striped tigers face thee, but the shaggy-backed bisons flee, and the wild ox with wide-spreading horns. All things that feed in the lonely fields, whether the Arabian knows them in his rich forests, or the needy Garamantian and the wandering Sarmatian on his desert plains, whatever the heights of the rough Pyrenees or the Hyrcanian glades conceal, all fear thy bow, Diana. If, his offerings paid, thy worshipper takes thy favour with him to the glades, his nets hold the tangled prey, no feet break through his snares; his game is brought in on groaning wains, his hounds have their muzzles red with blood, and all the rustic throng come home in long triumphant line.

[81] Lo, goddess, thou dost hear me: the shrill-tongued hounds have given the sign. I am summoned to the woods. Here, here I’ll hasten by the shortest way.
[Exuent.]

[Enter PHAEDRA, from the palace.]

PHAEDRA
[85] O mighty Crete, the vast sea’s mistress, whose countless vessels along every coast have held the deep, yea, whatever, lands, e’en to Assyria, making path for the prows of ships, old Nereus cleaves – why dost thou force me here, given o’er to an enemy’s house as hostage, wife to my foe, to spend my days in wretchedness and weeping? Behold, fled is my lord afar and keeps his bridal oath as is the wont of Theseus. Through the deep shades of the pool which none recrosses is he faring, this brave recruit of a madcap suitor,2 that from the very throne of the infernal king he may rob and bear away his wife. He hurries on, a partner in mad folly; him nor fear nor shame held back. And there in the depths of Acheron he seeks adultery and an unlawful bed, this father of Hippolytus.3

[99] But another, greater smart burdens my woeful breast. No rest by night, no deep slumber frees me from care. A malady feeds and grows within my heart, and it burns there hot as the stream that wells from Aetna’s caverns. Pallas’ loom stands idle and my task slips from my listless hands; no longer it pleases me to deck the temples with votive offerings, nor at the altars, midst bands of Athenian dames, to wave torches in witness of he silent rites, nor with pure prayers and pious worship to approach the goddess4 who guards the land once granted to her! My joy is to follow in pursuit of the startled beasts and with soft hand to hurl stiff javelins.

[112] Whither, my soul, art tending? Why this mad love of forest glades? I recognize my wretched mother’s fatal curse5; her love and mine know how to sin in forest depths. Mother, my heart aches for thee; swept away by ill unspeakable, thou didst boldly love the wild leader of the savage herd. Fierce was he and impatient of the yoke, lawless in love, leader of an untamed herd; yet he did love something. But as for me, what god, what Daedalus could ease my wretched passion? Though he himself6 should return, mighty in Attic cunning, who shut our monster in the dark labyrinth, he could afford no help to my calamity. Venus, detesting the offspring of the hated Sun, is avenging through us the chains that bound her to her loved Mars, and loads the whole race of Phoebus with shame unspeakable. No daughter of Minos’ house hath found love’s bondage light; ever ‘tis linked with guilt.

NURSE
[129] O wife of Theseus, illustrious child of Jove, quickly drive guilty thoughts from thy pure breast, put out these fires, nor show thyself obedient to this dread hope of love. Whoever at the outset has resisted and routed love, has been safe and conqueror; but whoso by dalliance has fed the sweet torment, too late refuses to bear the accepted yoke.

[136] I know how the stubborn pride of princes, ill brooking truth, refuses to be bent to righteousness; but whatever outcome fate shall give I am ready to endure; freedom near at hand makes the aged brave.

[140] Best is the upright purpose and the unswerving path; next is the shame, that knows some measure in transgressing. To what end art thou hasting, wretched woman? Why heap fresh infamy upon thy house and outsin thy mother? Impious sin is worse than monstrous passion; for monstrous love thou mayst impute to fate, but crime, to character. If, because thy husband sees not the realms of earth, thou dost believe thy guilt safe and devoid of fear, thou errest. Suppose that Theseus is indeed held fast, hidden away in Lethean depths, and must suffer the Styx eternally; what of him, thy father, who holds the seas under his wide dominion and gives law to a hundred7 peoples? Will he permit so great a crime to lie concealed? Shrewd is the care of fathers. Yet suppose that by craft and guile we do hide this great wickedness from him; what of him who sheds his light on all things, thy mother’s sire?8 What of him who makes the heavens rocks, brandishing Aetnean bolts in his glittering hand, the father of the gods? Dost believe thou canst so sin as to escape the all-seeing eyes of both thy grandsires?

[159] But grant that heaven’s kindly grace conceals this impious intercourse; grant that to incest be shown the loyalty which great crimes never find; what of the ever-present penalty, the soul’s conscious dread, and the heart filled with crime and fearful of itself? Some women have sinned with safety, but none with peace of soul. Then quench the fires of impious love, I pray, and shun a deed which no barbaric land has ever done, neither the Getae, wandering on their plains, nor the inhospitable Taurians, nor scattered Scythians. Drive this hideous purpose from thy chaste mind, and, remembering thy mother, shun strange matings. Dost purpose to share thy bed with father and with son, and receive in an incestuous womb a blended progeny? Then go thou on and overturn all nature with thy unhallowed fires. Why do monsters cease?9 Why does thy brother’s10 labyrinth stand empty? Shall the world hear of strange prodigies, shall nature’s laws give way, whenever a Cretan woman loves?

PHAEDRA
[177] I know, nurse, that what thou sayest is true; but passion forces me to take the worser path. With full knowledge my soul moves on to the abyss and vainly seeks the backward way in quest of counsels sane. Even so, when the mariner urges his laden vessel against opposing seas, his toil goes for naught and the ship, vanquished, is swept away by the swift-moving tide. What can reason do? Passion has conquered and now rules supreme, and, a mighty god, lords it o’er all my soul. This winged god rules ruthlessly throughout the earth and inflames Jove himself, wounded with unquenched fires. Gradivus, the warrior god, has felt those flames; that god11 has felt them who fashions the three-forked thunderbolts, yea, he who tends the hot furnaces ever raging ‘neath Aetna’s peaks is inflamed by so mall a fire as this. Nay, Phoebus, himself, who guides with sure aim his arrows from the bowstring, a boy of more sure aim pierces with his flying shaft, and flits about, baneful alike to heaven and to earth.

NURSE
[195] ‘Tis base and sin-mad lust that has made love into a god and, to enjoy more liberty, as given to passion the title of an unreal divinity. The goddess of Eryx12 sends her son, forsooth, wandering through all lands, and he, flying through heaven’s void, wields wanton weapons in his boyish hands, and, though least of gods, still holds such mighty empire! ‘Tis love-mad souls that have adopted these vain conceits and have feigned Venus’ divinity and a god’s archery. Whoever rejoices in overmuch prosperity and abounds in luxury is ever seeking unaccustomed joys. Then that dire comrade of high estate, inordinate desire, steals in; wonted feasts no longer please, nor houses of simple fashion or modest cups. Why steals this deadly pest more rarely into humble homes, choosing rather the homes of daintiness? Why doth hallowed love dwell ‘neath lowly roofs and the general throng have wholesome impulses? Why hath modest fortune self-control? Why, on the other hand, do rich men, propped on empire, ever grasp at more than heaven allows? He who is too powerful seeks power beyond his power. What becomes one endowed with high estate, thou knowest well; then fear and respect the sceptre of thy returning lord.

PHAEDRA
[218] Love’s is, I think, the mightiest sovereignty over me, and I fear no lord’s return. Nevermore has he reached sight of the vaulted skies who, once plunged in perpetual night, has gone to the silent home.

NURSE
[222] Trust not in Dis. Though he bar his realm, and though the Stygian dog keep guard o’er the grim doors, Theseus alone finds out forbidden ways.

PHAEDRA
[225] He will give indulgence to my love, perchance.

NURSE
[226] Harsh was he even to a virtuous wife; foreign Antiope found his hand severe. But suppose thou canst bend thy angry husband; who can bend this youth’s stubborn soul? Hating the very name of woman, he flees them all, sternly devotes his years to single life and shuns the marriage tie. Thou wouldst know him of Amazonian breed.

PHAEDRA
[233] Though he keep him to the peaks of snowy hills, though he course swiftly ‘mongst the ragged rocks, still through the deep forests, over the mountains, ‘tis my resolve to follow him.

NURSE
[236] Will he stop for thee and yield himself to thy caresses? Will he lay aside his pure practices for impure love? Will he give up his hate for thee, when ‘tis for hate of thee, perchance, he repels all women? By no prayers can he be overcome.

PHAEDRA
[240] Wild is he; but wild things, we have learned, can be o’ercome by love.

NURSE
[241] He will flee away.

PHAEDRA
[241] Though he flee through the very seas, still will I follow.

NURSE
[242] Remember thy father.

PHAEDRA
[242] My mother I remember too.

NURSE
[243] He shuns the whole race of women.

PHAEDRA
[243] Then need I fear no rival.

NURSE
[244] My husband will be here.

PHAEDRA
[244] Yes, comrade of Pirithoüs!

NURSE
[245] And thy father will be here.

PHAEDRA
[245] He will be kind, Ariadne’s father.

NURSE
[246] By these gleaming locks of age, by this heart, worn with care, by these dear breasts, I beg thee check this made love and come to thy own relief. The wish for healing has ever been the half of health.

PHAEDRA
[250] Now wholly has shame fled my noble soul. I yield, dear nurse. Let the love which will not be controlled by overcome. Fair fame, I will not suffer thee to be defiled. This is the only way, the one sole escape from evil: let me follow my husband; by death will I forestall my sin.

NURSE
[255] Check, O my child, the rush of thine unbridled spirit; control thy passion. For this cause do I deem thee worthy life, since thou declarest thyself worthy death.

PHAEDRA
[258] I am resolved on death; I seek but the manner of my fate. With the noose shall I end my life, or fall upon the sword? or shall I leap headlong from Pallas’ citadel?

NURSE
[262] Can my old age permit thee thus to go headlong to thy death? Resist this mad impulse. No one can easily be recalled to life.

PHAEDRA
[265] No argument can stay from perishing one who has resolves to die and ought to die. Wherefore in protection of my honour let me arm my hand.

NURSE
[267] O mistress, sole comfort of my weary years, if so unruly a passion weighs on thy soul, scorn thou this fame; scarcely doth fame favour truth, being better to the worse deserving, worse to the good. Let us test that grim and stubborn soul. Mine is the task to approach the savage youth and bend the cruel man’s relentless will.
[Exuent into the palace.]

CHORUS
[274] Thou goddess, born of the cruel sea, who art called mother of both Loves,13 that wanton, smiling boy of thine, reckless alike with torches and with arrows, with how sure bow doth he aim his shafts! His madness steals to the inmost marrow, while with creeping fire he ravages the veins. The wound he deals has no broad front, but it eats its way deep into the hidden marrow. There is no open peace with that boy of thine; throughout the world nimbly he scatters his flying shafts. The shore that beholds the new-born sun and the shore that lies at this far western goal, the land lying beneath the burning Crab and the cold region of the Arcadian Bear, which sustains its ever-wandering husbandmen, all know these fires of his. He kindles the fierce flames of youth and in worn-out age he wakes again the extinguished fires; he smites maids’ breasts with unknown heat, and bids the very gods leave heaven and dwell on earth in borrowed forms.

[296] Phoebus as keeper of the Thessalian herd14 drove his cattle along and, laying quill aside, called together his bulls on the unequal reeds. How often did he put on lower forms, even he15 who made heaven and the clouds: now as a bird he fluttered his white wings with note sweeter than the dying swan; now with savage front as a wanton bull he lowered his back for the sport of maidens and through the strange kingdom of his brother’s waves, using his hoofs in place of pliant oars, he breasted the deep sea and overcame it, a ferryman trembling for the prize16 he bore. The radiant goddess17 of the darksome sky burned with love and, forsaking the night, gave her gleaming chariot to her brother to guide in fashion other than his own. He learned to drive the team of night and to wheel in narrower circuit, while the axle groaned beneath the car’s heavier weight; nor did the nights keep their accustomed length, and with belated dawning came the day. The son of Alcmena18 laid by his quiver and the threatening skin of the huge lion, letting emeralds be fitted on his fingers and law be enforced on his rough locks; he bound his legs with cross-garterings of gold and within yellow sandals confined his feet; and in that hand, with which he but now bore the club, he spun out threads with flying spindle.

[325] Persia and the rich, fertile realm of Lydia saw the fierce lion’s skin laid aside, and on those shoulders, on which the royal structure of the lofty sky had rested, a gauzy cloak of Tyrian web. ‘Tis an accursed fire (believe those who have suffered) and all too powerful. Where the land is encircled by the briny deep, where the bright stars course through heaven itself, over these realms the pitiless boy holds sovereignty, whose shafts are felt in the lowest depths by the sea-blue throng of Nereids, nor can they ease their heat by ocean’s waters. These fires the race of winged creatures feel. Goaded on by love, the bold bull undertakes battle for the whole herd; if they feel that their mates are in danger, timid stags challenge to war. At such a time swart India holds striped tigers in especial fear; at such a time the boar whets his death-dealing tusks and his jaws are covered all with foam; African lions toss their manes and by their roarings give token of their engendered passion. When Love has roused them, then the forest groans with their grim uproar. Love sways the monsters of the raging sea, sways Lucanian bulls,19 claims as his own all nature; nothing is exempt, and hate perishes at the command of Love. Old grudges yield unto his fires. Why tell of more? Love’s cares o’erwhelm harsh stepmothers.

[Enter NURSE from the inner palace.]
[358] Nurse, tell the news thou bearest. How stands it with the queen? Hath her fierce flame any bound?

NURSE
[360] No hope is there that such suffering can be relieved, and no end will there be to her mad fires. She is parched by a silent fever, and e’en though ‘tis hidden away, shut in her heart, her passion is betrayed in her face; fire darts from her yes; again, her weary gaze shrinks from the light; nothing long pleases her unbalanced soul, and her limbs by ever-shifting pangs are tossed in changeful wise. Now with failing steps she sinks down as if dying, and can hardly hold up her head on her fainting neck; now she lies down to rest and, headless of slumber, spends the night in lamentations; she bids them to lift her up and again to lay her down, to loose her hair and again to bid it up; her raiment, with itself dissatisfied, is ever changed. She has now no care for food or health. She walks with aimless feet, wasted now in strength. Her old-time sprightliness is gone, and the ruddy glow of health no longer shines on her bright face; care feeds upon her limbs, her steps totter and the tender grace of her once beautiful form is fallen away; her eyes, which once shone like Phoebus’ torch, no longer gleam with their ancestral fire. Tears fall down her face and her cheeks are wet with constant drops, as when on the top of Taurus the snows melt away, pierced by a warm shower.

[384] But see, the palace doors are opening, and she herself, lying on golden couch, all sick of soul, rejects her wonted garments.

PHAEDRA
[387] Away, ye slaves, with robes bedecked with purple and with gold; away, scarlet of the Tyrian shell, the webs20 which the far-off Seres gather from the trees. Let a narrow girdle hold in my garments’ unencumbering folds, let there be no necklace at my throat, let no snowy pearls, the gift of India’s ocean, weight down my ears, and let my hair hang loose, unscented by Assyrian nard. So, tossed at random, let my locks fall down upon my neck and shoulders and, moved by swift running, stream upon the wind. My left hand shall be busied with the quiver and my right wield a Thessalian spear. In such guise as the dweller by Tanaïs or Maeotis,21 leaving cold Pontus’ tract behind, led her hordes, treading Athenian soil, and, binding her locks in a knot, let them flow free, her side protected by a crescent shield; so will I betake me to the woods.

CHORUS
[404] Cease thy complainings; grieving helps not the wretched. Appease the rustic divinity of our virgin goddess.

NURSE
[406] O queen of the groves, thou who in solitude lovest thy mountain-haunts, and who upon the solitary mountains art alone held holy, change for the better these dark, ill-omened threats. O great goddess of the woods and groves, bright orb of heaven, glory of the night, by whose changing beams the universe shines clear, O three-formed Hecate, lo, thou art at hand, favouring our undertaking. Conquer the unbending soul of stern Hippolytus; may he, compliant, give ear unto our prayer. Soften his fierce heart; may he learn to love, may he feel answering flames. Ensnare his mind; grim, hostile, fierce, may he turn him back unto the fealty of love. To this end direct thy powers; so mayst thou wear a shining face and, the clouds all scattered, fare on with undimmed horns; so, when thou drivest thy car through the nightly skies, may no witcheries of Thessaly prevail to drag thee down and may no shepherd22 make boast o’er thee. Be near, goddess, in answer to our call; hear now our prayers.

[HIPPOLYTUS is seen approaching.]
[424] The man himself I see, coming to perform thy sacred rites, no comrade at his side. [To herself.] Why dost thou hesitate? Chance has given thee both time and place. Thou must employ thy arts. Why do I tremble? ‘Tis no easy task to dare a crime bidden by another, but whoso fears a sovereign’s behests must lay aside and banish form his heart all thought of honour; shame is but an ill servant of a sovereign’s commands.

HIPPOLYTUS
[431] Why dost hither wend wearily thy aged steps, O faithful nurse, with troubled brow and face dejected? Surely my sire is safe, Phaedra is safe, and their two sons?

NURSE
[435] Banish thy fear. The realm is in prosperous state, thy house is strong, flourishing under the smile of Heaven. But in this happy lot do thou show thyself less harsh; for distress for thee harasses my anxious heart, seeing that thou in thine own despite dost break thyself with heavy penances. If fate compels, ‘tis pardonable to be wretched; but whoso of his own accord surrenders himself to misery and causes his own torment, he deserves to lose the happiness he knows not how to use. Nay, remember thy youth and relax thy spirit; go out o’ nights, raising the festal torch; let Bacchus unburden thy weighty cares.

[446] Enjoy thy life; ‘tis speeding swift away. Now hearts are light, now love to youth is pleasing. Let thy heart rejoice. Why dost lie on a lonely couch? Free thy youth from gloom; lay hold on pleasures; loosen the reins; let not life’s best days escape thee. God has portioned out its proper duties to each time of life and led this span of ours through its own stages; joy befits the young, a serious face the old. Why dost hold thyself in check and strangle thy true nature? That crop will give to the farmer the best return which in the tender blade runs riot with joyous growth, and that tree with lofty head will overtop the grove which no grudging hand cuts down or prunes away. So will right minds be reared unto a richer fruit of praise, if sprightly freedom nourish the high-born soul.

[461] Wilt thou, as a harsh wood-dweller, ignorant of life, spend thy youth in gloom and let Venus be forgot? Is it man’s allotted task, thinkst thou, to endure hardship, curb horses in their swift course, and wage savage wars in bloody battles? How various are the forms of death that seize and feed no mortal throngs! the sea, the steel and treachery! But suppose these lacking: by thy path we make wantonly for murky death. The unwedded life let barren youth applaud; then will all that thou beholdest be the throng of one generation only and will fall in ruins on itself. In his providence did yonder almighty father of the universe, when he saw how greedy were the hands of Fate, give heed ever by fresh progeny to make losses good. Come now, let love but be banished from human life, love, which supplies and renews the impoverished race: the whole globe will lie foul in vile neglect; the sea will stand empty of its fish; birds will be lacking to the heaven, wild bests to the woods, and the paths of air will be traversed only by the winds. Follow, then, nature as life’s guide; frequent the city; seek out the haunts of men.

HIPPOLYTUS
[482] There is no life so free and innocent, none which better cherishes the ancient ways, than that which, forsaking cities, loves the woods. His heart is inflamed by no mad greed of gain who has devoted himself to harmless ranging on the mountain-tops; here is no shouting populace, no mob, faithless to good men, no poisonous hate, no brittle favour. No slave is he of kings, nor in quest of kingship does he chase empty honours or elusive wealth, free alike from hope and fear; him venomous spite assails not with the bite of base-born tooth; those criems that spawn midst the city’s teeming throngs he does not know, nor in guilty consciousness does he quake at every sound, or frame lying words. He seeks not in pride of wealth to be sheltered by a roof reared on a thousand pillars, no in insolence plates he with much gold his rafter-beams. No streams of blood drench his pious altars, no hecatombs of snow-white bullocks, sprinkled with the sacred meal, bend low their necks; but his lordship is over the empty fields, and beneath the open sky he wanders blameless.

[502] His only craft is to set cunning snares for the wild beasts, and, when weary with hard toil, he refreshes his body in Ilissos’ stream, chilled by the snows. Now he fares along the bank of swift-flowing Alpheus, now traverses the lofty grove’s deep places, where cool Lerna is transparent with its crystal shoals, and the silent forest-depths, wherein the complaining birds make music, and the ash-trees and ancient beeches quiver, moving gently in the breeze. Sweet it is to lie on the bank of some vagrant stream, or on the bare sward to quaff light-stealing slumbers, be it where some copious spring pours down its hurrying waters, or through budding flowers some brook murmurs sweetly as it glides along.

[515] Fruit shaken from the forest trees stays his hunger, and berries plucked from the low bushes afford an easy meal. It is his passion to flee far from royal luxury. ‘Tis from anxious cups of gold that the proud drink! how sweet to catch up with the bare hand the water of the spring! Here slumber more surely soothes as he lays him down, care-free, on his hard bed. He guiltily plots no stealthy deeds in secret chamber and on a hidden couch, nor hides fearfully away in his labyrinthine palace; ‘tis the air and light he seeks, and his life has heaven for its witness.

[525] ‘Twas in such wise, methinks, they lived whom the primal age produced, in friendly intercourse with gods. They had no blind love of gold; no sacred boundary-stone, judging betwixt peoples, separated fields on the spreading plain; not yet did rash vessels plough the sea; each man knew only his native waters. Then cities were not surrounded with massive walls, set with many towers; no soldier applied his fierce hand to arms, nor did hurling engines burst through closed gates with heavy stones. Not yet did earth, suffering a master’s rule, fruitful of themselves, fed nations who asked nothing more; the woods gave men their natural wealth, and shady caves afforded natural homes.

[540] Unholy passion for gain broke up this peaceful life, headlong wrath, and lust which sets men’s hearts aflame. Next came cruel thirst for power; the weaker was made the stronger’s prey, and might took the place of right. At first men fought with naked fists [next they began to lay hand to deadly weapons23] and turned stones and rough clubs to the use of arms. As yet there was no light cornel-shaft, tipped with tapering iron; no long, sharp-pointed sword hung at the side; no helmets crested with plumes gleamed from afar; rage furnished arms. Warlike Mars invented new modes of strife and a thousand forms of death. From this source streams of blood stained all lands and the sea grew red. Then crime stalked unchecked through every home and no impious deed lacked precedent. Brother was slain by brother, father by the hand of son, husband lay dead by the sword of wife, and unnatural mothers destroyed their own offspring. I say naught of stepmothers; they are no whit more merciful than the beasts. But the leader of all wickedness is woman; ‘tis she, cunning mistress of crime, besets our minds; ‘tis by her foul adulteries so many cities smoke, so many nations war, so many peoples lie crushed beneath the ruins of their kingdoms, utterly o’erthrown. Let others be unnamed; Aegeus’ wife alone, Medea, will prove that women are an accursed race.

NURSE
[564] Why make the crime of few the blame of all?

HIPPOLYTUS
[565] I abominate them all, I dread, shun, curse them all. Be it reason, be it instinct, be it wild rage: ‘tis my joy to hate them. Sooner shall you mate fire and water, sooner shall the dangerous Syrtes offer to ships a friendly passage, sooner shall Tethys from her far western shore bring in bright dawn, and wolves gaze on does with eyes caressing, than I, my hate o’ercome, have kindly thought for woman.

NURSE
[574] Oft-times does Love put curb on stubborn hearts and change their hate. Look at thy mother’s kingdom; those warlike women feel the yoke of Venus. Thou bearest witness to this, of her race the only son.24

HIPPOLYTUS
[578] I count it the one solace for my lost mother, that now I may hate all womankind.

NURSE
[580] [Aside.] As some hard crag, on all sides unassailable, resists the waves, and flings far back the flood importunate, so does he spurn my words.

[583] But Phaedra is hurrying towards us, impatient of delay. Whither will fortune go? Whither will madness tend?

[PHAEDRA enters and falls as in a swoon.]
[585] Her fainting body has fallen suddenly to earth and death-like pallor has overspread her face.

[HIPPOLYTUS hastens to raise her in his arms.]
[587] Lift thy face, break silence. See, my daughter, thine own Hippolytus embraces thee.

PHAEDRA
[589] [Recovering.] Who gives me back to grief and again sets in my soul this fever dire? How blest was my unconsciousness of self!

HIPPOLYTUS
[591] Why dost thou shun the sweet boon of life restored?

PHAEDRA
[592] [Aside.] Courage! my soul, essay, fulfil thine own behest. Fearless be thy words, and firm; who makes timid request, invites denial. The chief part of my guilt is long since accomplished; too late for me is modesty – I have loved basely. If I follow up what I have begun, perchance I may hide my sin behind the marriage torch. Success makes some sins honest. Come now, my soul, begin! [To HIPPOLYTUS.] Lend ear to me privately a little while, I pray. If any comrade of thine is here, let him withdraw.

HIPPOYTUS
[601] Behold, the place is free from all witnesses.

PHAEDRA
[602] But my lips refuse passage to the words I seek to frame; some strong power urges me to speak, and a stronger holds me back. I call you all to witness, you heavenly powers, that what I wish –

HIPPOLYTUS
[606] Thy heart desires somewhat and cannot tell it out?

PHAEDRA
[607] Light troubles speak; the weighty are struck dumb.

HIPPOLYTUS
[608] Entrust thy troubles to my ears, mother.

PHAEDRA
[609] Mother – that name is too proud and high; a humbler name better suits my feelings. Call me sister, Hippolytus, or slave – yes, slave is better; I will endure servitude. Shouldst thou bid me walk through deep-drifted snows, I would not shrink from faring along the cold peaks of Pindus; shouldst thou send me through fire and midst deadly battle ranks, I would not hesitate to offer my breast to naked swords. Take thou in my stead the sceptre committed to my care, accept me for thy slave; it becomes thee to bear sway, me, to obey thine orders. It is no woman’s task to watch o’er royal cities. Do thou, in the vigour of thy youth’s first bloom, rule o’er the citizens, strong in thy father’s power; take to thine arms thy suppliant, and protect thy slave. Pity my widowhood –

HIPPOLYTUS
[623] The most high God avert that omen! In safety will my father soon return.

PHAEDRA
[625] The overlord of the fast-holding realm and of the silent Styx has made no way to the upper world once quitted; and will he let the robber25 of his couch go back? Unless, perchance, even Pluto sits smiling upon love!

HIPPOLYTUS
[629] Him surely the kindly deities will bring again. But while God still holds our prayers in doubt, with due affection will I care for my dear brothers, and so deserve of thee that thou shalt not deem thee widowed, and myself will fill for thee my father’s place.

PHAEDRA
[634] [Aside.] O credulous hope of lovers, O deceitful one! Has he not said enough? I’ll bring my prayers to bear upon him and attack.

[636] [To HIPPOLYTUS.] Have pity! hearken to the prayers my heart may not express. I long – and am ashamed – to speak.

HIPPOLYTUS
[637] What, pray, is this thy trouble?

PHAEDRA
[638] A trouble thou wouldst scarce believe could befall a stepmother.

HIPPOLYTUS
[639] Words of doubtful meaning thou utterest with riddling lips. Speak out and plainly.

PHAEDRA
[640] ‘Tis burning love scorches my maddened heart. A hot fire glows deep in my inmost vitals and hides darkly in my veins, as when nimble flames dart through deep-set timbers.

HIPPOLYTUS
[644] ‘Tis with pure love for Theseus thou dost burn?

PHAEDRA
[645] Hippolytus, ‘tis thus with me: Theseus’ features I love, those former looks of his which once as a youth he had, when his first beard marked his smooth cheeks, when he looked on the dark home of the Cretan monster, and gathered in the long thread o’er the winding way. How glorious was he then! Fillets bound his locks, and his young face glowed with the blush of modesty; strong muscles lay beneath the softness of his arms; and his features were as of thy Phoebe or of my Phoebus – or, rather were thy own. Such, yes, such was he when he won his foeman’s26 valour; just so he bore his head erect. In thee more brightly shines a beauty unadorned; all of thy sire is in thee, and yet some portion of thy mother’s sternness blends with an equal charm; on Grecian face shows Scythian austerity. If with thy father thou hadst come to the shores of Crete, for thee and not for him would my sister have spun the thread. Thee, thee, O sister, wherever amidst the starry heavens thou shinest, I call to aid for a cause like to thine own. One house has ruined two sisters: thee, the father, but me, the son.

[She kneels to HIPPOLYTUS.]
[666] See, a king’s daughter lies fallen at thy knees, a suppliant. Without spot or stain, pure, innocent, I am changed for thee alone. With fixed purpose have I humbled myself to prayer; this day shall bring an end either to my misery or my life. Have pity on her who loves –

HIPPOLYTUS
[671] Great ruler of the gods, dost thou so calmly hear crimes, so calmly look upon them? And when wilt thou send forth thy thunderbolt with angry hand, if now ‘tis cloudless? Let all the sky fall in shattered ruin, and in murky clouds the day; let the stars be turned backward and, wrenched aside, go athwart their courses. And thou, star of stars, O radiant Sun, dost thou behold this shame of thy race? Hide thy light and take refuge in darkness. Why is thy right hand empty, O ruler of gods and men? why is not the world in flames by thy forked lightning? Me let thy thunder smite, pierce me, me let thy swift-darting fire consume. I am guilty, I have deserved to die; I have stirred my stepmother to love.

[684] [To PHAEDRA.] Look thou! Am I fitted for adulteries? For such crime did I alone see to thee an easy instrument? Hath my austerity earned this? O thou, who hast outshined the whole race of women, who hast dared a greater evil than thy monster-bearing mother, thou worse than she who bore thee! She did but pollute herself with her shameful lust, and yet her offspring by its two-shaped infamy displayed her crime, though long concealed, and by his fierce visage the hybrid child made clear his mother’s guilt. That was the womb that bore thee. Oh, thrice and again blest of fate are they whom hatred and treachery have destroyed, consumed, and given unto death! O father, I envy thee; than thy Colchian stepdame27 this is a curse, greater, greater far!

PHAEDRA
[698] I, too, recognize the fortune of my house: we seek what we should shun; but I am not mistress of myself. Thee even through fire, through the mad sea will I pursue, yes, over crags and rivers, swollen by torrent streams; where’er thou shalt direct thy steps, there will I madly rush. Once more, proud man, I grovel at thy feet.

HIPPOLYTUS
[704] Away with thy impure touch from my chaste body! What? Even rush into my arms! Out, sword, and mete her just punishment. See, with left hand in her twisted hair have I bent back her shameless head. Never has blood been more justly spilled upon thy altar, O goddess of the bow.

PHAEDRA
[710] Hippolytus, now dost thou grant me fulfilment of my prayer; thou healest me of my madness. This is beyond my prayer, that, with my honour saved, ‘tis by thy hands I die.
[She grasps the sword and points it at her breast.]

HIPPOLYTUS
[713] Begone, live, lest thou have thy wish; and let this sword, polluted by thy touch, quit my chaste side.
[He throws his sword from him.]

