The Tragedies — Seneca
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TRAGOEDIAE
Translation/edition: Frank Justus Miller
Language: English
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This file: https://plato-scroll.com/text/seneca-tragedies.txt
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Numbers in [brackets] are the edition's reference loci (Stephanus, Bekker, book.line, page...). Superscript numerals refer to the Notes at the end.

The ten tragedies attributed to Seneca — the only Latin tragedies to survive complete from antiquity. Blood-soaked, rhetorical, and Stoic in temper, they reshape Greek myth (Medea, Phaedra, Thyestes, the Trojan Women, Oedipus, the two Hercules plays) into dramas of passion, fate and endurance that shaped Renaissance tragedy from Kyd to Shakespeare. Verse translation by Frank Justus Miller (Loeb, 1917); public domain.
Córdoba, Andalusia, Spain. In 4 BC Seneca the Younger was born in Cordoba in Hispania. He was the second son of Helvia and Lucius Annaeus Seneca, the wealthy rhetorician known as Seneca the Elder.
Roman ruins in Cordoba — archaeological site of Cercadilla including the remains of one of Maximian’s palaces

## The Madness of Hercules

DRAMATIS PERSONAE
ARGUMENT
HERCULES FURENS
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.
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.

## HERCULES FURENS

[1] JUNO: 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. 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, he shines who bore the Tyrian Europa across the waves; there the Atlantides, 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. 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.
[19] JUNO: 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] JUNO: 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.
[46] JUNO: 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 spoils 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] JUNO: 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. Unshaken, his back upbore the stars and the sky and me down-pressing. He seeks a way to the gods above.
[75] JUNO: 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, which trembles whenever the giant struggles, set free the buried frame of that dread monster; let Luna 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] JUNO: 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] JUNO: 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] JUNO: Now must my war be set in motion; the sky is brightening and the shining sun steals up in saffron dawn.
[125] CHORUS: 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 pole 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’ sister flees away, to return again. Hard toil arises, sets all cares astir, opens all doors.
[139] CHORUS: 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 paramour 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] CHORUS: 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 sisters ply 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] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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.]
[204] AMPHITRYON: 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] AMPHITRYON: The nimble hind of Maenalus, raising her head bounteously adorned with gold, was caught by his long pursuit; 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 king 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? Among his herds in the distant land of Spain the three-shaped shepherd 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 bidden 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 path for Ocean’s rushing stream. Next he essayed the rich grove’s dwellings and bore off the watchful dragon’s golden spoil. 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 queen 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] AMPHITRYON: 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’s kingdom, fall dead by the murderer’s 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 youth 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 master 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!
[279] MEGARA: 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 stream 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, 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.
[309] AMPHITRYON: 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.
[313] MEGARA: What the wretched overmuch desire, they easily believe.
[314] AMPHITRYON: Nay, what they fear overmuch they think can never be set aside or done away. Fear’s trust inclineth ever to the worse.
[317] MEGARA: Submerged, deep-buried, crushed beneath all the world, what way has he to upper air?
[319] AMPHITRYON: 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.
[325] MEGARA: 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] MEGARA: But see, ferocious and with threats upon his brow, the same in gait and spirit, Lycus comes, brandishing another’s sceptre in his hand.
[332] LYCUS: 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.
[358] MEGARA: What new thing plans that fellow, that destruction and pestilence of our race? What does he attempt?
[359] LYCUS: 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?
[372] MEGARA: 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? Why speak of the brothers’ twofold camps? the two funeral-pyres? The daughter of Tantalus, presumptuous mother, 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. Thee do such precedents of doom await. Lord it as thou wilt, only the accustomed destinies of our realm summon thee.
[397] LYCUS: 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.
[414] MEGARA: 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.
[422] LYCUS: Does a husband buried in the depths produce such spirit?
[423] MEGARA: He reached the depths that he might gain the heights.
[424] LYCUS: The weight of the boundless earth crushes him.
[425] MEGARA: By no weight will he be crushed who upbore the heavens.
[426] LYCUS: Thou shalt be forced.
[426] MEGARA: Who can be forced has not learned how to die.
[427] LYCUS: Say rather, what royal gift I shall prepare for my new bride.
[428] MEGARA: Thy death or mine.
[429] LYCUS: Fool, thou shalt die.
[429] MEGARA: So shall I meet my husband.
[430] LYCUS: Is a slave more to thee than I, a king?
[431] MEGARA: How many kings has that slave given to death!
[432] LYCUS: Why, then, does he serve a king and endure the yoke?
[433] MEGARA: Do away with harsh commands – what then will valour be?
[434] LYCUS: To oppose oneself to beast and monsters think’st thou valour?
[435] MEGARA: ’Tis valour’s part to subdue what all men fear.
[436] LYCUS: The shades of Tartarus bury the braggart deep.
[437] MEGARA: There is no easy way to the stars from earth.
[438] LYCUS: Who is his father that he hopes for a home in heaven?
[439] AMPHITRYON: 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 Phlegra 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.
[447] LYCUS: Why blaspheme Jove? The race of mortals cannot mate with heaven.
[449] AMPHITRYON: That is the common origin of many gods.
[450] LYCUS: But were they slaves ere they became divine?
[451] AMPHITRYON: The Delian as a shepherd tended flocks at Pherae –
[452] LYCUS: But he did not in exile roam o’er all the world.
[452] AMPHITRYON: What? He whom an exiled mother brought forth on a roaming isle?
[453] LYCUS: Did Phoebus encounter savage monsters or wild beasts?
[454] AMPHITRYON: A dragon was the first to stain Phoebus’ shafts.
[455] LYCUS: Knowest thou not what heavy ills he bore in infancy?
[456] AMPHITRYON: Ripped by a thunderbolt from his mother’s womb, a boy 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.
[463] LYCUS: Whome’er thou shalt see wretched, known him man
[464] AMPHITRYON: Whome’er thou shalt see brave, call him not wretched.
[465] LYCUS: Are we to call him brave from whose shoulders fell the lion’s skin and club, made present for a girl, 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?
[472] AMPHITRYON: 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.
[477] LYCUS: 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.
[480] AMPHITRYON: 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.
[489] LYCUS: What is Jove’s right is a king’s right, too. Thou gavest thy wife to Jove, to a king shall he give his; 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.
[495] MEGARA: 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.
[501] LYCUS: 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.
[509] AMPHITRYON: This boon as father of Alcides I ask of thee, which becomes me well to ask, that I be first to fall.
[511] LYCUS: 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.]
[516] AMPHITRYON: 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!
[524] CHORUS: 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.”
[533] CHORUS: He invaded the wandering homes of Scythia and nations strangers to their ancestral haunts; 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 she 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] CHORUS: 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 mere 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] CHORUS: Oh, that thou mayest o’ercome the laws of cruel Styx, and the relentless distaffs of the Fates. He 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 path now give easy passage to the upper world!
[569] CHORUS: 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 judgment 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] CHORUS: 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.]
[592] HERCULES: O lord of kindly light, glory of heaven, who in thy flame-bearing car dost circle both spaces 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] HERCULES: But why do hostile soldiers guard the shrine and dreadful arms beset the sacred portal?
[618] AMPHITRYON: 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.
[626] HERCULES: 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?
[629] AMPHITRYON: The father of thy wife is slain; Lycus has seized the throne; thy sons, thy father, thy wife he claims for death.
[631] HERCULES: 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 victim 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.]
[640] THESEUS: Banish that tearful look from thine eyes, O queen, and do thou, 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.
[645] AMPHITRYON: 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.
[650] THESEUS: 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.
[654] AMPHITRYON: 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.
[658] THESEUS: All the world’s holy powers, and thou who rulest the all-holding realm, and thou whom, 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] THESEUS: 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.
[697] AMPHITRYON: Is any land there fruitful of corn or wine?
[698] THESEUS: 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.
[707] AMPHITRYON: What of him who holds sway over the dark realm? Where sits he, governing his flitting tribes?
[709] THESEUS: 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.
[731] AMPHITRYON: 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?
[731] THESEUS: 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 father 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.
[747] AMPHITRYON: Does any certain place enclose the guilty? and, as rumour has it, do sinners suffer cruel punishment in bonds unending?
[750] THESEUS: Ixion whirls, racked on a flying wheel; a huge stone rests on the neck of Sisyphus; in mid-stream an old man 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 bird torments Phineus at his board.
[760] AMPHITRYON: Now tell my son’s famous struggle. Is it his willing uncle’s gift, or his spoil, he brings?
[762] THESEUS: 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 labour plunges deep his fertile heads.
[782] THESEUS: 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 Cleonaean 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 rulers shiver on their throne, and bid lead the dog away. Me also they give as boon to Alcides’ prayer.
[807] THESEUS: 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.
[830] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: Great as the host that moves through citystreets, eager to see the spectacle in some new theatre; great as that which pours to the Elean 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] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: Now, priest, bedeck thy bristling hair with his well-loved poplar.
[Enter HERCULES, fresh from the slaying of LYCUS.]
[895] HERCULES: 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] HERCULES: 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 tamer of Lycurgus and the ruddy sea, 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] HERCULES: [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 thou 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. Heap incense on the flames.
[918] AMPHITRYON: O son, first purify thy hands, dripping with thy slaughtered foeman’s blood.
[920] HERCULES: 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.
[924] AMPHITRYON: Pray that thy father end thy toils, that at least rest and repose be given to the weary.
[926] HERCULES: 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.
HERCULES: [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.
[952] AMPHITRYON: 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?
[955] HERCULES: 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. 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 unfilial 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!
[973] AMPHITRYON: Have done with these horrible imaginings: Repress the mad fury of thy proud heart, no longer sane.
[976] HERCULES: 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.
HERCULES: [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.
[991] AMPHITRYON: 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.
[995] HERCULES: 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.
HERCULES: [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.]
HERCULES: 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: 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.
[1012] AMPHITRYON: [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.
[1014] THE VOICE OF MEGARA: 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.
[1017] THE VOICE OF HERCULES: I have caught my stepdame. Come, pay me thy debt, and free o’ermastered Jove from a degrading yoke. But before the mother let this little monster perish.
[1021] THE VOICE OF MEGARA: What wouldst thou, madman? Thine own blood wilt thou shed?
[1022] AMPHITRYON: 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] AMPHITRYON: [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.
[1032] CHORUS: 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.]
[1035] HERCULES: ’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 Argos shall give still other victims.
[1039] AMPHITRYON: 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] AMPHITRYON: [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.
[1054] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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 guide 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] CHORUS: 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.] Banish 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] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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.
CHORUS: 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 –
CHORUS: [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 has 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 –
CHORUS: [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 has 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 Thracian or for Geryon’s flock, or the Libyan heroes, I am ready for the fray. Here I stand defenceless, e’en though with my own arms thou shouldst assail me armourless.
[1173] CHORUS: Why does Theseus avoid my eyes, why does my father? Why do they hide their faces? Postpone your tears. Who has 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 lord 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 name always next hallowed in my sight, speak out! who has overthrown my house? To whom have I fallen prey?
[1186] AMPHITRYON: In silence, as they may, let troubles pass.
[1187] HERCULES: And I be unavenged?
[1187] AMPHITRYON: Oft vengeance has brought bane.
[1188] HERCULES: Has any e’er borne such woes supinely?
[1189] AMPHITRYON: Yes, he who greater woes has feared.
[1189] HERCULES: But than these, father, can aught still greater of heavier be feared?
[1191] AMPHITRYON: How small the part of thy calamity is that thou knowest!
[1192] HERCULES: 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.
[1200] AMPHITRYON: Truly the woe is thine; the crime thy stepdame’s. This mischance is free from sin.
[1202] HERCULES: 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 crags 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 rocks 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.
[1219] AMPHITRYON: His heart, not yet eased of frenzy’s tumult, has shifted its wrath’s aim and now, sure sign of madness, he rages against himself.
[1221] HERCULES: 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.
HERCULES: [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.
[1237] AMPHITRYON: What man anywhere hath laid on error the name of guilt?
[1238] HERCULES: Oft hath great error held the place of guilt.
[1239] AMPHITRYON: Now must thou be Hercules; bear thou this weight of trouble.
[1240] HERCULES: 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.
[1247] AMPHITRYON: 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.
[1258] HERCULES: 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.
[1263] AMPHITRYON: Thou’lt slay thy father.
[1263] HERCULES: Lest I do so, I’ll die.
[1264] AMPHITRYON: Before thy father’s eyes?
[1264] HERCULES: I have taught him to look on impious deeds.
[1265] AMPHITRYON: Nay, rather think upon thy deeds glorious to all, and seek from thyself pardon for one sin.
[1267] HERCULES: 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.
[1272] THESEUS: 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!
[1278] HERCULES: 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.
[1295] AMPHITRYON: I return thine arms.
[1295] HERCULES: The words are worthy the sire of Hercules. See, slain by this shaft fell my boy.
[1297] AMPHITRYON: ’Twas Juno shot the arrow by thy hand.
[1298] HERCULES: ’Tis I who shall use it now.
[1298] AMPHITRYON: Oh, how my woeful heart trembles with fear and smites on my anxious breast!
[1300] HERCULES: The shaft is notched.
[1300] AMPHITRYON: Ah, now wilt thou sin of thine own will and knowledge.
[1301] HERCULES: Speak out; what wouldst have me do?
[1302] AMPHITRYON: 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.
[1314] HERCULES: 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.
[1319] AMPHITRYON: But this hand I clasp joyfully; by its help I’ll walk and, holding it close to my aching heart, banish my griefs.
[1321] HERCULES: 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!
[1341] THESEUS: My land awaits thee. There Gradivus once cleansed his hands from blood and gave them back to war; thee, Alcides, does that land call, land which can free the immortals from their stains.

## The Trojan Women

DRAMATIS PERSONAE
ARGUMENT
TROADES
AGAMEMNON, king of the Greek forces in the war against TroyPYRRHUS, 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.
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.