[715] What Tanaïs will cleanse me, what Maeotis, with its barbaric waves rushing into the Pontic sea? Not great Father Neptune’s self, with his whole ocean, could wash away so much of guilt. O woods! O beasts!
[He rushes off into the depths of the forest.]

NURSE
[719] Her sin has been found out. O soul, why dost stand inactive and aghast? We must throw the crime back on him himself, and ourselves charge him with incestuous love. Crime must be concealed by crime. ‘Tis safest, when in fear, to force the attack. Whether we first dared the sin or suffered it, since it was done in secret, who of his own knowledge is to testify?

[She raises her voice in loud cry.]
[725] Help, Athens, help! Faithful band of slaves, come to our aid! The ravisher, Hippolytus, with vile, lustful intent, is after us; he is upon us and threatens us with death; with the sword he is terrifying our chaste queen – ah! he has rushed headlong forth and, dazed, in panic flight, has left his sword. We hold the proof of guilt. But the stricken queen, revive her first. Let her dishevelled hair, her torn locks, stay even as they are, the marks of that great guilt. Bear her to the city. Now come back to consciousness, my mistress. Why doest tear thyself and shun the glances of us all? ‘Tis thinking makes impure, not circumstance.
[Exuent.]

CHORUS
[736] He fled like a raging tempest, swifter than cloud-collecting Corus,28 swifter than flame which speeds on its way when a star,29 driven by the winds, extends its long-trailing fire.

[741] Let fame compare with thee30 all ancient beauty, fame, admirer of the olden time; as much fairer does thy beauty shine as gleams more brightly the full-orbed moon when with meeting horns she has joined her fires, when at the full with speeding chariot blushing Phoebe shows her face and the lesser stars fade out of sight. Such as he is the messenger of night, who brings the first shadows back, Hesperus,31 fresh bathed in ocean; and when the shadows have been driven away again, Lucifer32 also.

[753] And thou, Bacchus, from thyrsus-bearing India, with unshorn locks, perpetually young, thou who frightenest tigers with thy vine-clad spear, and with a turban bindest thy hornèd head – thou wilt not surpass Hippolytus’ crisp locks. Admire not thou thy beauty overmuch; story has spread through every nation whom33 the sister of Phaedra preferred to Bromius.

[761] O beauty, doubtful boon to mortals, brief gift for but a little time, how swiftly on quick foot thou dost slip away! Not so swifty are the meadows, beauteous with early spring, despoiled by the hot summer’s glow, when with solstitial fire midday rages, and the nights sweep headlong in their brief course. As lilies wither and their leaves grow pale, so do our pleasing locks fall form the head, and the bright glow which shines on youthful cheeks is ravished in a moment and no day takes not spoilt of our body’s beauty. Beauty is a fleeting thing. Who that is wise would trust so frail a blessing? Enjoy it while thou mayest. Time is silently undermining thee, and an hour , worse than the last, is ever creeping on.

[777] Why seek desert places? Beauty is no safer in pathless regions. Hide thee in the woods when Titan has brought midday, and the saucy Naïds, a wanton throng, will encompass thee, wont in their waters to imprison shapely boys,34 and for thy slumbers the frolicsome goddesses of the groves will lay their snares, the Dryads, who pursue Pans wandering on the mountains. Or else, looking down on thee from the starry heavens, the orb35 that was born after the old Arcadians36 will lose control of her white-shining car. And lately she blushed fiery red, though no staining cloud obscured her bright face; but we, anxious for our troubled goddess, thinking her harried by Thessalian charms, made loud jingling sounds: yet ‘twas thou37 hadst been her trouble, thou the cause of her delaying; while gazing on thee the goddess of the night checked her swift course.

[795] This face of thine let frosts more rarely ravage, let this face more seldom woo the sun; ‘twill shine more bright than Parian marble. How pleasing is the manly sternness of thy face and the severe dignity of thine old-seeming brow! With Phoebus mayst thou match that gleaming neck. Him locks that will not be confined, streaming o’er his shoulders adorn and robe; but thee a shaggy brow, thee shorter locks, lying in disarray, become. ‘Tis thine with manly strength to dare meet the trough and warlike gods and by the spread of thy huge body to overcome them; for even in youth thou dost match the muscles of a Hercules, art broader of chest than war-waging Mars. Shouldst thou be pleased to ride a horn-footed horse, with hand more agile on the rein than Castor’s thou couldst guide the Spartan Cyllarus. Stretch thong with thy first fingers38 and shoot the dart straight with all thy might; still not so far, though skilled to hurl the dart, will Cretans send the slender shaft. Or should it please thee to shoot thy arrows into the sky, in Parthian fashion, none will come down without its bird, but, deep fixed in the warm breast, will bring prey from the very clouds.

[820] To few men hath beauty (scan the ages past) not brought its penalty. May God, more merciful, pass thee by unharmed, and may thy illustrious beauty pass the threshold o’er of shapeless age.

[824] What would the woman’s headlong madness leave undared? She is preparing outrageous charges against this guileless youth. Behold her guilty wiles! By her torn hair she seeks to be believed; she disorders all the glory of her locks, bedews her cheeks with tears. She is marshalling her plot by every art that woman knows.

[A man is seen approaching who proves to be THESEUS.]
[829] But who is this, wearing a regal dignity on his face and with head borne high? How like the young Pirithoüs he is in countenance, were his cheeks not so deathly pale and did not unkempt squalor stiffen in his bristling hair. See, it is Theseus himself, restored to the upper world.

THESEUS
[835] At last I escaped the realm of eternal night, the dark world which in vast prison-house o’ershades the dead, and scarcely do my eyes endure the longed-for light. Now for the fourth time is Eleusis harvesting the bounty of Triptolemus,39 as many times has Libra made day equal unto night, since dubious battling with an unknown fate has kept me between the ills of death and life. Though dead to all things else, one part of life remained to me – my sense of ills. Alcides was the end, who, when he dragged the dog by violence out of Tartarus, brought me, too, along with him to the upper world. But my strength is spent, has lost its old-time vigour, and my steps do falter. Alas, how hard a struggle it was from lowest Phlegethon to attain the far realms of air, at once to flee form death and follow Hercules!

[850] But what is this tearful outcry that strikes my ears? Let someone tell me. Greiving and tears and woe, and on my very threshold sad lamentation? – auspices tha well befit a guest from hell.

NURSE
[854] Phaedra holds unbending purpose of self-murder; she scorns our tears and is on the very edge of death.

THESEUS
[856] What cause for death? Why die, now that her husband is come back?

NURSE
[857] That very cause has brought with it speedy death.

THESEUS
[858] Thy riddling words some weighty matter hide. Tell me plainly what grief weighs on her mind.

NURSE
[860] She discloses it to none; though sorrowing, she hides her secret grief and is resolved to take with her the woe whereof she dies. But come now, I pray thee, come; there is need of haste.

THESEUS
[863] Unbar the closed portals of the royal house.
[The doors are thrown open and THESEUS encounters his wife just within.]

[854] O partner of my couch, is it thus thou welcomest thy lord’s return and the face of thy long-sought husband? Come, put away the sword from thy right hand, give me heart again, and whatever is driving thee out of life, declare it.

PHAEDRA
[868] Alas, O Theseus, great of soul, by the sceptre of thy kingdom, by thy children’s lives, by thy return, and by my body already doomed to dust, allow my death.

THESEUS
[871] What cause forces thee to die?

PHAEDRA
[872] If the cause of my death is told, its fruit is lost.

THESEUS
[873] No one else shall hear it, save myself.

PHAEDRA
[874] A chaste woman dreads her husband’s ears alone.

THESEUS
[875] Speak out; in my true heart will I hide thy secret.

PHAEDRA
[876] Where thou wouldst have another silence keep, keep silence first thyself.

THESEUS
[877] No means of death shall be granted unto thee.

PHAEDRA
[878] If one wills to die, death can never fail.

THESEUS
[879] Tell me what sin is to be purged by death.

PHAEDRA
[880] That I still live.

THESEUS
[880] Do not my tears move thee?

PHAEDRA
[881] ‘Tis best to die a death to be wept by friends.

THESEUS
[882] She persists in silence. Then by scourge and bonds shall her old nurse reveal whatever she will not tell. [To attendants.] Bind her with chains. Let the power of the scourge drag forth the secrets of her soul.

PHAEDRA
[885] Hold! I will myself confess.

THESEUS
[886] Why dost turn away thy sorrowing face and hide with veiling robe the tears that suddenly o’er flow thy cheeks?

PHAEDRA
[888] Thee, thee, O sire of the heavenly gods, I call to witness, and thee,40 bright radiance of celestial light, on whom as founder of this house of ours depends – though sorely tempted, I withstood his prayers; to sword and threats my soul yielded not; yet did my body bear his violence. This stain of shame shall my blood wash away.

THESEUS
[894] Who, tell me, was the destroyer of my honour?

PHAEDRA
[895] Whom thou least thinkest.

THESEUS
[895] Who is he? I demand to hear.

PHAEDRA
[896] This sword will tell, which, in his panic terror, the ravisher left behind, fearing the gathering of the citizens.

THESEUS
[898] Ah me! What villainy do I behold? What monstrous thing do I see? The royal hilt of ivory, embossed with tiny figures, gleams before me, the glory of the Athenian race. But he, whither has he escaped?

PHAEDRA
[901] The slaves, here, saw him speeding swift away in headlong flight.

THESEUS
[903] O holy Piety, O ruler of the heavens, and thou41 who with thy billows dost sway the second realm, whence came this infection of infamy in our stock? Was that man nurtured by the land of Greece or by the Scythian Taurus and Colchian Phasis? The breed reverts to its progenitors and debased blood reproduces the primal stock. This, truly, is the madness of that warlike race,42 to contemn Venus’ laws and to prostitute the long-chaste body to the crowd. O abominable race, yielding to no laws of a better land! Even the very beasts do shun incestuous love, and instinctive chastity guards Nature’s laws. Where are those features, that feigned austerity of the man, that rough garb, aping old-fashioned and archaic ways? Where thy stern manners and the sour severity of age? O two-faced life, thou keepest thy true thoughts hidden and dost clothe foul purpose with an aspect fair – chaste bearing hides unchastity; meekness, effrontery; piety, sin unspeakable; false men approve truth and the soft affect hardihood.

[922] O thou lover of the woods, the boasted wild man, continent, rough, unstained, is it for me thou keepst thyself in check? With my couch, by such crime as this, was it thy pleasure to make first test of manhood? Now, now I give thanks to the heavenly powers that Antiope fell stricken by my hand, and that, descending to the Stygian pit, I did not leave to thee thy mother. Fugitive, traverse nations remote, unknown; though a land on the remotest confines of the world hold thee separated by Ocean’s tracts, though thou take up thy dwelling in the world opposite our feet, though thou escape to the shuddering realms of the high north and hide deep in its farthest corner, and though, placed beyond the reach of winter43 and his hoar snows, thou leave behind thee the threatening rage of cold Boreas, still shalt thou pay penalty for thy crime. Fugitive, through all thy hiding-places untiringly will I pursue thee; regions remote, blocked, hidden away, far separate, trackless, will I traverse, and no place shall stop me – thou knowest whence I am returned. Whither weapons cannot be hurled, thither will I hurl my prayers. My father of the sea granted me thrice to fashion prayers whereto the god would bow, and, calling upon Styx, confirmed the boon.

[945] [To NEPTUNE.] Now fulfil the sad44 boon, O ruler of the sea! Let Hippolytus see the bright day no more, and in youth pass to the ghosts that are wrathful with his sire. Now bring aid, which my soul abhors, O father, to thy son; never should I squander this last boon45 of thine, did not great ills o’erwhelm; in depths of Tartarus, in presence of dread Dis, and imminent menace of hell’s lord, I was sparing of this prayer. Keep now thy promised faith. Father, dost thou delay? Why are thy waves yet silent? Now veil the night with dark clouds driven by the winds; snatch stars and sky from sight; pour forth the deep; and, rising high, summon the floods from Ocean’s self.

CHORUS
[959] O Nature, mighty mother of the gods, and thou, fire-bearing Olympus’ lord, who through the swift firmament whirlest the scattered stars, and the wandering courses of the planets, who makest the heavens on swift axis turn, why dost thou take such care to keep perpetual the pathways of the lofty sky, that now the hoar frosts of winter may strip the woods, now to the plantations their umbrage come again, that now in summer the Lion’s fervent heat may ripen the grain and the year regulate its powers? But why, again, dost thou, who holdest so wide sway, and by whose hands the ponderous masses of the vast universe are poised and wheel their appointed courses – why dost thou dwell afar, all too indifferent to men, not anxious to bring blessing to the good, and to the evil, bane?

[978] Fate without order rules the affairs of men, scatters her gifts with unseeing hand, fostering the worse; dire lust prevails against pure men, and crime sits regnant in the lofty palace. The rabble rejoice to give government to the vile, paying high honours even where they hate. Warped are the rewards of uprightness sad virtue gains; wretched poverty dogs the pure, and the adulterer, strong in wickedness, reigns supreme. O decency, honour, how empty and how false!

[989] But why does yon messenger haste hither with rapid pace, his sad countenance wet with grieving tears?

[Enter MESSENGER.]

MESSENGER
[991] O lot bitter and hard, O cruel servitude, why calls fate upon me to bear unutterable tidings?

THESEUS
[993] Fear not to speak out boldly the disaster, cruel though it be; I bear a heart not unprepared for suffering.

MESSENGER
[995] My tongue refuses utterance to the grief-bringing woe.

THESEUS
[996] Tell what mischance weighs down this shattered house.

MESSENGER
[997] Hippolytus, woe is men, lies in lamentable death.

THESEUS
[998] That his son was dead the sire has long since known; now is the ravisher dead. But tell the manner of his end.

MESSENGER
[1000] When with troubled steps he left the city, a fugitive, unfolding his swift way with flying feet, he quickly brought his prancing steeds ‘neath the high yoke and curbed their mouths with tight-drawn reins. Then much did he utter, communing with himself, and, cursing his native land, called oft upon his sire, and with loose reins fiercely shook the lash; when suddenly from out the deep the vast sea thundered and starward heaved itself. No wind was blowing on the briny sea, from no quarter of the clam sky came the noise, but a self-born46 tempest stirred the peaceful deep. Not so violently does the south wind distress Sicilia’s straits, nor so madly does the Ionian sea swell beneath the north-west’s tyranny, when the cliffs tremble under the shock of waves and the white spray smites Leucate’s summit. The mighty deep heaves up into a huge mound, and the sea, swollen with a monstrous birth, rushes to land.

[1017] Nor is that vast destruction piled up for ships; ‘tis the land it threatens. With no light sweep the flood rolls forward; some strange thing in its burdened womb the heavy wave is carrying. What new land shows its head to the stars? Is a new Cyclad rising? The rocks, the sacred seat of the Epidaurian god,47 were hid, and the cliffs famous for he crime of Sciron, and the land48 which is hemmed in by two seas.

[1025] While we in dumb amaze are wondering what this means, behold, the whole sea bellows, and the cliffs on every hand echo back the sound; the highest peak is wet with dashed-up spray; it foams, and then in turn spews back the flood, as when a cavernous whale swims through the deep ways of ocean, spouting back streams of water form his mouth. Then the great globe of waters shivered, shook and broke, and brought to the shore a thing more terrible than our fear; the sea rushed landward, following its monster. My lips tremble in the telling. How the thing looked! how huge! A bull it was, towering high with a dark blue neck, and he reared a high mane upon his verdant crest; his shaggy ears stood up; his eyes flashed with changing colour, now such as the lord of the wild herd might have, now such as one born beneath the sea – now his eyes dart flame, now they flash wondrous with cerulean gleam. His brawny neck with great muscles bulges and his wide nostrils roar with his gaping draughts of air. His breast and dewlap are green with clinging moss, and his long flanks with red seaweed are spotted. His hinder parts are joined into monstrous shape, and, all scaly, the huge beast drags his measureless length along. Such is that sea-monster of the outer ocean which swallows or crushes swift-flying ships. The lands quaked with fear; herds fled in frenzy in all directions through the fields, and the herdsman forgot to follow his cattle. All beasts fled from their wooded haunts; all hunters stood trembling, pale with chilling fear. Hippolytus alone, quite unafraid, with tight reins holds fast his horses and, terror-stricken though they are, urges them on with the encouragement of his familiar voice.

[1057] There is a deep passage towards the fields through the broken hills, hard by the neighbouring stretches of the sea below. Here that huge creature sharpens his anger and prepares his wrath. When he has gained his spirit, and with full trail rehearsed his wrath, he darts forth, running swiftly, scarce touching the surface of the ground with flying feet, and stands, in grim menace, before the trembling steeds. Thy son, rising up, confronts him with fierce, threatening look, nor does he change countenance, but loudly thunders: “This empty terror cannot break my spirit, for ‘twas my father’s task to conquer bulls.” But straightway his horses, disobedient to the reins, seized the chariot and, roaming from the road, wherever frenzied terror carried them in their mad flight, there they plunged along and dashed amid the rocks.

[1072] But he, as a helmsman holds his ship steady on the boisterous sea, lest it give its side to the waves, and skilfully cheats the floods, in like manner guides his swift-moving steeds. Now he drags on their mouths checked by the tight-drawn reins, and now, oft plying the twisted lash, he forces them to his will. His companion49 holds doggedly in pursuit, now racing alongside the horses, now making detour to face them, form every side filling them with fear.

[1080] But now they could flee no further; for he charged full front upon them, that bristling, horned monster of the deep. Then, truly, the plunging horses, driven by mad fear, broke form control, struggled to wrench their necks from the yoke, and, rearing up, hurled their burden to the ground. Headlong on his face he plunged and, as he fell, entangled his body in the clinging reins; and the more he struggled, the tighter he drew those firm-holding coils. The horses felt their deed, and now, with the light chariot, since none controlled, wherever fear bade on they dashed. Just so, not recognizing their wonted burden, and indignant that the day had been entrusted to a pretended Sun, the horses50flung Phaëthon far from his heavenly track. Far and wide the fields are stained with blood, and his head, dashed on the rocks, bounds back from them. The brambles pluck away his hair; the hard stones ravage that lovely face, and his ill-fated beauty is ruined by many a wound. The swift wheels drag his dying limbs; and at last, as he is whirled along, a tree, its trunk charred into a stake, stays him with its stock driven right through the groin and holds him fast, and for a little while the car stands still, held by its impaled master. Awhile that wound stays the team – then equally delay and their master, too, they break.51Thereafter the thickets slash his half-dead body, the rough brambles with their sharp thorns tear him and every tree-trunk has taken its toll of him.

[1105] Now bands of his mourning servants are scouring the fields through the places where Hippolytus was dragged, marked in a long trail by bloody traces, and his whimpering dogs are tracking their master’s limbs. But not yet has the painstaking toil of his grieving friends availed to fill out his body. Has his glorious beauty come to this? He who but now as the illustrious partner of his father’s throne, who but now, his acknowledged heir, shone like the stars, he is being gathered from every hand for his last burning, and collected for his funeral pyre.

THESEUS
[1114] [Weeping.] O nature, all too potent, with how strong ties of blood dost thou hold parents! how we cherish thee, even against our wills! Guilty, I wished him dead; lost, I lament him.

MESSENGER
[1118] Not rightfully may any weep what he has willed.

THESEUS
[1119] Truly I deem this the crowning woe of woes, if fortune makes what we must loathe that we must long for.

MESSENGER
[1121] If thou still keepst thy hate, why are thy cheeks wet with tears?

THESEUS
[1122] Not that I lost, but that I slew, I weep.

CHORUS
[1123] How chance whirls round the affairs of men! Less does fortune rage midst humble folk, and more lightly God smites the more lightly blessed, Unnoticed ease keeps men in peace and a cottage bestows age untroubled.

[1128] The mountain-peaks, lifted to airy heights, catch east, catch south winds, mad Boreas’ threats, and the rain-fraught north-west gale. Seldom does the moist valley suffer the lightning’s blast; but Caucasus the huge, and the Phrygian grove of mother Cybele, quake beneath the bolt of high-thundering Jove. For in jealous fear Jove aims at that which neighbours on high heaven; but the low-roofed, common home ne’er feels his mighty blasts. Around thrones he thunders.

[1141] On doubtful wings flies the inconstant hour, nor does swift Fortune pledge loyalty to any. He52 who with joy beheld the clear, starry skies and bright day, the night53 now left behind, in grief is lamenting his sorrowful return, and finds his welcome to his father’s dwelling more doleful than Avernus’ self.

[1149] O Pallas, ever to be revered by the Athenian race, for that thy Theseus looks on sky and upper world and has escaped from the pools of Styx, chaste one, thou owest naught to thine uncle, the all-devouring; unchanged the tale54 remains for the infernal king.

[1154] What voice of wailing sounds from the high palace? And what would maddened Phaedra with the naked sword?

[Enter PHAEDRA with a drawn sword in her hand.]

THESEUS
[1156] What fury pricks thee on, wild with grief? Why that sword? What mean thine outcries and lamentations over the hated corpse?

PHAEDRA
[1159] Me, me, assault, O savage ruler of ocean’s depths; against me send forth the blue sea’s monsters, whate’er in his restless waves’ embrace Ocean hides in his remotest flood. O Theseus, always harsh, who never without harm unto thy loved ones dost come back, son and father have paid for thy homecomings by their death. Thou art the destroyer of thy home, hurtful ever, whether through love or hatred of thy wives.55

[Turning to the mangled corpse.]
[1168] O Hippolytus, is it such I see thy face? such have I made it? What savage Sinis, what Procrustes, has scattered thy members so, or what Cretan bull, fierce, two-formed monster, filling the labyrinth of Daedalus with his huge bellowings, has torn thee asunder with his horns? Ah, woe is me! whither is thy glorious beauty fled, and thine eyes, my stars? Dost lie low in death? Come back for a little and hearken to my words – no shameful thing I speak – with this hand will I make amends to thee, in my wicked heart will I thrust the sword and set Phaedra equally free from life and crime. Then through waters, through Tartarean pools, through Styx, through rivers of fire will I madly follow thee. Let me appease thy shade; take the spoils of my head, and accept this lock torn from my wounded forehead. It was not ours to be joined in life, but surely ‘tis ours to be joined in death.

[1184] [To herself.] Now die, if thou art pure, for thy husband’s sake; if impure, for thy love. Shall I seek again my husband’s couch by so great crime defiled? The one horror lacking was that, as if pure, thou shouldst enjoy his couch claimed as thy right. O death, thou only solace of evil love, O death, thou chiefest grace to damaged honour, I fly to thee; spread wide thy forgiving arms.

[1191] Hear me, O Athens, and thou, his father, worse than baleful stepdame: I have lied to you, and the crime which, crazed with passion, I had conceived I my own mad breast, I falsely charged to him. Thou, father, hast punished to no purpose; an the chaste youth, through charge of the unchaste, lies there, all pure and innocent.

[1196] [To HIPPOLYTUS.] Recover now thine honour. My impious breast is bare to the sword of justice, and my blood makes atonement to a guiltless man.

[1199] [To THESEUS.] What thou, his father, shouldst do, now that thy son is murdered, learn from his stepdame: hide thee in Acheron.
[She falls upon her sword and dies.]

THESEUS
[1201] Ye jaws of wan Avernus, ye Taenarean caves, ye waves of Lethe, welcome to the wretched, ye sluggish pools, hide ye in my impious self, plunge deep and bury me in unending woes. Come now, savage monsters of the deep, now, vast sea, and whatever Proteus has hidden away in the furthest hollow of his waters, and hurry me off, me who felt triumph in crime so great, to your deep pools. And thou, father, who didst e’er give too quick assent to my angry prayer, I am not worthy of an easy death who have brought unheard-of destruction on my son and scattered his mangled limbs throughout the fields; who, while, as stern avenger, I was punishing an unreal crime, have myself fallen into true guilt. Heaven, hell, and ocean have I filled up by my sin; there remains no further lot56; three kingdoms know me.

[1213] For this have I returned? Was the way opened to the light of heaven that I might look on two funerals and a double murder, that, wifeless and childless, I might with one torch light the funeral pyres of son and wife? O giver of light that is but darkness, Alcides, give back his boon57 to Dis; give me up again to the ghosts whom I escaped. Impiously, I make vain prayers for the death I left behind. Thou bloody man, skilful in deadly arts, who didst contrive unheard-of, barbarous ways of death, now upon thyself inflict fitting punishment. Shall a pine-tree, its top bent down to earth, split me in two, shot back into the air?58 Shall I be hurled headlong over the Scironian cliffs? More dreadful things have I seen which Phlegethon bids imprisoned sinners suffer, compassing them about with his stream of fire; what punishment waits for me, and what place, I know.

[1229] Ye guilty shades, make room, and on these shoulders, these, let the rock rest, the endless task of the aged son59 of Aeolus, and weight down my weary hands; let water, lapping my very lips mock my thirst60; let the fell vulture leave Tityus and fly hither, let my liver constantly grow afresh for punishment; and do thou rest awhile, father61 of my Pirithoüs – let the wheel that never stops its whirling bear these limbs of mine on its swift-turning rim. Yawn, earth; take me, dire Chaos, take me; this way to the shades is more fitting62 for me – my son I follow. And fear not, thou who rulest the shades; I come clean-handed63; receive me into thy everlasting home, to go forth no more. My prayers move not the gods; but if I asked impious things, how would they bend to answer!

CHORUS
[1244] Theseus, time without end awaits thy lamentations. Now pay the rites due to thy son and bury with speed the scattered limbs mangled so shamefully.

THESEUS
[1247] Hither, thither bring the remains of his dear body and heap together, as they come, the burden of his limbs. Is this Hippolytus? Mine is the sin, I do acknowledge it; ‘tis I who have murdered thee, and, lest once only or alone I might by guilty, when I his father would dare crime, my own sire I summoned to my aid. Behold, I enjoy my father’s boon. O childlessness, bitter misfortune for broken years! Come, clasp his limbs and all that is left thee of thy son, thou wretched man, and, in thy sad breast fondling, cherish them.

CHORUS
[1256] The scattered parts of his torn body set thou, his sire, in order, and put back in place the random pieces. Here should be his strong right hand, here we must put his left, skilled in managing the reins; traces of his left side I recognize. But how large a part is still lacking to our tears!

THESEUS
[1262] Be firm, my trembling hands, for your sad duty; be dry, my cheeks, stay your flowing tears, while a father is portioning out members to his son and fashioning his body. What is this shapeless, ugly piece, with many a wound torn on every side? What part it is of thee, I know not; but it is a part of thee. Here, here lay it down, not in its own but in an empty place. Is this that face which once gleamed with fire as of the stars, which turned his enemy’s eyes aside? Has his beauty fallen to this? O dire fate, O cruel favour of the gods! Thus comes back son to father in answer to his prayer?

[Placing some ornaments on the torn body.]
[1273] Lo, these are thy sire’s last gifts. Take them, O thou who must oft be borne to burial. Now let the fire consume these limbs.

[1275] [To attendants.] Open wide my palace, gloomy and foul with slaughter, and let all Athens with loud laments resound. Do you make ready the flames of the royal pyre; do you seek through the fields for his body’s parts still wandering.

[Pointing to PHAEDRA’s corpse.]
[1279] As for her, let her be buried deep in earth, and heavy may the soil lie on her unholy head!

THE END.

PHAEDRA

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SENECA, PHOENISSAE

PHOENISSAE,1 TRANSLATED BY FRANK JUSTUS MILLER

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

OEDIPUS, late king of Thebes.
ANTIGONE, daughter of Oedipus, constant to him in his misfortunes.
JOCASTA, wife and mother of Oedipus.
POLYNICES, son of Oedipus and rival for the throne.
ETEOCLES, son of Oedipus and rival for the throne.
MESSENGER.

THE SCENE is laid, first in the wild country to which Oedipus, accompanied by Antigone, has betaken himself; then in Thebes; and lastly in the plain before Thebes.
THE TIME is three years after the downfall of Oedipus.

ARGUMENT

The stroke of fate, that has been threatening Oedipus since long before his birth, has fallen at last, and he has done the thing he feared to do. And now, self-blinded and self-exiled from his land, he has for three years wandered in rough and trackless places, attended by Antigone, his daughter, who, alone of all his friends, has condoned his fated sins and remained attached to him.
Meanwhile his sons, though they agreed to reign alternate years, are soon to meet in deadly strife; for Eteocles, although his year of royal power is at an end, refuses to give up the throne; and now Polynices, who ahs in exile wed the daughter of Adrastus, king of Argos, is marching against the gates of Thebes, with seven great armies to enforce his rights.
[By a different version from the “Oedipus,” Jocasta did not slay herself at once as in that tale, but still is living on in grief and shame, and strives to reconcile her sons.]

OEDIPUS
[To ANTIGONE, who ahs followed him into exile.]
[1] Thou guide of thy blind father’s steps, his weary side’s sole stay, daughter, whose getting, even so, was worth the cost to me, quit thou thy heaven-cursed sire. Why into right paths wouldst turn aside my wandering feet? Let me stumble on; better alone shall I find the way I seek, the way which from this life shall deliver me and free heaven and earth from sight of this impious head. How little did I accomplish with this hand! I do not see the light, witness of my crime, but I am seen. Therefore, now unclasp thy clinging hand and let my sightless feet wander where they will. I’ll go, I’ll go where my own Cithaeron lifts his rugged crags; where, speeding over the mountain’s rocky ways, Actaeon lay at last, strange quarry for his own hounds; where, through the dim grove and woods of the dusky glade, a mother2 led her sisters, by the god impelled, and, rejoicing in the crime, bore in advance the head3 fixed on a quivering thyrsus; or where Zethus’ bull rushed along, dragging a mangled corpse, while through the thorny brambles the mad creature’s flight was traceable in blood; or where Ino’s cliff juts out into the deep sea with towering peak, where, fleeting strange crime and yet strange crime committing, a mother leaped into the strait to sink both son and self. Oh, happy they whose better fortune has given such kindly mothers!

[27] There is another place within these woods, my own place, which calls for me; I would fain hasten to it; my steps will falter not; thither will I go bereft of every guide. Why keep my own place waiting? Death, O Cithaeron, give me back; restore me that resting-place of mine, that I may die in age where I should have died in infancy. Claim now that penalty of old. O ever bloody, savage, cruel, fierce, both when thou slayest and when thou sparest, this carcass of mine long since belonged to thee; fulfil my father’s behest – aye, and now my mother’s too. My soul yearns to suffer the penalty of long ago. Why, daughter, dost hold me bound by thy baleful love? Why dost thou hold me? My father calls. I come, I come; at last let me go4 – Laius rages yonder, wearing the blood-stained badge of his ravished kingdom; see! behold! there he assails and seeks to tear at my sightless countenance with his threatening hands. Daughter, dost see my father? I surely see him. [He soliloquizes.] At length spew out thy hateful breath, O traitor soul, brave ‘gainst but a portion of thyself. Away with the slow delays of thy long-due punishment; receive death wholly. Why do I sluggishly drag on this life? Now can I do no crime. I can, wretch that I am, this I forebode – away from thy father, away, while still a maid. After my mother I fear all happenings.

ANTIGONE
[51] No force, my father, shall loose my hold of thee; no one shall ever tear me from thy side. The sovereignty of Labdacus’ noble house and all its riches – let my brothers fight over these; the best part of my father’s mighty kingdom is my own, my father’s self. Him no brother shall take from me, not he5 who holds the Theban sceptre by stolen right, not he6 who is leading he Argive hosts; no, though Jove should rend the universe with his thunders, and his bolt fall ‘twixt our embrace, I will not let go my hands. Thou mayst forbid me, father; I’ll guide thee against thy will, I’ll direct thine unwilling feet. Wouldst go to the level plain? I go. Wouldst seek the craggy mountains? I oppose not, but I go before. Whither thou wilt, use me as guide; by two will all paths be chosen. Without me thou canst not perish; with me thou canst. Here rises a cliff, lofty, precipitous, and looks out upon the long reaches of the underlying sea; wouldst have us seek it? Here is a bare rock overhanging, here the riven earth yawns with gaping jaws; shall we go here? Here a raging torrent falls and rolls along worn fragments of fallen mountains; shall we plunge to this? Where’er thou wilt, I go, so it be first. I neither oppose nor urge. Art eager to be destroyed, and is death, father, thy highest wish? If thou diest, I go before thee; if thou livest, I follow. But change thy purpose; summon up thine old-time courage; conquer thy sorrows and with all thy might be master of them, resist them; amidst such woes, to be conquered is to die.

OEDIPUS
[80]Whence this rare type in a house so impious? Whence this maid so unlike her race? Is it fortune, thinkst thou? Has any dutiful child sprung from me? Never would it be so, for well I know my fate, save for harmful ends. Nature herself has reversed her laws; now will the river turn and bear its swift waters backward to their source, Phoebus’ torch will bring in the night, and Hesperus herald the day; and, that something be added to my woes, I, too, shall become holy. For Oedipus the only salvation is not to be saved. Let me avenge my father, till now unavenged; why, sluggish hand, dost thou hesitate to exact penalty? All thou hast as yet exacted, to my mother hast thou given. Let go thy father’s hand, courageous girl; thou dost but protract my burying, and prolong the funeral rites of a living sire. Bury in the earth at last this hateful body; thou wrongst me, though with kind intent, and thou deemst it piety to drag along an unburied father. ‘Tis all one – to force him who shrinks from death, and stay him who seeks to die; ‘tis the same as killing to forbid death to him who wants it; and yet ‘tis not all one; the second course I count the worse. Rather would I have death enforced that snatched from me. Desist, girl, from thine attempt; the right to live or die is in my own hands. The sovereignty over my realm have I yielded gladly; the sovereignty over myself I keep. If thou art true comrade, hand thy sire a sword, but be it the sword made famous by his father’s slaughter. Dost give it? or hold my sons that, too, together with my kingdom? Wherever is need of crime, there let it be – I relinquish it; let my son have it – nay, both my sons.

[110] Flames, if thou prefer, and a huge mound prepare; myself, will I fling me on the lofty pyre, embrace the flames, and hide in the funeral pile. There will I set free this stubborn soul and give up to ashes this – all that is left of me alive. Where is the raging sea? Lead me where some beetling crag juts out with its high, rocky cliff, or where swift Ismenus rolls his wild waters. If thou art my guide, thither would I go to die where on a high cliff the Sphinx once sat and wove crafty speech with her half-bestial lips. Guide my feet thither, there set thy father. Let not that dreadful seat be empty, but place thereon a greater monster. On that dark rock will I sit and propound the dark riddle of my fate which none may answer. All ye who till the fields once ruled by the Assyrian king,7 who suppliant worship in the grove of Cadmus for the serpent famed, where sacred Dirce lies; all ye who drink of Eurotas, who dwell in Sparta for its twin brethren8 famous; yet farmers who reap Elis and Parnassus and Boeotia’s fertile fields, give ear. That dire pest of Thebes, who wrapped death-dealing words in puzzling measures, what riddle like this did she ever propound? What maze so bewildering? He was his grandfather’s son-in-law and his father’s rival, brother of his children and father of his brothers; at one birth the grandmother bore children to her husband and grandchildren to herself. Who can unfold a coil so monstrous? Even I, who gained spoils from the conquered Sphinx, shall prove but slow in unriddling mine own doom.

A speech of Antigone may have dropped out at this point, or Oedipus may hark back to the earlier speech of Antigone after a dramatic pause. Leo holds that the hiatus is, as Swoboda thinks, left by the poet himself.

[140] Why dost thou waste further words? Why dost try to soften my hard heart with prayers? My will is fixed to pour forth this life which has long been struggling with death ,and to seek the nether darkness; for this deep night is not deep enough for my crime; in Tartarus would I be buried, or if there be aught deeper than Tartarus; ‘tis pleasing to do at last what long ago I should have done. I cannot be kept from death. Wilt withhold the sword? Wilt bar paths where I might fall to death? Wilt keep my neck from the choking noose? Wilt remove death-bringing herbs? What, pray, will that care of thine accomplish? Death is everywhere. This hath God with wisdom excellent provided: of life anyone can rob a man, but of death no one; to this a thousand doors lie open. I ask for naught. This right hand, though bare, my soul hath practice to use well – O hand of mine, come now with all thy force, with all thy smarting rage, with all thy might. Not one spot only do I mark out for the wound – I am all sin; inflict death where thou wilt. Break through my breast and tear out my heart, which ahs room for so many crimes; lay bare my vitals, every nook; rain resounding blows upon my neck until it break, and let my veins flow, torn by my gouging fingers. Or aim thy mad attack at the accustomed place;9 these wounds reopen; bathe them in streams of blood and gore; through this passage drag out my stubborn life, impregnable. And do thou, my father, where’er thou standst as arbiter of my sufferings – I have never deemed that this grievous crime of mine was sufficiently atoned by any suffering, nor have I been content with such death as this, nor have I bought my pardon with a portion of myself; limb by limb have I desired to die for thee – at length exact the debt. Now am I paying my penalty; before, I did but offer sacrifices to thy ghost. Come to my aid, help me to plunge my nerveless hand deep down and deeper; timidly, aforetime, and with but a meagre outpouring did it sprinkle my head, when it scarce drew forth the eyes that yearned to follow. Even now this soul of mine halts, yes halts, when my face has bent downward to my shrinking hands. Thou shalt hear the truth, Oedipus: less boldly didst thou pluck out thine eyes than thou didst undertake to do. Thrust now thy hand e’en to the brain; through that door whereby I began to die fulfil my death.

ANTIGONE
[182] Father, great-souled, I beseech thee that with calm mind thou listen to some few words of thy wretched daughter. I seek not to lead thee back again to the splendours of thine ancient home, and to thy royal estate, flourishing in power and fame; nor do I ask that thou bear with calm and peaceful soul that tempest of passion which ahs not been allayed even by lapse of time; and yet ‘twere fitting that one so stalwart should not yield to pain nor turn in flight, by disaster overcome. It is not manhood, father, as thou deemst it, to shrink from life, but to make stand against mighty ills and neither turn nor yield. He who has trodden destiny under foot, who has torn off and thrown away life’s blessings, and himself piled up the burden of his woes, who ahs no need of God, wherefore should he desire death, or wherefore seek it? Each is a coward’s act; no one despises death who yet yearns for it. He whose misfortunes can no further go, is safely lodged.

[200] Who now of the gods, granting he wills it so, can add aught to thy misfortunes? Now not even canst thou add aught save this, to deem thyself worthy of death. thou art not worthy, nor had any taint of guilt touched thy heart. And for this all the more, father, call thyself guiltless; for thou art guiltless, though even the gods willed otherwise. What is it which has so maddened thee, which has goaded thy grief afresh? What drives thee to the infernal regions? What forces thee out of these? That thou mayst avoid the light of day? Thou dost avoid it. That thou mayst flee thy noble palace with its high walls, and thy native land? Thy native land, though thou still livest, is dead to thee. Dost flee from thy sons and mother? From the sight of all men fate has removed thee, and whatever death can take away from any man, this had life taken from thee. Wouldst avoid the tumult around a throne? They who once in prosperity thronged around thee, at thy command have left thee. Whom dost thou flee, my father?

OEDIPUS
[216] Myself I flee; I flee my heart conscious of all crimes; I flee this hand, this sky, the gods; I flee the dread crimes which I committed, though in innocence. Do I tread this earth from which wholesome grain springs up? This air do I inhale with pestilential lips? Does water quench my thirst, or do I enjoy any gift of kindly mother earth? Do I, impious, incestuous, accursed, touch thy pure hand? Do my ears take in sound by which I may still hear the name of parent or of son? I would indeed that I might destroy these paths and might with my hands driven deep pluck out every part where voices enter and where a narrow passage gives access to the words of men; then, daughter, thy wretched father would have escaped all consciousness of thee, who art part and parcel of my crimes.

[231] My guilt sticks fast within me, threatens each moment to break out afresh, and my ears pour in upon me all that you, my eyes, have bestowed.10 Why do I not plunge this life, weighted with gloom, down to the everlasting shades of Dis? Why here do I detain my ghost? Why do I burden the earth and wander amongst the living? What evil is left for me? My kingdom, parents, children, my manhood, too, and the illustrious fame of my cunning wit – all these have perished, all have been stripped from me by hostile chance. Tears were still left me – of these, too, have I robbed myself.

[241] Stand off! My soul will not listen to any prayers and seeks some new punishment to match its crimes. And what match can there be? Even in my infancy I was doomed to death. Who ever drew lot so sad? I had not yet seen the light, was still imprisoned in the womb, and already I was held in fear. Some there are whom straightway at birth night hath seized upon and snatched from their first dawn; but on me death came ere birth. Some, while still within the mother’s womb, have suffered untimely death; but have they sinned also? Hidden away, confined, my very being in doubt, the god made me guilty of a charge unspeakable. On that charge my sire condemned me, spitted my slender ankles on hot iron, and sent me to he deep forest as prey for wild beasts and savage birds which baleful Cithaeron, oft stained with royal blood, doth breed. Yet him whom God condemned, whom his sire cast away, hath death also shunned. I kept faith with Delphi; I assailed my father and with impious death-stroke slew him. For this another act of piety will atone; I killed my father, true, but my mother – I loved. Oh, ‘tis shame to speak of wedlock and my marriage torches. But this punishment also force thyself to bear through against thy will; proclaim thy crime, unheard of, bestial, unexampled, at which nations would shudder, which no age would believe ever befell, which would put even a parricide to shame: into my father’s bed I bore hands smeared with my father’s blood, and there, as the reward of my crime, I did worse crime.

[270] A trivial sin is my father’s murder; my mother, brought to my marriage chamber, that my guilt might be complete, conceived – no greater crime than this can nature brook. And yet, if there is even now worse crime, we have given the world those who can commit it. I have flung away the sceptre, price of my father’s murder, and this, again, has armed other hands. I myself best know my kingdom’s destiny; no one unstained by sacred blood shall bear sway there. Dire misfortunes my father-soul presages. Already are sown the seeds of calamity to come; the plighted pact11 is scorned. The one will not retire from the throne he has usurped; the other proclaims his right, calls on the gods to witness the broken bond, and, wandering in exile, is rousing Argos and the cities of Greece to arms. ‘Tis no light destruction that is coming on weary Thebes; weapons, flames, wounds press round her and a greater ill than these, if greater there be, – that all may know I have begotten sons.

ANTIGONE
[288] If, my father, thou hast no other cause for living, this one is more than enough, that as father thou mayst restrain thy sons from their fatal frenzy. Thou alone canst avert the threats of impious war, canst check these mad youths, give peace to our citizens, rest to our land, faith to the broken pact. If life to thyself thou dost deny, to many dost thou deny it.

OEDIPUS
[295] Have they any love for father or for right, they who lust for blood, power, arms, treachery, they the cruel, the accursed, – in brief, my sons? They vie one with the other in every crime, and have no scruple where passion drives them headlong; impiously born, they count nothing impious. No feeling for their stricken father, none for their fatherland, moves them; their hearts are mad with lust of empire. I know well whither they tend, what monstrous deeds they are planning, and for this cause I seek an early path to destruction, rush on my death, while still there is none in my house more guilty than myself. Daughter, why dost thou fall weeping at my knees? Why seekst with prayer to conquer my unconquerable resolve? This is the one means by which fortune can take me captive, invincible in all else; thou only canst soften my hard heart, thou only canst teach piety in our house. Nothing is heavy or grievous to me which I know thou hast desired. Do thou but command; I, Oedipus, at thy bidding will swim the Aegean sea, will drink the flames which earth from the Sicilian mountains belches forth, pouring down falls of fire, will beard the dragon still savagely raging in the grove at the theft of Hercules; at thy bidding will offer my liver to the birds – at thy bidding e’en will live.

The first episode seems to be complete here, except for the commenting chorus which would naturally follow. OEDIPUS has temporarily yielded to his daughter’s will.

The following passage, fittingly opens the second episode. Although some editors would assign it to ANTIGONE, it seems more properly to belong to a messenger who has just arrived, for the double reason that it gives fresher information from Thebes than ANTIGONE would naturally posses; and that OEDIPUS, after the speech to his daughter with which the previous episode ended, would hardly address to her as rough a reply as he uses in his next speech.

MESSENGER
[320] Thee, sprung from regal ancestry to be our great exemplar, Thebes calls to her aid, trembling at fratricidal strife, and prays that thou fend off from thy country’s homes the brands of war. These are no mere threats; already is destruction at our gates; for the brother12 demands his turn to rule according to the bond, and is marshalling to war all the peoples of Greece. Seven bands are encamped against the walls of Thebes. Haste to our aid; prevent in one act both war and crime.

OEDIPUS
[328] Am I one to forbid crime and teach hands to refrain from the blood of loved ones? Am I a teacher of righteousness and love of kin? ‘Tis from my crimes they seek their pattern, ‘tis my example they follow now. I praise them and gladly acknowledge them as sons; I urge them on to do something worthy of such a father. Go on, dear offspring, prove your noble breeding by your deeds; surpass my fame and praises and do some deed whereat your father may rejoice that he has lived till now. You will do it, I know: of such mind were you born; no trivial, no common crime can such high birth perform. Forward your arms! With torches have at your household gods; reap with fire the ripened grain of your native land; confound all things, hurry all to destruction; on all sides throw down the walls, raze them to the ground; bury the gods beneath their own temples; the defiled deities of your hearths melt in the fire, and let our whole house from its foundations fall; let the city be consumed – and be my marriage chamber the first to feel the flames.

ANTIGONE
[347] Give o’er this raging storm of grief; let the public calamities prevail with thee; go to thy sons as the adviser of calm peace.

OEDIPUS
[350] Seest thou an old man given to gentle thoughts? dost summon me as lover of calm peace to take her part? My heart swells with rage, my smarting grief burns measureless, and I long for some crime more dreadful than what the casual madness of young men attempts. Not enough for me is war that as yet is between citizens; let brother rush on brother. Nor is that enough; that, as is due, a horror may be wrought after my fashion, one that may befit my marriage-couch, arm ye your mother. Let no one drag me from the woods! I’ll lurk in the cliffs’ wave-worn caves or hide away in the thick underbrush. Here will I catch at vague rumour’s words and the dire strife of brothers, as I can, will hear.

It is possible that the following fragments belong to another play. The presence of ANTIGONE in Thebes, notwithstanding her resolve to remain with her father, would strengthen this view.

JOCASTA
[363] Fortunate Agave! she carried her ghastly crime in the hand that wrought it, and as a bloody maenad bore spoil of her dismembered son. She wrought a crime, but not wantonly did the wretched woman god to meet her crime. ‘Tis but a trivial thing that I am guilty; I have made others guilty. This, too, bad as it is, is trivial; I have borne guilty sons. ‘Twas as yet lacking to my woes that I should love even my enemy.13 Thrice have the snows of winter fallen, three harvests now have yielded to the sickle, while my son in exile wanders, expatriate, and as an outcast begs aid from the Greek kings. And now he is son-in-law of Adrastus, whose sway is over the waters which Isthmus cleaves, and who brings with him his own tribes and seven kingdoms to the aid of his son-in-law. What I should pray for, or which side espouse, I know not. He demands back the kingdom; to reseek it is an honest plea, but ill to seek it thus. What should be a mother’s prayer? On either side I see a son; I can do nothing piously that is not impious. Whatever blessing I shall ask for one, to the other will prove a curse. But, though I love both equally, whither the better cause and the worse fortune draw, my heart inclines, which always takes the weaker side. Misfortune knits the wretched closer to their kin.

[Enter MESSENGER in haste.]

MESSENGER
[387] O queen, whilst thou art uttering tearful complaints and wasting time, the fierce battle-line with bared swords is at hand; the trumpets’ blare sounds to war, the standard-bearer with eagle advanced signals for contest; the kings, each in his place, are setting their sevenfold battle in array, while with equal courage Cadmus’ race advances; at the double-quick the soldiers on either side rush on. Dost see them? A dark cloud of dust hides the day; the plain lifts heavenward dense, smoke-like billows which the earth, beaten by horses’ hoofs, sends up; and, if terror-stricken eyes see aught aright, hostile standards are gleaming there; the front rank, with lifted spears, is close at hand, and the battle-flags have the leaders’ names clearly limned in golden characters. Go, restore love to brothers, peace to us all, and let a mother be the barrier to stay unholy arms.

ANTIGONE
[403] Hasten, mother, hasten on flying feet! hold back their weapons, strike the steel from my brothers’ hands, set thy bared breast between their hostile swords! Either stop the war, mother, or be the first to feel it.

JOCASTA
[407] I go, I go, and my own life will I set against their arms; I’ll stand between their arms; and he who shall wish to attack his brother must attack his mother first. Let the more filial lay down his arms at a mother’s prayer; let the unfilial begin with me. These fiery youths, old though I be, will I restrain; there shall be no impious crime committed in my sight; or, if e’en in my sight one crime can be committed, it shall not be only one.

ANTIGONE
[414] The opposing standards gleam face to face, the hostile battle-cry is sounding, the crime is near at hand; forestall it, mother, with thy prayers! And see, you might deem them moved by tears of mine, so sluggishly moves the line with weapons held at rest.

MESSENGER
[419] The line advances slowly, but the leaders haste.

JOCASTA
[420] What swift wind with the storm-blast’s mad whirl will carry me though the air of heaven? What Sphinx, what Stymphalian bird, with its dark cloud veiling day, will speed me headlong on eager wings? Or what Harpy, hovering over the barbarian king’s14 famished board, will hurry me along the highways of the air, hurry and fling me ‘twixt the two battlelines? [Exit.]

MESSENGER
[427] [Looking after her.] She goes like a mad thing, or is mad indeed. Swift as a dart hurled by some Parthian’s hand, or as a vessel driven on by wild, raging winds, or as a star, dislodged from the firmament, when, sweeping o’er the heavens, with swift fire it cleaves its unswerving way, so has the frenzied queen sped on and at once has parted the two battle-lines. Stayed by a mother’s prayer the battle hangs; and now the bands, eager to join from both sides in mutual slaughter, hold their swords poised in lifted hands. They incline to peace, the swords of all are lowered, or idly sheathed; but they still quiver in the brothers’ hands. The mother shows them her hoary hair, tearing it, beseeching them as they stubbornly refuse, and floods her cheeks with weeping. Who wavers long may say his mother “No!”

[The scene shifts to the field before Thebes, between the battle-lines.]

JOCASTA
[Kneeling between her two hostile sons.]
[443] Against me turn your arms and torches; against me only let every warrior charge, both those who come with high courage from the city of Inachus,15 and those who from the Theban citadel descend thirsting for the fray. Townsman and enemy, together attack this womb which bore my husband brothers. Rend these limbs asunder and scatter them everywhere. I bore you both – lay you not down your arms with speed? Or shall I tell from what father, too? Your right hands – to your mother give them, give while they are still filial. Ignorance till now against our will hath made us16 guilty; the whole crime was Fortune’s, who sinned against us; this is the first crime wrought between those who know. It is yours to choose which thing you will: if holy affection please you, grant to your mother peace; if crime has pleased, a greater is to hand – your mother sets herself between you. Therefore rid ye of strife or of this stay of strife.17

[459] To which of you now shall your anxious mother with alternate prayers address her words? Whom shall I in my wretchedness first embrace? To both sides am I drawn with equal love. This son has been absent from me; but if the brothers keep their pact, now will the other be away. And shall I never see you both, save thus?18

[464] [Turning to POLYNICES.] Come thou first to thy mother’s arms, thou who hast endured so many toils, so many misfortunes, and, worn with long exile, sees thy mother at last. Come nearer, sheathe thine impious sword, and thy spear, which is even now quivering and eager to be thrown, thrust it in the ground. Thy shield keeps thee from coming close to thy mother, breast to breast; put that by, too. Unbind thy brow, take the grim helmet from thy warlike head, and let thy mother see thy face. Why dost thou look away, and with fearful glance watch thy brother’s hand? I will cover thy whole body with my protecting embrace and allow way to thy blood only through my own. Why dost thou still halt in doubt? Dost fear thy mother’s pledge?

POLYNICES
[478] I am in fear; no longer do nature’s laws avail. Since this example of a brother’s faithlessness, even a mother’s pledge may not be trusted.

JOCASTA
[480] Put now hand to hilt again, bind on thy helmet, let thy left hand clasp its shield; and while thy brother unarms, remain thou armed.

[483] [She turns to ETEOCLES.] Do thou put by the sword, who art the sword’s first cause. If thou hatest peace, if ‘tis thy pleasure to rage in war, thy mother begs brief truce of thee, that to her son returned from exile she may give a kiss – the first, perchance the last. While I beg for peace, hearken ye, unarmed. Doth he fear thee; thou, him? I fear you both, but for the sake of both. Why dost refuse to sheathe thy drawn sword? Be glad of any delay; ye both seek to wage a war wherein ‘twere best to be o’ercome. Dost thou fear thy hostile brother’s wiles? When one must either cheat or be cheated by one’s own, do thou thyself suffer rather than commit the crime. But do not fear; thy mother will shield thee from snares on either hand. Do I prevail? or must I envy19your father? Have I come to prevent crime? or to see it done before my eyes? [ETEOCLES yields to her.] He has sheathed his sword, his spear droops, his arms are laid aside.

[500] [She turns back to POLYNICES.] Now to thee, son, thy mother will bring her prayers, but her tears first. After a weary time I hold the face I prayed to see. Thee, an outcast from thy native soil, the gods of a foreign king protect; thee many seas far distant, many fates have driven wandering. Thy mother, at thy side, did not lead thee to thy first bridal chamber, nor with her own hand deck the festal hall, nor with sacred fillets wreathe the glad torches. As wedding gifts no rich golden treasure, no fields, no cities did thy father-in-law bestow: war is thy bridal gift. Thou hast become thine enemy’s son, far from thy land, guest of an alien house, seeking another’s, driven from thine own, exiled for no fault. That thou mightst lack nothing of thy father’s fates, this also thou hast of them. That thou hast erred in marriage.

[515] O son, returned to me after so many years, son, fear and hope of thy anxious mother, for sight of whom I have ever prayed the gods, though thy return was destined to take as much from me as by thy coming it could give: “When shall I cease to fear for thee?” I cried; and the god, mocking me, answered: “’Tis himself thou shalt fear.” Surely if there were no war, I should be without thee; surely if thou wert not here, I should be free from war. Oh, bitter price and hard, to pay for a sight of thee; but thy mother pays it willingly. Only let thy hostile hosts fall back while as yet savage Mars dares no impious crime. Even this is an outrageous crime, that they have come so near. I am appalled; pale am I and I tremble to see two brothers stand, one here, one there, ‘neath guilt’s o’erhanging stroke. My limbs quake with fear: how near did I, thy mother, come to seeing greater infamy than that which thy wretched father could not bear to see. Though I am free from fear of so great a crime, and now see no such thing, still I am unhappy because I almost saw it.

[535] By the womb that bore thee for ten weary months, by the devotion of thy noble sister, by thy self-hating father’s eyes which he, though innocent, yet, seeking to inflict on himself dire punishment for his mistake, tore from their sockets – save thy country’s walls from eh accursed torch; turn back again the standards of this warring host. Though thou shouldst retire, still is the great part of your sin already done; thy country has seen its plains o’errun by hostile hordes, has seen armed squadrons gleaming from afar, the Cadmean meadows trampled by flying hoofs, princes in their chariots careering high, the smoke and flames of blazing torches which seek to burn our homes, and brothers (a crime new even to Thebes) rushing upon each other. This crime the whole army say, this, all the people, this, both thy sisters saw and I, thy mother, saw – for thy father owest it to his own act that he beheld not such deeds. Let Oedipus stand before thee now, in whose judgment even for error is penalty demanded.

[555] Do not, I beg of thee, with the sword destroy thy country and thy household gods, nor overthrow Thebes, which thou seekst to rule. What madness holds thee? By seeking thy land wouldst wreck it? to make it thine, wouldst have it no land at all? Nay, thou harmst thine own cause in this very act of harrying the land with hostile arms, trampling the full-grown crops, and spreading terror through the whole country-side. No one works such havoc on his own; what thou bidst be plundered with fire and reaped with sword thou deemst another’s. Question whether of you be king, but let the kingdom stand. These homes dost thou seek with sword and fire? Wilt have the heart to batter these walls which Amphion built, whose stones no hand set in place, moving the slow weight with creaking crane, but, marshalled by sound of singing and of lyre, each stone of its own accord came to the turrets’ top – wilt batter down these stones? Wilt thou bear spoils hence as victor, and shall conquered chieftains, thy father’s friends, and matrons torn from their husbands’ very arms, be led off in chains by thy rough soldiery? Shall Thebes’ grown maidens, mingled with the captive herd, go as gifts to the dames of Argos? Or shall I myself, with hands bound behind my back, thy mother, be borne as prize in thy triumph o’er a brother? Canst thou bear to see thy countrymen given to death and destruction on every hand? Against these dear walls canst thou lead the enemy, canst fill Thebes with blood and fire? Art thou so wild, is thy heart so hard, so full of savage rage? And thou art not yet a king – what will the sceptre do? Oh, I beseech thee, allay the mad ferment of thy soul, and come back to duty’s ways.

POLYNICES
[586] That I may wander outcast? That I may be for ever shut out from my country and as a stranger look to the bounty of an alien race? What worse should I suffer if I had broken faith, if I had forsworn myself? Am I to pay the penalty of another’s sin, while he enjoys the profit of his crimes? Thou bidst me go; I bend to my mother’s will. Show me whither I shall get me back. Let my haughty brother dwell in my palace, let a little hut hide me away; this grant to the banished brother, let it be mine to match a kingdom with a paltry hearth. A wife’s mere chattel, shall I bear the harsh sway of a rich bride and, like a humble camp-follower, attend upon her domineering father? To fall from a king’s estate to slavery is hard.

JOCASTA
[599] If thou seekst a king’s estate, and the harsh sceptre thy hand cannot forego, any land in the whole world will offer many kingdoms to be won. Here Tmolus lifts his ridges, the Wine-god’s haunts, where stretch broad plains of grain-producing lands, and where Pactolus, rolling his rich waves, o’erflows the fields with gold; nor does Meander through meadows less joyful bend his wandering waters, and swift Hermus cleaves the fertile plains. Here is Gargara, beloved of Ceres, and the soil which rich Xanthus compasses, swollen by Ida’s snows; here the land where the Ionian sea gives up its name, and Sestos, over against Abydos, hugs the narrow strait;20 or where, now nearer to the east, it curves and sees Lycia secure with its many harbours. These kingdoms seek thou with the sword; against these peoples let thy brave father in-law bear arms; these tribes let him acquire and deliver to thy sway. As for this kingdom, deem that thy father still holds it fast. Better is exile for thee than such return as this. Through another’s sin thou livest in exile, through thine own wilt thou return. With yonder forces, ‘twere better to seek new realms, stained by now crime. Nay, thy brother’s self, accompanying thine arms, will fight for thee.

[622] Go thou, then, and wage such warfare that, as thou fightest, thy father and thy mother may pray for thy success. Kingdoms won by crime are heavier than any exile. Now picture to thyself war’s mishaps, the wavering chances of uncertain Mars: though thou bring with thee the whole strength of Greece, though thy armed soldiery spread far and wide, the fortune of war hangs ever in doubtful scale, according as Mars determines. The sword makes two warriors equal through they be ill-matched; both hope and fear are in blind Fortune’s hand. The prize thou seekst is uncertain; certain the crime. Grant that all the gods have been favourable to thy prayers; grant that the citizens have given way, that they have turned and fled, that soldiers, lying in bloody heaps, cover the fields – though thou shouldst triumph and as victor bear off the spoils of thy conquered brother, broken must be the victor’s palm. What manner of war deemst thou that, wherein the conqueror takes on him the curse of guilt if he rejoices? Him whom, unhappy man, thou art so eager to o’ercome, when thou hast o’ercome thou wilt lament. Oh, then, forgo this unhallowed strife, free thy country from fear, from agony thy parents.

POLYNICES
[643] That my cursed brother may receive no penalty for his crime and treachery?

JOCASTA
[645] Have no fear. Penalty, yes, heavy penalty shall he pay: he shall reign. That is the penalty. If thou dost doubt it, believe thy grandsire and thy sire; Cadmus will tell thee this, and the race of Cadmus. No Theban hath e’er borne sceptre without penalty, nor will any hold it who has broken faith. Now mayst thou count thy brother amongst these.

ETEOCLES
[651] So let him count me; ‘tis worth the price, methinks, to lie with kings. [To POLYNICES.] Thee I enrol amongst the exiled throng.

JOCASTA
[653] Reign, then, but hated by thy people.

ETEOCLES
[654] To reign he hath no will who feareth to be hated; the god who made the world set those two things together, hatred and sovereignty. This is the part of a great sovereign, I think, to tread e’en hatred under foot. A people’s love forbids a ruler many things; against their rage he has more rights. Who would be loved reigns with a nerveless hand.

JOCASTA
[660] But hated sovereignty is never long retrained.

ETEOCLES
[661] The rules for sovereignty kings will better give; do thou make rules for exiles. For sovereignty I would fain –

JOCASTA
[663] Give country, home, wife to the flames?

ETEOCLES
[664] Sovereignty is well brought at any price.

THE END OF FRAGMENTS.

PHOENISSAE

What a handsome figure of a dragon. No wonder I fall madly in love with the Alani Dragon now, the avatar, it's a gorgeous dragon picture.
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SENECA, THYESTES

THYESTES, TRANSLATED BY FRANK JUSTUS MILLER

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

THYESTES, brother of Atreus, in exile from his fatherland.
THE GHOST OF TANTALUS, doomed for his sins to come back to earth and inspire his house to greater sin.
THE FURY, who drives the ghost on to do his allotted part.
AN ATTENDANT OF ATREUS.
THREE SONS OF THYESTES, Tantalus, Plisthenes, and another, only one of whom, Tantalus, takes part in the dialogue.
A MESSENGER.
CHORUS, Citizens of Mycenae.

THE SCENE is laid partly without the city of Argos, and partly within the royal palace.