## TROADES

[1] HECUBA: 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, famous work of gods; she to whose assistance came he who drinks chill Tanaïs, spreading its sevenfold mouths, he who first greets the new-born day, where mingle the warm waters of Tigris with the ruddy sea, and she 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] HECUBA: I call to witness the divinity of the gods, hostile to me, the ashes of my country, thee, ruler of Phrygia, whom, buried beneath thy whole realm, Troy covers, and the shades of thee with whose standing Ilium stood, and you, great troops of children mine, ye lesser shades: whatever disaster has befallen us, whatever evils Phoebus’ bride, raving with frenzied lips, foretold, though the god forbade that she should be believed, I, Hecuba, big with child, saw first, nor did I keep my fears unuttered, and I before Cassandra was a prophetess unheeded. ’Tis not the crafty Ithacan, nor the night-prowling comrade of the Ithacan, who has scattered firebrands ‘mongst you, nor the lying Sinon – mine is that fire, by my brands are you burning.
[41] HECUBA: 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, 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] HECUBA: 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.
[68] CHORUS: No untrained company, stranger to tears, dost thou bid mourn; this have we done for years unceasing, from when the Phrygian guest touched at Grecian Amyclae, and the waves were cleft by the pine sacred to mother Cybele. 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.
[83] HECUBA: 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, 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.
[99] CHORUS: 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.
[117] HECUBA: For thee 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] HECUBA: Turn now your mourning; for Priam shed your tears; Hector has enough.
[132] CHORUS: 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 twice 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, on Sigeum’s strand headless thou liest.
[142] HECUBA: 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.
[157] CHORUS: “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.]
[164] TALTHYBIUS: O delay, ever long for Greeks in harbour, whether they would seek war or seek fatherland!
[166] CHORUS: Tell thou what cause delays the Grecian fleet, what god blocks the homeward paths.
[168] TALTHYBIUS: 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. Forth leaped the mighty shade of the Thessalian chief, such shape as when practising for thy fate, O Troy, he laid low the Thracian arms, or smote the son 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] TALTHYBIUS: 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 my 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.]
[203] PYRRHUS: 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, 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] PYRRHUS: 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 mother with 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, 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. Dost hesitate and now of a sudden deem wrong what has already been approved, 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.
[250] AGAMEMNON: 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] AGAMEMNON: 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] AGAMEMNON: 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.
[292] PYRRHUS: And shall Achilles’ ghost gain no reward?
[293] AGAMEMNON: 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.
[301] PYRRHUS: 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.
[310] AGAMEMNON: 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.
[313] PYRRHUS: 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.
[318] AGAMEMNON: 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.
[322] PYRRHUS: 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.
[325] AGAMEMNON: Yea, and in that same ship-camp of Thessaly deep peace, again, did Hector’s father find.
[327] PYRRHUS: ’Tis a high, a kingly act to give life to a king.
[328] AGAMEMNON: Why then from a king did thy right hand take life?
[329] PYRRHUS: The merciful will oft give death instead of life.
[330] AGAMEMNON: And is it now in mercy thou seekest a maiden for the tomb?
[331] PYRRHUS: So now thou deemst the sacrifice of maids a crime?
[332] AGAMEMNON: To put country before children befits a king.
[333] PYRRHUS: No law spares the captive or stays the penalty.
[334] AGAMEMNON: What law forbids not, shame forbids be done.
[335] PYRRHUS: Whate’er he will, ’tis the victor’s right to do.
[336] AGAMEMNON: Least should he will who has much right.
[337] PYRRHUS: Darest fling such words to those whom, overwhelmed beneath thy heavy sway for ten long years, Pyrrhus freed from the yoke?
[339] AGAMEMNON: Does Scyrus give such airs?
[339] PYRRHUS: ’Tis free from the crime of brothers.
[340] AGAMEMNON: Hemmed by the waves –
[340] PYRRHUS: Yes, of a kindred sea. Atreus and Thyestes – well do I know their noble house.
[342] AGAMEMNON: Thou son of a maiden’s secret shame and of Achilles, but scarce yet a man –
[344] PYRRHUS: 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.
[347] AGAMEMNON: Of that Achilles who lies slain by Paris’ hand.
[348] PYRRHUS: Whom e’en a god would not contend with face to face.
[349] AGAMEMNON: 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.
AGAMEMNON: [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.
[360] CALCHAS: ’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.
[371] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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 lord 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 pool 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, destructive to the body and unsparing of the soul. Taenarus and the cruel tyrant’s kingdom 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.]
[409] ANDROMACHE: 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.
[426] OLD MAN: What sudden terror has stirred thy stricken soul?
[427] ANDROMACHE: Some greater woe from woe already great arises. The fate of falling Ilium is not yet stayed.
[429] OLD MAN: What new disasters, though he wish, will the god discover?
[430] ANDROMACHE: 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 terror disturbs and alarms all Phrygians alike; but this vision of dread night doth terrify my soul alone.
[437] OLD MAN: What vision hast thou to tell? Speak out thy fears before us all.
[438] ANROMACHE: 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 Achilles; 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! 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] ANROMACHE: 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] ANROMACHE: 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.
[497] OLD MAN: In wretchedness, seize any refuge; in safety, choose.
[496] ANDROMACHE: What that he cannot hide without great danger of betrayal?
[492] OLD MAN: Have none to see thy guile.
[493] ANDROMACHE: If the foe inquire?
[498] OLD MAN: He perished in the city’s downfall; this cause alone has saved many from destruction – the belief that they have perished.
[490] ANDROMACHE: 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?
[495] OLD MAN: The victor’s first onslaughts are the deadliest.
[498] ANDROMACHE: [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.]
[512] OLD MAN: The bars protect their charge; and, that thy fear may not hale him forth, retire thou far from here and withdraw thyself apart.
[515] ANDROMACHE: Who fears from near at hand, fears often less; but if thou thinkest well, we will betake us elsewhere.[ULYSSES is seen approaching.]
[517] OLD MAN: Be still a little while, utter no word or cry; the leader of the Cephallenians hither bends his accursed steps.
OLD MAN: 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.]
[524] ULYSSES: 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. Bear thou what thy conqueror has borne.
[556] ANDROMACHE: 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?
[568] ULYSSES: Have done with lies; ’tis not easy for thee to deceive Ulysses; we have out-matched the wiles of mothers and even of goddesses. Away with vain designs; where is thy son?
[571] ANDROMACHE: Where is Hector? Where all the Phrygians? Where is Priam? Thou seekest one; I seek for all.
[573] ULYSSES: Thou shalt be forced to tell what of thyself thou wilt not.
[574] ANDROMACHE: She is safe who is able, who ought, who longs to die.
[575] ULYSSES: When death draws near it drives out boastful words.
[576] ANDROMACHE: If thou desirest, Ulysses, to force Andromache through fear, threaten her with life; for ’tis my prayer to die.
[578] ULYSSES: 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.
[582] ANDROMACHE: 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.
[587] ULYSSES: ’Tis foolish confidence to hide what thou must at once betray.
[588] ANDROMACHE: My dauntless mother-love admits no fears.
[589] ULYSSES: 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.
[594] ANDROMACHE: 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.
[598] ULYSSES: What surety givest thou the Danaï that this is true?
[599] ANDROMACHE: 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.
[605] ULYSSES: 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. 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] ULYSSES: [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.
[623] ANDROMACHE: [Aside.] Life deserts my limbs, they quake, they fail; my blood stands still, congealed with icy cold.
[625] ULYSSES: [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] ULYSSES: [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.
[632] ANDROMACHE: 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.
[634] ULYSSES: 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.
[642] ANDROMACHE: [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 both; 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.
[663] ULYSSES: I will fulfil the oracle; the tomb will I raze to its foundations.
[664] ANDROMACHE: The tomb ye sold?
[664] ULYSSES: I’ll keep right on, and from the mound’s top I’ll drag the sepulchre.
[665] ANDROMACHE: To heaven’s faith I appeal, and Achilles’ faith; Pyrrhus, protect thy father’s gift.
[667] ULYSSES: This mound shall at once lie level with the plain.
[668] ANDROMACHE: 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.
[678] ULYSSES: [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.
[680] ANDROMACHE: [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 – he has brandished his arms in his hand, he is hurling firebrands – ye Danaï, do you see Hector? or do I alone see him?
[685] ULYSSES: I’ll pull it down to its foundations, all of it.
[686] ANDROMACHE: [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.
ANDROMACHE: [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. 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.
[704] ULYSSES: Produce thy son – and pray.
ULYSSES: ANDROMACHE[Going to the tomb, calls ASTYANAX.][706] Hither from thy hiding-place come out, sad object of a wretched mother’s theft.
ULYSSES: [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.
ULYSSES: [She turns to ULYSSES.][718] Troy aforetime also 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? 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.
[736] ULYSSES: 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.
[739] ANDROMACHE: 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 overthrow 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?
[749] ULYSSES: ’Tis not Ulysses, but Calchas refuses this to thee.
[750] ANDROMACHE: 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 Pelasgians are 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.
[757] ULYSSES: 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.
[760] ANDROMACHE: 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.
[762] ULYSSES: 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.
[766] ANDROMACHE: [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, 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.
[785] ULYSSES: Break off now thy tears, thou mother; great grief sets no limit to itself.
[787] ANDROMACHE: 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.
[792] ASTYANAX: Pity me, mother.
[792] ANDROMACHE: 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.
[812] ULYSSES: [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.]
[814] CHORUS: 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? 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? Olenos, land of scattered homes, Pleuron, which the virgin goddess hates, 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, 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 lands which the Titaressos bathes, destined to flow with its sluggish waters beneath the sea? or to Bessa, and Scarphe, or Pylos, the old man’s home? to Pharis or Pisae, sacred to Jupiter, and Elis, famed for victor’s crowns?
[851] CHORUS: 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, smaller than small Zacynthos, and baleful Ithaca with her crafty crags.
[858] CHORUS: 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.]
[861] HELEN: [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 marriage 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] HELEN: [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. This fall, perchance, will restore thee to a more exalted throne. Many have profited by captivity.
[888] ANROMACHE: 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.
[903] HELEN: 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 her – I can scarce keep from weeping.
[926] ANDROMACHE: 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.
[938] HELEN: 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.
[945] ANDROMACHE: 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 mother is in a daze; her tottering reason has given way. Arise, lift up thy courage, poor queen, strengthen thy fainting spirit.
ANDROMACHE: [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.
[955] HECUBA: Does Achilles still live for vengeance on the Phrygians? Does he still war against them? O hand of Paris, too light! 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.
[969] ANDROMACHE: ’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.
[972] HELEN: Still more wilt thou envy her when thine own lot thou knowest.
[973] ANDROMACHE: Is any part of my suffering still unknown to me?
[974] HELEN: The urn has whirled and to the captives given lords.
[975] ANDROMACHE: To whom am I given as slave? Speak! Whom do I call master?
[976] HELEN: Thee, by the first lot, the youth of Scyros gained.
[977] ANDROMACHE: Fortunate Cassandra, whom madness and Phoebus from the lot exempt.
[978] HELEN: Her the most mighty king of kings receives.
[967] HECUBA: [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?
[980] HELEN: To the Ithacan, against his will, hast thou fallen, a short-lived prize.
[981] HECUBA: 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? 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 tomb – 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. 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.
[999] HECUBA: 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 such 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.
[1009] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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, 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 husband 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] CHORUS: 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.]
[1056] MESSENGER: 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?
[1060] HECUBA: 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.
[1063] MESSENGER: The maiden is slain; thrown from the walls the boy. But each met doom with noble spirit.
[1065] ANDROMACHE: 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.
[1068] MESSENGER: 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] MESSENGER: 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, and summoned the cruel gods to the sacrifice, of his own will leaped the boy down into the midst of Priam’s kingdom –
[1104] ANDROMACHE: 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.
[1110] MESSENGER: 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.
[1117] ANDROMACHE: So also is he like his sire.
[1118] MESSENGER: 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 daughter of Tyndareus as bride’s attendant, with sad and drooping head. “So may Hermione 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] MESSENGER: 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.
[1164] HECUBA: 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!
[1177] MESSENGER: Haste to the sea, ye captives; already the vessels are spreading sail and the fleet is off.

## The Phoenician Women

DRAMATIS PERSONAE
ARGUMENT
PHOENISSAE
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.
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 has 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.]

## PHOENISSAE

OEDIPUS[To ANTIGONE, who has 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 mother led her sisters, by the god impelled, and, rejoicing in the crime, bore in advance the head 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 go – 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.
[51] ANTIGONE: 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 he who holds the Theban sceptre by stolen right, not he 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.
[80] OEDIPUS: 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] OEDIPUS: 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, 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 brethren 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.
OEDIPUS: 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] OEDIPUS: 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 has 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; 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.
[182] ANTIGONE: 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 has 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 has 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] ANTIGONE: 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?
[216] OEDIPUS: 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] OEDIPUS: 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. 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] OEDIPUS: 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] OEDIPUS: 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 pact 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.
[288] ANTIGONE: 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.
[295] OEDIPUS: 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.
OEDIPUS: 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.
OEDIPUS: 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.
[320] MESSENGER: 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 brother 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.
[328] OEDIPUS: 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.
[347] ANTIGONE: 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.
[350] OEDIPUS: 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.
OEDIPUS: 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.
[363] JOCASTA: 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. 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.]
[387] MESSENGER: 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.
[403] ANTIGONE: 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.
[407] JOCASTA: 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.
[414] ANTIGONE: 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.
[419] MESSENGER: The line advances slowly, but the leaders haste.
[420] JOCASTA: 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’s famished board, will hurry me along the highways of the air, hurry and fling me ‘twixt the two battlelines? [Exit.]
[427] MESSENGER: [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.]
MESSENGER: 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, 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 us 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.
[459] MESSENGER: 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?
[464] MESSENGER: [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?
[478] POLYNICES: 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.
[480] JOCASTA: 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] JOCASTA: [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 envy your 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] JOCASTA: [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] JOCASTA: 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] JOCASTA: 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] JOCASTA: 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.
[586] POLYNICES: 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.
[599] JOCASTA: 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; 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] JOCASTA: 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.
[643] POLYNICES: That my cursed brother may receive no penalty for his crime and treachery?
[645] JOCASTA: 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.
[651] ETEOCLES: So let him count me; ’tis worth the price, methinks, to lie with kings. [To POLYNICES.] Thee I enrol amongst the exiled throng.
[653] JOCASTA: Reign, then, but hated by thy people.
[654] ETEOCLES: 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.
[660] JOCASTA: But hated sovereignty is never long retrained.
[661] ETEOCLES: The rules for sovereignty kings will better give; do thou make rules for exiles. For sovereignty I would fain –
[663] JOCASTA: Give country, home, wife to the flames?
[664] ETEOCLES: Sovereignty is well brought at any price.

## Phaedra

DRAMATIS PERSONAE
ARGUMENT
PHAEDRA
HIPPOLYTUS, son of Theseus and Antiope, an Amazon.PHAEDRA, wife of Theseus and stepmother of Hippolytus.THESEUS, king of Athens.NURSE of Phaedra.MESSENGERSLAVES AND ATTENDANTSCHORUS 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.
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.