ARGUMENT

Pelops, the son of Tantalus, had banished his sons for the murder of their half-brother, Chrysippus, with a curse upon them, that they and their posterity might perish by each others’ hands. Upon the death of Pelops, Atreus returned and took possession of his father’s throne. Thyestes, also, claimed the throne, and sought to gain it by the foulest means. For he seduced his brother’s wife, Aërope, and stole by her assistance the magical, gold-fleeced ram from Atreus’ flocks, upon the possession of which the right to rule was said to rest. For this act he was banished by the king.
But Atreus has long been meditating a more complete revenge upon his brother; and now in pretended friendship has recalled him from banishment, offering him a place beside himself upon the throne, that thus he may have Thyestes entirely in his power.

THE GHOST OF TANTALUS
[1] Who from the accursed regions of the dead haleth me forth, snatching at food which ever fleeth from my hungry lips? What god for his undoing showeth again to Tantalus the abodes of the living? Hath something worse been found than parching thirst midst water, worse than ever-gaping hunger? Cometh the slippery stone of Sisyphus to be borne upon my shoulders? or the wheel1 stretching apart my limbs in its swift round? or Tityus’ pangs, who, stretched in a huge cavern, with torn out vitals feeds the dusky birds and, by night renewing whate’er he lost by day, lies an undiminished banquet for new monsters? To what new suffering am I shifted? O whoe’er thou art, harsh judge of shades, who doest allot fresh punishments to the dead, if aught can be added to my sufferings whereat e’en the guardian of our dread prison-house would quake, whereat sad Acheron would be seized with dread, with fear whereof I, too, should tremble, seek thou it out. Now from my seed a multitude is coming up which its own race shall out-do, which shall make me seem innocent, and dare things yet undared. Whatever space is still empty in the unholy realm, I2 shall fill up; never while Pelops’ house is standing, will Minos3 be at rest.

THE FURY
[23] Onward, damned shade, and goad thy sinful house to madness. Let there be rivalry in guilt of every kind; let the sword be drawn on this side and on that; let their passions know no bounds, no shame; let blind fury prick on their souls; heartless be parents’ rage, and to children’s children let the long trail of sin lead down; let time be given to none to hate old sins – ever let new arise, many in one, and let crime, e’en midst its punishment, increase. From haughty brothers’ hands let kingdoms fall, and in turn let them call back the fugitives;4 let the wavering fortune of a home of violence midst changing kings totter to its fall; from power to wretchedness, from wretchedness to power – may this befall, and may chance with her ever-restless waves bear the kingdom on. For crimes’ sake exiled, when God shall bring them home, to crime may they return and may they be as hateful to all men as to themselves; let there be naught which passion deems unallowed; let brother brother fear, father fear son, and son father; let children vilely perish and be yet more vilely born; let a murderous wife lift hand against her husband, let wars pass over sea, let streaming blood drench every land, and over the mighty chiefs of earth let Lust exult, triumphant. In this sin-stained house let shameful defilement be a trivial thing; let fraternal sanctity and faith and every right be trampled under foot. By our sins let not heaven be untainted – why do the stars glitter in the sky? Why do their fires preserve the glory due the world? Let the face of night be changed, let day fall from heaven. Embroil thy household gods, summon up hatred, slaughter, death, and fill the whole house with Tantalus.

[54] Adorn the lofty pillar and with laurel let the festal doors be green; let torches worthy of thine approach shine forth – then let the Thracian crime5 be done with greater number.6 Why is the uncle’s7 hand inactive? Not yet does Thyestes bewail his sons – and when will he lift his hand? Now set o’er the flames let cauldrons foam; let the rent members one by one pass in; let ancestral hearth be stained with blood, let the feast be spread – to no novel feast of crime8 wilt come as banqueter. To-day have we made thee free, have loosed thy hunger to the banquet yonder; go, feed full thy fasting, and let blood, with wine commingled, be drunk before thine eyes. I have found feast which thou thyself wouldst flee – but stay! Whither doest headlong rush?

GHOST OF TANTALUS
[68] Back to my pools and streams and fleeing waters, back to the laden tree which shuns my very lips. Let me return to the black couch of my prison-house; let it be mine, if I seem too little wretched, to change my stream; in thy bed’s midst, O Phlegethon, let me be left, hemmed round with waves of fire.

[74] Whoe’er thou art, by the fates’ law bidden to suffer allotted punishment; whoe’er liest quaking beneath the hollowed rocks, and fearest the downfall of the mountainous mass even now coming on thee;9 whoe’er shudderest at the fierce gaping of greedy lions, and, entangled in their toils, dost shudder at the dread ranks of furies; whoe’er, half burned, shunnest their threatening torches, hear ye the words of Tantalus now hasting to you: believe me who know, and love your punishments. Oh, when hsall it fall to me to escape the upper world?

THE FURY
[83] First throw thy house into confusion dire, bring strife with thee, bring lust for the sword, an evil thing for rulers, and rouse to mad passion the savage breast.

GHOST OF TANTALUS
[96] ‘Tis meet for me to suffer punishments, not be a punishment. I am sent as some deadly exhalation from the riven earth, or as a pestilence, spreading grievous plague among the people, that I a grandsire may lead my grandsons into fearful crime. O mighty sire of gods, my father, too, however to thy shame I say it, though to cruel punishment my tattling tongue be doomed, I will not hold my peace; I warn ye, defile not your hands with accursed slaughter, nor stain your altars with a madman’s crime. Here will I stand and prevent the evil deed. [To THE FURY.] Why with thy scourge dost fright mine eyes, and fiercely threaten with thy writhing snakes? Why deep in my inmost marrow dost rouse hunger pains? My heart is parched with burning thirst, and in my scorched vitals the fire is darting – I follow thee.

THE FURY
[100] This, this very rage of thine distribute throughout thy house! So, e’en as thou, may they be driven on, raging to quench their thirst each in the other’s blood. Thy house feels thy near approach, and has shrunk in utter horror from thine accursed touch. Enough! more than enough! Go thou to the infernal caves and well-known stream; now is the grieving earth weary of thy presence. Seest thou how the water, driven far within, deserts the springs, how river banks are empty, how the fiery wind drives away the scattered clouds? Every tree grows pale, and from the bare branches the fruit has fled; and where this side and that the Isthmus is wont to roar with neighbouring waves, dividing near seas with narrow neck of land, the shore but faintly hears the far off sound. Now Lerna has shrunk back, the Phoronean stream10 has disappeared, the sacred Alpheus no longer bears his waters on, Cithaeron’s heights have lost their snows and nowhere stand hoary now, and the lordly Argos fears its ancient drought.11 Lo! Titan himself stands doubtful whether to bid day follow on, and, plying the reins, compel it to come forth to its undoing.

CHORUS
[122] If any god loves Achaian Argos and Pisa’s homes renowned for chariots; if any loves Corinthian Isthmus’ realm, its twin harbours, its dissevered sea; if any, the far-seen snows of Mount Taÿgetus, snows which, when in winter-time the Sarmatian blasts have laid them on the heights, the summer with its sail-filling Etesian breezes melts away; if any is moved by the cool, clear stream of Alpheus, famed for its Olympic course – let him his kindly godhead hither turn, let him forbid the recurrent waves of crime to come again, forbid that on his grandsire follow a worse grandson, and greater crime please lesser men.12 Wearied at last, may the impious race of thirsty Tantalus give o’er its lust for savagery. Enough sin has been wrought; nothing has right availed, or general wrong. Himself betrayed, fell Myrtilus, betrayer of his lord, and, dragged down by the faith which he had shown, he made a sea13 famous by its change of name; to Ionian ships no tale is better known. While the little son14 ran to his father’s kiss, welcomed by sinful sword, he fell, an untimely victim at the hearth, and by the right hand was carved, O Tantalus, that thou mightest spread a banquet for the gods, thy guests. Such food eternal hunger, such eternal thirst pursues; nor for such bestial viands could have been meted penalty more fit.

[152] Weary, with empty throat, stands Tantalus; above his guilty head hangs food in plenty, than Phineus’15 birds more elusive; on either side, with laden boughs, a tree leans over him and, bending and trembling ‘neath its weight of fruit, makes sport with his wide-straining jaws. The prize, though he is eager and impatient of delay, deceived so oft, he tries no more to touch, turns away his eyes, shuts tight his lips, and behind clenched teeth he bars his hunger. But then the whole grove lets its riches down nearer still, and the mellow fruits above his head mock him with drooping boughs and whet again the hunger, which bids him ply his hands in vain. When he has stretched these forth and gladly16 has been baffled, the whole ripe harvest of the bending woods is snatched far out of reach. Then comes a raging thirst, harder to bear than hunger; when by this his blood has grown hot and glowed as with fiery torches, the poor wretch stands catching at waves that seem to approach his lips; but these the elusive water turns aside, failing in meagre shallows, and leaves him utterly, striving to pursue; then deep from the whirling stream he drinks – but dust.

ATREUS
[176] [In soliloquy.] O undaring, unskilled, unnerved, and (what in high matters I deem a king’s worst reproach) yet unavenged, after so many crimes, a brother’s treacheries, and all right broken down, in idle complaints dost busy thyself – a mere wrathful Atreus? By now should the whole world be resounding with thy arms, on either side they fleets be harrying both seas; by now should fields and cities be aglow with flames and the drawn sword be gleaming everywhere. Let the whole land of Argolis resound with our horses’ tread; let no forests shelter my enemy, nor citadels, built on high mountain tops; let the whole nation leave Mycenae and sound the trump of war; and whoso hides and protects that hateful head, let him die a grievous death. This mighty palace itself, illustrious Pelops’ house, may it e’en fall on me, if only on my brother, too, it fall. Up! my soul, do what no coming age shall approve, but none forget. I must dare some crime, atrocious, bloody, such as my brother would more wish were his. Crimes thou dost not avenge, save as thou dost surpass them. And what crime can be so dire as to overtop his sin? Does he lie downcast? Does he in prosperity endure control, rest in defeat? I know the untamable spirit of the man; bent it cannot be – but it can be broken. Therefore, ere he strengthen himself or marshal his powers, we must begin the attack, lest, while we wait, the attack be made on us. Slay or be slain will he; between us lies the crime for him who first shall do it.

ATTENDANT
[204] Does public disapproval deter thee not?

ATREUS
[205] The greatest advantage this of royal power, that their master’s deeds the people are compelled as well to bear as praise.

ATTENDANT
[207] Whom fear compels to praise, them, too, fear makes into foes; but he who seeks the glory of true favour, will wish heart rather than voice to sing his praise.

ATREUS
[211] True praise even to the lowly often comes; false, only to the strong. What men choose not, let them choose.

ATTENDANT
[213] Let a king choose the right; then none will not choose the same.

ATREUS
[214] Where only right to a monarch is allowed, sovereignty is held on sufferance.

ATTENDANT
[215] Where is no shame, no care for right, no honour, virtue, faith, sovereignty is insecure.

ATREUS
[217] Honour, virtue, faith are the goods of common men; let kings go where they please.

ATTENDANT
[219] O count it wrong to harm even a wicked brother.

ATREUS
[220] Whate’er is wrong to do unto a brother is right to do to him. For what has he left untouched by crime, or where has he failed to sin? My wife has he debauched, my kingdom stolen; the ancient token17 of our dynasty by fraud he gained, by fraud o’erturned our house. There is within Pelops’ lofty folds a lordly flock, and a wondrous ram, the rich flock’s leader. O’er all his body a fleece of spun gold hangs, and from his back18 the new-crowned kings of the house of Tantalus have their sceptres wreathed with gold. His owner rules; him does the fortune of the whole house follow. Hallowed and apart he grazes in safe meadows fenced with stone, that guards the fated pasture with its rocky wall. Him did the perfidious one,19 daring a monstrous crime, steal away, with the partner of my bed helping the sinful deed. From this source has flowed the whole evil stream of mutual destruction; throughout my kingdom have I wandered, a trembling exile; no part of my family is safe and free from snares; my wife seduced, our pledge20 of empire broken, my house impaired, my offspring dubious – no one thing certain save my brother’s enmity. Why standest inactive? At last begin, put on thy courage; Tantalus and Pelops – look on them; to work like their my hands are summoned. Tell thou, by what means I may bring ruin on his wicked head.

ATTENDANT
[246] Slain by the sword, let him spew forth his hateful soul.

ATREUS
[247] Thou speakest of punishment’s completion; I punishment itself desire. Let the mild tyrant slay; in my dominion death is a boon to pray for.

ATTENDANT
[249] Does piety move thee not?

ATREUS
[250] Be gone, O Piety, if ever in our house thou hadst a place. Let the dread band of Furies come, the fiend Discord, and Megaera, brandishing her torches twain; not great enough the frenzy with which my bosom burns; with some greater horror would I be filled.

ATTENDANT
[254] What strange design does thy mad soul intend?

ATREUS
[255] Naught that the measure of accustomed rage can hold; no crime will I leave undone, and no crime is enough.

ATTENDANT
[257] The sword?

ATREUS
[257] ‘Tis not enough.

ATTENDANT
[257] Fire, then?

ATREUS
[257] Still not enough.

ATTENDANT
[258] What weapon, pray, will thy great anguish use?

ATREUS
[259] Thyestes’ self.

ATTENDANT
[259] This plague is worse than passion.

ATREUS
[260] I do confess it. A frantic tumult shakes and heaves deep my heart. I am hurried I know not wither, but I am hurried on. The ground rumbles from its lowest depths, the clear sky thunders, the whole house crashes as though ‘twere rent asunder, and the trembling Lares turn away their faces – let it be done, let a deed of guilt be done whereat, O gods, ye are affrighted.

ATTENDANT
[266] What, pray, wouldst do?

ATREUS
[267] Some greater thing, larger than the common and beyond the bounds of human use is swelling in my soul, and it urges on my sluggish hands – I know not what it is, but ‘tis some mighty thing. So let it be. Haste, thou, my soul, and do it. ‘Tis a deed worthy of Thyestes and of Atreus worthy; let each perform it. The Odrysian21 house once saw a feast unspeakable – ‘tis a monstrous crime, I grant, but it has been done before; let my smart find something worse than this. Inspire my soul, O Daulian22 mother, aye and sister,23 too; my case is like to yours; help me and urge on my hand. Let the father with joyous greed rend his sons, and his own flesh devour. ‘Tis well, more than enough. This way of punishment is pleasing.

[280] Meanwhile, where is he? Why does Atreus so long live harmless? Already before mine eyes flits the whole picture of the slaughter; his lost children heaped up before their father’s face – O soul, why dost shrink back in fear and halt before the deed? Come! thou must dare it! What is the crowning outrage in this crime he himself shall do.

ATTENDANT
[286] Bu with what wiles caught will he be led to set foot within our snares? He counts us all enemies.

ATREUS
[288] He could not be caught were he not bent on catching. Even now he hopes to gain my kingdom; in this hope he will face Jove as he brandishes his thunder-bolt, in this hope will brave the whirlpool’s rage and enter the treacherous waters of the Libyan sands; in this hope (what he deems the greatest curse of all), he will see his brother.

ATTENDANT
[294] Who will give him confidence in peace? Whose word will he so greatly trust?

ATREUS
[295] Base hope is credulous. Still to my sons will I give a message to carry to their uncle: let the exiled wanderer quit strangers’ homes, for a throne exchange his wretched state and rule at Argos, a partner of my sway. If too stubbornly Thyestes spurns my prayer, his sons, guileless and spent with hard misfortunes and easy to be entreated, will be moved. On this side, his old mad thirst for power, on that, grim want and unfeeling toil by their many woes will force the man, however stiff, to yield.

ATTENDANT
[305] By now time has made his troubles light.

ATREUS
[306] Not so; a sense of wrongs increases day by day. ‘Tis easy to bear misfortune; to keep on bearing it a heavy task.

ATTENDANT
[308] Choose other24 agents of thy grim design.

ATREUS
[308] To the worse schooling youth lends ready ear.

ATTENDANT
[310] Toward their father they will act as toward their uncle thou instructest them; often upon the teacher have his bad teachings turned.

ATREUS
[312] Though none should teach them the ways of treachery and crime, the throne will teach them. Lest they become evil, fearest thou? They were born evil. What thou callest savage, cruel, thinkest is done ruthlessly, with no regard for heaven’s law, perchance even there25 is being done.

ATTENDANT
[316] Shall thy sons know that this snare is being laid?

ATREUS
[317] Silent discretion is not found in years so inexperienced; perchance they will disclose the plot; the art of silence is taught by life’s many ills.

ATTENDANT
[320] Even those by whom thou plannest to deceive another, wilt thou deceive?

ATREUS
[321] That they themselves may be free even from blame of crime. What need to entangle my sons in guilt? By my own self let my hatred be wrought out. – Thou doest ill, thou shrinkest back, my soul. Let Agamemnon be the witting agent of my plan, and Menelaus wittingly assist his father. By this deed let their uncertain birth be put to proof: if they refuse the combat, if they will not wage the war of hate, if they plead he is their uncle, he is their sire. Let them set forth. – But a troubled countenance oft discloses much; great plans betray their bearer even against his will; let them not know of how great a matter they are the ministers. And do thou conceal my plans.

ATTENDANT
[334] No need to admonish me; both fear and loyalty shall shut them in my heart, but rather loyalty.

CHORUS
[336] At last our noble house, the race of ancient Inachus, hath allayed the strife of brothers.

[339] What madness pricks you on to shed by turns each others’ blood, and by crime to gain the throne? Ye know not, for high place greedy, wherein true kingship lies. A king neither riches makes, nor robes of Tyrian hue, nor crown upon the royal brow, nor doors with gold bright-gleaming; a king is he who has laid fear aside and the base longings of an evil heart; whom ambition unrestrained and the fickle favour of the reckless mob move not, neither all the mined treasures of the West nor the golden sands which Tagus sweeps along in his shining bed, nor all the grain trod out on burning Libya’s threshing-floors; whom no hurtling path of the slanting thunderbolt will shake, nor Eurus, harrying the sea, nor wind-swept Adriatic’s swell, raging with cruel wave; whom no warrior’s lance nor bare steel ever mastered; who, in safety ‘stablished, sees all things beneath his feet, goes gladly to meet his fate nor grieves to die.

[369] Though kings should gather themselves together, both they who vex the scattered Scythians and they who dwell upon the Red Sea’s marge, who hold wide sway o’er the blood-red main with its gleaming pearls, they who leave unguarded26 the Caspian heights to the bold Sarmatians; though he strive against him, who dares on foot to tread the Danube’s waves27 and (whersoe’er they dwell,) the Serians28 for fleeces famous – ‘tis the upright mind that holds true sovereignty. He has no need of horses, none of arms and the coward weapons which the Parthian hurls from far when he feigns flight, no need of engines hurling rocks, stationed to batter cities to the ground. A king is he who has no fear; a king is he who shall naught desire. Such kingdom on himself each man bestows.

[391] Let him stand who will, in pride of power, on empire’s slippery height; let me be filled with sweet repose; in humble station fixed, let me enjoy untroubled ease, and, to my fellow citizens29 unknown, let my life’s stream flow in silence. So when my days have passed noiselessly away, lowly may I die and full of years. On him does death lie heavily, who, but too well known to all, dies to himself unknown.

[Enter THYESTES, returning from banishment, accompanied by his three sons.]

THYESTES
[404] At last I see the welcome dwellings of my fatherland, the wealth of Argolis, and, the greatest and best sights to wretched exiles, a stretch of native soil and my ancestral gods (if after all gods there are), the sacred towers reared by the Cyclopes, in beauty far excelling human effort, the race-course thronged with youth, where more than once, lifted to fame, have I in my father’s chariot won the palm. Argos will come to meet me, and the thronging populace will come – but surely Atreus too! Rather seek again thy retreats in the forest depths, the impenetrable glades, and life shared with beasts and like to theirs; this gleaming splendour of the throne is naught that should blind my eyes with its false tinsel show; when thou lookest on the gift, scan well the giver, too. Of late midst such fortune as all count hard, I was brave and joyous; but now I am returned to fears; my courage falters and, eager to go back, I move unwilling feet along.

TANTALUS
[421] [Aside.] My father (what can it mean?) with faltering pace goes as if dazed, keeps turning his face away, and holds uncertain course.

THYESTES
[423] [In soliloquy.] Why O soul, dost hestitate, or why doest so long turn o’er and o’er a plan so simple? Dost thou trust to things most unsure, to a brother and to kingship? Dost fear hardships already mastered, already easier to bear, and dost flee from distresses well employed?30 ‘Tis sweet now to be wretched. Turn back, while still thou mayest, and save thyself.

TANTALUS
[429] What cause compels thee, father, to turn thee back from sight of thy native land? Why from so great blessings dost withhold thy bosom?31 Thy brother returns to thee with wrath given o’er, gives thee back half the realm, unites the members of thy sundered house, and to thyself restores thee.

THYESTES
[434] My cause of fear, which I myself know not, thou demandest of me. Naught to be feared I see, but still I fear. Fain would I go, but my limbs totter with faltering knees, and other-whither than I strive to go am I borne away in thrall. Just so a ship, urged on by oar and sail, the tide, resisting both oar and sail, bears back.

TANTALUS
[440] O’ercome thou whate’er opposes and thwarts thy will, and see how great rewards await thee on thy return. Father, thou canst be king.

THYESTES
[442] Yea, since I can die.32

TANTALUS
[443] The height of power is –

THYESTES
[443] Naught, if nothing thou desirest.

TANTALUS
[444] To thy sons wilt thou bequeath it.

THYESTES
[444] The throne admits not two.

TANTALUS
[445] Would he wish wretchedness who can be blest?

THYESTES
[446] False, believe me, are the titles that give greatness charm; idle our fears of hardship. While I stood high in power, never did I cease to dread, yea, to fear the very sword upon my thigh. Oh, how good it is to stand in no man’s road, care-free to eat one’s bread, on the ground reclining! Crime enters not lowly homes, and in safety is food taken at a slender board; poison is drunk from cups of gold. I speak that I do know: evil fortune is to be preferred to good.33 The lowly citizen fears no house of mine set high and threatening on a mountain top; my towering roofs flash not with gleaming ivory, no guard watches o’er my slumbers; with no fleet of boats I fish, with no piled break-water do I drive back the sea; I gorge not my vile belly at the world’s expense; for me no fields are harvested beyond the Getae and the Parthians; no incense burns for me, nor are my shrines adorned in neglect of Jove; no planted grove waves on my battlements, nor does many a pool heated by art steam for me; my days are not given to sleep nor are my nights linked with wakeful revelry: but I am not feared, safe without weapons is my house and to my small estate great peace is granted. ‘Tis a boundless kingdom, – the power without kingdoms to content.

TANTALUS
[471] Neither is empire to be refused if a god bestows it, nor needst thou seek it; thy brother invites thee to be king.

THYESTES
[473] Invites? Then must I fear. Some trick strays hereabouts.

TANTALUS
[474] Brotherly regard ofttimes returns unto the heart whence it was driven, and true love regains the vigour it has lost.

THYESTES
[476] His brother love Thyestes? Sooner shall ocean bathe the heavenly Bears, and the devouring waves of the Sicilian tides stand still; sooner shall ripening grain spring from the Ionian sea, and dark night illume the world; sooner shall fire with water, life with death commingle, and winds join faith and treaty with the sea.

TANTALUS
[482] And yet what treachery dost thou fear?

THYESTES
[483] All treachery; to my fear what limit shall I set? His power is boundless as his hate.

TANTALUS
[484] What power has he against thee?

THYESTES
[485] For myself I have now no fear; ‘tis you, my sons, who make Atreus cause of dread to me.

TANTALUS
[486] Dost fear to be entrapped if on thy guard?

THYESTES
[487] ‘Tis too late to guard when in the midst of dangers; but let us on. Yet this one thing your father doth declare: I follow you, not lead.

TANTALUS
[489] God will protect us if we heed well our ways. With assured step haste thou on.

[Enter ATREUS. Seeing THYESTES and his sons, he gloats over the fact that his brother is at last in his power.]

ATREUS
[491] [Aside.] The prey is fast caught in the toils I spread; both the sire himself and, together with the sire, the offspring of his hated race I see. Now on safe footing does my hatred fare. At last has Thyestes come into my power; he has come, and the whole34 of him! Scarce can I control my spirit, scarce does my rage admit restraint. So when the keen Umbrian hound tracks out the prey and, held on a long leash, with lowered muzzle snuffs out the trail, while with faint scent he perceives the boar afar, obediently and with silent tongue he scours the field; but when the game is nearer, with his whole strength of neck he struggles, loudly protests against his master’s loitering, and breaks away from his restraint. When rage scents blood, it cannot be concealed; yet let it be concealed. See how his thick hair, all unkempt, covers his woeful face, how foul his beard hangs down. [In bitter irony.] Now let me keep my promise.35 [To THYESTES.] ‘Tis sweet to see my brother once again. Give me the embrace that I have longed for. Let all our angry feelings pass away; from this day let ties of blood and love be cherished and let accursed hatred vanish from our hearts.

THYESTES
[512] I might excuse all my deeds wert thou not such as this. But I confess, Atreus, I confess that I have done all that thou believedst of me. Most foul has thy love to-day made my case appear. Sinful indeed is he who has been proved sinful toward so good a brother. My tears must plead for me; thou art he first to see me suppliant. These hands, which have never touched man’s feet, beseech thee: put away all thy wrath and let swollen anger pass from thy heart and be forgot. As pledge of my faith, O brother, take these guiltless boys.

ATREUS
[521] From my knees remove they hand and come rather into my embrace. And you, too, boys, all of you, comforters of age, come cling about my neck. Thy foul garments put off, spare my eyes, and put on royal trappings equal to my own, and with glad heart share a brother’s kingdom. Mine is the greater glory, to restore to a brother all unharmed ancestral dignity; wielding power is the work of chance, bestowing of it, virtue’s.

THYESTES
[530] May the gods, my brother, fitly repay thee for so great deserts. The kingly crown my wretched state refuses, and the sceptre my ill-omened hand rejects. Let it be mine to hide amidst the throng.

ATREUS
[534] Our throne has room for two.

THYESTES
[535] I count, my brother, all of thine as mine.36

ATREUS
[536] Who puts aside inflowing fortune’s gifts?

THYESTES
[537] Whose has found how easily they ebb.

ATREUS
[538] Dost forbid thy brother to gain great glory?

THYESTES
[539] Thy glory is won already; mine is still to win: to refuse the throne is my fixed intent.

ATREUS
[541] My glory must I abandon, unless thou accept thy share.

THYESTES
[542] I do accept; the name of king set on me will I wear; but unto thee shall laws and arms along with myself be subject.

ATREUS
[544] [Placing the crown upon his brother’s head.] This crown, set on thy reverend head, wear thou; but I the destined victims to the gods will play. [Exit.]

CHORUS
[546] Such things are past belief. Atreus, there, the fierce and savage, reckless of soul and cruel, at sight of his brother stood as one amazed. There is now power stronger than true love; angry strife ‘twixt strangers doth endure, but whom true love has bound ‘twill bind for ever. When wreath, by great causes roused, has burst friendship’s bonds and sounded alarms of war; when fleet squadrons with ringing bridles come; when the brandished sword gleams now here, now there, which the mad god of war, thirsting for fresh-flowing blood, wields with a rain of blows, – then will Love stay the steel, and lead men, even against their will, to the clasped hands of Peace.

[560] This sudden lull out of so great uproar what god has wrought? But now throughout Mycenae the arms of civil strife resounded; pale mother held fast their sons, the wife feared for her lord full armed, when to his hand came the reluctant sword, foul with the rust of peace; one strove to repair tottering walls, one to strengthen towers, crumbling with long neglect; another strove to shut gates tight with iron bars, while on the battlements the trembling guard kept watch o’er the troubled night – for worse than war is the very fear of war. Now the sword’s dire threats have fallen; now still is the deep trumpet-blare; now silent the shrill clarion’s blast; deep peace to a glad city is restored. So, when the floods heave up from ocean’s depths and Corus37 lashes the Bruttian waters; when Scylla roars in her disturbed cavern, and mariners in harbour tremble at the sea which greedy Charybdis drains and vomits forth again; when the wild Cyclops, sitting on burning Aetna’s crag, dreads his sire’s38 rage, lest the o’erwheening waves put out the fires that roar in immemorial furnaces; and when beggared Laërtes thinks, while Ithaca reels beneath the shock, that his kingdom may be submerged – then, if their strength has failed the winds, the sea sinks back more peaceful than a pool; and the deep waters which the ship feared to cleave, now far and wide studded with bellying sails, a beauteous sight, to pleasure-boats spread out their waves; and you may now count the fish swimming far below, where but lately beneath the mighty hurricane the tossed Cyclads trembled at the sea.

[596] No lot endureth long; pain and pleasure, each in turn, give place; more quickly, pleasure. Lowest with highest the fickle hour exchanges. He who wears crown on brow, before whom trembling nations bend the knee, at whose nod the Medes lay down their arms, and the Indians of the nearer sun,39 and the Dahae who hurl their horse upon the Parthians – he with anxious hand holds the sceptre, and both foresees and fear fickle chance and shifting time that change all things.

[607] O you, to whom the ruler of sea and land has given unbounded right o’er life and death, abate your inflated, swelling pride; all that a lesser subject fears from you, ‘gainst you a greater lord shall threaten; all power is subject to a weightier power. Whom the rising sun hath seen high in pride, him the setting sun hath seen laid low. Let none be over-confident when fortune smiles; let none despair of better things when fortune fails. Clotho blends weal and woe, lets no lot stand, keeps ever fate a-turning. No one has found the gods so kind that he may promise to-morrow to himself. God keeps all mortal things in swift whirl turning.

[Enter MESSENGER breathlessly announcing the horror which has just been enacted behind the scenes.]

MESSENGER
[623] What whirlwind will headlong bear me through the air and in murky cloud enfold me, that it may snatch this awful horror from my sight? O house, to Pelops even and to Tantalus a thing of shame!

CHORUS
[626] What news bringst thou?

MESSENGER
[627] What place is this? Is it Argos? Is it Sparta, to which fate gave loving brothers?40Corinth, resting on the narrow boundary of two seas? Or the Ister, giving chance of flight to the barbarous Alani? Or the Hyrcanian land ‘neath its everlasting snows? Or the wide-wandering Scythians? What place is this that knows such hideous crime?

CHORUS
[633] Speak out and tell this evil, whate’er it is.

MESSENGER
[634] When my spirit is composed, when numbing fear lets go its hold upon my limbs. Oh, but I see it still, the picture of that ghastly deed! Bear me far hence, wild winds, oh, thither bear me whither41 the vanished day is borne.

CHORUS
[638] More grievously dost thou hold our minds in doubt. Tell thou what is this thing which makes thee shudder, and point out the doer of it. I ask not who it is, but which.42 Speak out and quickly.

MESSENGER
[641] On the summit of the citadel a part of Pelops’ palace faces south; its farthest side rises to mountainous height, and o’erlooks the city, having beneath its menace the people, insolent to their kings. Here gleams the great hall that could contain a multitude, whose gilded architraves columns glorious with varied hues upbear. Behind this general hall, which nations throng, the gorgeous palace stretches out o’er many a space; and, deep withdrawn, there lies a secret spot containing in a deep vale an ancient grove, the kingdom’s innermost retreat. Here no tree ever affords cheerful shade or is pruned by any knife; but the yew-tree and the cypress and woods of gloomy ilex-trees wave obscure, above which, towering high, an oak looks down and overtops the grove. From this spot the sons of Tantalus are wont to enter on their reign, here to seek aid midst calamity and doubt. Here hang their votive gifts; resounding trumpets and broken chariots, spoils of the Myrtoan Sea,43 and wheels o’ercome by treacherous axle-trees hang there, and memorials of the race’s every crime; in this place is Pelops’ Phrygian turban hung, here spoil of the enemy, and the embroidered robe, token of triumph o’er barbaric foes.