## PHAEDRA

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, 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.]
[85] PHAEDRA: 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, 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.
[99] PHAEDRA: 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 goddess 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] PHAEDRA: Whither, my soul, art tending? Why this mad love of forest glades? I recognize my wretched mother’s fatal curse; 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 himself 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.
[129] NURSE: 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] NURSE: 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] NURSE: 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 hundred 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? 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] NURSE: 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? Why does thy brother’s labyrinth stand empty? Shall the world hear of strange prodigies, shall nature’s laws give way, whenever a Cretan woman loves?
[177] PHAEDRA: 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 god 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.
[195] NURSE: ’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 Eryx 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.
[218] PHAEDRA: 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.
[222] NURSE: 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.
[225] PHAEDRA: He will give indulgence to my love, perchance.
[226] NURSE: 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.
[233] PHAEDRA: 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.
[236] NURSE: 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.
[240] PHAEDRA: Wild is he; but wild things, we have learned, can be o’ercome by love.
[241] NURSE: He will flee away.
[241] PHAEDRA: Though he flee through the very seas, still will I follow.
[242] NURSE: Remember thy father.
[242] PHAEDRA: My mother I remember too.
[243] NURSE: He shuns the whole race of women.
[243] PHAEDRA: Then need I fear no rival.
[244] NURSE: My husband will be here.
[244] PHAEDRA: Yes, comrade of Pirithoüs!
[245] NURSE: And thy father will be here.
[245] PHAEDRA: He will be kind, Ariadne’s father.
[246] NURSE: 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.
[250] PHAEDRA: 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.
[255] NURSE: 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.
[258] PHAEDRA: 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?
[262] NURSE: 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.
[265] PHAEDRA: 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.
[267] NURSE: 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.]
[274] CHORUS: Thou goddess, born of the cruel sea, who art called mother of both Loves, 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] CHORUS: Phoebus as keeper of the Thessalian herd 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 he 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 prize he bore. The radiant goddess 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 Alcmena 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] CHORUS: 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, 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.
CHORUS: [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?
[360] NURSE: 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] NURSE: But see, the palace doors are opening, and she herself, lying on golden couch, all sick of soul, rejects her wonted garments.
[387] PHAEDRA: Away, ye slaves, with robes bedecked with purple and with gold; away, scarlet of the Tyrian shell, the webs 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, 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.
[404] CHORUS: Cease thy complainings; grieving helps not the wretched. Appease the rustic divinity of our virgin goddess.
[406] NURSE: 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 shepherd make boast o’er thee. Be near, goddess, in answer to our call; hear now our prayers.
NURSE: [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.
[431] HIPPOLYTUS: 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?
[435] NURSE: 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] NURSE: 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] NURSE: 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.
[482] HIPPOLYTUS: 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] HIPPOLYTUS: 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] HIPPOLYTUS: 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] HIPPOLYTUS: ’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] HIPPOLYTUS: 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 weapons] 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.
[564] NURSE: Why make the crime of few the blame of all?
[565] HIPPOLYTUS: 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.
[574] NURSE: 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.
[578] HIPPOLYTUS: I count it the one solace for my lost mother, that now I may hate all womankind.
[580] NURSE: [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] NURSE: But Phaedra is hurrying towards us, impatient of delay. Whither will fortune go? Whither will madness tend?
NURSE: [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.
NURSE: [HIPPOLYTUS hastens to raise her in his arms.][587] Lift thy face, break silence. See, my daughter, thine own Hippolytus embraces thee.
[589] PHAEDRA: [Recovering.] Who gives me back to grief and again sets in my soul this fever dire? How blest was my unconsciousness of self!
[591] HIPPOLYTUS: Why dost thou shun the sweet boon of life restored?
[592] PHAEDRA: [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.
[601] HIPPOYTUS: Behold, the place is free from all witnesses.
[602] PHAEDRA: 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 –
[606] HIPPOLYTUS: Thy heart desires somewhat and cannot tell it out?
[607] PHAEDRA: Light troubles speak; the weighty are struck dumb.
[608] HIPPOLYTUS: Entrust thy troubles to my ears, mother.
[609] PHAEDRA: 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 –
[623] HIPPOLYTUS: The most high God avert that omen! In safety will my father soon return.
[625] PHAEDRA: 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 robber of his couch go back? Unless, perchance, even Pluto sits smiling upon love!
[629] HIPPOLYTUS: 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.
[634] PHAEDRA: [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] PHAEDRA: [To HIPPOLYTUS.] Have pity! hearken to the prayers my heart may not express. I long – and am ashamed – to speak.
[637] HIPPOLYTUS: What, pray, is this thy trouble?
[638] PHAEDRA: A trouble thou wouldst scarce believe could befall a stepmother.
[639] HIPPOLYTUS: Words of doubtful meaning thou utterest with riddling lips. Speak out and plainly.
[640] PHAEDRA: ’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.
[644] HIPPOLYTUS: ’Tis with pure love for Theseus thou dost burn?
[645] PHAEDRA: 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’s 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.
PHAEDRA: [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 –
[671] HIPPOLYTUS: 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] HIPPOLYTUS: [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 stepdame this is a curse, greater, greater far!
[698] PHAEDRA: 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.
[704] HIPPOLYTUS: 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.
[710] PHAEDRA: 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.]
[713] HIPPOLYTUS: 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] HIPPOLYTUS: 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.]
[719] NURSE: 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?
NURSE: [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.]
[736] CHORUS: He fled like a raging tempest, swifter than cloud-collecting Corus, swifter than flame which speeds on its way when a star, driven by the winds, extends its long-trailing fire.
[741] CHORUS: Let fame compare with thee 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, fresh bathed in ocean; and when the shadows have been driven away again, Lucifer also.
[753] CHORUS: 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 whom the sister of Phaedra preferred to Bromius.
[761] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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, 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 orb that was born after the old Arcadians 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 thou hadst been her trouble, thou the cause of her delaying; while gazing on thee the goddess of the night checked her swift course.
[795] CHORUS: 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 fingers 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] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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.
CHORUS: [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.
[835] THESEUS: 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, 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] THESEUS: 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.
[854] NURSE: Phaedra holds unbending purpose of self-murder; she scorns our tears and is on the very edge of death.
[856] THESEUS: What cause for death? Why die, now that her husband is come back?
[857] NURSE: That very cause has brought with it speedy death.
[858] THESEUS: Thy riddling words some weighty matter hide. Tell me plainly what grief weighs on her mind.
[860] NURSE: 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.
[863] THESEUS: Unbar the closed portals of the royal house.[The doors are thrown open and THESEUS encounters his wife just within.]
[854] THESEUS: 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.
[868] PHAEDRA: 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.
[871] THESEUS: What cause forces thee to die?
[872] PHAEDRA: If the cause of my death is told, its fruit is lost.
[873] THESEUS: No one else shall hear it, save myself.
[874] PHAEDRA: A chaste woman dreads her husband’s ears alone.
[875] THESEUS: Speak out; in my true heart will I hide thy secret.
[876] PHAEDRA: Where thou wouldst have another silence keep, keep silence first thyself.
[877] THESEUS: No means of death shall be granted unto thee.
[878] PHAEDRA: If one wills to die, death can never fail.
[879] THESEUS: Tell me what sin is to be purged by death.
[880] PHAEDRA: That I still live.
[880] THESEUS: Do not my tears move thee?
[881] PHAEDRA: ’Tis best to die a death to be wept by friends.
[882] THESEUS: 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.
[885] PHAEDRA: Hold! I will myself confess.
[886] THESEUS: Why dost turn away thy sorrowing face and hide with veiling robe the tears that suddenly o’er flow thy cheeks?
[888] PHAEDRA: Thee, thee, O sire of the heavenly gods, I call to witness, and thee, 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.
[894] THESEUS: Who, tell me, was the destroyer of my honour?
[895] PHAEDRA: Whom thou least thinkest.
[895] THESEUS: Who is he? I demand to hear.
[896] PHAEDRA: This sword will tell, which, in his panic terror, the ravisher left behind, fearing the gathering of the citizens.
[898] THESEUS: 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?
[901] PHAEDRA: The slaves, here, saw him speeding swift away in headlong flight.
[903] THESEUS: O holy Piety, O ruler of the heavens, and thou 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, 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] THESEUS: 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 winter 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] THESEUS: [To NEPTUNE.] Now fulfil the sad 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 boon 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.
[959] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: But why does yon messenger haste hither with rapid pace, his sad countenance wet with grieving tears?
[Enter MESSENGER.]
[991] MESSENGER: O lot bitter and hard, O cruel servitude, why calls fate upon me to bear unutterable tidings?
[993] THESEUS: Fear not to speak out boldly the disaster, cruel though it be; I bear a heart not unprepared for suffering.
[995] MESSENGER: My tongue refuses utterance to the grief-bringing woe.
[996] THESEUS: Tell what mischance weighs down this shattered house.
[997] MESSENGER: Hippolytus, woe is men, lies in lamentable death.
[998] THESEUS: That his son was dead the sire has long since known; now is the ravisher dead. But tell the manner of his end.
[1000] MESSENGER: 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-born 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] MESSENGER: 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, were hid, and the cliffs famous for he crime of Sciron, and the land which is hemmed in by two seas.
[1025] MESSENGER: 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] MESSENGER: 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] MESSENGER: 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 companion holds doggedly in pursuit, now racing alongside the horses, now making detour to face them, form every side filling them with fear.
[1080] MESSENGER: 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 horses flung 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. Thereafter 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] MESSENGER: 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.
[1114] THESEUS: [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.
[1118] MESSENGER: Not rightfully may any weep what he has willed.
[1119] THESEUS: Truly I deem this the crowning woe of woes, if fortune makes what we must loathe that we must long for.
[1121] MESSENGER: If thou still keepst thy hate, why are thy cheeks wet with tears?
[1122] THESEUS: Not that I lost, but that I slew, I weep.
[1123] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: On doubtful wings flies the inconstant hour, nor does swift Fortune pledge loyalty to any. He who with joy beheld the clear, starry skies and bright day, the night 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] CHORUS: 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 tale remains for the infernal king.
[1154] CHORUS: 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.]
[1156] THESEUS: What fury pricks thee on, wild with grief? Why that sword? What mean thine outcries and lamentations over the hated corpse?
[1159] PHAEDRA: 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.
PHAEDRA: [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] PHAEDRA: [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] PHAEDRA: 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] PHAEDRA: [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] PHAEDRA: [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.]
[1201] THESEUS: 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 lot; three kingdoms know me.
[1213] THESEUS: 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 boon 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? 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] THESEUS: Ye guilty shades, make room, and on these shoulders, these, let the rock rest, the endless task of the aged son of Aeolus, and weight down my weary hands; let water, lapping my very lips mock my thirst; let the fell vulture leave Tityus and fly hither, let my liver constantly grow afresh for punishment; and do thou rest awhile, father 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 fitting for me – my son I follow. And fear not, thou who rulest the shades; I come clean-handed; 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!
[1244] CHORUS: 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.
[1247] THESEUS: 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.
[1256] CHORUS: 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!
[1262] THESEUS: 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?
THESEUS: [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] THESEUS: [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.
THESEUS: [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!

## Thyestes

DRAMATIS PERSONAE
ARGUMENT
THYESTES
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.
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.

## THYESTES

[1] THE GHOST OF TANTALUS: 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 wheel 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, I shall fill up; never while Pelops’ house is standing, will Minos be at rest.
[23] THE FURY: 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; 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] THE FURY: 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 crime be done with greater number. Why is the uncle’s 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 crime 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?
[68] GHOST OF TANTALUS: 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] GHOST OF TANTALUS: 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; 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?
[83] THE FURY: 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.
[96] GHOST OF TANTALUS: ’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.
[100] THE FURY: 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 stream 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. Lo! Titan himself stands doubtful whether to bid day follow on, and, plying the reins, compel it to come forth to its undoing.
[122] CHORUS: 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. 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 sea famous by its change of name; to Ionian ships no tale is better known. While the little son 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] CHORUS: Weary, with empty throat, stands Tantalus; above his guilty head hangs food in plenty, than Phineus’ 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 gladly 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.
[176] ATREUS: [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.
[204] ATTENDANT: Does public disapproval deter thee not?
[205] ATREUS: The greatest advantage this of royal power, that their master’s deeds the people are compelled as well to bear as praise.
[207] ATTENDANT: 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.
[211] ATREUS: True praise even to the lowly often comes; false, only to the strong. What men choose not, let them choose.
[213] ATTENDANT: Let a king choose the right; then none will not choose the same.
[214] ATREUS: Where only right to a monarch is allowed, sovereignty is held on sufferance.
[215] ATTENDANT: Where is no shame, no care for right, no honour, virtue, faith, sovereignty is insecure.
[217] ATREUS: Honour, virtue, faith are the goods of common men; let kings go where they please.
[219] ATTENDANT: O count it wrong to harm even a wicked brother.
[220] ATREUS: 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 token 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 back 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, 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 pledge 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.
[246] ATTENDANT: Slain by the sword, let him spew forth his hateful soul.
[247] ATREUS: 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.
[249] ATTENDANT: Does piety move thee not?
[250] ATREUS: 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.
[254] ATTENDANT: What strange design does thy mad soul intend?
[255] ATREUS: Naught that the measure of accustomed rage can hold; no crime will I leave undone, and no crime is enough.
[257] ATTENDANT: The sword?
[257] ATREUS: ’Tis not enough.
[257] ATTENDANT: Fire, then?
[257] ATREUS: Still not enough.
[258] ATTENDANT: What weapon, pray, will thy great anguish use?
[259] ATREUS: Thyestes’ self.
[259] ATTENDANT: This plague is worse than passion.
[260] ATREUS: 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.
[266] ATTENDANT: What, pray, wouldst do?
[267] ATREUS: 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 Odrysian 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 Daulian mother, aye and sister, 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] ATREUS: 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.
[286] ATTENDANT: Bu with what wiles caught will he be led to set foot within our snares? He counts us all enemies.
[288] ATREUS: 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.
[294] ATTENDANT: Who will give him confidence in peace? Whose word will he so greatly trust?
[295] ATREUS: 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.
[305] ATTENDANT: By now time has made his troubles light.
[306] ATREUS: Not so; a sense of wrongs increases day by day. ’Tis easy to bear misfortune; to keep on bearing it a heavy task.
[308] ATTENDANT: Choose other agents of thy grim design.
[308] ATREUS: To the worse schooling youth lends ready ear.
[310] ATTENDANT: Toward their father they will act as toward their uncle thou instructest them; often upon the teacher have his bad teachings turned.
[312] ATREUS: 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 there is being done.
[316] ATTENDANT: Shall thy sons know that this snare is being laid?
[317] ATREUS: 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.
[320] ATTENDANT: Even those by whom thou plannest to deceive another, wilt thou deceive?
[321] ATREUS: 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.
[334] ATTENDANT: No need to admonish me; both fear and loyalty shall shut them in my heart, but rather loyalty.
[336] CHORUS: At last our noble house, the race of ancient Inachus, hath allayed the strife of brothers.
[339] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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 unguarded the Caspian heights to the bold Sarmatians; though he strive against him, who dares on foot to tread the Danube’s waves and (whersoe’er they dwell,) the Serians 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] CHORUS: 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 citizens 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.]
[404] THYESTES: 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.
[421] TANTALUS: [Aside.] My father (what can it mean?) with faltering pace goes as if dazed, keeps turning his face away, and holds uncertain course.
[423] THYESTES: [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? ’Tis sweet now to be wretched. Turn back, while still thou mayest, and save thyself.
[429] TANTALUS: What cause compels thee, father, to turn thee back from sight of thy native land? Why from so great blessings dost withhold thy bosom? 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.
[434] THYESTES: 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.
[440] TANTALUS: 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.
[442] THYESTES: Yea, since I can die.
[443] TANTALUS: The height of power is –
[443] THYESTES: Naught, if nothing thou desirest.
[444] TANTALUS: To thy sons wilt thou bequeath it.
[444] THYESTES: The throne admits not two.
[445] TANTALUS: Would he wish wretchedness who can be blest?
[446] THYESTES: 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. 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.
[471] TANTALUS: Neither is empire to be refused if a god bestows it, nor needst thou seek it; thy brother invites thee to be king.
[473] THYESTES: Invites? Then must I fear. Some trick strays hereabouts.
[474] TANTALUS: Brotherly regard ofttimes returns unto the heart whence it was driven, and true love regains the vigour it has lost.
[476] THYESTES: 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.
[482] TANTALUS: And yet what treachery dost thou fear?
[483] THYESTES: All treachery; to my fear what limit shall I set? His power is boundless as his hate.
[484] TANTALUS: What power has he against thee?
[485] THYESTES: For myself I have now no fear; ’tis you, my sons, who make Atreus cause of dread to me.
[486] TANTALUS: Dost fear to be entrapped if on thy guard?
[487] THYESTES: ’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.
[489] TANTALUS: 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.]
[491] ATREUS: [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 whole 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. [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.
[512] THYESTES: 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.
[521] ATREUS: 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.
[530] THYESTES: 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.
[534] ATREUS: Our throne has room for two.
[535] THYESTES: I count, my brother, all of thine as mine.
[536] ATREUS: Who puts aside inflowing fortune’s gifts?
[537] THYESTES: Whose has found how easily they ebb.
[538] ATREUS: Dost forbid thy brother to gain great glory?
[539] THYESTES: Thy glory is won already; mine is still to win: to refuse the throne is my fixed intent.
[541] ATREUS: My glory must I abandon, unless thou accept thy share.
[542] THYESTES: 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.
[544] ATREUS: [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.]
[546] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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 Corus 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’s 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] CHORUS: 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, 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] CHORUS: 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.]
[623] MESSENGER: 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!
[626] CHORUS: What news bringst thou?
[627] MESSENGER: What place is this? Is it Argos? Is it Sparta, to which fate gave loving brothers? Corinth, 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?
[633] CHORUS: Speak out and tell this evil, whate’er it is.
[634] MESSENGER: 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 whither the vanished day is borne.
[638] CHORUS: 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. Speak out and quickly.
[641] MESSENGER: 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, 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] MESSENGER: 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] MESSENGER: 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.
[690] CHORUS: Who lays his hand unto the knife?
[691] MESSENGER: 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] MESSENGER: 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.
[716] CHORUS: Whom, for all that, does he first attack with the steel?
[717] MESSENGER: The place of honour (lest you deem him lacking in reverence) to his grandsire is allotted – Tantalus is the first victim.
[719] CHORUS: With what spirit, with what countenance bore the lad his death?
[720] MESSENGER: 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.
[730] CHORUS: What did he then after the double murder? Did he spare one boy, or did he heap crime on crime?
[732] MESSENGER: 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.
[743] CHORUS: Oh, savage crime!
[744] MESSENGER: Are you so horror-stricken? If only the crime stops there, ’tis piety.
[745] CHORUS: Does nature admit crime still greater or more dread?
[746] MESSENGER: Crime’s limit deemst thou this? ’Tis the first step of crime.
[747] CHORUS: What further could he do? Did he perchance throw the bodies to the beasts to tear, and refuse them fire?
[749] MESSENGER: 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] MESSENGER: 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] MESSENGER: 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’s 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.]
[789] CHORUS: 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? 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; 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 Phlegraean foe, and does Thessalian Pelion press on Thracian Ossa?
[813] CHORUS: Heaven’s accustomed alternations are no more; no setting, no rising shall there be again. The dewy mother 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 skilled 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] CHORUS: 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 space she speeds on her circling path. Into one abyss shall fall the heaped-up throng of gods. 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 more shall fall down from the sky; the Virgin 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, who sets the feathered shafts upon Haemonian chord, shall lose his shafts from the snapped bowstring; the frigid Goat who brings back sluggish winter, shall fall and break thy urn, whoe’er thou art; with thee shall fall the Fish, last of the stars of heaven, and the Wain, 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, no longer fixed in place, shall fall.
[875] CHORUS: 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.]
[885] ATREUS: Peer of the stars I move, and, towering over all, touch with proud head the lofty heavens. Now the glory of the realm I hold, now my father’s throne. I release the gods, 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. That shame might not hold me back, day has departed. On! while heaven is tenantless. O that I might stay the fleeing deities, 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.
ATREUS: [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.]
[920] THYESTES: 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] THYESTES: 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?
THYESTES: 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: 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.
[976] ATREUS: 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.
[983] THYESTES: 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, deserted. 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!
[998] ATREUS: I will give them back, and no day shall tear them from thee. [Exit.]
[999] THYESTES: 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.]
[1004] ATREUS: Now, father, spread out thine arms; they are here. [He uncovers the platter, revealing the severed heads of THYESTES’ sons.] Dost recognize thy sons?
[1006] THYESTES: 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, 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.
[1021] ATREUS: 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.
[1024] THYESTES: 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.
[1030] ATREUS: Whatever of thy sons is left, thou hast; whatever is not left, thou hast.
[1032] THYESTES: Do they lie a prey for the wild birds? Are they reserved for monsters? Are they food for beasts?
[1034] ATREUS: Thyself hast feasted on thy sons, an impious meal.
[1035] THYESTES: ’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?
[1052] ATREUS: 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.
[1068] THYESTES: 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 you shall 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.
[1096] ATREUS: 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.
[1100] THYESTES: What was my children’s sin?
[1100] ATREUS: That they were thine.
[1101] THYESTES: Sons to the father –
[1101] ATREUS: Yea, and what gives me joy, surely thy sons.
[1102] THYESTES: I call on the gods who guard the innocent.
[1103] ATREUS: Why not the marriage-gods?
[1103] THYESTES: Who punishes crime with crime?
[1104] ATREUS: 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.
[1110] THYESTES: The gods will be present to avenge; to them for punishment my prayers deliver thee.
[1112] ATREUS: To thy sons for punishment do I deliver thee.

## Hercules on Oeta

DRAMATIS PERSONAE
ARGUMENT
HERCULES OETAEUS
HERCULES, son of Jupiter and Alcmena.HYLLUS, son of Hercules and Deïanira.ALCMENA, daughter of Electryon, king of Mycenae.DEÏANIRA, daughter of Oeneus, king of Aetolia, and wife of Hercules.IOLE, daughter of Eurytus, king of Oechalia.NURSE of Deïanira.PHILOCTETES, a prince of Thessaly, son of Poeas, and the faithful friend of Hercules.LICHAS, the messenger (personal muta) of Deïanira to Hercules.CHORUS of Aetolian women, faithful to Deïanira.CHORUS of Oechalian maidens, suffering captivity in company with Iole.
THE SCENE is laid, first in Euboea, and later at the home of Hercules in Trachin.
The long, heroic life of Hercules has neared its end. His twelve great tasks, assigned him by Eurystheus through Juno’s hatred, have been done. His latest victory was over Eurytus, king of Oechalia. Him he slew and overthrew his house, because the monarch would not give him Iole to wife.And now the hero, having overcome the world, and Pluto’s realm beneath the earth, aspires to heaven. He sacrifices to Cenaean Jove, and prays at last to be received into his proper home.

## HERCULES OETAEUS

[IN EUBOEA, NEAR Oechalia, after the overthrow of Eurytus, king of that city.]
[1] HERCULES: O sire of gods, hurled by whose hand both homes of Phoebus feel the thunderbolt, reign thou untroubled; peace have I ‘stablished for thee wherever Nereus forbids the land to extend its bounds. Thou needst not thunder now; false kings lie low, and cruel tyrants. I have crushed all who merited thy bolts. But to me, father, is heaven still denied? Of a surety have I everywhere proved worthy Jove; and that thou art sire of mine my stepdame testifies. Yet why dost still contrive delays? Am I cause of fear? Will Atlas not avail to bear up Hercules placed upon him together with the sky? Why, O father, why dost thou deny the stars to me? Verily hath death given me back to thee; and every evil thing which earth, sea, air, the lower world, produced, hath yielded to my might. No lion prowls amidst Arcadia’s towns; the Stymphalian bird is smitten; the beast of Maenalus is no more; the dragon, slain, hath sprinkled the golden orchard with his blood; the hydra’s strength is gone; the herds, well known to Hebrus, fat with strangers’ blood, have I destroyed, and have brought away Thermodon’s spoils of war. The lot of the silent throng have I beheld; and not alone have I returned, but shuddering day hath seen black Cerberus, and he the sun. No longer doth the Libyan Antaeus renew his strength; before his own altars hath Busiris fallen; by my sole hand hath Geryon been o’erthrown, and the bull, dread terror of a hundred tribes. Whatever hostile earth hath ‘gendered is fallen, by my right hand laid low; the anger of the gods hath been set at naught.
[30] HERCULES: If the earth is done with monsters, if my stepdame is done with wrath, give back now the father to his son, yea, the stars unto the hero. I ask thee not to show the way to me; but grant thy permission, father, and the way I’ll find. Or, if thou fearest that earth shall yet give birth to monsters, let the ill make haste, whate’er it be, while yet the earth doth hold and look on Hercules; for who else will attack evil things, or who, throughout the Argive cities, will be worthy Juno’s hate? I have my honours safe bestowed; there is no land but sings my praise. The race that shivers ‘neath the Scythian Bear hath known me; the sun-scorched Indian and the tropic African. O glowing Sun, bear witness: I have encountered thee where’er thou shinest, nor could thy beams keep pace with my triumphant course; I have gone beyond the changes of the sun, and day hath halted far within my bounds. Nature hath yielded to me, and earth hath failed my feet; she hath been weary first. Night and utter chaos have assailed me, and thence to this world have I come again whence none e’er returns. I have borne Ocean’s threats, and no storm of his has availed to wreck the ship which I have weighted down. How trivial Perseus’ deeds compared with mine! How can the empty air no more suffice the hatred of thy wife, and earth fears to produce beasts for me to conquer, nor can she find monsters more. Beasts are at end; ’tis Hercules now begins to hold the place of monster. For how great evils have I crushed, how many crimes, and all unarmed! Whatever monstrous thing opposed me, with but my hands I laid it low; nor was there ever savage thing which as youth or babe I feared. All my commanded toils seem light, and no inactive day has ever dawned for me. Oh, how great monsters have I overthrown, which no king bade me meet! My courage, more relentless than Juno’s self, has urged me on.
[63] HERCULES: But what avails it to have freed the race of men from fear? Now have the gods no peace; the freed earth sees in the sky all creatures which she feared; for there hath Juno set them. The crab I slew goes round the torrid zone, is known as Libya’s constellation, and matures her grain; the lion to Astraea gives the flying year; but he, his burning mane upon his neck back tossing, dries up the dripping south-wind and devours the clouds. Behold, now has every beast invaded heaven, forestalling me; through victor, I gaze upon my labours from the earth; for to monsters first and to wild beasts has Juno given stars, that to me she might make the sky a place of dread. Yet, though in her rage she scatter them o’er the sky, though she make heaven worse than earth, yea, worse than Styx, to Alcides shall room be given. If after beasts, after wars, after the Stygian dog, I have not yet earned the stars, let Sicilian Pelorus touch the Hesperian shore, and they both shall become one land; thence will I put seas to flight. If thou bidst seas be joined, let Isthmus give passage to the waves and on their united waters let Attic ships along a new way be borne. Let earth be changed; along new valleys let Ister run and Tanaïs receive new channels. Give, give me, O Jupiter, at least the gods to guard; there mayst thou put aside thy thunderbolts where I shall be on guard. Whether thou bidst me guard the icy pole, whether the torrid zone, there count the gods secure. Cirrha’s shrine and a place in heaven did Pean earn by one serpent’s slaughter – oh, how many Pythons in the hydra lie o’erthrown! Already have Bacchus and Perseus reached the gods; but how small a tract of earth was the conquered east, or how meagre a spoil was Gorgon! what son of thine and of my stepdame has by his praises merited the stars? I seek the skies which I myself have borne.
[99] HERCULES: [He turns to LICHAS.] But do thou, Lichas, comrade of the toils of Hercules, proclaim his triumphs – the conquered house of Eurytus, his kingdom overthrown. [To the other attendants.] Do you with speed drive the herds to where the shore, lifting on high the shrine of Cenaean Jove, looks out upon the Euboic sea, fearsome with southern gales.
[Exit HERCULES on his way to the Cenaean Promontory, intending there to sacrifice to Jove.]
HERCULES: CHORUS OF CAPTIVE OECHALIAN MAIDENS IN COMPANY WITH IOLE[104] Mate of the gods is he whose life and fortune have gone side by side; but when ’tis slowly dragged out midst lamentations, life has the lot of death. Whoe’er has set beneath his feet the greedy fates, and the last river’s barque, he will not give his captive arms to bonds nor frae in the victor’s train a noble spoil; ne’er is he wretched for whom to die is easy. Should his boat be wrecked far out upon the deep, where South with North-wind strives, and East with West, rending the sea sunder, he does not gather up the wreckage of his broken ship, that in mid-ocean he may hope for land; he who can straightway render up life, he only from a wreck can suffer naught.
[119] HERCULES: But us, foul wasting claims, and tears, and hair defiled by the dust of fatherland; us nor greedy flame nor crashing wall has overwhelmed. The happy dost thou pursue, O Death, the wretched thou fleest. Here we stand, yet alas! the spot shall no more be given to our country’s crops, but to forests wild, and squalid hovels shall our fallen shrines become. Here soon shall the chill Dolopian lead his flocks where the buried ashes, sole remnant of Oechalia’s ruins, still are warm. Here in our very city a Thessalian shepherd, on rude pipe going o’er his songs, shall sing of our story with doleful notes; and ere God shall bring a few more generations to an end, men will be asking where our country lay. Once I was blest; not barren the hearth nor hungry the acres of Thessalian soil whereon I dwelt; but not to Trachin am I called, to a rough and stony land, to brambles bristling on her parched hills, to woods which e’en the wandering goats disdain. But if some captives by a milder fate are called, then either swift Inachus will bear them o’er, or within Dircaean walls shall they abide, where flows slow Ismenus with scanty stream, where the mother of haughty Hercules once was wed.
[147] HERCULES: False is the story of the double night, when the stars lingered in the sky o’erlong, when Lucifer changed place with Hesperus, and Delia, too slow, kept back the sun. What Scythian crag, what rocky cliff begot thee? As some fierce Titan, did Rhodope bring thee forth, or Athos rough? Did some wild Caspian beast, some striped tigress give thee suck? By no wounds may his limbs be assailed; iron he feels blunt, steel is too dull; upon his naked body swords are broken, and stones rebound; and so he scorns the fates, and with body all invincible defies mortality. Sharp spear-points could not pierce him, nor Scythian arrows shot from bended bow, nor darts which cold Sarmatians wield, or the Parthians who, in the land of the rising sun, with surer aim than ever Cretan’s was, direct their shafts against the neighbouring Arabians. With his bare hands did he o’erthrow Oechalia’s walls, and naught can make stand against him; for whate’er he plans to overcome is overcome already. How few the foes who by his wounds have fallen! His angry countenance was death in open view, and but to have seen the threats of Hercules is enough. What huge Briareus, what Gyas, puffed with pride, when upon Thessalia’s mountain-heap they stood and clutched at heaven with snaky hands, had countenance inflexible as his? But mighty ills have mighty recompense. No more is left to suffer – we have seen, oh, woe! the angry Hercules.
[173] IOLE: But I, unhappy one, bewail not temples fallen on their gods, or hearth-fires scattered, or fathers burned in mingled heaps with sons, and gods with men, temples with tombs, – nay, no common misfortune do I mourn; elsewhither doth fortune call my tears, for other ruins the fates bid me weep. What lament shall I make first? What last shall I bewail? Equally all things is it meet to mourn. Oh me, that Mother Earth hath not given me more eyes for tears, more breasts, that blows of my losses might resound.
[185] IOLE: Me to a weeping rock on Sipylus, ye heavenly gods, transform, or set me on the banks of Po, where the woods give back the grief of Phaëthon’s sad sisters; or add me to the rocks of Sicily, where as a Siren I may weep Thessalia’s fate; or bear me to Edonia’s woods where I may mourn as, beneath Ismarian shade, the Daulian bird ever mourns her son. Give me a form to fit my tears, and let rough Trachin reëcho with my woes. Myrrha, the Cyprian maid, yet guards her tears; the wife of Ceyx mourns his taking off; and Niobe lives on, surviving e’en herself; her human form has Philomel escaped, and still the Attic maid bewails her son. Why not yet do my arms become swift wings? Happy, ha, happy shall I be when the woods shall be called my home, and, in my native meadows resting, with plaintive strains I shall recall my fate, and fame shall tell of winged Iole.
[207] IOLE: I saw, I saw my father’s wretched fate, when, beaten down by the death-dealing club, he lay in scattered fragments throughout the hall. Ah me, if fate had given him burial, how often, father, must thou have been sought! How could I have looked upon thy death, O Toxeus, with thy boyish cheeks as yet unbearded, and thy veins not yet filled with manly vigour? But why do I lament your fates, my parents, whom kindly death has to a place of safety borne? ’Tis my own fortune that requires my tears. Soon, soon in captive state shall I whirl the distaff and the spindle of my mistress. O cruel beauty, and form doomed to bring death to me, for thee alone is all my house undone, for that my sire refused me to Alcides and feared to have Hercules for son-in-law. And now must I betake me to a mistress’ home.
[225] CHORUS: Why dost thou, foolish one, ever look back upon thy sire’s illustrious kingdom and thine own misfortunes? Banish from thy face thy former fortune. Happy is he whoever knows how to bear the estate of slave or king and can match his countenance with either lot. For he who bears his ills with even soul has robbed misfortune of its strength and heaviness.
[The scene changes to the space before the palace of Hercules and Deïanira at Trachin. Enter NURSE OF DEÏANIRA.]
[233] NURSE: O how bloody is the rage that goads women on, when to mistress and two wife one house has opened! Scylla and Charybdis, whirling Sicilia’s waves, are not more fearful, nor is any wild beast worse. For when her captive rival’s beauty was revealed, and Iole shone like the unclouded day or a bright star in the clear night glittering, even as one distraught the wife of Hercules stood there with lowering gaze (as a tigress, lying big with young ‘neath some Armenian rock, at sight of an enemy leaps forth; or as a maenad, bidden to toss the thyrsus, what time she bears the god within her breast, in doubt where she shall take her way, stands till a while); then through the house of Hercules she madly dashed and scarce did all the house give space enough. Forward she rushes, wanders aimlessly, stands still. All her passion has come forth into her face; in her heart’s depths almost naught is left; tears follow hard on threats. Nor does one posture last, nor can one countenance contain her rage; now do her cheeks flame with wrath, now pallor drives the flush away, and from form to form her smarting anguish wanders; she wails, she begs, she groans.
[254] NURSE: The doors have sounded – behold, at headlong pace she comes, with confused words revealing all the secrets of her soul.
[Enter DEÏANIRA from within the palace.]
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[256] Wife of the Thunderer, whatever portion of thy heavenly home thou treadest, send ‘gainst Alcides a wild beast which shall suffice for me. If any serpent, vaster than all the marsh, rears up its head, to conquest all unknown; if anything is worse than other beasts, monstrous, dire, horrible, from sight of which Hercules would turn away his eyes, let this from its huge den come forth. Or, if beasts be denied, change, I pray thee, this heart of mine into some – any evil thing there is can I with this present mind become. Give me a form to match my smarting grief; my breast cannot contain its rage. Why doest thou search out the folds of farthest earth, and overturn the world? Why dost ask ills of Dis? In such a breast thou’lt find all beasts to cause him dread; take thou this weapon for thy hate – let me be step-dame. Thou canst destroy Alcides; use but these hands for any end thou wilt. Why dost thou hesitate, O goddess? Use me, the mad one – what crime doest bid me do? Decide. Why dost thou falter? Though now thou dost thyself shrink back, this rage of mine suffices.
[275] NURSE: Dear child, thy mad heart’s plaints restrain, quench passion’s fire and curb thy grief. Show thyself wife of Hercules.
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[278] Shall captive Iole give brothers to my sons? Shall a slave become daughter-in-law of Jove? Together will flame and torrent never run, and the thirsty Bear from the blue sea ne’er will drink – nor will I go unavenged. Though thou didst bear the heavens up, though the whole world owes its peace to thee, a worse pest than Hydra waits thee – the wrath of an angered wife. What fire as hot as this rages to heaven from burning Aetna? Whate’er has been conquered by thy might, this passion of mine shall conquer. – And shall a slave seize on my marriage bed? Till now did I fear monsters, but now is no evil more; the pests have vanished and in the place of beasts has come the hated harlot. O most high ruler of the gods, O lustrous Sun, I have been wife to Hercules but in his perils; the prayers which to the heavenly ones I raised have been granted to a slave; for a harlot have I been fortunate; for her have ye heard my prayers, O gods, for her is he safe returned. – O grief that can be satisfied with no revenge, seek thee some dreadful punishment, unthought, unspeakable; teach Juno’s self what hate can do; she knows not to rage enough. For me didst thou do battle; on my account did Acheloüs dye his wandering waves with his own blood, when now he became a stubborn serpent, now to a fierce bull changed his threats, the serpent form discarded, and thou in that one foe didst conquer a thousand beasts. But now I please thee not; a captive is preferred to me – but she shall not be preferred; for that day which shall end our marriage joys shall end thy life.
[307] NURSE: But what is this? My passion dies away and abates its threats. Now anger ceases; why dost thou languish, O wretched grief? Thou givest o’er thy madness, makest me again the faithful, uncomplaining wife. – Why dost forbid the feeding of the flames? Why checkest the fire? Keep but this passion in me; hand in hand let us go on – there will be no need of prayers; a step-dame will be near to direct my hands and unbesought.