[665] A dismal spring starts forth beneath the shadow, and sluggish in a black pool creeps along; such are the ugly waters of dread Styx, on which the gods take oath. ‘Tis said that from this place in the dark night the gods of death make moan; with clanking chains the grove resounds, and the ghosts howl mournfully. Whatever is dreadful but to hear of, there is seen; throngs of the long-since dead come forth from their ancient tombs and walk abroad, and creatures more monstrous than men have known spring from the place; nay more, through all the wood flames go flickering, and the lofty beams glow without the help of fire. Oft-times the grove re-echoes with three-throated bayings; oft-times the house is affrighted with huge, ghostly shapes. Nor is terror allayed by day; the grove is a night unto itself, and the horror of the underworld reigns even at midday. From this spot sure responses are given to those who seek oracles; with thundering noise the fates are uttered from the shrine, and the cavern roars when the god sends forth his voice.

[682] When to this place maddened Atreus came, dragging his brother’s sons, the altars were decked – but who could worthily describe the deed? Behind their back he fetters the youths’ princely hands and their sad brows he binds with purple fillets. Nothing is lacking, neither incense, nor sacrificial wine, the knife, the salted meal to sprinkle on the victims. The accustomed ritual is all observed, lest so great a crime be not duly wrought.

CHORUS
[690] Who lays his hand unto the knife?

MESSENGER
[691] Himself is priest; himself with baleful prayer chants the death-song with boisterous utterance; himself stands by the altar; himself handles those doomed to death, sets them in order and lays hand upon the knife; himself attends to all – no part of the sacred rite is left undone. The grove begins to tremble; the whole palace sways with the quaking earth, uncertain whither to fling its ponderous mass, and seems to waver. From the left quarter of the sky rushes a star, dragging a murky trail. The wine, poured upon the fire, changes from wine and flows as flood; from the king’s head falls the crown twice and again, and the ivory statues in the temples weep.

[703] These portents moved all, but Atreus alone, true to his purpose, stands, and e’en appals the threatening gods. And now, delay at end, he stands before the altar with lowering, sidelong glance. As in the jungle by the Ganges river a hungry tigress wavers between two bulls, eager for each prey, but doubtful where first to set her fangs (to the one she turns her jaws, then to the other turns, and keeps her hunger waiting), so does cruel Atreus eye the victims doomed by his impious wrath. He hesitates within himself whom first to slay, whom next to sacrifice by the second stroke. It matters not, but still he hesitates, and gloats over the ordering of his savage crime.

CHORUS
[716] Whom, for all that, does he first attack with the steel?

MESSENGER
[717] The place of honour (lest you deem him lacking in reverence) to his grandsire44 is allotted – Tantalus is the first victim.

CHORUS
[719] With what spirit, with what countenance bore the lad his death?

MESSENGER
[720] Careless of self he stood, nor did he plead, knowing such prayer were vain; but in his wound the savage buried the sword and, deep thrusting, joined hand with throat. The sword withdrawn, the corpse still stood erect, and when it had wavered long whether here or there to fall, it fell upon the uncle. Then Plisthenes to the altar did that butcher drag and set him near his brother. His head with a blow he severed; down fell the body when the neck was smitten, and the head rolled away, grieving with murmur inarticulate.

CHORUS
[730] What did he then after the double murder? Did he spare one boy, or did he heap crime on crime?

MESSENGER
[732] E’en as a maned lion in the Armenian woods with much slaughter falls victorious on the herd (his jaws reek with gore, and still, though hunger is appeased, he rages on; now here, now there charging the bulls, he threatens the calves, sluggishly now and with weary fangs) – not otherwise Atreus raves and swells with wrath and, still grasping his sword drenched with double slaughter, scarce knowing ‘gainst whom he rages, with deadly hand he drives clean through the body; and the sword, entering the boy’s breast, straightway stood out upon his back. He falls and, staining the altar with his blood, dies by a double wound.

CHORUS
[743] Oh, savage crime!

MESSENGER
[744] Are you so horror-stricken? If only the crime stops there, ‘tis piety.

CHORUS
[745] Does nature admit crime still greater or more dread?

MESSENGER
[746] Crime’s limit deemst thou this? ‘Tis the first step of crime.

CHORUS
[747] What further could he do? Did he perchance throw the bodies to the beasts to tear, and refuse them fire?

MESSENGER
[749] Would that he had refused! I pray not that earth cover or fire consume the dead! He may give them to the birds to feast upon, may drag them out as a ghastly meal for ravenous beasts – oh, after what befell, one might pray for what is oft held punishment – unburied may the father gaze upon his sons! O crime incredible to any age, which coming generations will deny – torn from the still living breasts the vitals quiver; the lungs still breathe and the fluttering heart still beats. But he handles the organs and enquires the fates, and notes the markings of the still warm entrails.

[759] When with the victims he has satisfied himself, he is now free to prepare his brother’s banquet. With his own hands he cuts the body into parts, severs the broad shoulders at the trunk, an the retarding arms, heartlessly strips off the flesh and severs the bones; the heads only he saves, and the hands that had been given to him in pledge of faith. Some of the flesh is fixed on spits and, set before slow fires, hangs dripping; other parts boiling waters tosses in heated kettles. The fire overleaps the feast that is set before it and, twice and again thrown back upon the shuddering hearth and forced to tarry there, burns grudgingly. The liver sputters on the spits; nor could I well say whether the bodies or the flames made more complaint. The fire dies down in pitchy smoke; and the smoke itself, a gloomy and heavy smudge, does not rise straight up and lift itself in air – upon the household gods themselves in disfiguring cloud it settles.

[776] O all-enduring Phoebus, though thou didst shrink afar, and in mid-sky didst bury the darkened day, still thou didst set too late. The father rends his sons and with baleful jaws chews his own flesh; with hair dripping with liquid nard he sits resplendent, heavy with wine; oft-times the food sticks in his choking gullet. In the midst of these thy woes, Thyestes, this only good remains, that thou knowest not thy woes. But even this will perish. Though Titan himself should turn his chariot back, taking the opposite course; through heavy night, rising at dawn and at another’s45 time, with strange shadows should bury this ghastly deed, still it must out. There is no sin but it shall be revealed.

[Unnatural darkness has settled over the world.]

CHORUS
[789] Whither, O father of the lands and skies, before whose rising thick night with all her glories flees, whither doest turn thy course and why dost blot out the day in mid-Olympus?46 Why, O Phoebus, dost snatch away thy face? Not yet does Vesper, twilight’s messenger, summon the fires of night; not yet does thy wheel, turning its western goal, bid free thy steeds from their completed task; not yet as day fades into night has the third trump sounded;47 the ploughman with oxen yet unwearied stands amazed at his supper-hour’s quick coming. What has driven thee from thy heavenly course? What cause form their fixed track has turned aside thy horses? Is the prison-house of Dis thrown wide and are the conquered Giants again essaying war? Doth sore-wounded Tityos renew in his weary breast his ancient wrath? Has Typhoeus thrown off the mountainous mass and set his body free? Is a highway being built by the Phlegraean48 foe, and does Thessalian Pelion press on Thracian Ossa?

[813] Heaven’s accustomed alternations are no more; no setting, no rising shall there be again. The dewy mother49 of the early dawn, wont to hand o’er to the god his morning reins, looks in amaze upon the disordered threshold of her kingdom; she is not skilled50 to bathe his weary chariot, nor to plunge his steeds, reeking with sweat, beneath the sea. Startled himself at such unwonted welcoming, the sinking sun beholds Aurora, and bids the shadows arise, though night is not yet ready. No stars come out; the heavens gleam not with any fires: no moon dispels the darkness’ heavy pall.

[827] But whatever this may be, would that night were here! Trembling, trembling are our hearts, sore smit with fear, lest all things fall shattered in fatal ruin and once more gods and men be o’erwhelmed by formless chaos; lest the lands, the encircling sea, and the stars that wander in the spangled sky, nature blot out once more. No more by the rising of his quenchless torch shall the leader of the stars, guiding the procession of the years, mark off the summer and the winter times; no more shall Luna, reflecting Phoebus’ rays, dispel night’s terrors, and outstrip her brother’s reins, as in scantier space51 she speeds on her circling path. Into one abyss shall fall the heaped-up throng of gods.52 The Zodiac, which, making passage through the sacred stars, crosses the zones obliquely, guide and sign-bearer for the slow-moving years, falling itself, shall see the fallen constellations; the Ram, who, ere kindly spring has come, gives back the sails to the warm West-wind, headlong shall plunge into the waves o’er which he had borne the trembling Helle; the Bull, who before him on bright horns bears the Hyades, shall drag the Twins down with him and the Crab’s wide-curving claws; Alcides’ Lion, with burning heat inflamed, once more53 shall fall down from the sky; the Virgin54 shall fall to the earth she once abandoned, and the Scales of justice with their weights shall fall and with them shall drag the fierce Scorpion down; old Chiron,55 who sets the feathered shafts upon Haemonian chord, shall lose his shafts from the snapped bowstring; the frigid Goat56 who brings back sluggish winter, shall fall and break thy urn, whoe’er thou57 art; with thee shall fall the Fish, last of the stars of heaven, and the Wain,58 which was ne’er bathed by the sea, shall be plunged beneath the all-engulfing waves; the slippery Serpent which, gliding like a river, separates the Bears, shall fall, and icy Cynosura, the Lesser Bear, together with the Dragon vast, congealed with cold; and that slow-moving drive of his wain, Arctophylax,59 no longer fixed in place, shall fall.

[875] Have we of all mankind been deemed deserving that heaven, its poles uptorn, should overwhelm us? In our time has the last day come? Alas for us, by bitter fate begotten, to misery doomed, whether we have lost the sun or banished it! Away with lamentations, begone, O fear! Greedy indeed for life is he who would not die when the world is perishing in his company.

[Enter ATREUS, exulting.]

ATREUS
[885] Peer of the stars I move, and, towering over all, touch with proud head the lofty heavens. Now the glory60 of the realm I hold, now my father’s throne. I release the gods,61 for the utmost of my prayers have I attained. ‘Tis well, ‘tis more than well, now ‘tis enough even for me. But why enough? Nay, I will go forward, e’en though the father is full-fed with his dead sons.62 That shame might not hold me back, day has departed. On! while heaven is tenantless. O that I might stay the fleeing deities,63 might force and draw them hither that they all might see the avenging feast! But ‘tis enough if but the father see. Even though daylight refuse me aid, I’ll dispel the darkness from thee, beneath which thy woes are lurking. Too long thou liest at feast with care-free and cheerful countenance; now enough time has been given to tables, enough to wine; for such monstrous ills there needs Thyestes sober. [To the slaves.] Ye menial throng, open the temple doors, let the banquet-hall be disclosed. ‘Tis sweet to note, when he sees his children’s heads, what hue his cheeks display, what words his first grief pours forth, how his body, breathless with the shock, grows stiff. This is the fruit of all my toil. To see him wretched I care not, but to see the wretchedness come upon him.

[The doors are thrown open, showing THYESTES at the banquet-table.]
[908] The open hall with many a torch is gleaming. There he himself reclines at full length on gold and purple, propping his wine-heavy head on his left hand. He belches with content. Oh, most exalted of the gods am I, and king of kings! I have o’ertopped my hopes. His meal is done; from the great silver cup he quaffs the wine – spare not thy drinking; there still remains the blood of all the victims, and this the colour of old wine will well disguise. With this, this goblet let the meal be done. His sons’ mingled blood let the father drink; he would have drunk my own. Lo, now he raises his joyous voice in song, nor well controls his spirit.

[THYESTES sits alone at the banquet-table, half overcome with wine; he tries to sing and be gay, but, in spite of this, some vague premonition of evil weighs upon his spirits.]

THYESTES
[920] O heart, dulled with long miseries, now put aside anxious cares. Away with grief, away with terror, away with bitter want, the companion of hunted exiles, and shame that weighs heavy on misfortune; more matters it whence thou fallest, than to what. ‘Tis a great thing, when fall’n from a lofty pinnacle, to set foot firmly on the plain; great, midst the ruins of huge and crushing woes, with unbending neck to endure a wrecked kingdom’s weight, and with soul heroic, by woes unconquered, erect to bear the burden of misfortune. But now, banish the clouds of bitter fate, and remove all marks of those unhappy days; greet present happiness with joyful countenance, and dismiss the old Thyestes from thy thoughts.

[938] But this peculiar failing dogs the wretched, never to believe that happiness is here; though lucky fortune come again, still they who have suffered find it hard to smile. Why dost restrain me and oppose my celebration of this joyful day? Why doest bid me weep, O grief, that rises from no cause? Why dost forbid with beauteous flowers to wreathe my hair? It forbids, it does forbid! The spring roses have fallen from my head; my hair, dripping with precious nard, has started up in sudden horror, a rain of tears falls down my unwilling cheeks, and in the midst of speech comes groaning. Grief loves her accustomed tears, and to the wretched comes an ominous desire for weeping. Even so, I long to utter ill-omened lamentation, I long to rend these garments, rich dyed with Tyrian purple, I long to shriek aloud. My mind gives warnings of distress at hand, presaging its own woe; oft does a fierce storm draw nigh to mariners, when without wind the tranquil waters heave. What distresses, what upheavals dost thou imagine for thyself, thou fool? Let thy heart trust thy brother. Already, whate’er it be, either causelessly or too late thou fearest. I would fain not be unhappy, but within me vague terror wanders, sudden tears pour from mine eyes, and all for naught. Is it from grief or fear? Or doth great joy hold tears?

ATREUS
[Advancing to his brother with show of effusive affection.]
[970] With mutual accord, brother, let us keep this festal day; this is the day which shall make strong my sceptre and bind firm the bonds of peace assured.

THYESTES
[Pushing the remains of the feast from him.]
[973] I have had my fill of food, and no less of wine. My pleasure by this crowning joy can be increased, if with my sons I may share my happiness.

ATREUS
[976] Be sure that here, in their father’s bosom, are thy sons; – here now, and here shall be; no one of thy children shall be taken from thee. The faces thou desirest shall be thine, and wholly with his family will I fill the sire. Thou shalt be satisfied, have no fear of that. Just now, in company with my own, at the children’s table, they are sharing the joyful feast; but I will summon them. Take thou this cup, an heirloom, filled with wine.

THYESTES
[983] I accept this bounty of my brother’s feast; let wine be poured to our ancestral gods, and then be quaffed. – But what is this? My hands refuse their service, and the cup grows heavy and weighs down my hand; the lifted wine recoils from my very lips; around my gaping jaws, cheating my mouth, it flows, and the very table leaps up from the trembling floor. The lights burn dim; nay, the very heavens, grown heavy, stand in amaze ‘twixt day and night,64 deserted.65 What next? Now more, still more the vault of the shattered sky is tottering; a thicker gloom with dense shades is gathering, and night has hidden away in a blacker night; every star is in full flight. Whate’er it is, I beg it may spare my brother and my sons, and may the storm break with all its force on this vile head. Give back now my sons to me!

ATREUS
[998] I will give them back, and no day shall tear them from thee. [Exit.]

THYESTES
[999] What is this tumult that disturbs my vitals? What trembles in me? I feel a load that will not suffer me, and my breast groans with a groaning that is not mine. O come, my sons, your unhappy father calls you, come; this pain will pass away at the sight of you – whence come their reproachful voices?

[Re-enter ATREUS with a covered platter in his hands.]

ATREUS
[1004] Now, father, spread out thine arms; they are here. [He uncovers the platter, revealing the severed heads of THYESTES’ sons.] Dost recognize thy sons?

THYESTES
[1006] I recognize my brother. Canst thou endure, O Earth, to bear a crime so monstrous? Why dost not burst asunder and plunge thee down to the infernal Stygian shades and, by a huge opening to void chaos, snatch this kingdom with its king away? Why doest no raze this whole palace to the very ground, and overturn Mycenae? We should both of us long since have been with Tantalus. Rend asunder thy prison-bars on every side, and if there is any place ‘neath Tartarus and our grandsires,66 thither with huge abyss let down thy chasm and hide us buried beneath all Acheron. Let guilty souls wander above our head, and let fiery Phlegethon, with glowing flood downpouring all his sands, flow tempestuous above our place of exile – but the earth lies all unmoved, an insensate mass; the gods have fled away.

ATREUS
[1021] Now, rather, take these with joy, whom thou hast so long desired. Thy brother delays thee not; enjoy them, kiss them, divide thy embraces ‘mongst the three.

THYESTES
[1024] Is this thy bond? Is this thy grace, this thy fraternal pledge? Thus puttest thou hate away? I do not ask that I, a father, may have my sons unharmed; what can be granted with crime and hate intact, this I, a brother, of a brother ask: that I may bury them. Give me back what thou mayst see burned at once. The father asks naught of thee with hopes of having, but of losing it.

ATREUS
[1030] Whatever of thy sons is left, thou hast; whatever is not left, thou hast.

THYESTES
[1032] Do they lie a prey for the wild birds? Are they reserved for monsters? Are they food for beasts?

ATREUS
[1034] Thyself hast feasted on thy sons, an impious meal.

THYESTES
[1035] ‘Twas this that shamed the gods; this drove the day back against its dawning. What cries in my misery shall I utter, what complaints? What words will suffice for me? I see the severed heads, the torn-off hands, the feet wrenched from the broken legs – this much the father, for all his greed, could not devour. Their flesh is turning round within me, and my imprisoned crime struggles vainly to come forth and seeks way of escape. Give me thy sword, O brother, the sword reeking with my blood; by the steel let deliverance be given to my sons. Dost refuse the sword? Then let my breast resound, bruised by crushing blows – hold thy hand, unhappy man, let us spare the shades. Who ever beheld such a crime? What Heniochian, dwelling on wild Caucasus’ rough rocks, or what Procrustes, terror of the Cecropian land? Lo, I, the father, overwhelm my sons, and by my sons am overwhelmed – of crime is there no limit?

ATREUS
[1052] Crime should have limit, when the crime is wrought, not when repaid. E’en this is not enough for me. Straight from the very wound I should have poured the hot blood down thy throat, that thou mightst drink gore of thy living sons – my wrath was cheated by my haste. With the deep-driven sword I smote them; I slew them at the altars; with their offered blood I appeased the sacred fires; hewing their lifeless bodies, into small scraps I tore them, and some into boiling cauldrons did I plunge, and some before slow fires I set to drip. Their limbs and sinews I rent asunder while still they lived, and their livers, transfixed on slender spits and sputtering I saw, and with my own hand I fed the flames. All these things better the father might have done; my grief has fallen fruitless; with impious teeth he tore his sons, but unwittingly, but them unwitting.67

THYESTES
[1068] Hear, O ye seas, by shifting shores imprisoned, and ye, too, hear this crime, withersoever you have fled, ye gods; hear, lords of the underworld; hear, lands, and Night, heavy with black, Tartarean fogs, give ear unto my cries; (to thee am I abandoned, thou only lookest on my woe, thou also forsaken of the stars;) no wicked pleas will I make, naught for myself implore – and what now can I ask in my own behalf? For you68shall my prayers be offered. O thou, exalted ruler of the sky, who sittest in majesty upon the throne of heaven, enwrap the whole universe in awful clouds, set the winds warring on every hand, and from every quarter of the sky let the loud thunders roll; not with what hand thou seekest houses and undeserving homes, using thy lesser bolts, but with that hand by which the threefold mass of mountains fell, and the Giants, who stood level with the mountains – these arms let loose and hurl thy fires. Make compensation for the banished day, brandish they flames, and the light that was snatched from heaven with thy lightning’s flash supply. Let the cause, lest long thou hesitate, of each one of us be evil; if not, let mine be evil; aim thou at me, through this heart send thy three-forked flaming bolt. If I their father would give his sons to burial and commit them to the funeral flames, I must myself be burned. But if naught moves the gods, and no divinity hurls darts against the impious, may night stay on for ever, and cover with endless darkness boundless crimes. No protest do I make, O sun, if thou continue steadfast.69

ATREUS
[1096] Now do I praise my handiwork, now is the true palm won. I had wasted my crime, didst thou not suffer thus. Now do I believe my children are my own, now may I trust once more that my marriage-bed is pure.

THYESTES
[1100] What was my children’s sin?

ATREUS
[1100] That they were thine.

THYESTES
[1101] Sons to the father – 70

ATREUS
[1101] Yea, and what gives me joy, surely thy sons.

THYESTES
[1102] I call on the gods who guard the innocent.

ATREUS
[1103] Why not the marriage-gods?

THYESTES
[1103] Who punishes crime with crime?

ATREUS
[1104] I know what thou complainest of: thou grievest that I have forestalled thee in the crime, and art distressed, not because thou hast consumed the ghastly feast, but because thou didst not offer it to me. This had been thy purpose, to prepare for thine unwitting brother a like feast, and with their mother’s aid to assail his sons and lay them low in like destruction. This one thing stayed thee – thou didst think them thine.

THYESTES
[1110] The gods will be present to avenge; to them for punishment my prayers deliver thee.

ATREUS
[1112] To thy sons for punishment do I deliver thee.

THE END

THYESTES

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The Persians 

By Aeschylus 

Written 472 B.C.E

Translated by Robert Potter

Dramatis Personae 

ATOSSA, widow of Darius and mother of XERXES
MESSENGER
GHOST OF DARIUS
XERXES
CHORUS OF PERSIAN ELDERS, who compose the Persian Council of State


Scene

Before the Council-Hall of the Persian Kings at Susa. The tomb of Darius the Great is visible. The time is 480 B.C., shortly after the battle of Salamis. The play opens with the CHORUS OF PERSIAN ELDERS singing its first choral lyric.


CHORUS
While o'er the fields of Greece the embattled troops 
Of Persia march with delegated sway, 
We o'er their rich and gold-abounding seats 
Hold faithful our firm guard; to this high charge 
Xerxes, our royal lord, the imperial son 
Of great Darius, chose our honour'd age. 
But for the king's return, and his arm'd host 
Blazing with gold, my soul presaging ill 
Swells in my tortured breast: for all her force 
Hath Asia sent, and for her youth I sigh. 
Nor messenger arrives, nor horseman spurs 
With tidings to this seat of Persia's kings. 
The gates of Susa and Ecbatana 
Pour'd forth their martial trains; and Cissia sees 
Her ancient towers forsaken, while her youth, 
Some on the bounding steed, the tall bark some 
Ascending, some with painful march on foot, 
Haste on, to arrange the deep'ning files of war. 
Amistres, Artaphernes, and the might 
Of great Astaspes, Megabazes bold, 
Chieftains of Persia, kings, that, to the power 
Of the great king obedient, march with these 
Leading their martial thousands; their proud steeds 
Prance under them; steel bows and shafts their arms, 
Dreadful to see, and terrible in fight, 
Deliberate valour breathing in their souls. 
Artembares, that in his fiery horse 
Delights; Masistress; and Imaeus bold, 
Bending with manly strength his stubborn bow; 
Pharandaces, and Sosthanes, that drives 
With military pomp his rapid steeds. 
Others the vast prolific Nile hath sent; 
Pegastagon, that from Aegyptus draws 
His high birth; Susiscanes; and the chief 
That reigns o'er sacred Memphis, great Arsames; 
And Ariomardus, that o'er ancient Thebes 
Bears the supreme dominion; and with these, 
Drawn from their watery marshes, numbers train'd 
To the stout oar. Next these the Lycian troops, 
Soft sons of luxury; and those that dwell 
Amid the inland forests, from the sea 
Far distant; these Metragathes commands, 
And virtuous Arceus, royal chiefs, that shine 
In burnish'd gold, and many a whirling car 
Drawn by six generous steeds from Sardis lead, 
A glorious and a dreadful spectacle. 
And from the foot of Tmolus, sacred mount, 
Eager to bind on Greece the servile yoke, 
Mardon and Tharybis the massy spear 
Grasp with unwearied vigour; the light lance 
The Mysians shake. A mingled multitude 
Swept from her wide dominions skill'd to draw 
The unerring bow, in ships Euphrates sends 
From golden Babylon. With falchions arm'd 
From all the extent of Asia move the hosts 
Obedient to their monarch's stern command. 
Thus march'd the flower of Persia, whose loved youth 
The world of Asia nourish'd, and with sighs 
Laments their absence; many an anxious look 
Their wives, their parents send, count the slow days, 
And tremble at the long-protracted time.

strophe 1

Already o'er the adverse strand 
In arms the monarch's martial squadrons spread; 
The threat'ning ruin shakes the land, 
And each tall city bows its tower'd head. 
Bark bound to bark, their wondrous way 
They bridge across the indignant sea; 
The narrow Hellespont's vex'd waves disdain, 
His proud neck taught to wear the chain. 
Now has the peopled Asia's warlike lord, 
By land, by sea, with foot, with horse, 
Resistless in his rapid course, 
O'er all their realms his warring thousands pour'd; 
Now his intrepid chiefs surveys, 
And glitt'ring like a god his radiant state displays.

antistrophe 1

Fierce as the dragon scaled in gold 
Through the deep files he darts his glowing eye; 
And pleased their order to behold, 
His gorgeous standard blazing to the sky, 
Rolls onward his Assyrian car, 
Directs the thunder of the war, 
Bids the wing'd arrows' iron storm advance 
Against the slow and cumbrous lance. 
What shall withstand the torrent of his sway 
When dreadful o'er the yielding shores 
The impetuous tide of battle roars, 
And sweeps the weak opposing mounds away? 
So Persia, with resistless might, 
Rolls her unnumber'd hosts of heroes to the fight.

strophe 2

For when misfortune's fraudful hand 
Prepares to pour the vengeance of the sky, 
What mortal shall her force withstand? 
What rapid speed the impending fury fly? 
Gentle at first with flatt'ring smiles 
She spreads her soft enchanting wiles, 
So to her toils allures her destined prey, 
Whence man ne'er breaks unhurt away. 
For thus from ancient times the Fates ordain 
That Persia's sons should greatly dare, 
Unequall'd in the works of war; 
Shake with their thund'ring steeds the ensanguined plain, 
Dreadful the hostile walls surround, 
And lay their rampired towers in ruins on the ground.

antistrophe 2

Taught to behold with fearless eyes 
The whitening billows foam beneath the gale, 
They bid the naval forests rise, 
Mount the slight bark, unfurl the flying sail, 
And o'er the angry ocean bear 
To distant realms the storm of war. 
For this with many a sad and gloomy thought 
My tortured breast is fraught: 
Ah me! for Persia's absent sons I sigh; 
For while in foreign fields they fight, 
Our towns exposed to wild affright 
An easy prey to the invader lie: 
Where, mighty Susa, where thy powers, 
To wield the warrior's arms, and guard thy regal towers? 

epode

Crush'd beneath the assailing foe 
Her golden head must Cissia bend; 
While her pale virgins, frantic with despair, 
Through all her streets awake the voice of wo; 
And flying with their bosoms bare, 
Their purfled stoles in anguish rend: 
For all her youth in martial pride, 
Like bees that, clust'ring round their king, 
Their dark imbodied squadrons bring, 
Attend their sceptred monarch's side, 
And stretch across the watery way 
From shore to shore their long array. 
The Persian dames, with many a tender fear, 
In grief's sad vigils keep the midnight hour; 
Shed on the widow'd couch the streaming tear, 
And the long absence of their loves deplore. 
Each lonely matron feels her pensive breast 
Throb with desire, with aching fondness glow, 
Since in bright arms her daring warrior dress'd 
Left her to languish in her love-lorn wo. 

Now, ye grave Persians, that your honour'd seats 
Hold in this ancient house, with prudent care 
And deep deliberation, so the state 
Requires, consult we, pond'ring the event 
Of this great war, which our imperial lord, 
The mighty Xerxes from Darius sprung, 
The stream of whose rich blood flows in our veins, 
Leads against Greece; whether his arrowy shower 
Shot from the strong-braced bow, or the huge spear 
High brandish'd, in the deathful field prevails. 
But see, the monarch's mother: like the gods 
Her lustre blazes on our eyes: my queen, 
Prostrate I fall before her: all advance 
With reverence, and in duteous phrase address her,
ATOSSA enters with her retinue. The Elders do their obeisance to her.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS
Hail, queen, of Persia's high-zoned dames supreme, 
Age-honour'd mother of the potent Xerxes, 
Imperial consort of Darius, hail! 
The wife, the mother of the Persians' god, 
If yet our former glories fade not from us.

ATOSSA
And therefore am I come, leaving my house 
That shines with gorgeous ornaments and gold, 
Where in past days Darius held with me 
His royal residence. With anxious care 
My heart is tortured: I will tell you, friends, 
My thoughts, not otherwise devoid of fear, 
Lest mighty wealth with haughty foot o'erturn 
And trample in the dust that happiness, 
Which, not unbless'd by Heaven, Darius raised. 
For this with double force unquiet thoughts 
Past utterance fill my soul; that neither wealth 
With all its golden stores, where men are wanting, 
Claims reverence; nor the light, that beams from power, 
Shines on the man whom wealth disdains to grace. 
The golden stores of wealth indeed are ours; 
But for the light (such in the house I deem 
The presence of its lord) there I have fears. 
Advise me then, you whose experienced age 
Supports the state of Persia: prudence guides 
Your councils, always kind and faithful to me.

LEADER
Speak, royal lady, what thy will, assured 
We want no second bidding, where our power 
In word or deed waits on our zeal: our hearts 
In this with honest duty shall obey thee.

ATOSSA
Oft, since my son hath march'd his mighty host 
Against the lonians, warring to subdue 
Their country, have my slumbers been disturb'd 
With dreams of dread portent; but most last night, 
With marks of plainest proof. I'll tell thee then: 
Alethought two women stood before my eyes 
Gorgeously vested, one in Persian robes 
Adorn'd, the other in the Doric garb. 
With more than mortal majesty they moved, 
Of peerless beauty; sisters too they seem'd, 
Though distant each from each they chanced to dwell, 
In Greece the one, on the barbaric coast 
The other. 'Twixt them soon dissension rose: 
My son then hasted to compose their strife, 
Soothed them to fair accord, beneath his car 
Yokes them, and reins their harness'd necks. The one, 
Exulting in her rich array, with pride 
Arching her stately neck, obey'd the reins; 
The other with indignant fury spurn'd 
The car, and dash'd it piecemeal, rent the reins, 
And tore the yoke asunder; down my son 
Fell from the seat, and instant at his side 
His father stands, Darius, at his fall 
Impress'd with pity: him when Xerxes saw, 
Glowing with grief and shame he rends his robes. 
This was the dreadful vision of the night. 
When I arose, in the sweet-flowing stream 
I bathed my hands, and on the incensed altars 
Presenting my oblations to the gods 
To avert these ills, an eagle I behold 
Fly to the altar of the sun; aghast 
I stood, my friends, and speechless; when a hawk 
With eager speed runs thither, furious cuffs 
The eagle with his wings, and with his talons 
Unplumes his head; meantime the imperial bird 
Cowers to the blows defenceless. Dreadful this 
To me that saw it, and to you that hear. 
My son, let conquest crown his arms, would shine 
With dazzling glory; but should Fortune frown, 
The state indeed presumes not to arraign 
His sovereignty; yet how, his honour lost, 
How shall he sway the sceptre of this land?