[314] NURSE: What crime, distraught one, dost thou purpose? Wilt slay thy husband whose praises the evening and the morning know full well, whose fame, towering to the sky, holds all the world beneath? The land of Greece will rise to defend that home, and this thy father’s house and the whole Aetolian race will be the first to be o’erthrown; soon rocks and firebrands will be hurled against thee, since every land will rally to its defender. How many penalties wilt thou, one woman, pay! Suppose thou canst escape the world and the race of men – the father of Alcides wields the thunder-bolt. Now, even now behold his threat’ning fires flashing athwart the sky, and the heavens thundering with the lightning shock. Even death itself, which thou deemest a place of safety, fear; for there the uncle of thine Alcides reigns. Turn where thou wilt, poor woman, there wilt thou see his kindred gods.
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[330] That I am doing a fearful crime, e’en I myself confess; but passion bids me do it.
[332] NURSE: Thou’lt die.
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[332] Yea, truly, will I die, but the wife of glorious Hercules; neither shall any dawn, banishing night, brand me as widow; nor shall captive creature make capture of my bed. Sooner shall day be born in the western sky, sooner shall Indians grow pale ‘neath the icy pole, or Scythians tan ‘neath Phoebus’ burning car, than shall the dames of Thessaly see me abandoned. With my own blood will I quench her marriage torches. Either let him die or do me to death. To slaughtered beasts let him add wife as well, and let him count me, too, ‘mongst the toils of Hercules; to Alcides’ couch, aye with my dying body, will I cling. Ah, sweet, ’tis sweet to go to the shades as bride of Hercules, – but not without my vengeance. If Iole from my Hercules has conceived a child, with mine own hands will I tear it forth untimely, and by her very wedding torches’ glare will I face the harlot. Let him in wrath slay me as victim on his nuptial day, so I but fall on the corpse of Iole. Happy he lies who crushes those he hates.
[351] NURSE: Why dost thyself feed thy flames and wantonly foster and unmeasured grief? Poor soul, why dost thou cherish a needless fear? He did love Iole; but ’twas while yet her father reigned secure, and ’twas a king’s daughter that he sought. The princess has now fallen to the place of slave; love has lost its power, and much from her charm her unhappy lot has stolen. What is forbidden we love; if granted it falls from our desire.
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[358] Nay, but fallen fortunes fan hotter the flames of love; for this very cause he loves her, that she hath lost her father’s house, that her hair lies stripped of gold and gems; out of pity, perchance, he loves her very woes; ’tis the wont of Hercules to love captive maids.
[363] NURSE: ’Tis true he loved the captive sister of Dardanian Priam, but he gave her to another; add all the dames, all the maids he loved before. A wanderer on earth, a wanderer in love was he. Why, the Arcadian maid, Auge, while leading Pallas’ sacred dance, suffered his lust’s violence, but fell from his regard, and Hercules retains no trace of his love for her. Why mention others? The Thespiades are forgotten; for them with but a passing flame Alcides burned. When a guest on Timolus, he caressed the Lydian woman and, daft with love, sat beside her swift distaff, twisting the moistened thread with doughty fingers. His shoulders, indeed, had laid aside the famous lion’s-skin, a turban confined his hair, and there he stood like any slave, his shaggy locks dripping with Sabaean myrrh. Everywhere has he burned with love, but burned with feeble flame.
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[378] Oft after wandering fires lovers have clung to one.
[379] NURSE: A slave and daughter of his foe shall he prefer to thee?
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[380] As a gladsome beauty covers the budding groves when the first warmth of spring clothes the bare forest trees, but, when the North-wind has put the mild South to flight, and savage winter has shaken off all the leaves, thou seest but a shapeless grove of trunks alone; so does my beauty, pursuing a lengthening way, lose something ever, and less brightly gleams, nor is it as of yore. Whate’er in me was sought in former days has vanished or is failing along with me. Old age with hastening steps hath taken much, and much of it hath motherhood stolen from me. But seest thou how this slave hath not lost her glorious charm? Gone are her adornings and squalor clings close upon her; and yet through her very distresses beauty shines and naught have misfortune and this hard stroke of fate stolen from her save her realm. O nurse, this fear of her racks my heart; this dread doth destroy my slumbers. I was a wife celebrated in every land, and for marriage such as mine all women prayed with envious prayer; or whatever soul asked aught of any god, for the prayers of Grecian dames I was the measure. What father-in-law like to Jove, O Nurse, shall I e’er have? Who beneath these heavens will be given me as husband? Though Eurystheus’ self, who rules Alcides, should wed me with his own torches, ’tis not enough. ’Tis a trivial thing to have lost a royal couch; but from a far height has she fallen who loses Hercules.
[407] NURSE: Children ofttimes win back the love of husbands.
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[408] These children themselves perchance will dissolve the bond.
[409] NURSE: Meanwhile that slave is brought as gift to thee.
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[410] He whom thou seest going, big with fame, from town to town, wearing the spoil of a tawny lion on his back; who gives kingdoms to the lowly and takes them from the proud, his dread hand laden with a massive club; whose triumphs the far off Seres sing, and whoe’er besides dwells in the whole known world, – he is a trifler, nor does the charm of glory urge him on. He goes wandering o’er the earth, not in the hope that he may rival Jove, nor that he may fare illustrious through Grecian cities. Some one to love he seeks; his quest is maidens’ chambers. If any is refused him, she is ravished; against nations doth he rage, midst ruins seeks this brides, and unrestrained excess is called heroic. Oechalia, the illustrious, fell; one sun, one day beheld her stand and fall; and passion was the mother of that strife. As oft as a father shall deny his child to Hercules, as oft as a foeman refuses to be his father-in-law, so oft shall he have cause to fear; if he is not accepted as a son-in-law, he smites. After all this, why do I harmlessly keep back these hands until he feign another fit of madness, with deadly hand bend his bow, and slay me and my son? Thus does Alcides put away his wives; such is his manner of divorce. Yet naught can make him guilty! He has made the world believe his step-dame answerable for his crimes. Why art inactive then, thou sluggish rage? His crime must be forestalled; act while thy hand is hot!
[436] NURSE: Wilt slay thy husband?
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[436] Truly, my rival’s husband.
[437] NURSE: But the son of Jove?
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[437] Yes, but the son of Alcmena, too.
[438] NURSE: With the sword?
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[438] The sword.
[438] NURSE: If thou canst not?
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[438] I’ll slay with guile.
[439] NURSE: What madness that?
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[439] That which my husband teaches me.
[440] NURSE: Whom e’en his step-dame could not slay – wilt thou slay him?
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[441] Celestial wrath but makes wretched those on whom it falls; man’s wrath makes them naught.
[442] NURSE: Spare him, O wretched one, and fear.
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[443] He has scorned all men, who first has scorn of death; ’tis sweet to go against the sword.
[444] NURSE: Thy smart is too great for the offence, my child, let his fault claim but equal hate. Why dost so fiercely judge a light offence? According as thou hast been injured, grieve.
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[447] Thinkst thou a mistress is light evil for a wife? Whatever fosters anguish, count this beyond all bounds.
[449] NURSE: Has thy love for glorious Alcides fled away?
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[450] Not fled, dear Nurse; it still remains, believe me, deep-seated and fixed in my heart’s core; but to be angry with one’s love brings mighty madness.
[452] NURSE: By magic arts and prayers commingled do wives oft hold fast their husbands. I have bidden the trees grow green in the midst of winter’s frost, and the hurtling lightning stand; I have stirred up the deep, though the winds were still, and have calmed the heaving sea; the parched earth has opened with fresh fountains; rocks have found motion; the gates have I rent asunder and the shades of Dis, and at my prayer’s demand the spirits talk, the infernal dog is still; midnight has seen the sun, and day, the night; the sea, land, heaven and Tartarus yield to my will, and naught holds to law against my incantations. Bend him we will; my charms will find the way.
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[465] What herbs does Pontus grow, or what does Pindus nourish ‘neath the rocks of Thessaly, wherein I may find a bane to conquer him? Though Luna should leave the stars and come down to earth, obedient to magic; though winter should see ripe grain; though the swift bolt should stand still, arrested by thy charm; though times be changed, and midday burn amid the crowding stars: ‘twill not bend him.
[472] NURSE: But love has conquered e’en heavenly gods.
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[473] By one alone, perchance, will he be conquered and yield his spoils, and Love become Alcides’ crowning toil. – But thee by all the deities of heaven I pray, by this my fear: whatever secret thing I am preparing, hide it deep, and in faithful silence hold it fast.
[478] NURSE: What is it that thou seekst to keep in secret?
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[479] It is not spears, not arms, not threatening fire.
[480] NURSE: That I can keep faithful silence I confess, if it be free from crime; but silence itself sometimes is criminal.
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[482] Come, look about, lest someone grasp my secret, and in all directions turn thy questful glance.
[484] NURSE: Behold the place is safe and free from all observers.
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[485] In a remote corner of the royal dwelling is a recess that silently guards my secret. Neither the first rays of the sun can reach that spot, nor yet his last, when Titan, bringing the day to rest, plunges his weary yoke in the ruddy sea. There lurks the surety of Alcides’ love. Nurse, I’ll confess to thee: the giver of the baleful thing was Nessus, whom Nephele, heavey with child, to the Thessalian chieftain bore, where lofty Pindus to the stars lifts up his head and Othrys stands stiff, towering above the clouds. For when Achelöus, forced by the club of dread Hercules to shift with ready ease from form to form, his beast-shapes all exhausted, at last stood forth, and bowed his head, marred and with single horn, victorious Hercules, with me, his bride, set out for Argos.
[500] NURSE: It chanced that Evenus, wandering through the plains, rolling his deep eddies to the sea, was now in flood, almost to the tree-top’s level. Nessus, accustomed to ford the whirling stream, offered to take me over for a price; and, bearing me on his back, where the backbone, leaving the equine enters the human form, soon was stemming even the threatening waves of the swollen flood. Now had wild Nessus entirely left the waters and Alcides was still wandering in mid-stream, cleaving the down-sweeping flood with his mighty strides; but when the centaur saw Alcides still afar, “Thou shalt be spoil of mine,” he cried, “and wife; he is kept from thee by the waves”; and, clasping me in his arms as he bore me on, was galloping away.
[513] NURSE: But the waves did not hold Hercules; “O faithless ferryman,” he cried, “though Ganges and Hister commingled in united beds should flow, I shall o’ercome them both and with my shaft o’ertake thy flight.” His bow was swifter than his words. Then the reedy shaft, wounding from afar, stayed his hampered flight and implanted death. The Centaur, now groping for light, in his right hand caught the poison flowing from the wound, and this he gave me, pouring it into his hoof, which with mad hand he had changed to wrench away. Then with his dying words he spoke: “By this charm magicians have said love can be firmly fixed; so were Thessalian wives by the wise Mycale instructed, whom only, midst all wonder-working crones, Luna will forsake the stars and follow. A garment, smeared with this very gore, shalt thou give to him, if ever a hated mistress should usurp thy chamber, and thy fickle husband should give another daughter to his high-thundering sire. This let no light behold; let darkness only, thick and hidden, cover it; so shall the potent blood retain its powers.” Silence seized on his words and to his weary limbs came the sleep of death.
[535] NURSE: No do thou, whom loyalty makes sharer of my secret, haste thee that the poison, upon a glittering robe besmeared, go through his heart and limbs and, stealing silently, enter his very marrow.
[538] NURSE: With speed will I do thy bidding, dearest child; and do thou pray to the god invincible, who with tender hand doth send unerring shafts. [Exit NURSE.]
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[541] Thee do I pray, by earth and heaven-dwellers held in fear, by sea, by him who wields Aetnaean thunderbolts, and by thy ruthless mother to be feared, O winged boy; with unerring hand aim a swift shaft, and not of thy lighter arrows. Choose thee, I pray one of thy heavier shafts, which thy hands have ne’er yet shot at any; for no light weapon must thou use that Hercules may feel the power of love. Stretch thy hands stiffly forth, and bend thy bow until the tips shall meet. Now, now that shaft let loose with which once thou aimedst at Jove the terrible, what time the god threw down his thunderbolt and as a bull, with horns quick-sprouting on his brow, clove through the boisterous sea, bearing the Assyrian maid. Fill him with love; let him outstrip all precedents, – let him learn to love his wife. If Iole’s beauty hath kindled fires in the breast of Hercules, extinguish them every one, and of my beauty let him deeply drink. Oft hast thou conquered Jove, the thunderer, oft him who wields the dark sceptre of the dusky world, king of the greater throng, and lord of Styx; and now, O god more dreadful than a step-dame’s wrath, win thou this triumph all alone, and conquer Hercules.
[Re-enter NURSE, with robe and charm.]
[563] NURSE: The charm has been brought out and a robe from Pallas’ distaff, at whose weaving thy maidens all have wrought with weary hands. Now let the poison be prepared and let the robe of Hercules soak up its pestilence; and by my incantations will I increase its evil.
NURSE: [While they are occupying themselves with the robe, LICHAS is seen approaching.][567] But in the nick of time the zealous Lichas comes; the dire potency of the robe must be concealed lest our wiles be punished.[Enter LICHAS.]
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[569] O Lichas, name ever loyal to thy lords, though loyalty proud houses ne’er possess, take thou this garment which my hands have woven while he was wandering o’er the earth, or, spent with wine, was holding in his doughty arms the Lydian queen, or seeking Iole. And yet, perchance, I may turn his rough heart to me again by my deserving; for deserts oft conquer those who work us ill. Before my husband puts this garment on, bid him burn incense and appease the gods, his stiff locks wreathed the while with hoary poplar.
NURSE: [LICHAS take the robe and departs upon his mission.][579] I will myself pass within the royal palace and with prayers worship the mother of relentless Love.
[581] NURSE: [To her Aetolian attendants.] Do ye, whom I have brought as comrades from my father’s house, ye Calydonian maids, bewail the fortune that demands your tears. [Exit.]
[583] CHORUS OF AETOLIAN WOMEN: O child of Oeneus, truly do we weep for thy misfortunes, the band of thy companions through thy childhood years, we weep thy couch dishonoured, lady whom we revere. Often with thee have we splashed in Acheloüs’ shallows, when now, the springtime passed, he allayed his swollen waters and, a slender stream, crept on with quiet course, and Lycormas no longer rolled his headlong waters on, dark-hued with bursting fountains. Together were we wont to fare to Pallas’ shrines and join in virgin dances, to bear the mysteries in Theban baskets hidden, when now the wintry star had fled, and each third summer called forth the sun, and when the grain-giving goddess’ sacred seat, Attic Eleusis, shut in her mystic worshippers. Now too, whatever lot thou fearest, take us as trusted comrades of thy fates; for rare is loyalty when now better fortune fails.