LEADER
We would not, royal lady, sink thy soul 
With fear in the excess, nor raise it high 
With confidence. Go then, address the gods; 
If thou hast seen aught ill, entreat their power 
To avert that ill, and perfect ev'ry good 
To thee, thy sons, the state, and all thy friends. 
Then to the earth, and to the mighty dead 
Behooves thee pour libations; gently cal 
Him that was once thy husband, whom thou saw'st 
In visions of the night; entreat his shade 
From the deep realms beneath to send to light 
Triumph to thee and to thy son; whate'er 
Bears other import, to inwrap, to hide it 
Close in the covering earth's profoundest gloom. 
This, in the presage of my thoughts that flow 
Benevolent to thee, have I proposed; 
And all, we trust, shall be successful to thee.

ATOSSA
Thy friendly judgment first hath placed these dreams 
In a fair light, confirming the event 
Benevolent to my son and to my house. 
May all the good be ratified! These rites 
Shall, at thy bidding, to the powers of heaven, 
And to the manes of our friends, be paid 
In order meet, when I return; meanwhile 
Indulge me, friends, who wish to be inform'd 
Where, in what clime, the towers of Athens rise.

LEADER
Far in the west, where sets the imperial sun.

ATOSSA
Yet my son will'd the conquest of this town.

LEADER
May Greece through all her states bend to his power!

ATOSSA
Send they embattled numbers to the field?

LEADER
A force that to the Medes hath wrought much wo.

ATOSSA
Have they sufficient treasures in their houses?

LEADER
Their rich earth yields a copious fount of silver.

ATOSSA
From the strong bow wing they the barbed shaft?

LEADER
They grasp the stout spear, and the massy shield.

ATOSSA
What monarch reigns, whose power commands their ranks?

LEADER
Slaves to no lord, they own no kingly power.

ATOSSA
How can they then resist the invading foe?

LEADER
As to spread havoc through the numerous host, 
That round Darius form'd their glitt'ring files.

ATOSSA
Thy words strike deep, and wound the parent's breast 
Whose sons are march'd to such a dangerous field.

LEADER
But, if I judge aright, thou soon shalt hear 
Each circumstance; for this way, mark him, speeds 
A Persian messenger; he bears, be sure, 
Tidings of high import, or good or ill.
A MESSENGER enters.

MESSENGER
Wo to the towns through Asia's peopled realms! 
Wo to the land of Persia, once the port 
Of boundless wealth, how is thy glorious state 
Vanish'd at once, and all thy spreading honours 
Fall'n, lost! Ah me! unhappy is his task 
That bears unhappy tidings: but constraint 
Compels me to relate this tale of wo. 
Persians, the whole barbaric host is fall'n.

CHORUS chanting
O horror, horror! What a baleful train 
Of recent ills! Ah, Persians, as he speaks 
Of ruin, let your tears stream to the earth.

MESSENGER
It is ev'n so, all ruin; and myself, 
Beyond all hope returning, view this light.

CHORUS chanting
How tedious and oppressive is the weight 
Of age, reserved to hear these hopeless ills!

MESSENGER
I speak not from report; but these mine eyes 
Beheld the ruin which my tongue would utter.

CHORUS chanting
Wo, wo is me! Then has the iron storm, 
That darken'd from the realms of Asia, pour'd 
In vain its arrowy shower on sacred Greece.

MESSENGER
In heaps the unhappy dead lie on the strand 
Of Salamis, and all the neighbouring shores.

CHORUS chanting
Unhappy friends, sunk, perish'd in the sea; 
Their bodies, mid the wreck of shatter'd ships, 
Mangled, and rolling on the encumber'd waves!

MESSENGER
Naught did their bows avail, but all the troops 
In the first conflict of the ships were lost.

CHORUS chanting
Raise the funereal cry, with dismal notes 
Wailing the wretched Persians. Oh, how ill 
They plann'd their measures, all their army perish'd!

MESSENGER
O Salamis, how hateful is thy name! 
And groans burst from me when I think of Athens.

CHORUS chanting
How dreadful to her foes! Call to remembrance 
How many Persian dames, wedded in vain, 
Hath Athens of their noble husbands widow'd?

ATOSSA
Astonied with these ills, my voice thus long 
Hath wanted utterance: griefs like these exceed 
The power of speech or question: yet ev'n such, 
Inflicted by the gods, must mortal man 
Constrain'd by hard necessity endure. 
But tell me all, without distraction tell me, 
All this calamity, though many a groan 
Burst from thy labouring heart. Who is not fallen? 
What leader must we wail? What sceptred chief 
Dying hath left his troops without a lord?

MESSENGER
Xerxes himself lives, and beholds the light.

ATOSSA
That word beams comfort on my house, a ray 
That brightens through the melancholy gloom.

MESSENGER
Artembares, the potent chief that led 
Ten thousand horse, lies slaughtered on the rocks 
Of rough Sileniae. The great Dadaces, 
Beneath whose standard march'd a thousand horse, 
Pierced by a spear, fell headlong from the ship. 
Tenagon, bravest of the Bactrians, lies 
Roll'd on the wave-worn beach of Ajax' isle. 
Lilaeus, Arsames, Argestes, dash 
With violence in death against the rocks 
Where nest the silver doves. Arcteus, that dwelt 
Near to the fountains of the Egyptian Nile, 
Adeues, and Pheresba, and Pharnuchus 
Fell from one ship. Matallus, Chrysa's chief, 
That led his dark'ning squadrons, thrice ten thousand, 
On jet-black steeds, with purple gore distain'd 
The yellow of his thick and shaggy beard. 
The Magian Arabus, and Artames 
From Bactra, mould'ring on the dreary shore 
Lie low. Amistris, and Amphistreus there 
Grasps his war-wear spear; there prostrate lies 
The illustrious Ariomardus; long his los 
Shall Sardis weep: thy Mysian Sisames, 
And Tharybis, that o'er the burden'd deep 
Led five times fifty vessels; Lerna gave 
The hero birth, and manly race adorn'd 
His pleasing form, but low in death he lies 
Unhappy in his fate. Syennesis, 
Cilicia's warlike chief, who dared to front 
The foremost dangers, singly to the foes 
A terror, there too found a glorious death. 
These chieftains to my sad remembrance rise, 
Relating but a few of many ills.

ATOSSA
This is the height of ill, ah me! and shame 
To Persia, grief, and lamentation loud. 
But tell me this, afresh renew thy tale: 
What was the number of the Grecian fleet, 
That in fierce conflict their bold barks should dare 
Rush to encounter with the Persian hosts.

MESSENGER
Know then, in numbers the barbaric fleet 
Was far superior: in ten squadrons, each 
Of thirty ships, Greece plough'd the deep; of these 
One held a distant station. Xerxes led 
A thousand ships; their number well I know; 
Two hundred more, and seven, that swept the seas 
With speediest sail: this was their full amount. 
And in the engagement seem'd we not secure 
Of victory? But unequal fortune sunk 
Our scale in fight, discomfiting our host.

ATOSSA
The gods preserve the city of Minerva.

MESSENGER
The walls of Athens are impregnable, 
Their firmest bulwarks her heroic sons.

ATOSSA
Which navy first advanced to the attack? 
Who led to the onset, tell me; the bold Greeks, 
Or, glorying in his numerous fleet, my son?

MESSENGER
Our evil genius, lady, or some god 
Hostile to Persia, led to ev'ry ill. 
Forth from the troops of Athens came a Greek, 
And thus address'd thy son, the imperial Xerxes:- 
"Soon as the shades of night descend, the Grecians 
Shall quit their station; rushing to their oars 
They mean to separate, and in secret flight 
Seek safety." At these words, the royal chief, 
Little conceiving of the wiles of Greece 
And gods averse, to all the naval leaders 
Gave his high charge:-"Soon as yon sun shall cease 
To dart his radiant beams, and dark'ning night 
Ascends the temple of the sky, arrange 
In three divisions your well-ordered ships, 
And guard each pass, each outlet of the seas: 
Others enring around this rocky isle 
Of Salamis. Should Greece escape her fate, 
And work her way by secret flight, your heads 
Shall answer the neglect." This harsh command 
He gave, exulting in his mind, nor knew 
What Fate design'd. With martial discipline 
And prompt obedience, snatching a repast, 
Each mariner fix'd well his ready oar. 
Soon as the golden sun was set, and night 
Advanced, each train'd to ply the dashing oar, 
Assumed his seat; in arms each warrior stood, 
Troop cheering troop through all the ships of war. 
Each to the appointed station steers his course; 
And through the night his naval force each chief 
Fix'd to secure the passes. Night advanced, 
But not by secret flight did Greece attempt 
To escape. The morn, all beauteous to behold, 
Drawn by white steeds bounds o'er the enlighten'd earth; 
At once from ev'ry Greek with glad acclaim 
Burst forth the song of war, whose lofty notes 
The echo of the island rocks return'd, 
Spreading dismay through Persia's hosts, thus fallen 
From their high hopes; no flight this solemn strain 
Portended, but deliberate valour bent 
On daring battle; while the trumpet's sound 
Kindled the flames of war. But when their oars 
The paean ended, with impetuous force 
Dash'd the resounding surges, instant all 
Rush'd on in view: in orderly array 
The squadron on the right first led, behind 
Rode their whole fleet; and now distinct we heard 
From ev'ry part this voice of exhortation:- 
"Advance, ye sons of Greece, from thraldom save 
Your country, save your wives, your children save, 
The temples of your gods, the sacred tomb 
Where rest your honour'd ancestors; this day 
The common cause of all demands your valour." 
Meantime from Persia's hosts the deep'ning shout 
Answer'd their shout; no time for cold delay; 
But ship 'gainst ship its brazen beak impell'd. 
First to the charge a Grecian galley rush'd; 
Ill the Phoenician bore the rough attack, 
Its sculptured prow all shatter'd. Each advanced 
Daring an opposite. The deep array 
Of Persia at the first sustain'd the encounter; 
But their throng'd numbers, in the narrow seas 
Confined, want room for action; and, deprived 
Of mutual aid, beaks clash with beaks, and each 
Breaks all the other's oars: with skill disposed 
The Grecian navy circled them around 
With fierce assault; and rushing from its height 
The inverted vessel sinks: the sea no more 
Wears its accustomed aspect, with foul wrecks 
And blood disfigured; floating carcasses 
Roll on the rocky shores: the poor remains 
Of the barbaric armament to flight 
Ply every oar inglorious: onward rush 
The Greeks amid the ruins of the fleet, 
As through a shoal of fish caught in the net, 
Spreading destruction: the wide ocean o'er 
Wailings are heard, and loud laments, till night 
With darkness on her brow brought grateful truce. 
Should I recount each circumstance of wo, 
Ten times on my unfinished tale the sun 
Would set; for be assured that not one day 
Could close the ruin of so vast a host.

ATOSSA
Ah, what a boundless sea of wo hath burst 
On Persia, and the whole barbaric race!

MESSENGER
These are not half, not half our ills; on these 
Came an assemblage of calamities, 
That sunk us with a double weight of wo.

ATOSSA
What fortune can be more unfriendly to us 
Than this? Say on, what dread calamity 
Sunk Persia's host with greater weight of wo.

MESSENGER
Whoe'er of Persia's warriors glow'd in prime 
Of vig'rous youth, or felt their generous souls 
Expand with courage, or for noble birth 
Shone with distinguish'd lustre, or excell'd 
In firm and duteous loyalty, all these 
Are fall'n, ignobly, miserably fall'n.

ATOSSA
Alas, their ruthless fate, unhappy friends! 
But in what manner, tell me, did they perish?

MESSENGER
Full against Salamis an isle arises, 
Of small circumference, to the anchor'd bark 
Unfaithful; on the promontory's brow, 
That overlooks the sea, Pan loves to lead 
The dance: to this the monarch sends these chiefs, 
That when the Grecians from their shatter'd ships 
Should here seek shelter, these might hew them down 
An easy conquest, and secure the strand 
To their sea-wearied friends; ill judging what 
The event: but when the fav'ring god to Greece 
Gave the proud glory of this naval fight, 
Instant in all their glitt'ring arms they leap'd 
From their light ships, and all the island round 
Encompass'd, that our bravest stood dismay'd; 
While broken rocks, whirl'd with tempestuous force, 
And storms of arrows crush'd them; then the Greeks 
Rush to the attack at once, and furious spread 
The carnage, till each mangled Persian fell. 
Deep were the groans of Xerxes when he saw 
This havoc; for his seat, a lofty mound 
Commanding the wide sea, o'erlook'd his hosts. 
With rueful cries he rent his royal robes, 
And through his troops embattled on the shore 
Gave signal of retreat; then started wild, 
And fled disorder'd. To the former ills 
These are fresh miseries to awake thy sighs.

ATOSSA
Invidious Fortune, how thy baleful power 
Hath sunk the hopes of Persia! Bitter fruit 
My son hath tasted from his purposed vengeance 
On Athens, famed for arms; the fatal field 
Of Marathon, red with barbaric blood, 
Sufficed not; that defeat he thought to avenge, 
And pull'd this hideous ruin on his head. 
But tell me, if thou canst, where didst thou leave 
The ships that happily escaped the wreck?

MESSENGER
The poor remains of Persia's scatter'd fleet 
Spread ev'ry sail for flight, as the wind drives, 
In wild disorder; and on land no less 
The ruin'd army; in Boeotia some, 
With thirst oppress'd, at Crene's cheerful rills 
Were lost; forespent with breathless speed some pass 
The fields of Phocis, some the Doric plain, 
And near the gulf of Melia, the rich vale 
Through which Sperchius rolls his friendly stream. 
Achaea thence and the Thessalian state 
Received our famish'd train; the greater part 
Through thirst and hunger perish'd there, oppress'd 
At once by both: but we our painful steps 
Held onwards to Magnesia, and the land 
Of Macedonia, o'er the ford of Axius, 
And Bolbe's sedgy marshes, and the heights 
Of steep Pangaeos, to the realms of Thrace. 
That night, ere yet the season, breathing frore, 
Rush'd winter, and with ice incrusted o'er 
The flood of sacred Strymon: such as own'd 
No god till now, awe-struck, with many a prayer 
Adored the earth and sky. When now the troops 
Had ceased their invocations to the gods, 
O'er the stream's solid crystal they began 
Their march; and we, who took our early way, 
Ere the sun darted his warm beams, pass'd safe: 
But when this burning orb with fiery rays 
Unbound the middle current, down they sunk 
Each over other; happiest he who found 
The speediest death: the poor remains, that 'scaped, 
With pain through Thrace dragg'd on their toilsome march, 
A feeble few, and reach'd their native soil; 
That Persia sighs through all her states, and mourns 
Her dearest youth. This is no feigned tale: 
But many of the ills, that burst upon us 
In dreadful vengeance, I refrain to utter.
The MESSENGER withdraws.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS
O Fortune, heavy with affliction's load, 
How bath thy foot crush'd all the Persian race!

ATOSSA
Ah me, what sorrows for our ruin'd host 
Oppress my soul! Ye visions of the night 
Haunting my dreams, how plainly did you show 
These ills!-You set them in too fair a light. 
Yet, since your bidding hath in this prevail'd, 
First to the gods wish I to pour my prayers, 
Then to the mighty dead present my off 'rings, 
Bringing libations from my house: too late, 
I know, to change the past; yet for the future, 
If haply better fortune may await it, 
Behooves you, on this sad event, to guide 
Your friends with faithful counsels. Should my son 
Return ere I have finish'd, let your voice 
Speak comfort to him; friendly to his house 
Attend him, nor let sorrow rise on sorrows.
ATOSSA and her retinue go out.

CHORUS singing
strophe

Awful sovereign of the skies, 
When now o'er Persia's numerous host 
Thou badest the storm with ruin rise, 
All her proud vaunts of glory lost, 
Ecbatana's imperial head 
By thee was wrapp'd in sorrow's dark'ning shade; 
Through Susa's palaces with loud lament, 
By their soft hands their veils all rent, 
The copious tear the virgins pour, 
That trickles their bare bosoms o'er. 
From her sweet couch up starts the widow'd bride, 
Her lord's loved image rushing on her soul, 
Throws the rich ornaments of youth aside, 
And gives her griefs to flow without control: 
Her griefs not causeless; for the mighty slain 
Our melting tears demand, and sorrow-soften'd strain. 

antistrophe

Now her wailings wide despair 
Pours these exhausted regions o'er: 
Xerxes, ill-fated, led the war; 
Xerxes, ill-fated, leads no more; 
Xerxes sent forth the unwise command, 
The crowded ships unpeopled all the land; 
That land, o'er which Darius held his reign, 
Courting the arts of peace, in vain, 
O'er all his grateful realms adored, 
The stately Susa's gentle lord. 
Black o'er the waves his burden'd vessels sweep, 
For Greece elate the warlike squadrons fly; 
Now crush'd, and whelm'd beneath the indignant deep 
The shatter'd wrecks and lifeless heroes lie: 
While, from the arms of Greece escaped, with toil 
The unshelter'd monarch roams o'er Thracia's dreary soil. 

epode

The first in battle slain 
By Cychrea's craggy shore 
Through sad constraint, ah me! forsaken lie, 
All pale and smear'd with gore:- 
Raise high the mournful strain, 
And let the voice of anguish pierce the sky:- 
Or roll beneath the roaring tide, 
By monsters rent of touch abhorr'd; 
While through the widow'd mansion echoing wide 
Sounds the deep groan, and wails its slaughter'd lord: 
Pale with his fears the helpless orphan there 
Gives the full stream of plaintive grief to flow; 
While age its hoary head in deep despair 
Bends; list'ning to the shrieks of wo. 
With sacred awe 
The Persian law 
No more shall Asia's realms revere; 
To their lord's hand 
At his command, 
No more the exacted tribute bear. 
Who now falls prostrate at the monarch's throne? 
His regal greatness is no more. 
Now no restraint the wanton tongue shall own, 
Free from the golden curb of power; 
For on the rocks, wash'd by the beating flood, 
His awe commanding nobles lie in blood.
ATOSSA returns, clad in the garb of mourning; she carries offerings for the tomb of Darius.

ATOSSA
Whoe'er, my friends, in the rough stream of life 
Hath struggled with affliction, thence is taught 
That, when the flood begins to swell, the heart 
Fondly fears all things; when the fav'ring gale 
Of Fortune smooths the current, it expands 
With unsuspecting confidence, and deems 
That gale shall always breathe. So to my eyes 
All things now wear a formidable shape, 
And threaten from the gods: my ears are pierced 
With sounds far other than of song. Such ills 
Dismay my sick'ning soul: hence from my house 
Nor glitt'ring car attends me, nor the train 
Of wonted state, while I return, and bear 
Libations soothing to the father's shade 
In the son's cause; delicious milk, that foams 
White from the sacred heifer; liquid honey, 
Extract of flowers; and from its virgin fount 
The running crystal; this pure draught, that flow'd 
From the ancient vine, of power to bathe the spirits 
In joy; the yellow olive's fragrant fruit, 
That glories in its leaves' unfading verdure; 
With flowers of various hues, earth's fairest offspring 
Inwreathed. But you, my friends, amid these rites 
Raise high your solemn warblings, and invoke 
Your lord, divine Darius; I meanwhile 
Will pour these off'rings to the infernal gods.

CHORUS chanting
Yes, royal lady, Persia's honour'd grace, 
To earth's dark chambers pour thy off'rings: we 
With choral hymns will supplicate the powers 
That guide the dead, to be propitious to us. 
And you, that o'er the realms of night extend 
Your sacred sway, thee mighty earth, and the 
Hermes; thee chief, tremendous king, whose throne 
Awes with supreme dominion, I adjure: 
Send, from your gloomy regions, send his shade 
Once more to visit this ethereal light; 
That he alone, if aught of dread event 
He sees yet threat'ning Persia, may disclose 
To us poor mortals Fate's extreme decree. 

Hears the honour'd godlike king? 
These barbaric notes of wo, 
Taught in descant sad to ring, 
Hears he in the shades below? 
Thou, O Earth, and you, that lead 
Through your sable realms the dead, 
Guide him as he takes his way, 
And give him to the ethereal light of day! 

Let the illustrious shade arise 
Glorious in his radiant state, 
More than blazed before our eyes, 
Ere sad Susa mourn'd his fate. 
Dear he lived, his tomb is dear, 
Shrining virtues we revere: 
Send then, monarch of the dead, 
Such as Darius was, Darius' shade. 

He in realm-unpeopling war 
Wasted not his subjects' blood, 
Godlike in his will to spare, 
In his councils wise and good. 
Rise then, sovereign lord, to light; 
On this mound's sepulchral height 
Lift thy sock in saffron died, 
And rear thy rich tiara's regal pride! 

Great and good, Darius, rise:
Lord of Persia's lord, appear:
Thus involved with thrilling cries 
Come, our tale of sorrow hear! 
War her Stygian pennons spreads, 
Brooding darkness o'er our heads; 
For stretch'd along the dreary shore 
The flow'r of Asia lies distain'd with gore. 

Rise, Darius, awful power; 
Long for thee our tears shall flow. 
Why thy ruin'd empire o'er 
Swells this double flood of wo? 
Sweeping o'er the azure tide 
Rode thy navy's gallant pride: 
Navy now no more, for all 
Beneath the whelming wave-
While the CHORUS Sings, ATOSSA performs her ritual by the tomb. As the song concludes the GHOST OF DARIUS appears from the tomb.

GHOST OF DARIUS
Ye faithful Persians, honour'd now in age, 
Once the companions of my youth, what ills 
Afflict the state? The firm earth groans, it opes, 
Disclosing its vast deeps; and near my tomb 
I see my wife: this shakes my troubled soul 
With fearful apprehensions; yet her off'rings 
Pleased I receive. And you around my tomb 
Chanting the lofty strain, whose solemn air 
Draws forth the dead, with grief-attemper'd notes 
Mournfully call me: not with ease the way 
Leads to this upper air; and the stern gods, 
Prompt to admit, yield not a passage back 
But with reluctance: much with them my power 
Availing, with no tardy step I come. 
Say then, with what new ill doth Persia groan?

CHORUS chanting
My wonted awe o'ercomes me; in thy presence 
I dare not raise my eyes, I dare not speak.

GHOST OF DARIUS
Since from the realms below, by thy sad strains 
Adjured, I come, speak; let thy words be brief; 
Say whence thy grief, tell me unawed by fear. 
I dread to forge a flattering tale, I dread 
To grieve thee with a harsh offensive truth.

GHOST OF DARIUS
Since fear hath chained his tongue, high-honour'd dame, 
Once my imperial consort, check thy tears, 
Thy griefs, and speak distinctly. Mortal man 
Must bear his lot of wo; afflictions rise 
Many from sea, many from land, if life 
Be haply measured through a lengthen'd course.

ATOSSA
O thou that graced with Fortune's choicest gifts 
Surpassing mortals, while thine eye beheld 
Yon sun's ethereal rays, lived'st like a god 
Bless'd amid thy Persians; bless'd I deem thee now 
In death, ere sunk in this abyss of ills, 
Darius, hear at once our sum of wo; 
Ruin through all her states hath crush'd thy Persia.

GHOST OF DARIUS
By pestilence, or faction's furious storms?

ATOSSA
Not so: near Athens perish'd all our troops.

GHOST OF DARIUS
Say, of my sons, which led the forces thither?

ATOSSA
The impetuous Xerxes, thinning all the land.

GHOST OF DARIUS
By sea or land dared he this rash attempt?

ATOSSA
By both: a double front the war presented.

GHOST OF DARIUS
A host so vast what march conducted o'er?

ATOSSA
From shore to shore he bridged the Hellespont.

GHOST OF DARIUS
What! could he chain the mighty Bosphorus?

ATOSSA
Ev'n so, some god assisting his design.

GHOST OF DARIUS
Some god of power to cloud his better sense.

ATOSSA
The event now shows what mischiefs he achieved.

GHOST OF DARIUS
What suffer'd they, for whom your sorrows flow?

ATOSSA
His navy sunk spreads ruin through the camp.

GHOST OF DARIUS
Fell all his host beneath the slaught'ring spear?

ATOSSA
Susa, through all her streets, mourns her lost sons.

GHOST OF DARIUS
How vain the succour, the defence of arms?

ATOSSA
In Bactra age and grief are only left.

GHOST OF DARIUS
Ah, what a train of warlike youth is lost!

ATOSSA
Xerxes, astonished, desolate, alone-

GHOST OF DARIUS
How will this end? Nay, pause not. Is he safe?

ATOSSA
Fled o'er the bridge, that join'd the adverse strands.

GHOST OF DARIUS
And reach'd this shore in safety? Is this true?

ATOSSA
True are thy words, and not to be gainsay'd.

GHOST OF DARIUS
With what a winged course the oracles 
Haste their completion! With the lightning's speed 
Jove on my son hath hurled his threaten'd vengeance: 
Yet I implored the gods that it might fall 
In time's late process: but when rashness drives 
Impetuous on, the scourge of Heaven upraised 
Lashes the Fury forward; hence these ills 
Pour headlong on my friends. Not weighing this, 
My son, with all the fiery pride of youth, 
Hath quickened their arrival, while he hoped 
To bind the sacred Hellespont, to hold 
The raging Bosphorus, like a slave, in chains, 
And dared the advent'rous passage, bridging firm 
With links of solid iron his wondrous way, 
To lead his numerous host; and swell'd with thoughts 
Presumptuous, deem'd, vain mortal! that his power 
Should rise above the gods, and Neptune's might. 
And was riot this the phrensy of the soul? 
But much I fear lest all my treasured wealth 
Fall to some daring hand an easy prey.

ATOSSA
This from too frequent converse with bad men 
The impetuous Xerxes learn'd; these caught his ear 
With thy great deeds, as winning for thy sons 
Vast riches with thy conquering spear, while he 
Tim'rous and slothful, never, save in sport, 
Lifted his lance, nor added to the wealth 
Won by his noble fathers. This reproach 
Oft by bad men repeated, urged his soul 
To attempt this war, and lead his troops to Greece.

GHOST OF DARIUS
Great deeds have they achieved, and memorable 
For ages: never hath this wasted state 
Suffer'd such ruin, since heaven's awful king 
Gave to one lord Asia's extended plains 
White with innumerous flocks, and to his hands 
Consign'd the imperial sceptre. Her brave hosts 
A Mede first led; the virtues of his son 
Fix'd firm the empire, for his temperate soul 
Breathed prudence. Cyrus next, by fortune graced, 
Adorn'd the throne, and bless'd his grateful friends 
With peace: he to his mighty monarchy 
Join'd Lydia, and the Phrygians; to his power 
Ionia bent reluctant; but the gods 
His son then wore the regal diadem. 
With victory his gentle virtues crown'd 
His son then wore the regal diadem. 
Next to disgrace his country, and to stain 
The splendid glories of this ancient throne, 
Rose Mardus: him, with righteous vengeance fired 
Artaphernes, and his confederate chiefs 
Crush'd in his palace: Maraphis assumed 
The sceptre: after him Artaphernes. 
Me next to this exalted eminence, 
Crowning my great ambition, Fortune raised. 
In many a glorious field my glittering spear 
Flamed in the van of Persia's numerous hosts; 
But never wrought such ruin to the state. 
Xerxes, my son, in all the pride of youth 
Listens to youthful counsels, my commands 
No more remember'd; hence, my hoary friends, 
Not the whole line of Persia's sceptred lords, 
You know it well, so wasted her brave sons.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS
Why this? To what fair end are these thy words 
Directed? Sovereign lord, instruct thy Persians 
How, mid this ruin, best to guide their state.

GHOST OF DARIUS
No more 'gainst Greece lead your embattled hosts; 
Not though your deep'ning phalanx spreads the field 
Outnumb'ring theirs: their very earth fights for them.

LEADER
What may thy words import? How fight for them?

GHOST OF DARIUS
With famine it destroys your cumbrous train.

LEADER
Choice levies, prompt for action, will we send,

GHOST OF DARIUS
Those, in the fields of Greece that now remain, 
Shall not revisit safe the Persian shore.

LEADER
What! shall not all the host of Persia pass 
Again from Europe o'er the Hellespont?

GHOST OF DARIUS
Of all their numbers few, if aught avails 
The faith of heaven-sent oracles to him 
That weighs the past, in their accomplishment 
Not partial: hence he left, in faithless hope 
Confiding, his selected train of heroes. 
These have their station where Asopus flows 
Wat'ring the plain, whose grateful currents roll 
Diffusing plenty through Boeotia's fields. 
There misery waits to crush them with the load 
Of heaviest ills, in vengeance for their proud 
And impious daring; for where'er they held 
Through Greece their march, they fear'd not to profane 
The statues of the gods; their hallow'd shrines 
Emblazed, o'erturn'd their altars, and in ruins, 
Rent from their firm foundations, to the ground 
Levell'd their temples; such their frantic deeds, 
Nor less their suff'rings; greater still await them; 
For Vengeance hath not wasted all her stores; 
The heap yet swells; for in Plataea's plains 
Beneath the Doric spear the clotted mas 
Of carnage shall arise, that the high mounds, 
Piled o'er the dead, to late posterity 
Shall give this silent record to men's eyes, 
That proud aspiring thoughts but ill beseem 
Weak mortals: for oppression, when it springs, 
Puts forth the blade of vengeance, and its fruit 
Yields a ripe harvest of repentant wo. 
Behold this vengeance, and remember Greece, 
Remember Athens: henceforth let not pride, 
Her present state disdaining, strive to grasp 
Another's, and her treasured happiness 
Shed on the ground: such insolent attempts 
Awake the vengeance of offended Jove. 
But you, whose age demands more temperate thoughts, 
With words of well-placed counsel teach his youth 
To curb that pride, which from the gods calls down 
Destruction on his head.
To ATOSSA
And thou, whose age 
The miseries of thy Xerxes sink with sorrow, 
Go to thy house, thence choose the richest robe, 
And meet thy son; for through the rage of grief 
His gorgeous vestments from his royal limbs 
Are foully rent. With gentlest courtesy 
Soothe his affliction; for is duteous ear, 
I know, will listen to thy voice alone. 
Now to the realms of darkness I descend. 
My ancient friends, farewell, and mid these ills 
Each day in pleasures battle your drooping spirits, 
For treasured riches naught avail the dead.
The GHOST OF DARIUS vanishes into the tomb.

LEADER
These many present, many future ills 
Denounced on Persia, sink my soul with grief.

ATOSSA
Unhappy fortune, what a tide of ills 
Bursts o'er me! Chief this foul disgrace, which shows 
My son divested of his rich attire, 
His royal robes all rent, distracts my thoughts. 
But I will go, choose the most gorgeous vest, 
And liaste to meet my son. Ne'er in his woes 
Will I forsake whom my soul holds most dear.
ATOSSA departs as the CHORUS begins its song.