[604] CHORUS OF AETOLIAN WOMEN: O thou, whoe’er thou art who the sceptre holdest, though all the people throng within thy hall, pressing together through its thousand doors; though when thou walkst abroad whole nations hem thee round; in all those nations scarce one man is true. Erinys keeps the gilded gate, and when the great doors have opened wide, there come in treacheries and cunning wiles and the lurking dagger; and when amongst the people thou wouldst walk, envy walks by thy side. As often as dawn drives out the night, so often believe a king is born. Few worship kings and not their thrones; for ’tis the glitter of the royal hall that stirs the most. One man is eager to fare illustrious through broad towns next to the king himself; for greed of glory burns his wretched breast. Another longs with treasure to appease his hunger; and yet not all gem-bearing Hister’s tract would satisfy, nor would the whole of Lydia sate his thirst, nor the land which, lying ‘neath the west-wind, marvels to see bright Tagus gleam with golden water; nor if all Hebrus were his own, and rich Hydaspes should be added to his fields, and he should gaze on Ganges flowing with all its streams within his boundaries. For greed, for greed all nature is too little.
[632] CHORUS OF AETOLIAN WOMEN: One man courts kings and homes of kings, not that his ploughman, forever stooping o’er the deep-driven share, may never cease his toil, or that the peasantry may till his thousand fields; but wealth alone, which he may hoard away, he seeks. Another man courts kings that he may trample all, may ruin many and establish none; he covets power only to harm therewith.
[640] CHORUS OF AETOLIAN WOMEN: How few live out their allotted span! Whom Cynthia saw in happiness, the new-born day sees wretched. ’Tis rare to find old age and happiness in one. The couch of turf, softer than Tyrian purple, oft soothes to fearless slumber; but gilded ceilings break our rest, and purple coverlets drag out wakeful nights. Oh, if the hearts of rich men were laid bare! What fears does lofty fortune stir within! The waves of Bruttium, when Corus lashes up the sea, are calmer far. The poor man’s heart is free from care; he holds cups carved from the wide-spreading beech, but holds them with hand untrembling; he eats but cheap and common food, yet sees no drawn sword hanging o’er his head! ’Tis in golden cups that blood is mixed with wine.
[658] CHORUS OF AETOLIAN WOMEN: The wife is wed to one of modest means is not bedecked with necklaces of pearl, the red sea’s gift, nor do stones gathered on Orient shores weigh down her gem-laden ears; for her no soft wool twice dipped in Sidonian cauldrons drinks scarlet dyes; not hers with Maeonian needle to embroider stuffs which Serians under sunlit skies gather from eastern trees. ’Tis not common herbs that dye the webs which her unskilled hands have woven; but she cherishes a marriage-couch all undisturbed. With cruel torch doth Fury pursue the bride whose wedding-day great throngs have celebrated; nor does the poor man count himself full blest, unless he sees the blessed fallen from their height.
[675] CHORUS OF AETOLIAN WOMEN: Whoever has left the middle course fares never in path secure. While for one day the youth sought to furnish light and took his stand within his father’s car, and while he passed not o’er the accustomed track, but sought the stars unknown to Phoebus’ rays with wandering wheel, himself he ruined and the world, as well. Daedalus, cleaving his path midway the heavens, reached peaceful shores and to no sea gave his name; but while young Icarus dared rival true birds in flight, looked down upon his father’s wings and soared aloft close to the sun itself, to an unknown sea he gave his name. To our undoing, high fortunes are by ruin balanced.
[692] CHORUS OF AETOLIAN WOMEN: Let another be noised abroad as blest and great; but let no throng hail me as powerful. Let my frail craft keep close to shore, and let no strong wind compel my bark to plough the mighty deep; misfortune passes by quiet ports, and seeks for ships sailing the open sea, whose topsails smite the clouds.
CHORUS OF AETOLIAN WOMEN: [DEÏANIRA appears hurrying distractedly from the palace.][700] But why in terror and with face of fear, like some rage-smit Bacchante, comes the Bacchante, comes the queen with step uncertain?
CHORUS OF AETOLIAN WOMEN: [Enter DEÏANIRA.][703] What new reverse of fortune whirls thee about? Poor lady, tell us. Though thou thyself sayst naught, thy face speaks out whate’er thou hidest.
CHORUS OF AETOLIAN WOMEN: DEÏANIRA[706] Vague shivers steal through my trembling limbs, my hair starts up in horror; fear sticks in my soul till now so passion-tossed; my heart leaps wildly and my quaking liver throbs with pulsing veins. As when the storm-tossed sea still heaves, though the skies are clear and the winds have died away, so is my soul still troubled, though my fear has been allayed. Surely when God has once begun to oppress the fortunate, he bears down hard. To such an end do mighty fortunes come.
[715] NURSE: What headstrong fate, poor soul, whirls thee about?
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[716] When I had sent away the robe anointed with Nessus’ blood, and, sad at heart, betook me to my chamber, my soul feared I know not what – did the dying centaur ‘gainst my husband plan revenge, and plot some treachery? I was pleased to make the test. Dread Nessus forbade me to expose the wild blood to the sun’s rays and to fire; and this artifice itself forewarned me of treachery.
[722] NURSE: It chanced the burning sun, its radiance by no cloud dimmed, was setting free the day’s fervid head. – Even now my fear scarce suffers me to speak. – Right into the hot sunlight I had thrown the blood-soaked fleece with which the robe had been moistened and the garment smeared. The bloody fleece I flung writhed horribly and, warmed with the sun’s rays, burst aflame – I have scarce words to tell of the awful thing. As the East or the warm South-wind melts the snows which glistening Mimas loses in early spring; as ‘gainst Leucadia’s crags, breasting the Ionian sea, up-flung waves are broken and with spent fury foam upon the shore, or as incense sprinkled on holy shrines is melted in the hot altar-fires; so all the wool withered and lost its fleece. And while I stood wondering at it, the object of my wonder disappears; nay, even the very ground begins to foam, and whatever that poison touched begins to shrink.
NURSE: [HYLLUS is seen approaching.][740] But I see my son approaching with face of fear and hurrying feet. [To HYLLUS.] Speak out – what tidings dost thou bear?
[742] HYLLUS: [Hurrying upon the scene.] Go! flee! seek out whatever place lies far away on land, on sea, ‘mongst stars, in Ocean, underworld – far beyond the labours of Alcides, mother, flee!
HYLLUS: DEÏANIRA[745] Some great disaster doth my mind presage.
[746] HYLLUS: She reigns, she triumphs; Juno’s temple seek. This sanctuary waits thee; closed is all refuge else.
HYLLUS: DEÏANIRA[748] Tell what disaster my guiltless self o’erwhelms.
[749] HYLLUS: That glory and sole guardian of the world, whom the fates had given to the lands in the place of Jove, O mother, is no more. The limbs and thews of Hercules a mysterious plague is wasting; and he who conquered monsters, he, he, the victor, is vanquished, is in grief, in agony. What more dost ask?
HYLLUS: DEÏANIRA[754] The wretched are in haste to hear their wretchedness. Tell me: in what condition now stands our house? O home, O wretched home! Now truly am I widowed, exiled, overwhelmed.
[758] HYLLUS: Not thou alone dost lament Hercules; low he lies for the whole world to mourn. And think not, mother, thine is a private loss; now the whole race is clamorous with woe. Lo, all men utter thy self-same groans of grief; common to all lands is the ill thou sufferest. Thou hast forestalled their grief; first, but not all alone, poor soul, dost thou mourn Hercules.
HYLLUS: DEÏANIRA[764] You tell me, tell, I beg, how near to death does my Alcides lie.
[766] HYLLUS: Death, who once in his own realm was overcome, flees from him; nor do the fates dare countenance so great a crime. Perchance Clotho has thrown aside her very distaff from her trembling hand, and is afraid to complete the fates of Hercules. O day, O awful day! And shall this for the great Alcides be the last?
HYLLUS: DEÏANIRA[772] To the shades of death and to that darker world dost say he has gone already? Can I not go before and anticipate his death? Speak, if he is not yet fallen.
[775] HYLLUS: Euboea’s shore, swelling with mighty headland, on every side is beaten by the waves. Caphereus cleaves the Phrixean Sea, on this side the south-wind blows; but on the side which feels the blasts of snowy Aquilo, restless Euripus turns his wandering waves, whose currents seven times flow and seven times ebb again, till Titan plunges his weary horses in the sea. Here on a lofty cliff, by many a storm-cloud beaten, an ancient temple of Cenaean Jove stands gleaming.
[784] HYLLUS: When all the votive herd stood at the altars, and the whole grove was filled with the bellowing of the gilded bulls, he put off his lion’s skin, all stained with gore, laid down his heavy club and freed his shoulders of the quiver’s weight. Then radiant in thy robe, his rough hair wreathed with hoary poplar, he lit the altar-fires. “Accept these gifts,” he said, “upon thy shrine, O father, not falsely claimed, and let thy sacred fire blaze brightly with copious incense which the rich Arab gathers from Sabaean trees, in worship of the Sun. Peace has been given to earth, to sky, to sea; all monsters have I subdued and in triumph come again. Lay down thy thunderbolt.”
[796] HYLLUS: As he thus prayed a groan fell from his lips even he standing aghast; then with dreadful cries he filled the air. As when a bull, fleeing the deep-driven axe, bearing both wound and weapon, fills with his huge bellowings the affrighted shrine, or as the launched thunder crashes in the sky; so did he with his roarings smite the stars and sea; towering Chalcis reëchoed and all the Cyclades heard his cries; then all Caphereus’ crags and the whole forest resounded with the cries of Hercules. We saw him weep. The commons thought his ancient madness had returned; then his attendants fled.
[808] HYLLUS: But he, his face writhing with pain of the burning heat, pursued and sought out Lichas alone among them all. The boy, embracing the altar with trembling hands, through sheer terror tasted the pangs of death, and left small part of his life for punishment. Then Hercules, by his hand seizing the quivering corpse, exclaimed: “By such a hand, by such a hand as this, ye fates, shall I be said to have been undone? Has Lichas conquered Hercules? Behold another slaughter; Hercules in turn slays Lichas. Be my deeds dishonoured; be this my crowning task.” To the stars the boy went hurtling and sprinkled the clouds with his scattered blood. So does a Getan arrow, from the hand let fly, go speeding skyward, of the shaft a Cydonian has shot; but far below even these weapons will wing their flight. His body falls into the sea, his head upon the rocks; one youth lies slain in both.
[823] HYLLUS: “But hold!” said Hercules; “’tis not madness has robbed me of my wits; this bane is worse than madness and than rage; I am fain to rave against myself.” Scarce has he named the plague when lo, he raves, he tears his own flesh apart, with his own hand wounding and rending his huge limbs. He seeks to throw aside the robe; in this alone have I seen Alcides fail. Yet striving to tear the robe, he tears his limbs as well. The robe is part and parcel of his rugged body; the pest blends it with the skin. The cause of his dire suffering is hid, but still there is a cause; and, scarce able to endure his pain, now he lies spent, face down on the ground, now calls for water – water checks not his pain; he seeks the wave-resounding shore and plunges in the sea, but a slave’s hand restrains him wandering aimless there – oh, bitter lot! we were Alcides’ equals!
[839] HYLLUS: And now a vessel is bringing him from Euboea’s shore, and a gentle south wind wafts his huge bulk along; his spirit has left his body; night seals his eyes.
HYLLUS: DEÏANIRA[842] Why, soul, dost hesitate? Why art amazed? The crime is done. Jupiter demands back his son of thee, Juno, her rival; yea, to the world must he be restored. What still thou canst, give back, make restitution; let the sword, deep driven, through my body pass. So, so must it be done. But does so frail hand as this exact punishment so great? With thy thunderbolts, O sire, destroy thy guilty daughter. And with no common weapon let thy hand be armed; let that bolt leap from heaven with which, had Alcides not sprung from thee, thou wouldst have scorched the Hydra. Destroy me as some strange pest, as a scourge far worse than step-dame’s wrath. Launch such a bolt as once thou didst hurl at straying Phaëthon; for I, e’en I myself, in Hercules alone have ruined nations.
[855] HYLLUS: But why dost ask weapons of the gods? At last spare thy father. The wife of Hercules should be ashamed to pray for death; this hand shall grant my prayer; from myself let death be sought. Then quickly seize the sword. – Why then the sword? Whatever brings to death is weapon all-sufficent – from a sky-piercing cliff I’ll cast me down. Let this, this crag of Oeta, which is the first to greet the new-born day, be chosen; from this ’tis well to fling me. May its broken crags rend asunder, and every rock take its share of me; may my mangled hands hang there, and may the whole rough mountain-side run red. One death is all too light – light? but still it can be prolonged. Thou canst not choose, O soul, on what weapon thou shalt fall. Oh, would that the sword of Hercules were hanging in my chamber! Upon that steel ‘twere well for me to die. But is it enough that by one right hand I perish? Come all ye nations; let the world cast rocks and huge firebrands on me; let no hand shrink its task; seize weapons, for your avenger have I done to death. Now with impunity shall cruel kings wield sceptres; yea, with impunity now fierce monsters shall be born; again shall altars be found wont to behold victim like to worshipper. A highway to crime have I prepared; I have exposed you to tyrants, kings, monsters, wild beasts and cruel gods, by slaying your avenger. Dost shirk thy task, wife of the thunderer? Why dost thou not, in imitation of thy brother, scatter fire, snatch from Jove’s hand his bolt, hurl it, and thyself destroy me? Illustrious praise and mighty triumph have been snatched from thee; I have forestalled thee, Juno, in thy rival’s death.
[884] HYLLUS: Why dost drag down a house already shaken? From error spring wholly whatever crime is here. He does no sin who sins without intent.
HYLLUS: DEÏANIRA[887] Whoever, because of fate, excuses and spares himself, has deserved to err. My sentence is for death.
[889] HYLLUS: Fain would he seem guilty who seeks to die.
HYLLUS: DEÏANIRA[890] ’Tis death alone can make the beguiled innocent.
[891] HYLLUS: Fleeing the sun –
HYLLUS: DEÏANIRA[891] The sun himself flees me.
[892] HYLLUS: Wilt abandon life?
HYLLUS: DEÏANIRA[892] Ay! a wretched life – that Alcides I may follow.
[893] HYLLUS: But he still lives and breathes the air of haven.
HYLLUS: DEÏANIRA[894] When Hercules could be conquered, then he began to die.
[895] HYLLUS: Wilt leave thy son? Wilt break thy thread of life?
HYLLUS: DEÏANIRA[896] She whom her son has buried has lived long.
[897] HYLLUS: Follow thy husband.
HYLLUS: DEÏANIRA[897] Faithful wives go before.
[898] HYLLUS: If thou thyself dost doom thee, thou convictest thyself, unhappy one, of sin.
HYLLUS: DEÏANIRA[899] No guilty one himself annuls his punishment.
[900] HYLLUS: Life has been granted many whose guilt lay in wrong judgment, not in act. Who blames his own destiny?
HYLLUS: DEÏANIRA[902] Whoever has fallen on unkind fates.
[903] HYLLUS: But Hercules himself slew Megara, pierced by his arrows, and his own sons as well, shooting Lernaean shafts with furious hand; still, though thrice murderer, he forgave himself, but not his madness. At the source of Cinyps ‘neath Libyan skies he washed away his guilt and cleansed his hands. Whither, poor soul, dost haste thee? Why dost condemn thy hands?
HYLLUS: DEÏANIRA[910] ’Tis Alcides’ overthrow that doth condemn my hands. ’Tis well to punish crime.
[911] HYLLUS: If I know Hercules, he will soon be here, perchance victorious o’er the cruel plague; and pain, subdued, will yield to thy Alcides.
HYLLUS: DEÏANIRA[914] Thy hydra’s poison, as report declares, hath consumed his frame; the deadly plague hath wasted his giant limbs.
[916] HYLLUS: Thinkst thou the poison of a serpent, slain, cannot be overcome by him who met and overcame the monster, living? He crushed the hydra, and deep in the marsh, with the fangs fixed in his flesh, he stood victorious, while his limbs were bathed in venom. Shall Nessus’ blood destroy the man who overcame e’en the hands of savage Nessus?
HYLLUS: DEÏANIRA[922] Vainly is he restrained who is bent on death; my will is fixed straightway to flee the light. Whoever has died with Hercules has lived enough.
[925] NURSE: Lo, by these aged locks and by these breasts which were almost as a mother’s to thee, I humbly pray; put by the wild threatenings of thy wounded heart, and banish thy dread resolve of cruel death.