CHORUS
strophe 1

Ye powers that rule the skies, 
Memory recalls our great, our happy fate, 
Our well-appointed state, 
The scenes of glory opening to our eyes, 
When this vast empire o'er 
The good Darius, with each virtue bless'd 
That forms a monarch's breast, 
Shielding his subjects with a father's care 
Invincible in war, 
Extended like a god his awful power, 
Then spread our arms their glory wide, 
Guarding to peace her golden reign: 
Each tower'd city saw with pride 
Safe from the toils of war her homeward-marching train.

antistrophe 1

Nor Haly's shallow strand 
He pass'd, nor from his palace moved his state; 
He spoke; his word was Fate. 
What strong-based cities could his might withstand? 
Not those that lift their heads 
Where to the sea the floods of Strymon pass, 
Leaving the huts of Thrace; 
Nor those, that far the extended ocean o'er 
Stand girt with many a tower; 
Nor where the Hellespont his broad wave spreads; 
Nor the firm bastions' rampired might, 
Whose foot the deep Propontis laves; 
Nor those, that glorying in their height 
Frown o'er the Pontic sea, and shade his darken'd waves.

strophe 2

Each sea-girt isle around 
Bow'd to this monarch: humbled Lesbos bow'd; 
Paros, of its marble proud; 
Naxos with vines, with olives Samos crown'd: 
Him Myconos adored; 
Chios, the seat of beauty; Andros steep, 
That stretches o'er the deep 
To meet the wat'ry Tenos; him each bay 
Bound by the Icarian sea, 
Him Melos, Gnidus, Rhodes confess'd their lord; 
O'er Cyprus stretch'd his sceptred hand: 
Paphos and Solos own'd his power, 
And Salamis, whose hostile strand, 
The cause of all our wo, is red with Persian gore.

antistrophe 2

Ev'n the proud towns, that rear'd 
Sublime along the lonian coast their towers, 
Where wealth her treasures pours, 
Peopled from Greece, his prudent reign revered. 
With such unconquer'd might 
His hardy warriors shook the embattled fields, 
Heroes that Persia yields, 
And those from distant realms that took their way, 
And wedged in close array 
Beneath his glitt'ring banners claim'd the fight. 
But now these glories are no more: 
Farewell the big war's plumed pride: 
The gods have crush'd this trophied power; 
Sunk are our vanquish'd arms beneath the indignant tide.
XERXES enters, with a few followers. His royal raiment is torn, The entire closing scene is sung or chanted.

XERXES
Ah me, how sudden have the storms of Fate, 
Beyond all thought, all apprehension, burst 
On my devoted head! O Fortune, Fortune! 
With what relentless fury hath thy hand 
Hurl'd desolation on the Persian race! 
Wo unsupportable! The torturing thought 
Of our lost youth comes rushing on my mind, 
And sinks me to the ground. O Jove, that 
Had died with those brave men that died in fight I

CHORUS
O thou afflicted monarch, once the lord 
Of marshall'd armies, of the lustre beam'd 
From glory's ray o'er Persia, of her sons 
The pride, the grace, whom ruin now hath sunk 
In blood! The unpeopled land laments her youth 
By Xerxes led to slaughter, till the realms 
Of death are gorged with Persians; for the flower 
Of all the realm, thousands, whose dreadful bows 
With arrowy shower annoy'd the foe, are fall'n.

XERXES
Your fall, heroic youths, distracts my soul.

CHORUS
And Asia sinking on her knee, O king, 
Oppress'd, with griefs oppress'd, bends to the earth.

XERXES
And I, O wretched fortune, I was born 
To crush, to desolate my ruin'd country!

CHORUS
I have no voice, no swelling harmony, 
No descant, save these notes of wo, 
Harsh, and responsive to the sullen sigh, 
Rude strains, that unmelodious flow, 
To welcome thy return.

XERXES
Then bid them flow, bid the wild measures flow 
Hollow, unmusical, the notes of grief; 
They suit my fortune, and dejected state.

CHORUS
Yes, at thy royal bidding shall the strain 
Pour the deep sorrows of my soul; 
The suff'rings of my bleeding country plain, 
And bid the mournful measures roll. 
Again the voice of wild despair 
With thrilling shrieks shall pierce the air; 
For high the god of war his flaming crest 
Raised, with the fleet of Greece surrounded, 
The haughty arms of Greece with conquest bless'd, 
And Persia's wither'd force confounded, 
Dash'd on the dreary beach her heroes slain, 
Or whelm'd them in the darken'd main.

XERXES
To swell thy griefs ask ev'ry circumstance.

CHORUS
Where are thy valiant friends, thy chieftains where? 
Pharnaces, Susas, and the might 
Of Pelagon, and Dotamas? The spear 
Of Agabates bold in fight? 
Psammis in mailed cuirass dress'd, 
And Susiscanes' glitt'ring crest?

XERXES
Dash'd from the Tyrian vessel on the rocks 
Of Salamis they sunk, and smear'd with gore 
The heroes on the dreary strand are stretch'd.

CHORUS
Where is Pharnuchus? Ariomardus where, 
With ev'ry gentle virtue graced? 
Lilaeus, that from chiefs renown'd in war 
His high-descended lineage traced? 
Where rears Sebalces his crown-circled head: 
Where Tharybis to battles bred, 
Artembares, Hystaechmes bold, 
Memphis, Masistress sheath'd in gold?

XERXES
Wretch that I am! These on the abhorred town 
Ogygian Athens, roll'd their glowing eyes 
Indignant; but at once in the fierce shock 
Of battle fell, dash'd breathless on the ground.

CHORUS
There does the son of Batanochus lie, 
Through whose rich veins the unsullied blood 
Of Susamus, down from the lineage high 
Of noble Mygabatas flow'd: 
Alpistus, who with faithful care 
Number'd the deep'ning files of war, 
The monarch's eye; on the ensanguined plain 
Low is the mighty warrior laid? 
Is great Aebares 'mong the heroes slain, 
And Partheus number'd with the dead?- 
Ah me! those bursting groans, deep-charged with wo, 
The fate of Persia's princes show.

XERXES
To my grieved memory thy mournful voice, 
Tuned to the saddest notes of wo, recalls 
My brave friends lost; and my rent heart returns 
In dreadful symphony the sorrowing strain.

CHORUS
Yet once more shall I ask thee, yet once more, 
Where is the Mardian Xanthes' might, 
The daring chief, that from the Pontic shore 
Led his strong phalanx to the fight? 
Anchares where, whose high-raised shield 
Flamed foremost in the embattled field? 
Where the high leaders of thy mail-clad horse, 
Daixis and Arsaces where? 
Where Cigdadatas and Lythimnas' force, 
Waving untired his purple spear?

XERXES
Entomb'd, I saw them in the earth entomb'd; 
Nor did the rolling car with solemn state 
Attend their rites: I follow'd: low they lie 
(Ah me, the once great leaders of my host! 
Low in the earth, without their honours lie.)

CHORUS
O wo, wo, wo! Unutterable wo 
The demons of revenge have spread; 
And Ate from her drear abode below 
Rises to view the horrid deed.

XERXES
Dismay, and rout, and ruin, ills that wait 
On man's afflicted fortune, sink us down.

CHORUS
Dismay, and rout, and ruin on us wait, 
And all the vengeful storms of Fate: 
Ill flows on ill, on sorrows sorrows rise; 
Misfortune leads her baleful train; 
Before the Ionian squadrons Persia flies, 
Or sinks ingulf'd beneath the main. 
Fall'n, fall'n is her imperial power, 
And conquest on her banners waits no more.

XERXES
At such a fall, such troops of heroes lost, 
How can my soul but sink in deep despair! 
Cease thy sad strain.

CHORUS
Is all thy glory lost?

XERXES
Seest thou these poor remains of my rent robes?

CHORUS
I see, I see.

XERXES
And this ill-furnish'd quiver?

CHORUS
Wherefore preserved?

XERXES
To store my treasured arrows.

CHORUS
Few, very few.

XERXES
And few my friendly aids.

CHORUS
I thought these Grecians shrunk appall'd at arms.

XERXES
No: they are bold and daring: these sad eyes 
Beheld their violent and deathful deeds.

CHORUS
The ruin, sayst thou, of thy shattered fleet?

XERXES
And in the anguish of my soul I rent 
My royal robes.

CHORUS
Wo, wo!

XERXES
And more than wo.

CHORUS
Redoubled, threefold wo!

XERXES
Disgrace to me, 
But triumph to the foe.

CHORUS
Are all thy powers 
In ruin crush'd?

XERXES
No satrap guards me now.

CHORUS
Thy faithful friends sunk in the roaring main.

XERXES
Weep, weep their loss, and lead me to my house; 
Answer my grief with grief, an ill return 
Of ills for ills. Yet once more raise that strain 
Lamenting my misfortunes; beat thy breast, 
Strike, heave the groan; awake the Mysian strain 
To notes of loudest wo; rend thy rich robes, 
Pluck up thy beard, tear off thy hoary locks, 
And battle thine eyes in tears: thus through the streets 
Solemn and slow with sorrow lead my steps; 
Lead to my house, and wail the fate of Persia.

CHORUS
Yes, once more at thy bidding shall the strain 
Pour the deep sorrows of my soul; 
The suff'rings of my bleeding untry plain, 
And bid the Mysian measures roll. 
Again the voice of wild despair 
With thrilling shrieks shall pierce the air; 
For high the god of war his flaming crest 
Raised, with the fleet of Greece surrounded, 
The haughty arms of Greece with conquest bless'd, 
And Persia's withered force confounded, 
Dash'd on the dreary beach her heroes slain., 
Or whelm'd them in the darken'd main.

THE END

What a handsome figure of a dragon. No wonder I fall madly in love with the Alani Dragon now, the avatar, it's a gorgeous dragon picture.
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The Suppliants 

By Aeschylus 

Written ca. 463 B.C.E 

Translated by E. D. A. Morshead

Dramatis Personae 

DANAUS
THE KING OF ARGOS
HERALD OF AEGYPTUS
CHORUS OF THE DAUGHTERS OF DANAUS
Attendants


Scene 

A sacred precinct near the shore in Argos. Several statues of the gods can be seen, as well as a large altar. As the play opens, DANAUS, and his fifty daughters, the maidens who compose the CHORUS, enter. Their costumes have an oriental richness about them not characteristic of the strictly Greek. They carry also the wands of suppliants. The CHORUS is singing.


CHORUS
Zeus! Lord and guard of suppliant hands 
Look down benign on us who crave 
Thine aid-whom winds and waters drave 
From where, through drifting shifting sands, 
Pours Nilus to the wave. 
From where the green land, god-possest, 
Closes and fronts the Syrian waste, 
We flee as exiles, yet unbanned 
By murder's sentence from our land; 
But-since Aegyptus had decreed 
His sons should wed his brother's seed,- 
Ourselves we tore from bonds abhorred, 
From wedlock not of heart but hand, 
Nor brooked to call a kinsman lord! 

And Danaus, our sire and guide, 
The king of counsel, pond'ring well 
The dice of fortune as they fell, 
Out of two griefs the kindlier chose, 
And bade us fly, with him beside, 
Heedless what winds or waves arose, 
And o'er the wide sea waters haste, 
Until to Argos' shore at last 
Our wandering pinnace came- 
Argos, the immemorial home 
Of her from whom we boast to come- 
Io, the ox-horned maiden, whom, 
After long wandering, woe, and scathe, 
Zeus with a touch, a mystic breath, 
Made mother of our name. 
Therefore, of all the lands of earth, 
On this most gladly step we forth, 
And in our hands aloft we bear- 
Sole weapon for a suppliant's wear- 
The olive-shoot, with wool enwound! 
City, and land, and waters wan 
Of Inachus, and gods most high, 
And ye who, deep beneath the ground, 
Bring vengeance weird on mortal man, 
Powers of the grave, on you we cry! 
And unto Zeus the Saviour, guard 
Of mortals' holy purity! 
Receive ye us-keep watch and ward 
Above the suppliant maiden band! 
Chaste be the heart of this your land 
Towards the weak! but, ere the throng, 
The wanton swarm, from Egypt sprung, 
Leap forth upon the silted shore, 
Thrust back their swift-rowed bark again, 
Repel them, urge them to the main! 
And there, 'mid storm and lightning's shine, 
And scudding drift and thunder's roar, 
Deep death be theirs, in stormy brine! 
Before they foully grasp and win 
Us, maiden-children of their kin, 
And climb the couch by law denied, 
And wrong each weak reluctant bride. 

strophe 1

And now on her I call, 
Mine ancestress, who far on Egypt's shore 
A young cow's semblance wore,- 
A maiden once, by Hera's malice changed! 
And then on him withal, 
Who, as amid the flowers the grazing creature ranged, 
Was in her by a breath of Zeus conceived; 
And, as the hour of birth drew nigh, 
By fate fulfilled, unto the light he came;- 
And Epaphus for name, 
Born from the touch of Zeus, the child received 

antistrophe 1

On him, on him I cry, 
And him for patron hold- 
While in this grassy vale I stand, 
Where lo roamed of old! 
And here, recounting all her toil and pain, 
Signs will I show to those who rule the land 
That I am child of hers; and all shall understand, 
Hearing the doubtful tale of the dim past made plain. 

strophe 2

And, ere the end shall be, 
Each man the truth of what I tell shall see. 
And if there dwell hard by 
One skilled to read from bird-notes augury, 
That man, when through his ears shall thrill our tearful wail, 
Shall deem he hears the voice, the plaintive tale 
Of her, the piteous spouse of Tereus, lord of guile- 
Whom the hawk harries yet, the mourning nightingale. 

antistrophe 2

She, from her happy home and fair streams scared away, 
Wails wild and sad for haunts beloved erewhile. 
Yea, and for Itylus-ah, well-a-day! 
Slain by her own, his mother's hand, 
Maddened by lustful wrong, the deed by Tereus planned! 

strophe 3

Like her I wail and wail, in soft lonian tones, 
And as she wastes, even so 
Wastes my soft cheek, once ripe with Nilus' suns, 
And all my heart dissolves in utter woe. 
Sad flowers of grief I cull, 
Fleeing from kinsmen's love unmerciful- 
Yea, from the clutching hands, the wanton crowd, 
I sped across the waves, from Egypt's land of cloud. 

antistrophe 3

Gods of the ancient cradle of my race, 
Hear me, just gods! With righteous grace 
On me, on me look down! 
Grant not to youth its heart's unchaste desire, 
But, swiftly spurning lust's unholy fire, 
Bless only love and willing wedlock's crown! 
The war-worn fliers from the battle's wrack 
Find refuge at the hallowed altar-side, 
The sanctuary divine,- 
Ye gods! such refuge unto me provide- 
Such sanctuary be mine! 

strophe 4

Though the deep will of Zeus be hard to track, 
Yet doth it flame and glance, 
A beacon in the dark, 'mid clouds of chance 
That wrap mankind. 

antistrophe 4

Yea, though the counsel fall, undone it shall not lie, 
Whate'er be shaped and fixed within Zeus' ruling mind- 
Dark as a solemn grove, with sombre leafage shaded, 
His paths of purpose wind, 
A marvel to man's eye. 

strophe 5

Smitten by him, from towering hopes degraded, 
Mortals lie low and still.- 
Tireless and effortless, works forth its will 
The arm divine! 
God from His holy seat, in calm of unarmed power, 
Brings forth the deed, at its appointed hour! 

antistrophe 5

Let Him look down on mortal wantonness! 
Lo! how the youthful stock of Belus' line 
Craves for me, uncontrolled- 
With greed and madness bold- 
Urged on by passion's shunless stress- 
And, cheated, learns too late the prey has 'scaped their hold! 

strophe 6

Ah, listen, listen to my grievous tale, 
My sorrow's words, my shrill and tearful cries! 
Ah woe, ah woe! 
Loud with lament the accents rise, 
And from my living lips my own sad dirges flow! 

refrain 1

O Apian land of hill and dale, 
Thou kennest yet, O land, this faltered foreign wail- 
Have mercy, hear my prayer! 
Lo, how again, again, rend and tear 
My woven raiment, and from off my hair 
Cast the Sidonian veil! 

antistrophe 6

Ah, but if fortune smile, if death be driven away, 
Vowed rites, with eager haste, we to the gods will pay! 
Alas, alas again! 
O whither drift the waves? and who shall loose the pain? 

refrain 1

O Apian land of hill and dale, 
Thou kennest yet, O land, this faltered foreign wail 
Have mercy, hear my prayer! 
Lo, how again, again, I rend and tear 
My woven raiment, and from off my hair 
Cast the Sidonian veil! 

strophe 7

The wafting oar, the bark with woven sail, 
From which the sea foamed back, 
Sped me, unharmed of storms, along the breeze's track- 
Be it unblamed of me! 
But ah, the end, the end of my emprise! 
May He, the Father, with all-seeing eyes, 
Grant me that end to see! 

refrain 2

Grant that henceforth unstained as heretofore 
I may escape the forced embrace 
Of those proud children of the race 
That sacred Io bore. 

antistrophe 7

And thou, O maiden-goddess chaste and pure- 
Queen of the inner fane- 
Look of thy grace on me, O Artemis, 
Thy willing suppliant-thine, thine it is;, 
Who from the lustful onslaught fled secure, 
To grant that I too without stain 
The shelter of thy purity may gain! 

refrain 2

Grant that henceforth unstained as heretofore 
I may escape the forced embrace 
Of those proud children of the race 
That sacred Io bore! 

strophe 8

Yet if this may not be, 
We, the dark race sun-smitten, we 
Will speed with suppliant wands 
To Zeus who rules below, with hospitable hands 
Who welcomes all the dead from all the lands: 
Yea, by our own hands strangled, we will go, 
Spurned by Olympian gods, unto the gods below! 

refrain 3

Zeus, hear and save! 
The searching, poisonous hate, that Io vexed and drave, 
Was of a goddess: well I know 
The bitter ire, the wrathful woe 
Of Hera, queen of heaven- 
A storm, a storm her breath, whereby we yet are driven! 

antistrophe 8

Bethink thee, what dispraise 
Of Zeus himself mankind will raise, 
If now he turn his face averted from our cries! 
If now, dishonoured and alone, 
The ox-horned maiden's race shall be undone, 
Children of Epaphus, his own begotten son- 
Zeus, listen from on high!-to thee our prayers arise. 

refrain 3

Zeus, hear and save! 
The searching poisonous hate, that lo vexed and drave, 
Was of a goddess: well I know 
The bitter ire, the wrathful woe 
Of Hera, queen of heaven- 
A storm, a storm her breath, whereby we yet are driven!
After the CHORUS has finished its song and dance, DANAUS comes forward.

DANAUS
Children, be wary-wary he with whom 
Ye come, your trusty sire and steersman old: 
And that same caution hold I here on land, 
And bid you hoard my words, inscribing them 
On memory's tablets. Lo, I see afar 
Dust, voiceless herald of a host, arise; 
And hark, within their griding sockets ring 
Axles of hurrying wheels! I see approach, 
Borne in curved cars, by speeding horses drawn, 
A speared and shielded band. The chiefs, perchance. 
Of this their land are hitherward intent 
To look on us, of whom they yet have heard 
By messengers alone. But come who may, 
And come he peaceful or in ravening wrath 
Spurred on his path, 'twere best, in any case, 
Damsels, to cling unto this altar-mound 
Made sacred to their gods of festival,- 
A shrine is stronger than a tower to save, 
A shield that none may cleave. Step swift thereto, 
And in your left hands hold with reverence 
The white-crowned wands of suppliance, the sign 
Beloved of Zeus, compassion's lord, and speak 
To those that question you, words meek and low 
And piteous, as beseems your stranger state, 
Clearly avowing of this flight of yours 
The bloodless cause; and on your utterance 
See to it well that modesty attend; 
From downcast eyes, from brows of pure control, 
Let chastity look forth; nor, when ye speak, 
Be voluble nor eager-they that dwell 
Within this land are sternly swift to chide. 
And be your words submissive: heed this well; 
For weak ye are, outcasts on stranger lands, 
And froward talk beseems not strengthless hands.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS
O father, warily to us aware 
Thy words are spoken, and thy wisdom's hest 
My mind shall hoard, with Zeus our sire to aid.

DANAUS
Even so-with gracious aspect let him aid.

LEADER
Fain were I now to seat me by thy side-

DANAUS
Now dally not, but put our thought in act.

LEADER
Zeus, pity our distress, or e'er we die.

DANAUS
If so he will, your toils to joy will turn.

LEADER
Lo, on this shrine, the semblance of a bird.

DANAUS
Zeus' bird of dawn it is; invoke the sign.

LEADER
Thus I invoke the saving rays of morn.

DANAUS
Next, bright Apollo, exiled once from heaven.

LEADER
The exiled god will pity our exile.

DANAUS
Yea, may he pity, giving grace and aid.

LEADER
Whom next invoke I, of these other gods?

DANAUS
Lo, here a trident, symbol of a god.

LEADER
Who gave sea-safety; may he bless on land!

DANAUS
This next is Hermes, carved in Grecian wise.

LEADER
Then let him herald help to freedom won.

DANAUS
Lastly, adore this altar consecrate 
To many lesser gods in one; then crouch 
On holy ground, a flock of doves that flee, 
Scared by no alien hawks, a kin not kind, 
Hateful, and fain of love more hateful still, 
Foul is the bird that rends another bird, 
And foul the men who hale unwilling maids, 
From sire unwilling, to the bridal bed. 
Never on earth, nor in the lower world, 
Shall lewdness such as theirs escape the ban: 
There too, if men say right, a God there is 
Who upon dead men turns their sin to doom, 
To final doom. Take heed, draw hitherward, 
That from this hap your safety ye may win.
The KING OF ARGOS enters, followed by his attendants and soldiers.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Speak-of what land are ye? No Grecian band 
Is this to whom I speak, with Eastern robes 
And wrappings richly dight: no Argive maid, 
No woman in all Greece such garb doth wear, 
This too gives marvel, how unto this land, 
Unheralded, unfriended, without guide, 
And without fear, ye came? yet wands I see, 
True sign of suppliance, by you laid down 
On shrines of these our gods of festival. 
No land but Greece can rede such signs aright. 
Much else there is, conjecture well might guess, 
But let words teach the man who stands to hear.

LEADER
True is the word thou spakest of my garb; 
But speak I unto thee as citizen, 
Or Hermes' wandbearer, or chieftain king?

THE KING OF ARGOS
For that, take heart and answer without fear. 
I am Pelasgus, ruler of this land, 
Child of Palaichthon, whom the earth brought forth; 
And, rightly named from me, the race who reap 
This country's harvests are Pelasgian called. 
And o'er the wide and westward-stretching land, 
Through which the lucent wave of Strymon flows, 
I rule; Perrhaebia's land my boundary is 
Northward, and Pindus' further slopes, that watch 
Paeonia, and Dodona's mountain ridge. 
West, east, the limit of the washing seas 
Restrains my rule-the interspace is mine. 
But this whereon we stand is Apian land, 
Styled so of old from the great healer's name; 
For Apis, coming from Naupactus' shore 
Beyond the strait, child of Apollo's self 
And like him seer and healer, cleansed this land 
From man-devouring monsters, whoin the earth, 
Stained with pollution of old bloodshedding, 
Brought forth in malice, beasts of ravening jaws, 
A grisly throng of serpents manifold. 
And healings of their hurt, by knife and charm, 
Apis devised, unblamed of Argive men, 
And in their prayers found honour, for reward. 
-Lo, thou hast heard the tokens that I give: 
Speak now thy race, and tell a forthright tale; 
In sooth, this people loves not many words.

LEADER
Short is my word and clear. Of Argive race 
We come, from her, the ox-horned maiden who 
Erst bare the sacred child. My word shall give 
Whate'er can stablish this my soothfast tale.

THE KING OF ARGOS
O stranger maids, I may not trust this word, 
That ye have share in this our Argive race. 
No likeness of our country do ye bear, 
But semblance as of Libyan womankind. 
Even such a stock by Nilus' banks might grow; 
Yea, and the Cyprian stamp, in female forms, 
Shows, to the life, what males impressed the same. 
And, furthermore, of roving Indian maids 
Whose camping-grounds by Aethiopia lie, 
And camels burdened even as mules, and bearing 
Riders, as horses bear, mine ears have heard; 
And tales of flesh-devouring mateless maids 
Called Amazons: to these, if bows ye bare, 
I most had deemed you like. Speak further yet, 
That of your Argive birth the truth I learn.

LEADER
Here in this Argive land-so runs the tale- 
Io was priestess once of Hera's fane.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Yea, truth it is, and far this word prevails: 
Is't said that Zeus with mortal mingled love?

LEADER
Ay, and that Hera that embrace surmised.

THE KING OF ARGOS
How issued then this strife of those on high?

LEADER
By Hera's will, a heifer she became.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Held Zeus aloof then from the horned beast?

LEADER
'Tis said, he loved, in semblance of a bull.

THE KING OF ARGOS
And his stern consort, did she aught thereon?

LEADER
One myriad-eyed she set, the heifer's guard.

THE KING OF ARGOS
How namest thou this herdsman many-eyed?

LEADER
Argus, the child of Earth, whom Hermes slew.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Still did the goddess vex the beast ill-starred?

LEADER
She wrought a gadfly with a goading sting.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Thus drave she Io hence, to roam afar?

LEADER
Yea-this thy word coheres exact with mine.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Then to Canopus and to Memphis came she?

LEADER
And by Zeus' hand was touched, and bare a child. 
THE KING of ARGOS 
Who vaunts him the Zeus-mated creature's son?

LEADER
Epaphus, named rightly from the saving touch.

THE KING OF ARGOS
And whom in turn did Epaphus beget?

LEADER
Libya, with name of a wide land endowed.

THE KING OF ARGOS
And who from her was born unto the race?

LEADER
Belus: from him two sons, my father one.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Speak now to me his name, this greybeard wise.

LEADER
Danaus; his brother fifty sons begat.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Grudge not, in telling, his name too to tell.

LEADER
Aegyptus: thou my lineage old hast heard- 
Strive then to aid a kindred Argive band.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Yea of a truth, in backward scope of time, 
Of Argive race ye seem: but say what chance 
Fell on you, goading you from home and land?

LEADER
Lord of Pelasgian men, calamity 
Is manifold and diverse; as of birds 
Feather from feather differs, so of men 
The woes are sundry. Who had dared foretell 
That this our sudden flight, this hate and fear 
Of loathly wedlock, would on Argos' shore 
Set forth a race of kindred lineage?

THE KING OF ARGOS
What crave ye of these gods of festival, 
Holding up newly-plucked white-tufted boughs?

LEADER
Ne'er to be slaves unto Aegyptus' race.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Doth your own hate, or doth the law forbid?

LEADER
Not as our lords, but as unloved, we chide them.

THE KING OF ARGOS
'Tis from such wedlock that advancement comes,

LEADER
How easy is it, from the weak to turn!

THE KING OF ARGOS
How then toward you can I be conscience-clear?

LEADER
Deny us, though Aegyptus' race demand.

THE KING OF ARGOS
A heavy task thou namest, a rash war.

LEADER
But Justice champions them who strike for her.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Yea, if their side was from the outset hers.

LEADER
Revere the gods thus crowned, who steer the State.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Awe thrills me, seeing these shrines with leafage crowned.
The whole CHORUS now sings its responses to the KING.

CHORUS
strophe 1

Yea, stern the wrath of Zeus, the suppliants' lord. 
Child of Palaichthon, royal chief 
Of thy Pelasgians, hear! 
Bow down thine heart to my relief- 
A fugitive, a suppliant, swift with fear, 
A creature whom the wild wolves chase 
O'er toppling crags; in piteous case 
Aloud, afar she lows, 
Calling the herdsman's trusty arm to save her from her foes!

THE KING OF ARGOS
Lo, with bowed heads beside our city shrines 
Ye sit 'neath shade of new-plucked olive-boughs. 
Our distant kin's resentment Heaven forefend! 
Let not this hap, unhoped and unforeseen, 
Bring war on us: for strife we covet not.

CHORUS
antistrophe 1

Justice, the daughter of right-dealing Zeus, 
Justice, the queen of suppliants, look down, 
That this our plight no ill may loose 
Upon your town! 
This word, even from the young, let age and wisdom learn: 
If thou to suppliants show grace, 
Thou shalt not lack Heaven's grace in turn, 
So long as virtue's gifts on heavenly shrines have place.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Not at my private hearth ye sit and sue; 
And if the city bear a common stain, 
Be it the common toil to cleanse the same: 
Therefore no pledge, no promise will I give, 
Ere counsel with the commonwealth be held.

CHORUS
strophe 2

Nay, but the source of sway, the city's self, art thou, 
A power unjudged! thine, only thine, 
To rule the right of hearth and shrine! 
Before thy throne and sceptre all men bow! 
Thou, in all causes lord, beware the curse divine!

THE KING OF ARGOS
May that curse fall upon mine enemies! 
I cannot aid you without risk of scathe, 
Nor scorn your prayers-unmerciful it were. 
Perplexed, distraught I stand, and fear alike 
The twofold chance, to do or not to do.

CHORUS
antistrophe 2

Have heed of him who looketh from on high, 
The guard of woeful mortals, whosoe'er 
Unto their fellows cry, 
And find no pity, find no justice there. 
Abiding in his wrath, the suppliants' lord 
Doth smite, unmoved by cries, unbent by prayerful word.

THE KING OF ARGOS
But if Aegyptus' children grasp you here, 
Claiming, their country's right, to hold you theirs 
As next of kin, who dares to counter this? 
Plead ye your country's laws, if plead ye may, 
That upon you they lay no lawful hand.

CHORUS
strophe 3

Let me not fall, O nevermore, 
A prey into the young men's hand; 
Rather than wed whom I abhor, 
By pilot-stars I flee this land; 
O king, take justice to thy side, 
And with the righteous powers decide!

THE KING OF ARGOS
Hard is the cause-make me not judge thereof. 
Already I have vowed it, to do nought 
Save after counsel with my people ta'en, 
King though I be; that ne'er in after time, 
If ill fate chance, my people then may say- 
In aid of strangers thou the State hast slain.

CHORUS
antistrophe 3

Zeus, lord of kinship, rules at will 
The swaying balance, and surveys 
Evil and good; to men of ill 
Gives evil, and to good men praise, 
And thou-since true those scales do sway- 
Shalt thou from justice shrink away?

THE KING OF ARGOS
A deep, a saving counsel here there needs- 
An eye that like a diver to the depth 
Of dark perplexity can pass and see, 
Undizzied, unconfused. First must we care 
That to the State and to ourselves this thing 
Shall bring no ruin; next, that wrangling hands 
Shall grasp you not as prey, nor we ourselves 
Betray you thus embracing sacred shrines, 
Nor make the avenging all-destroying god, 
Who not in hell itself sets dead men free, 
A grievous inmate, an abiding bane. 
-Spake I not right, of saving counsel's need?