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[929] Whoever, perchance, dissuades the wretched from death, he is the cruel one; sometimes death is a punishment, but often ’tis a boon, and to many a way of pardon has it proved.
[932] NURSE: At least absolve thy hand, unhappy one, that he may know that the deed was a treacherous foeman’s not his wife’s.
NURSE: DEÏANIRA[934] There shall I be absolved; the lower gods will acquit the criminal, though I condemn myself. Let Pluto cleanse these hands. Upon thy banks, O Lethe, shall I stand, the past forgotten, and my grieving shade will welcome its lord again.
[938] NURSE: But do thou, who torturest the realms of the dark under-world, prepare a toil – for this fault of mine outweighs all sins that man has ever dared; Juno was never bold enough to rob the world of Hercules – some dreadful toil prepare. Let Sisyphus’ neck be eased and let his rock press hard upon my shoulders; let the inconstant water fly my lips, my thirst let the elusive waves deceive. Unto thy whirlings have I deserved to give my hands, whatsoe’er wheel thou art which rackest Thessalia’s king; from every side let the greedy vulture tear my entrails out. There still lacks one from the Danaïdes; I will fill up their number – ye ghosts makes room for me. Take me as thy companion, O Phasian wife; my deed is worse, far worse than both thy crimes, whether as mother or as cruel sister thou hast sinned; let me be comrade also to thy crimes, thou Thracian wife; Althea, mother, welcome thy daughter, now recognize in me thine own true child – yet what crime so great have your hands ever done? Shut Elysium against me, O all ye faithful wives who have your dwelling in its sacred grove; but if any has bespattered her hands with her husband’s blood and her chaste marriage torch forgot, has stood with drawn sword like Belus’ bloody child, in me let her recognize and praise her own handiwork. To such a company of wives ’tis well to pass – but e’en that company will shun hands so accursed.
[964] NURSE: O my unconquered husband, my soul is innocent, though my hands have sinned. O mind too credulous! O Nessus, false and of half-bestial guile! Striving to snatch him from a concubine, I have snatched him from myself. Away! thou sun, and life, who by thy cozening arts dost keep the unhappy in the light of day; worthless that light without my Hercules. I will exact penalty for thee, will give up my life – or shall I put off my fate, O husband, and save myself for death at thine own hands? Hast still some strength, and can thy armed hands still bend the bow and send the arrow darting? Or do thy weapons fail thee, and does thy bow no more heed thy enfeebled hand? If thou canst deal destruction, O undaunted husband, I await thy stroke. Let death be stayed awhile; crush me as thou didst the unoffending Lichas; to other cities scatter me, yeah, hurl me to a world to thee unknown. Destroy me as thou didst the Arcadian monster, and whatever else succumbed to thee; yet from them, my husband, thou didst return.
[982] HYLLUS: Give o’er now, mother, I beseech thee, pardon thy fate; an error is not counted as a crime.
HYLLUS: DEÏANIRA[984] If, Hyllus, thou wouldst be truly filial, come, slay thy mother – why does thy hand quake and tremble? Why turnst thy face away? This crime will be filial piety. Tamely dost hesitate? This hand robbed thee of Hercules, yea, this right hand destroyed him to whom as father thou owest descent from Jove. Of greater glory have I robbed thee than I gave thee at thy birth. If thou art unskilled in monstrous crime, learn from thy mother. Whether in my throat it pleases thee to plunge the sword, or ’tis thy will to assail thy mother’s womb, thy mother herself will give thee unshrinking courage. Not by thee will this dreadful crime be done; by thy hand, truly, shall I fall, but by my will. Son of Alcides, art afraid? Wilt thou not do as bidden, wilt not crush monsters, and so be like thy sire? Thy dauntless hand make ready. Behold my breast, so full of cares, lies open: smite; I forgive the deed, the Eumenides themselves will acquit thy hand – but I hear their scourges hissing.
[1003] HYLLUS: Oh, who is that in whose locks viperous serpents coil, who brandishes deadly shafts at her foul temples? Why dost pursue me, awful Megaera, with blazing torch? Penalty for Alcides’ murder dost demand? I’ll pay. Already, dread one, have the arbiters of hell passed judgment on me? They have. I see the prison doors opened wide. Who is that ancient who bears a huge stone on his toil-worn back? But see! already does the mastered stone seek to roll back again? Whose limbs on the wheel are racked? Look! here has Tisiphone taken her stand, ghastly and dread; she demands revenge. Oh, spare thy scourge, I pray thee, Megaera, spare! Keep back the Stygian torches; mine was the crime of love.
[1015] HYLLUS: But what is this? The earth quakes, the palace resounds with the noise of crashing roofs – whence comes the rushing ‘gainst me, on every side the nations rage and the whole universe demands of me its saviour. Oh, spare me now, ye cities. Whither shall I rush in headlong flight? Death alone will be granted as a haven for my cares. By gleaming Phoebus’ flaming car I swear, I swear by the heavenly gods: though to my death I go, I leave Alcides still upon the earth.[She rushes wildly from the scene.]
[1024] HYLLUS: Ah me! in frenzy has she fled. Already has my mother played her part – she has resolved on death; now does my part remain, to thwart her deadly purpose. O wretched plight of love! if thou forbidst thy mother’s death, thou wrongst thy father; if thou sufferest her to die, still ‘gainst thy mother doest thou sin. Crime drives from either hand; still must I check her, that from true crime she may be saved.[Exit after his mother.]
[1031] CHORUS: True sang the bard beneath the heights of Thracian Rhodope, fitting the word to his Pierian lyre, e’en Orpheus, Calliope’s blest son, that naught for endless life is made. At his sweet strains the rushing torrents’ roar was stilled, and, forgetful of their eager flight, the waters ceased their flow; and, while the river stayed to hear, the far Bistonians thought their Hebrus had failed the Getan. The woods came with their birds to him, yea, perched among the trees they came; or if, in the high air soaring, some wandering bird caught sound of the charming song, his drooping wings sank earthward. Athos broke off his crags, bringing the Centaurs as he came, and next to Rhodope he stood, his snows melted by the music; the Dryad, leaving her oaken haunts, sped to the singer’s side. To hear thy song, with their very lairs the wild beasts came, and close to the fearless herds the Marmaric lion crouched; does felt no fear of wolves, and the serpent fled her gloomy den, her venom at last forgot.
[1061] CHORUS: Nay, when through the gates Taenarian to the silent ghosts he came, smiting his mournful lyre, with his sad song he conquered Tartarus and the sullen gods of Erebus; nor was he daunted by the pools of Styx, by which the high gods swear. The never staying wheel stood still, listless, with conquered whirling; the liver of Tityus grew, undevoured, while spell-bound the singer held the birds. The impish stone allowed defeat and attended on the bard. Then first the aged Phrygian, though the waves stood still, banished his raging thirst, forgetful quite, nor to the apples stretched his hand. Thou also, ferryman, didst hear, and thy boat that plies the infernal sea came oarless on. So when by his song Orpheus had utterly o’ercome the infernal gods, then did the goddesses renew again Eurydice’s exhausted thread. But while Orpheus thoughtlessly looked back, all unbelieving his Eurydice restored to him and following, he lost his singing’s recompense; and she had come to the verge of life only to die once more.
[1090] CHORUS: Then, solace in song still seeking, in mournful measures Orpheus thus to the Getans sang: that the gods are under law, e’en he who rules the seasons, who has arranged the four changes of the flying year; that for no one the Parcae spin again the threads of the greedy distaff, and that all which has been and shall be born shall die.
[1100] CHORUS: The overthrow of Hercules bids us believe the Thracian bard. Soon, soon, when to the universe shall come the day that law shall be o’erwhelmed, the southern skies shall fall upon Libya’s plains and all that the scattered Garamantians possess; the northern heavens shall overwhelm all that lies beneath the pole and that Boreas smites with withering blasts. Then from the lost sky the affrighted sun shall fall and banish day. The palace of heaven shall sink, dragging down East and West, and death in some form and chaos shall o’erwhelm all gods in one destruction; and death shall at last bring doom upon itself. What place will then receive the world? Will the gates of Tartarus spread wide, that room for the shattered heavens may be found? Or is the space ‘twixt heaven and earth great enough (perchance too great) for the evils of the world? What place will be great enough to hold (oh, horrible!) a death so vast, what place, the gods? Sea, Tartarus and heaven – three kingdoms shall one place contain.
[1128] CHORUS: But what outrageous clamour this assails our startled ears? It is, it is the sound of Hercules.
[Enter HERCULES in the extremity of suffering.]
[1131] HERCULES: Turn back, O shining Sun, thy panting steeds, and let loose the night; let this day wherein I die perish for the world, and let heaven shudder in the pitchy dark. So thwart my stepdame. Now, father, were it fitting to restore blind chaos; now this side and that should heaven’s frame be burst and both poles rent asunder. Why dost thou spare the stars? Thou art losing Hercules, O father. Now, Jupiter, look well to every part of heaven, lest any Gyas hurl Thessalian crags and Othrys become a slight missile for Enceladus. Now, now will haughty Pluto open his dark prison gates, strike off his father’s chains and give him back to heaven. Since I thy son, who on earth have been in place of thy bolt and lightning flash, am turning me back to Styx, Enceladus, the fierce, will rise, and the mass ‘neath which he now is crushed will he hurl against the gods; yea, father, thy whole realm of air will my death put to hazard. Then ere thou art utterly despoiled of heaven, bury me, father, ‘neath the whole ruined world; shatter the skies which thou art doomed to lose.
[1151] CHORUS: Not vain thy fears, son of the Thunderer. Soon now shall Pelion weigh down Thessalian Ossa, and Athos, on Pindus heaped, shall thrust his forests midst the heavenly stars; then shall Typhoeus overcome the crags and upheave Tuscan Inarime; the Aetnaean furnaces then shall Enceladus upheave, not yet by thy bolt o’ercome, and rend the gaping mountain’s side. E’en now the kingdoms of the sky are following thee.
[1161] HERCULES: Lo I, who have escaped from death, who scorned the Styx, who through the midst of Lethe’s pool have returned with spoil, at sight whereof Titan was almost flung from his falling car, I, whose presence three realms of gods have felt, am perishing. No deep-thrust sword grates through my side, nor is all Othrys the instrument of my death; no giant with fierce and gaping jaws has buried my body beneath the whole of Pindus; no, without enemy am I overcome and, thought which racks me more (shame to my manhood!) the last day of Alcides has seen no monster slain. Ah, woe is me! I am squandering my life for no return.
[1173] HERCULES: O thou ruler of the world, ye gods, once witnesses of my deeds, O earth entire, is it resolved your Hercules should perish by such death as this? Oh, cruel shame to me, oh, end most foul – a woman will be called author of Alcides’ death! And for whom is Alcides dying? If the fates unchanging have willed that by a woman’s hand I fall, if through distaff so base the thread of my death has run, ah me! that I might have fallen by Juno’s hate! ’Twould be by woman’s hand, but of one who holds the heavens. If, O ye gods, that were too much to ask, the Amazon, born ‘neath Scythian skies, might have o’ercome my strength. But by what woman’s hand is Juno’s foe o’ercome? This is for thee, my stepdame, heavier shame. Why callest thou this day joyful? What monster such as this has earth produced to sate thy wrath? A mortal woman has outdone thy hate. Till now thou deemdst thyself by Alcides alone outmatched; by two hast thou been surpassed – of such wrath let heaven be ashamed! Oh, that the Nemean lion with my blood had sated his gaping jaws, or that, hedged by hundred snakes, I had fed the hydra with my gore! O that I had been given to the Centaurs as a prey, or that midst the shades I, bound to an everlasting rock, in wretchedness were sitting! But now have I dragged here my latest spoil while Death looked on amazed; now from infernal Styx have I regained the light, the bars of Dis I’ve conquered – on every hand death shunned me, that I might lack at last a glorious end. O beasts, O conquered beasts! Neither did the three-formed dog, when he saw the sun, drag me back to Styx, nor ‘neath western skies did the Spanish rout of the wild shepherd conquer me, nor the twain serpents – ah, woe is me! how often have I missed a glorious death! My final claim to glory – what is it?
[1208] CHORUS: Seest thou how virtue, conscious of its fame, shrinks not from Lethe’s stream? He grieves not at death but blushes for its cause; he longs ‘neath some towering giant’s vasty bulk to end the last day of life, to suffer some mountain-heaving Titan’s weight, to owe his death to some wild, raging beast. But no, poor soul, because of thine own hand, there is no beast, no giant; for what worthy author of the death of Hercules is left save thy right hand?
[1218] HERCULES: Alas, what scorpion, what crab, torn from the torrid zone, burns deep fixed in my marrow? My heart, once filled with pulsing streams of blood, hotly distends the parched fibres of my lungs; my liver glows, its bile dried quite away, and a slow fire has exhausted all my blood. First did the dread plague feed upon my skin, next to my limbs it passed, devoured my sides, then deep in my joints and ribs the pest ate its way, and drank my very marrow. In my hollow bones it lurks; nor do my bones themselves retain their hardness, but, shattered with broken structure, fall in a crumbling mass. My huge frame has shrivelled, and even the limbs of Hercules sate not the pest. – Oh, how mighty the ill which I admit is great! Oh, cruel curse! Behold, ye cities, behold what now remains of that great Hercules. Dost recognize thy Hercules, my father? Was it with these arms I crushed and overwhelmed the Nemean plague? Was it with this hand I stretched the bow that brought down the Stymphalian birds from the very stars? With these feet did I o’ertake the swift-fleeing beast with golden antlers gleaming on his head? By these hands shattered, did Calpe let out the sea? So many beasts, so many monstrous things, so many kings, have these hands of mine brought low? Upon these shoulders did the heavens rest? Is this my massive frame, is this my neck? These hands did I oppose to the falling sky? What Stygian watch-dog will hereafter be dragged forth by my hand? Where are my powers, buried before my burial? Why on Jove as father do I call? Why, wretched man, by right of the Thunderer do I claim heaven? Now, now will Amphitryon be deemed my sire.
[1249] HERCULES: O pest, whate’er thou art that lurkest in my vitals, come forth – why dost attack me with a hidden smart? What Scythian Sea beneath the icy pole, what sluggish Tethys, what Spanish Calpe, crowding the Moorish coast, begot thee? O cursed bane! Art thou some serpent, brandishing his foul, full-crested head, or some evil thing even to me unknown? Art thou begotten of the Lernaean monster’s gore, or did the Stygian dog leave thee here on earth? Every ill thou art and yet no ill – what form hast thou? Grant me at least to know by what ill I am perishing. Whatever pest or whatever beast thou be, oppose me openly! Who gave thee place within my inmost marrow? See, my hand has ripped away the skin and the flesh uncovered; yet deeper still must its lurking place be found – O woe, invincible as Hercules!
[1265] HERCULES: But whence this lamentation? Whence tears upon these cheeks? My face, before unmoved, and never wont to express its woes in tears, at last (oh, shame!) has learned to weep. What day, what country has seen the tears of Hercules? Dry-eyed have I borne my cares. To thee that strength, which has crushed so many monsters, to thee alone has yielded; thou first of all hast forced tears from mine eyes; my face, harder than rough rock, harder than steel and the wandering Symplegades, has relaxed my visage and driven forth my tears. Me, weeping and groaning, O most high ruler of the heaven, the earth has seen and, thought which racks me more, my step-dame has seen. But lo, again the scorching heat flames up and burns my vitals. Oh, where is the lightning flash to bring me death?
[1279] CHORUS: What may not suffering overcome? But now, harder than Thracian Haemus’ crags, than Parrhasian skies more calm, to dire agony has he yielded him; his head drops wearily upon his neck, from side to side he turns his mighty bulk and oft does his fortitude drain back his tears. So, with however fervent beam he shine, Titan avails not to melt the arctic snows, whose icy splendour defies the torches of the burning sun.