CHORUS
strophe 4

Yea, counsel take and stand to aid 
At justice' side and mine. 
Betray not me, the timorous maid 
Whom far beyond the brine 
A godless violence cast forth forlorn. 

antistrophe 4

O King, wilt thou behold- 
Lord of this land, wilt thou behold me torn 
From altars manifold? 
Bethink thee of the young men's wrath and lust, 
Hold off their evil pride; 

strophe 5

Steel not thyself to see the suppliant thrust 
From hallowed statues' side, 
Haled by the frontlet on my forehead bound, 
As steeds are led, and drawn 
By hands that drag from shrine and altar-mound 
My vesture's fringed lawn. 

antistrophe 5

Know thou that whether for Aegyptus' race 
Thou dost their wish fulfil, 
Or for the gods and for each holy place- 
Be thy choice good or ill, 
Blow is with blow requited, grace with grace. 
Such is Zeus' righteous will.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Yea, I have pondered: from the sea of doubt 
Here drives at length the bark of thought ashore; 
Landward with screw and windlass haled, and firm, 
Clamped to her props, she lies. The need is stern; 
With men or gods a mighty strife we strive 
Perforce, and either hap in grief concludes. 
For, if a house be sacked, new wealth for old 
Not hard it is to win-if Zeus the lord 
Of treasure favour-more than quits the loss, 
Enough to pile the store of wealth full high; 
Or if a tongue shoot forth untimely speech, 
Bitter and strong to goad a man to wrath, 
Soft words there be to soothe that wrath away: 
But what device shall make the war of kin 
Bloodless? that woe, the blood of many beasts, 
And victims manifold to many gods, 
Alone can cure. Right glad I were to shun 
This strife, and am more fain of ignorance 
Than of the wisdom of a woe endured. 
The gods send better than my soul foretells!

LEADER OF THE CHORUS
Of many cries for mercy, hear the end.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Say on, then, for it shall not 'scape mine ear.

LEADER
Girdles we have, and bands that bind our robes.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Even so; such things beseem a woman's wear.

LEADER
Know, then, with these a fair device there is-

THE KING OF ARGOS
Speak, then: what utterance doth this foretell?

LEADER
Unless to us thou givest pledge secure

THE KING OF ARGOS
What can thy girdles' craft achieve for thee?

LEADER
Strange votive tablets shall these statues deck.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Mysterious thy resolve-avow it clear.

LEADER
Swiftly to hang me on these sculptured gods!

THE KING OF ARGOS
Thy word is as a lash to urge my heart.

LEADER
Thou seest truth, for I have cleared thine eyes.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Yea, and woes manifold, invincible, 
A crowd of ills, sweep on me torrent-like. 
My bark goes forth upon a sea of troubles 
Unfathomed, ill to traverse, harbourless. 
For if my deed shall match not your demand, 
Dire, beyond shot of speech, shall be the bane 
Your death's pollution leaves unto this land. 
Yet if against your kin, Aegyptus' race, 
Before our gates I front the doom of war, 
Will not the city's loss be sore? Shall men 
For women's sake incarnadine the ground? 
But yet the wrath of Zeus, the suppliants' lord, 
I needs must fear: most awful unto man 
The terror of his anger. Thou, old man, 
The father of these maidens, gather up 
Within your arms these wands of suppliance, 
And lay them at the altars manifold 
Of all our country's gods, that all the town 
Know, by this sign, that ye come here to sue. 
Nor, in thy haste, do thou say aught of me. 
Swift is this folk to censure those who rule; 
But, if they see these signs of suppliance, 
It well may chance that each will pity you, 
And loathe the young men's violent pursuit; 
And thus a fairer favour you may find: 
For, to the helpless, each man's heart is kind.

DANAUS
To us, beyond gifts manifold it is 
To find a champion thus compassionate; 
Yet send with me attendants, of thy folk, 
Rightly to guide me, that I duly find 
Each altar of your city's gods that stands 
Before the fane, each dedicated shrine; 
And that in safety through the city's ways 
I may pass onwards: all unlike to yours 
The outward semblance that I wear-the race 
That Nilus rears is all dissimilar 
To that of Inachus. Keep watch and ward 
Lest heedlessness bring death: full oft, I ween, 
Friend hath slain friend, not knowing whom he slew.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Go at his side, attendants,-he saith well. 
On to the city's consecrated shrines! 
Nor be of many words to those ye meet, 
The while this suppliant voyager ye lead.
DANAUS departs with attendants.

LEADER
Let him go forward, thy command obeying. 
But me how biddest, how assurest thou?

THE KING OF ARGOS
Leave there the new-plucked boughs, thy sorrow's sign.

LEADER
Thus beckoned forth, at thy behest I leave them.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Now to this level precinct turn thyself.

LEADER
Unconsecrate it is, and cannot shield me.

THE KING OF ARGOS
We will not yield thee to those falcons' greed.

LEADER
What help? more fierce they are than serpents fell.

THE KING OF ARGOS
We spake thee fair-speak thou them fair in turn.

LEADER
What marvel that we loathe them, scared in soul?

THE KING OF ARGOS
Awe towards a king should other fears transcend.

LEADER
Thus speak, thus act, and reassure my mind.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Not long thy sire shall leave thee desolate. 
But I will call the country's indwellers, 
And with soft words th' assembly will persuade, 
And warn your sire what pleadings will avail. 
Therefore abide ye, and with prayer entreat 
The country's gods to compass your desire; 
The while I go, this matter to provide, 
Persuasion and fair fortune at my side.
The KING OF ARGOS departs with his retinue. The CHORUS forms to sing its prayer to Zeus.

CHORUS
strophe 1

O King of Kings, among the blest 
Thou highest and thou happiest, 
Listen and grant our prayer, 
And, deeply loathing, thrust 
Away from us the young men's lust, 
And deeply drown 
In azure waters, down and ever down, 
Benches and rowers dark, 
The fatal and perfidious bark! 

antistrophe 1

Unto the maidens turn thy gracious care; 
Think yet again upon the tale of fame, 
How from the maiden loved of thee there sprung 
Mine ancient line, long since in many a legend sung! 
Remember, O remember, thou whose hand 
Did Io by a touch to human shape reclaim. 
For from this Argos erst our mother came 
Driven hence to Egypt's land, 
Yet sprung of Zeus we were, and hence our birth we claim. 

strophe 2

And now have I roamed back 
Unto the ancient track 
Where Io roamed and pastured among flowers, 
Watched o'er by Argus' eyes, 
Through the lush grasses and the meadow bowers. 
Thence, by the gadfly maddened, forth she flies 
Unto far lands and alien peoples driven 
And, following fate, through paths of foam and surge, 
Sees, as she goes, the cleaving strait divide 
Greece, from the Eastland riven. 

antistrophe 2

And swift through Asian borders doth she urge 
Her course, o'er Phrygian mountains' sheep-clipt side; 
Thence, where the Mysian realm of Teuthras lies, 
Towards Lydian lowlands hies, 
And o'er Cilician and Pamphylian hills 
And ever-flowing rills, 
And thence to Aphrodite's fertile shore, 
The land of garnered wheat and wealthy store. 

strophe 3

And thence, deep-stung by wild unrest, 
By the winged fly that goaded her and drave, 
Unto the fertile land, the god-possest 
(Where, fed from far-off snows, 
Life-giving Nilus flows, 
Urged on by Typho's strength, a fertilizing wave), 
She roves, in harassed and dishonoured flight, 
Scathed by the blasting pangs of Hera's dread despite. 

antistrophe 3

And they within the land 
With terror shook and wanned, 
So strange the sight they saw, and were afraid- 
A wild twy-natured thing, half heifer and half maid. 

Whose hand was laid at last on Io, thus forlorn, 
With many roamings worn? 
Who bade the harassed maiden's peace return? 

strophe 4

Zeus, lord of time eterne. 
Yea, by his breath divine, by his unscathing strength, 
She lays aside her bane, 
And softened back to womanhood at length 
Sheds human tears again. 
Then, quickened with Zeus' veritable seed, 
A progeny she bare, 
A stainless babe, a child of heavenly breed. 

antistrophe 4

Of life and fortune fair. 
His is the life of life-so all men say,- 
His is the seed of Zeus. 
Who else had power stern Hera's craft to stay, 
Her vengeful curse to loose? 

Yea, all from Zeus befel! 
And rightly wouldst thou tell 
That we from Epaphus, his child, were born: 
Justly his deed was done; 

strophe 5

Unto what other one, 
Of all the gods, should I for justice turn? 
From him our race did spring; 
Creator he and King, 
Ancient of days and wisdom he, and might. 
As bark before the wind, 
So, wafted by his mind, 
Moves every counsel, each device aright. 

antistrophe 5

Beneath no stronger hand 
Holds he a weak command, 
No throne doth he abase him to adore; 
Swift as a word, his deed 
Acts out what stands decreed 
In counsels of his heart, for evermore.
DANAUS re-enters.

DANAUS
Take heart, my children: the land's heart is kind, 
And to full issue has their voting come.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS
All hail, my sire; thy word brings utmost joy. 
Say, to what issue is the vote made sure, 
And how prevailed the people's crowding hands?

DANAUS
With one assent the Argives spake their will, 
And, hearing, my old heart took youthful cheer. 
The very sky was thrilled when high in air 
The concourse raised right hands and swore their oath:- 
Free shall the maidens sojourn in this land. 
Unharried, undespoiled by mortal wight: 
No native hand, no hand of foreigner 
Shall drag them hence; if any man use force- 
Whoe'er of all our countrymen shall fail 
To come unto their aid, let him go forth, 
Beneath the people's curse, to banishment. 
So did the king of this Pelasgian folk 
Plead on behalf of us, and bade them heed 
That never, in the after-time, this realm 
Should feed to fulness the great enmity 
Of Zeus, the suppliants' guard, against itself! 
A twofold curse, for wronging stranger-guests 
Who are akin withal, confrontingly 
Should rise before this city and be shown 
A ruthless monster, fed on human doom. 
Such things the Argive people heard, and straight, 
Without proclaim of herald, gave assent: 
Yea, in full conclave, the Pelasgian folk 
Heard suasive pleas, and Zeus through them resolved.
The CHORUS now sings a prayer of thankfulness.

CHORUS
Arouse we now to chant our prayer 
For fair return of service fair 
And Argos' kindly will. 
Zeus, lord of guestright, look upon 
The grace our stranger lips have won. 
In right and truth, as they begun, 
Guide them, with favouring hand, until 
Thou dost their blameless wish fulfil! 

strophe 1

Now may the Zeus-born gods on high 
Hear us pour forth 
A votive prayer for Argos' clan!- 
Never may this Pelasgian earth, 
Amid the fire-wrack, shrill the dismal cry 
On Ares, ravening lord of fight, 
Who in an alien harvest mows down man! 
For lo, this land had pity on our plight, 
And unto us were merciful and leal, 
To us, the piteous flock, who at Zeus' altar kneel! 

antistrophe 1

They scorned not the pleas of maidenhood, 
Nor with the young men's will hath their will stood. 
They knew right well 
Th' unearthly watching fiend invincible, 
The foul avenger-let him not draw near! 
For he, on roofs ill-starred, 
Defiling and polluting, keeps a ghastly ward! 
They knew his vengeance, and took holy heed 
To us, the sister suppliants, who cry 
To Zeus, the lord of purity: 
Therefore with altars pure they shall the gods revere. 
Thus, through the boughs that shade our lips, fly forth in air, 

strophe 2

Fly forth, O eager prayer! 
May never pestilence efface 
This city's race, 
Nor be the land with corpses strewed, 
Nor stained with civic blood! 
The stem of youth, unpluckt, to manhood come, 
Nor Ares rise from Aphrodite's bower, 
The lord of death and bane, to waste our youthful flower. 

antistrophe 2

Long may the old 
Crowd to the altars kindled to consume 
Gifts rich and manifold- 
Offered to win from powers divine 
A benison on city and on shrine: 
Let all the sacred might adore 
Of Zeus most high, the lord 
Of guestright and the hospitable board, 
Whose immemorial law doth rule Fate's scales aright: 
The garners of earth's store 
Be full for evermore, 
And grace of Artemis make women's travail light; 

strophe 3

No devastating curse of fell disease 
This city seize; 
No clamour of the State arouse to war 
Ares, from whom afar 
Shrinketh the lute, by whom the dances fail- 
Ares, the lord of wail. 
Swarm far aloof from Argos' citizens 
All plague and pestilence, 
And may the Archer-God our children spare! 

antistrophe 3

May Zeus with foison and with fruitfulness 
The land's each season bless, 
And, quickened with Heaven's bounty manifold, 
Teem grazing flock and fold. 
Beside the altars of Heaven's hallowing 
Loud let the minstrels sing, 
And from pure lips float forth the harp-led strain in air! 

strophe 4

And let the people's voice, the power 
That sways the State, in danger's hour 
Be wary, wise for all; 
Nor honour in dishonour hold, 
But-ere the voice of war be bold- 
Let them to stranger peoples grant 
Fair and unbloody covenant- 
Justice and peace withal; 

antistrophe 4

And to the Argive powers divine 
The sacrifice of laurelled kine, 
By rite ancestral, pay. 
Among three words of power and awe, 
Stands this, the third, the mighty law- 
Your gods, your fathers deified, 
Ye shall adore. Let this abide 
For ever and for aye.

DANAUS
Dear children, well and wisely have ye prayed; 
I bid you now not shudder, though ye hear 
New and alarming tidings from your sire. 
From this high place beside the suppliants' shrine 
The bark of our pursuers I behold, 
By divers tokens recognized too well. 
Lo, the spread canvas and the hides that screen 
The gunwale; lo, the prow, with painted eyes 
That seem her onward pathway to descry, 
Heeding too well the rudder at the stern 
That rules her, coming for no friendly end. 
And look, the seamen-all too plain their race- 
Their dark limbs gleam from out their snow-white garb; 
Plain too the other barks, a fleet that comes 
All swift to aid the purpose of the first, 
That now, with furled sail and with pulse of oars 
Which smite the wave together, comes aland. 
But ye, be calm, and, schooled not scared by fear, 
Confront this chance, be mindful of your trust 
In these protecting gods. And I will hence, 
And champions who shall plead your cause aright 
Will bring unto your side. There come perchance 
Heralds or envoys, eager to lay hand 
And drag you captive hence; yet fear them not; 
Foiled shall they be. Yet well it were for you 
(If, ere with aid I come, I tarry long) 
Not by one step this sanctuary to leave. 
Farewell, fear nought: soon shall the hour be born 
When he that scorns the gods shall rue his scorn.

CHORUS chanting
Ah, but I shudder, father!-ah, even now, 
Even as I speak, the swift-winged ships draw nigh! 

strophe 1

I shudder, I shiver, I perish with fear: 
Overseas though I fled, 
Yet nought it avails; my pursuers are near!

DANAUS
Children, take heart; they who decreed to aid 
Thy cause will arm for battle, well I ween.

CHORUS
But desperate is Aegyptus' ravening race, 
With fight unsated; thou too know'st it well. 

antistrophe 1

In their wrath they o'ertake us; the prow is deep-dark 
In the which they have sped, 
And dark is the bench and the crew of the bark!

DANAUS
Yea but a crew as stout they here shall find, 
And arms well steeled beneath a noon-day sun.

CHORUS
Ah yet, O father, leave us not forlorn! 
Alone, a maid is nought, a strengthless arm. 

strophe 2

With guile they pursue me, with counsel malign, 
And unholy their soul; 
And as ravens they seize me, unheeding the shrine!

DANAUS
Fair will befall us, children, in this chance, 
If thus in wrath they wrong the gods and you.

CHORUS
Alas, nor tridents nor the sanctity 
Of shrines will drive them, O my sire, from us! 

antistrophe 2

Unholy and daring and cursed is their ire, 
Nor own they control 
Of the gods, but like jackals they glut their desire!

DANAUS
Ay, but Come wolf, flee jackal, saith the saw; 
Nor can the flax-plant overbear the corn.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS
Lustful, accursed, monstrous is their will 
As of beasts ravening-'ware we of their power

DANAUS
Look you, not swiftly puts a fleet to sea, 
Nor swiftly to its moorings; long it is 
Or e'er the saving cables to the shore 
Are borne, and long or e'er the steersmen cry, 
The good ship swings at anchor-all is well. 
Longest of all, the task to come aland 
Where haven there is none, when sunset fades 
In night. To pilot wise, the adage saith, 
Night is a day of wakefulness and pain. 
Therefore no force of weaponed men, as yet, 
Scatheless can come ashore, before the bark 
Lie at her anchorage securely moored. 
Bethink thee therefore, nor in panic leave 
The shrine of gods whose succour thou hast won. 
I go for aid-men shall not blame me long, 
Old, but with youth at heart and on my tongue.
DANAUS departs as the CHORUS sings in terror.

CHORUS
strophe 1

O land of hill and dale, O holy land, 
What shall befall us? whither shall we flee, 
From Apian land to some dark lair of earth? 

O would that in vapour of smoke I might rise to the clouds of the sky, 
That as dust which flits up without wings I might pass and evanish and die! 

antistrophe 1

I dare not, I dare not abide: my heart yearns, eager to fly; 
And dark is the cast of my thought; I shudder and tremble for fear. 
My father looked forth and beheld: I die of the sight that draws near. 
And for me be the strangling cord, the halter made ready by Fate, 
Before to my body draws nigh the man of my horror and hate. 
Nay, ere I will own him as lord, as handmaid to Hades I go! 

strophe 2

And oh, that aloft in the sky, where the dark clouds are frozen to snow, 
A refuge for me might be found, or a mountain-top smooth and too high 
For the foot of the goat, where the vulture sits lonely, and none may descry 
The pinnacle veiled in the cloud, the highest and sheerest of all, 
Ere to wedlock that rendeth my heart, and love that is loveless, 
I fall! 

antistrophe 2

Yea, a prey to the dogs and the birds of the mount will I give me to be,- 
From wailing and curse and pollution it is death, only death, sets me free: 
Let death come upon me before to the ravisher's bed I am thrust; 
What champion, what saviour but death can I find, or what refuge from lust? 

strophe 3

I will utter my shriek of entreaty, a prayer that shrills up to the sky, 
That calleth the gods to compassion, a tuneful, a pitiful cry, 
That is loud to invoke the releaser. O father, look down on the fight; 
Look down in thy wrath on the wronger, with eyes that are eager for right. 
Zeus, thou that art lord of the world, whose kingdom is strong over all, 
Have mercy on us! At thine altar for refuge and safety we call. 

antistrophe 3

For the race of Aegyptus is fierce, with greed and with malice afire; 
They cry as the questing hounds, they sweep with the speed of desire. 
But thine is the balance of fate, thou rulest the wavering scale, 
And without thee no mortal emprise shall have strength to achieve or prevail.
The CHORUS rushes to the altar during the final part of the song.
Alack, alack! the ravisher- 
He leaps from boat to beach, he draweth near! 
Away, thou plunderer accurst! 
Death seize thee first, 
Or e'er thou touch me-off! God, hear our cry, 
Our maiden agony! 
Ah, ah, the touch, the prelude of my shame. 
Alas, my maiden fame! 
O sister, sister, sister, to the altar cling, 
For he that seizeth me, 
Grim is his wrath and stern, by land as on the sea. 
Guard us, O king!
The HERALD OF AEGYPTUS enters with attendants. The lines in the following scene between the HERALD and the CHORUS are sung and are accompanied by a frenzied symbolic dance.

HERALD OF AEGYPTUS
Hence to my barge-step swiftly, tarry not.

CHORUS
Alack, he rends-he rends my hair! O wound on wound! 
Help! my lopped head will fall, my blood gush o'er the ground!

HERALD OF AEGYPTUS
Aboard, ye cursed-with a new curse, go!

CHORUS
Would God that on the wand'ring brine 
Thou and this braggart tongue of thine 
Had sunk beneath the main- 
Thy mast and planks, made fast in vain! 
Thee would I drive aboard once more, 
A slayer and a dastard, from the shore!

HERALD OF AEGYPTUS
Be still, thou vain demented soul; 
My force thy craving shall control. 
Away, aboard! What, clingest to the shrine? 
Away! this city's gods I hold not for divine.

CHORUS
Aid me, ye gods, that never, never 
I may again behold 
The mighty, the life-giving river, 
Nilus, the quickener of field and fold! 
Alack, O sire, unto the shrine I cling- 
Shrine of this land from which mine ancient line did spring!

HERALD OF AEGYPTUS
Shrines, shrines, forsooth!-the ship, the ship be shrine 
Aboard, perforce and will-ye nill-ye, go! 
Or e'er from hands of mine 
Ye suffer torments worse and blow on blow.

CHORUS
Alack, God grant those hands may strive in vain 
With the salt-streaming wave, 
When 'gainst the wide-blown blasts thy bark shall strain 
To round Sarpedon's cape, the sandbank's treach'rous grave.

HERALD OF AEGYPTUS
Shrill ye and shriek unto what gods ye may, 
Ye shall not leap from out Aegyptus' bark, 
How bitterly soe'er ye wail your woe.

CHORUS
Alack, alack my wrong! 
Stern is thy voice, thy vaunting loud and strong. 
Thy sire, the mighty Nilus, drive thee hence, 
Turning to death and doom thy greedy violence!

HERALD OF AEGYPTUS
Swift to the vessel of the double prow, 
Go quickly! let none linger, else this hand 
Ruthless will hale you by your tresses hence.

CHORUS
Alack, O father! from the shrine 
Not aid but agony is mine. 
As a spider he creeps and he clutches his prey, 
And he hales me away. 
A spectre of darkness, of darkness. Alas and alas! well-a-day! 
O Earth, O my mother! O Zeus, thou king of the earth, and her child! 
Turn back, we pray thee, from us his clamour and threatenings wild!

HERALD OF AEGYPTUS
Peace! I fear not this country's deities. 
They fostered not my childhood nor mine age.

CHORUS
Like a snake that is human he comes, he shudders and crawls to my side: 
As an adder that biteth the foot, his clutch on my flesh doth abide. 
O Earth, O my mother! O Zeus, thou king of the earth, and her child! 
Turn back, we pray thee, from us his clamour and threatenings wild!

HERALD OF AEGYPTUS
Swift each unto the ship; repine no more, 
Or my hand shall not spare to rend your robe.

CHORUS
O chiefs, O leaders, aid me, or I yield!

HERALD OF AEGYPTUS
Peace! if ye have not ears to hear my words, 
Lo, by these tresses must I hale you hence.

CHORUS
Undone we are, O king! all hope is gone.

HERALD OF AEGYPTUS
Ay, kings enow ye shall behold anon, 
Aegyptus' sons-Ye shall not want for kings.
The KING OF ARGOS enters with his retinue.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Sirrah, what dost thou? in what arrogance 
Darest thou thus insult Pelasgia's realm? 
Deemest thou this a woman-hearted town? 
Thou art too full of thy barbarian scorn 
For us of Grecian blood, and, erring thus, 
Thou dost bewray thyself a fool in all!

HERALD OF AEGYPTUS
Say thou wherein my deeds transgress my right.

THE KING OF ARGOS
First, that thou play'st a stranger's part amiss.

HERALD OF AEGYPTUS
Wherein? I do but search and claim mine own.

THE KING OF ARGOS
To whom of our guest-champions hast appealed?

HERALD OF AEGYPTUS
To Hermes, herald's champion, lord of search.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Yea, to a god-yet dost thou wrong the gods!

HERALD OF AEGYPTUS
The gods that rule by Nilus I revere.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Hear I aright? our Argive gods are nought?

HERALD OF AEGYPTUS
The prey is mine, unless force rend it from me.

THE KING OF ARGOS
At thine own peril touch them-'ware, and soon!

HERALD OF AEGYPTUS
I hear thy speech, no hospitable word.

THE KING OF ARGOS
I am no host for sacrilegious hands.

HERALD OF AEGYPTUS
I will go tell this to Aegyptus' sons.

THE KING OF ARGOS
Well it I my pride will ponder not thy word.

HERALD OF AEGYPTUS
Yet, that I have my message clear to say 
(For it behoves that heralds' words be clear, 
Be they or ill or good), how art thou named? 
By whom despoiled of this sister-band 
Of maidens pass I homeward?-speak and say! 
For lo, henceforth in Ares' court we stand, 
Who judges not by witness but by war: 
No pledge of silver now can bring the cause 
To issue: ere this thing end, there must be 
Corpse piled on corpse and many lives gasped forth.

THE KING OF ARGOS
What skills it that I tell my name to thee? 
Thou and thy mates shall learn it ere the end. 
Know that if words unstained by violence 
Can change these maidens' choice, then mayest thou, 
With full consent of theirs, conduct them hence. 
But thus the city with one voice ordained- 
No force shall bear away the maiden band. 
Firmly this word upon the temple wall 
Is by a rivet clenched, and shall abide: 
Not upon wax inscribed and delible, 
Nor upon parchment sealed and stored away.- 
Lo, thou hast heard our free mouths speak their will: 
Out from our presence-tarry not, but go!

HERALD OF AEGYPTUS
Methinks we stand on some new edge of war: 
Be strength and triumph on the young men's side!

THE KING OF ARGOS
Nay but here also shall ye find young men, 
Unsodden with the juices oozed from grain.
The HERALD OF AEGYPTUS and his followers withdraw.
But ye, O maids, with vour attendants true, 
Pass hence with trust into the fenced town, 
Ringed with a wide confine of guarding towers. 
Therein are many dwellings for such guests 
As the State honours; there myself am housed 
Within a palace neither scant nor strait. 
There dwell ye, if ye will to lodge at ease 
In halls well-thronged: yet, if your soul prefer, 
Tarry secluded in a separate home. 
Choose ye and cull, from these our proffered gifts, 
Whiche'er is best and sweetest to your will: 
And I and all these citizens whose vote 
Stands thus decreed, will your protectors be. 
Look not to find elsewhere more loyal guard.

CHORUS singing
O godlike chief, God grant my prayer: 
Fair blessings on thy proffers fair, 
Lord of Pelasgia's race! 
Yet, of thy grace, unto our side 
Send thou the man of courage tried, 
Of counsel deep and prudent thought 
Be Danaus to his children brought; 
For his it is to guide us well 
And warn where it behoves to dwell- 
What place shall guard and shelter us 
From malice and tongues slanderous: 
Swift always are the lips of blame 
A stranger-maiden to defame- 
But Fortune give us grace!

THE KING OF ARGOS
A stainless fame, a welcome kind 
From all this people shall ye find: 
Dwell therefore, damsels, loved of us, 
Within our walls, as Danaus 
Allots to each, in order due, 
Her dower of attendants true.
DANAUS re-enters. A troop of soldiers accompanies him.

DANAUS
High thanks, my children, unto Argos con, 
And to this folk, as to Olympian gods, 
Give offerings meet of sacrifice and wine; 
For saviours are they in good sooth to you. 
From me they heard, and bitter was their wrath, 
How those your kinsmen strove to work you wrong, 
And how of us were thwarted: then to me 
This company of spearmen did they grant, 
That honoured I might walk, nor unaware 
Die by some secret thrust and on this land 
Bring down the curse of death, that dieth not. 
Such boons they gave me: it behoves me pay 
A deeper reverence from a soul sincere. 
Ye, to the many words of wariness 
Spoken by me your father, add this word, 
That, tried by time, our unknown company 
Be held for honest: over-swift are tongues 
To slander strangers, over-light is speech 
To bring pollution on a stranger's name. 
Therefore I rede you, bring no shame on me 
Now when man's eye beholds your maiden prime. 
Lovely is beauty's ripening harvest-field, 
But ill to guard; and men and beasts, I wot, 
And birds and creeping things make prey of it. 
And when the fruit is ripe for love, the voice 
Of Aphrodite bruiteth it abroad, 
The while she guards the yet unripened growth. 
On the fair richness of a maiden's bloom 
Each passer looks, o'ercome with strong desire, 
With eyes that waft the wistful dart of love. 
Then be not such our hap, whose livelong toil 
Did make our pinnace plough the mighty main: 
Nor bring we shame upon ourselves, and joy 
Unto my foes. Behold, a twofold home- 
One of the king's and one the people's gift- 
Unbought, 'tis yours to hold,-a gracious boon. 
Go-but remember ye your sire's behest, 
And hold your life less dear than chastity.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS
The gods above grant that all else be well. 
But fear not thou, O sire, lest aught befal 
Of ill unto our ripened maidenhood. 
So long as Heaven have no new ill devised, 
From its chaste path my spirit shall not swerve.
The members of the CHORUS divide into two groups, to sing the final choral lyric responsively.

SEMI-CHORUS
strophe 1

Pass and adore ye the Blessed, the gods of the city who dwell 
Around Erasinus, the gush of the swift immemorial tide.

SEMI-CHORUS
Chant ye, O maidens; aloud let the praise of Pelasgia swell; 
Hymn we no longer the shores where Nilus to ocean doth glide.

SEMI-CHORUS
antistrophe 1

Sing we the bounteous streams that ripple and gush through the city; 
Quickening flow they and fertile, the soft new life of the plain.

SEMI-CHORUS
Artemis, maiden most pure, look on us with grace and with pity- 
Save us from forced embraces: such love hath no crown but a pain.

SEMI-CHORUS
strophe 2

Yet not in scorn we chant, but in honour of Aphrodite; 
She truly and Hera alone have power with Zeus and control. 
Holy the deeds of her rite, her craft is secret and mighty, 
And high is her honour on earth, and subtle her sway of the soul.

SEMI-CHORUS
Yea, and her child is Desire: in the train of his mother he goeth- 
Yea and Persuasion soft-lipped, whom none can deny or repel: 
Cometh Harmonia too, on whom Aphrodite bestoweth 
The whispering parley, the paths of the rapture that lovers love well.

SEMI-CHORUS
antistrophe 2

Ah, but I tremble and quake lest again they should sail to reclaim! 
Alas for the sorrow to come, the blood and the carnage of war. 
Ah, by whose will was it done that o'er the wide ocean they came, 
Guided by favouring winds, and wafted by sail and by oar?

SEMI-CHORUS
Peace! for what Fate hath ordained will surely not tarry but come; 
Wide is the counsel of Zeus, by no man escaped or withstood: 
Only I pray that whate'er, in the end, of this wedlock he doom, 
We, as many a maiden of old, may win from the ill to the good.

SEMI-CHORUS
strophe 3

Great Zeus, this wedlock turn from me- 
Me from the kinsman bridegroom guard!

SEMI-CHORUS
Come what come may, 'tis Fate's decree.

SEMI-CHORUS
Soft is thy word-the doom is hard.

SEMI-CHORUS
Thou know'st not what the Fates provide.

SEMI-CHORUS
antistrophe 3

How should I scan Zeus' mighty will, 
The depth of counsel undescried?

SEMI-CHORUS
Pray thou no word of omen ill.

SEMI-CHORUS
What timely warning wouldst thou teach?

SEMI-CHORUS
Beware, nor slight the gods in speech.

SEMI-CHORUS
strophe 4

Zeus, hold from my body the wedlock detested, the bridegroom abhorred! 
It was thou, it was thou didst release 
Mine ancestress Io from sorrow: thine healing it was that restored, 
The touch of thine hand gave her peace.

SEMI-CHORUS
antistrophe 4

Be thy will for the cause of the maidens! of two ills, the lesser 
I pray- 
The exile that leaveth me pure. 
May thy justice have heed to my cause, my prayers to thy mercy find way! 
For the hands of thy saving are sure.

THE END

What a handsome figure of a dragon. No wonder I fall madly in love with the Alani Dragon now, the avatar, it's a gorgeous dragon picture.
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