[1290] HERCULES: O father, turn thou thine eyes on my calamity. Never till now has Alcides fled to thee for aid, not even when around my limbs the hydra entwined its fertile heads. Midst the infernal pools, by the black pall of night enfolded, I stood with Death nor did I call upon thee. So many dreadful beasts have I o’ercome, yea kings and tyrants; yet have I ne’er lifted my face unto the stars. This hand of mine has ever been surety for my prayers; no bolts for my sake have flashed from the sacred sky – but this day has bidden me ask somewhat of thee. ’Tis the first to hear my prayers, ‘twill be the last. Just one thunderbolt I ask; count me a giant. I could have laid hands on heaven no less than they; but while I thought thee my sire in very truth, I spared the skies. Oh, whether thou be harsh, my sire, or merciful, lay hands on thy son with speedy death and claim thee this great renown.
[1307] HERCULES: Or, if thy hand shrinks reluctant from the impious task, ‘gainst me release from Aetna’s mount the burning Titans, who in their hands may heave Pindus up, or, Ossa, thee, and by the hurled mountain overwhelm me quite. Let Bellona burst the bars of Erebus and with drawn sword rush upon me; or send fierce Mars; let the dread god ‘gainst me be armed. He is my brother, true, but of my step-dame born. Thou too, Alcides’ sister, but by our sire alone, hurl thy spear, O Pallas, against thy brother hurl. And to thee, my step-dame, do I stretch suppliant hands; do thou at least, I pray, let fly thy bolt (I brook to perish by a woman’s hand); oh, at last yielding, at last glutted, why still feed thy vengeance? What seekest thou further? Thou seest Alcides suppliant; whereas no land, no monster has ever seen me begging thee for quarter. Now have I need of a wrathful, raging step-dame – now has thy passion cooled? Now dost lay by thy hate? Thou sparest me when my prayer is all for death. O earth and cities of the earth, have y none to bring torches ‘gainst your Hercules, none to bring arms? Do ye withhold weapons from me? So may no land produce savage monsters more when I am dead, and let the world ne’er ask for aid of mine; if any evils rise, let avenger rise as well. From every side crush out my luckless life with stones, o’erwhelm my woes. O ungrateful world, dost falter? Hast quite forgotten me? E’en now wouldst thou be prey to ills and savage beasts hadst thou not borne me. Then, O ye peoples, rescue your champion from his woes. This chance is given you to requite my services – death will be reward for all.
[Enter ALCMENA.]
[1337] ALCMENA: What lands shall Alcides’ wretched mother seek? Where is my son, oh, where? If mine eyes see aright, yonder he lies, panting and fever-tossed; he groans, his life is at an end. In a last embrace let me enfold thee, O my son, and gather thy parting spirit in my mouth; take my embracing arms to thine – but where are thy limbs? Where is that star-bearing neck which propped the heavens up? Who is it has left to the but a shadow of thyself?
[1345] HERCULES: Hercules thou seest indeed, my mother, but ’tis the shadow and the vile somewhat of myself. Behold me, mother – why dost thou turn thine eyes away and hide thy face? Art ashamed to have Hercules called thy son?
[1349] ALCMENA: What world, what land has given birth to a fresh monster? What so dread horror is triumphing over thee? Who is a victor of Hercules?
[1352] HERCULES: By his wife’s wiles thou seest Alcides low.
[1353] ALCMENA: What wile is great enough to worst Alcides?
[1354] HERCULES: Whatever, mother, suffices a woman’s wrath.
[1355] ALCMENA: And how gained the pest entrance to thy joints and bones?
[1356] HERCULES: A robe, poisoned by woman’s hands, gave entrance to it.
[1357] ALCMENA: Where is that robe? I see but naked limbs.
[1358] HERCULES: ’Twas consumed with me.
[1358] ALCMENA: Was so destructive pestilence ever found?
[1359] HERCULES: Believe me, mother, through my inmost parts the hydra is wandering and with the Lernaean one a thousand savage beasts. What flames as hot as these pierce the Sicilian clouds, what Lemnian fires, or heaven’s burning tract, within whose scorching zone the sun’s path may not lie? O comrades, throw me into the sea itself, into the river’s midst – alas! what Hister is enough for me? Though greater than all lands, the Ocean itself will not cool my burning pains; to ease my woe all water will dry up, all moisture fail. Why, ruler of Erebus, didst send me back to Jove? ‘Twere more seemly to have held me fast. To thy glooms restore me, and show such Hercules as this to the ghosts I conquered. Naught will I take away; why dost fear Hercules a second time? Assail me, Death, and fear not; now do I brook to die.
[1374] ALCMENA: Restrain thy tears, at least, master thy pains; even to such woes show Hercules invincible; put death away; conquer the lords of hell as is thy wont.
[1377] HERCULES: If rugged Caucasus should offer me, bound by its chains, as a feast to greedy birds, while Scythia mourned around, no doleful cry would issue from my lips; should the wandering Symplegades crush me ‘twixt both their cliffs, their returning rushes would I bear, defiant; were Pindus lying on me, and Haemus, and Athos which resists the Thracian waves, and Mimas which welcomes the bolts of Jupiter; mother, if even this sky should fall upon my head, and over my shoulders the fiery car of Phoebus should go flaming, no coward cry would subdue Alcides’ soul. Though a thousand beasts at once should rush against me and rend me sore; though here from the skies Stymphalus’ bird, swooping with clangour wild, and there with full strength the threatening bull should push upon me, and whatever huge monster has sprung from earth; though Sinis’ groves should arise this side and that, and the rough giant shoot my limbs afar; rent limb from limb, still will I hold my peace – no beasts, no arms, naught that can be met and vanquished shall extort one groan from me.
[1396] ALCMENA: Son, ’tis no woman’s poison melts thy frame; but thy hard round of labours, thine unceasing toil, perchance has fed some deadly disease in thee.
[1399] HERCULES: Disease? Where is it? Where is it, pray? Is there still aught of evil in the world with me alive? Let it come on; let some one reach hither my bow to me – nay, my bare hands will be enough. Let it come on, I say. [He sinks into a deep, swoon-like slumber.]
[1402] ALCMENA: Alas! the too great shock of agony hath reft e’en his sense away. [To attendants.] Remove his weapons, take these deadly shafts out of his reach, I pray you; his burning cheeks portend some violence. Where shall an old woman hide herself? That is the smart of madness; it alone masters Hercules. But why should I, foolish that I am, seek flight or hiding? By a brave hand Alcmena deserves to die; so let me perish even impiously, before some craven decree my death, or a base hand triumph over me.
[1412] ALCMENA: But see, all spent with woe, his pain holds his worn heart fast bound in slumber, and his panting chest heaves with laboured breathing. Help him, ye gods! If to my misery ye have denied my glorious son, at least spare to the world, I pray, its champion. May his smart be driven quite away, and the body of Hercules renew its strength.
[Enter HYLLUS.]
[1419] HYLLUS: A bitter light, O crime-filled day! Dead is the Thunderer’s daughter, his son lies dying, and I, his grandson, still survive. By my mother’s crime is he perishing, but she was by guile ensnared. What aged man, throughout his round of years, in his whole life, will be able to recount woes so great? Both parents has one day taken off; to say naught of other ills and to spare the fates, Hercules, my father, am I losing.
[1427] ALCMENA: Restrain thy words, child of illustrious sire, wretched Alcmena’s grandson, like her in fate; perchance long slumber will o’ercome his pains. But see, repose is deserting his weary heart, and gives back his frame to suffering, me to grief.
[1432] HERCULES: [Awakening in delirium.] Why, what is this? Do I see Trachin midst her rugged hills, or have I, set ‘mongst the stars, at last left behind the race of men? Who opens heaven for me? Thee, thee, my father, now do I behold, and my step-dame also, at last appeased, I see. What heavenly sound strikes on mine ears? Juno calls me son! I see bright heaven’s gleaming palace, and the track worn by Phoebus’ burning wheels. I see Night’s couch; her shadows call me hence.
[1441] HERCULES: [Begins to come out of his delirium.] But what is this? Who shuts heaven’s gates to me, O father, and draws me down even from the stars? But now the care of Phoebus breathed hot upon my face, now was I near to heaven – but I see Trachin. Who has given me earth again? A moment since, and Oeta stood below me, and the whole world lay beneath my feet. How well, O pain, hadst thou fallen from me! Thou compellest me to confess – but stay, forestall that word.
[1448] HERCULES: [To HYLLUS.] O Hyllus, this, this is thy mother’s boon, her gift to me. Would that with lifted club I might crush out her wicked life just as I smote down the Amazonian pest upon the slopes of snowy Caucasus. O well-loved Megara, wast thou wife to me when madness came upon me? Give me my club and bow, let my right hand be defiled, let me put stain upon my glory, and let a woman be chosen as the last toil of Hercules.
[1456] HYLLUS: Check the dire threatenings of thy wrath, my father; she has it, ’tis over, the penalty which thou desirest she has paid; slain by her own hand, my mother lies in death.
[1459] HERCULES: Treacherously has she fallen; by the hands of enraged Hercules should she have died; Lichas has lost a comrade. I am moved to rage e’en ‘gainst her lifeless body, and wrath impels me. Why is even her corpse safe from my assaults? Let the wild beasts make banquet on it.
[1464] HYLLUS: The unhappy woman has suffered more than him she injured; somewhat still of this thou wouldst wish to lighten. By her own hand has she fallen, through grief for thee; more suffering than thou demandest has she borne. But ’tis not by crimes of a murderous wife, nor by my mother’s guile, thou liest low; Nessus contrived this snare, who, by thine arrow smit, spewed out his life. Father, ’twas in that half-beast’s gore the robe was dipped, and Nessus by these thy sufferings doth requite his own.
[1472] HERCULES: ’Tis well, ’tis over, my fate unfolds itself; this is my last day on earth. This oracle the prophetic oak once gave me, and the Parnassian grot, shaking the shrines of Cirrha with rumbling tones, declared: “By the hand of one whom, conquering, thou hast slain, Alcides, one day shalt thou lie low; this end, when thou hast traversed seas and lands and shades, awaits thee at the last.” We complain no more; such end was meet, that no living thing might conquer Hercules. Now let me choose a death glorious, renowned, illustrious, full worthy of myself. This day will I make famous. Go, cut down all the woods, heap Oeta’s grove together, that a mighty pyre may receive Hercules, and that before he dies. Thou, son of Poeas, dear youth, perform this sad office for me; set the whole sky aglow with the flames of Hercules.
[1488] HERCULES: And now to thee, Hyllus, I bring my latest prayer. Among the captives is a beauteous maid, in feature revealing her race and royal state, Iole, daughter of king Eurytus. Lead her to thy chamber with wedding torch. Victorious, blood-stained, I robbed her of her fatherland and home, and to the wretched girl gave naught except Alcides; and now e’en he is reft from her. Let her find recompense for her sorrows, and cherish Jove’s grandson and the son of Hercules; to thee be born whatever seed she has conceived by me.
[1497] HERCULES: [To ALCMENA.] Do thou thyself cease thy death-wails for me, I pray, illustrious mother; thy Alcides lives; by my heroic deeds have I made my step-dame seem but the concubine. Whether the tale of the night of Hercules’ begetting be the truth, or whether my sire be mortal – though I be falsely called the son of Jove, I have deserved to be his son; glory on heaven have I conferred, and to Jove’s glory did my mother bring me forth. Nay, he himself, though he be Jupiter, is glad to be believed my sire. Dry now thy tears, my mother; proud ‘mongst the Grecian mothers shalt thou be. What son like thine has Juno borne, though she wield the sceptre of the skies, and be the Thunderer’s bride? Still, though queen of heaven, she envied a mortal woman, and wished that Alcides might be called her own.
[1512] HERCULES: Now, O sun, must thou speed thy course alone, for I, who have been thy companion everywhere, am bound for Tartarus and the land of shades. Yet to the depths shall I bear this glorious fame, that no pest openly has laid Alcides low, and that all pests openly has Alcides slain.[He goes out toward the pyre which has been prepared for him.]
[1518] CHORUS: O glory of the world, O ray-girt Sun, at whose first warmth Hecate loosens the bits from the weary steeds of her nocturnal car, tell the Sabaeans who lie beneath the dawn, tell the Iberians who lie beneath thy setting, tell those who suffer ‘neath the Wagon of the Bear, and those who pant beneath thy burning car: Hercules is hasting to the endless shades, to the realm of sleepless Cerberus, whence he will never more return. Let thy bright rays be overcast with clouds; gaze on the grieving world with pallid face and let disfiguring mists roam o’er thy head. When, O Titan, where, beneath what sky wilt thou follow another Hercules on the earth? To whose aid will the wretched world appeal if within Lerna’s swamp some many-headed pest in a hundred snakes shall spread its poisonous rage; if for the ancient tribes of Arcady some boar shall disturb the quiet of the woods; if some son of Thracian Rhodope, harder than the ground of snow-clad Helice, shall spatter his stalls with the blood of men? Who to the trembling nations will give peace, if the angry gods shall raise up new monsters o’er the world? Level with all men he lies, whom earth produced level with the Thunderer. Through countless cities let cries of brief resound; let women with streaming hair smite their bare arms; let the temples of all gods be closed save his step-dame’s only, for she only is free from care.
[1550] CHORUS: Thou farest to Lethe and the Stygian shore whence no keel will ever bring thee back; thou farest, lamented one, unto the ghosts whence, overcoming Death, thou didst once return in triumph, now but a shade, with fleshless arms, wan face and drooping neck; nor will that skiff, which once bore thee alone and feared ’twould be plunged beneath the waves, bear thee alone. And yet thou shalt not dwell midst common shades; midst Aeacus and the two Cretans shalt thou be, sitting in judgment on men’s deeds, scouring tyrannic kings. Spare, O ye mighty, restrain your hands. ’Tis thy praise to have kept the sword unstained and that, what time thou didst bear sway, fate midst its storms had less power against thy cities.
[1564] CHORUS: But now has thy manhood place amongst the stars. Wilt occupy the spaces of the north, or where Titan sends forth his oppressive rays? Or in the warm western sky wilt shine, where thou wilt hear Calpe resound with the charging sea? What region of the cloudless heavens wilt thou weigh down? What place, when Alcides comes, will be safe amidst the stars? Only may Jove give thee thy seat far from the dread Lion and the burning Crab, lest at sight of thee the affrighted stars make turmoil of their laws and Titan tremble. While flowers shall bloom as the spring days grow warm; while winter shall strip the foliage from the trees, and summer to the trees recall their foliage; while fruits shall fall as autumn takes his flight, no lapse of time shall snatch thee from the world; comrade of Phoebus, comrade of the stars, shalt thou pass on. Sooner shall wheat sprout from the surface of the deep; sooner the roaring waves of the sea be sweet; sooner shall the icy Bear come down and enjoy the forbidden waters, than shall the nations be silent of thy praise.
[1587] CHORUS: To thee, father of all, in wretchedness we pray: let no dread beast be born, no pest; from the fear of savage kings keep this poor world free; let no one lord it in palace hall who deems it the sole glory of his realm to have held the sword e’er threatening. If some dread thing should come again to earth, oh, give to forsaken earth a champion.
[1595] CHORUS: But what is this? The universe resounds. Behold, he mourns, the father mourns Alcides; or is it the outcry of the gods or the voice of his frighted step-dame? At the sight of Hercules does Juno flee the stars? Under the mighty weight has Atlas staggered? Or is it that the awful ghosts have trembled and at sight of Hercules the hell-hound in affright has broken his chains and fled? No, we are wrong; behold with joyful face comes Poeas’ son and on his shoulders he bears the shafts and the quiver known to all, the heir of Hercules.
CHORUS: [Enter PHILOCTETES.][1607] Speak out, good youth, and tell the end of Hercules, I pray, and with what countenance Alcides bore his death.
[1609] PHILOCTETES: With such as none e’er bore his life.
[1609] CHORUS: So joyous did he mount his funeral pyre.
[1610] PHILOCTETES: He showed that now flames were as naught to him. What ‘neath the heavens has Hercules left by defeat unscathed? Lo, all things have been subdued.
[1613] CHORUS: Midst the hot flames what room was there for valour?
[1614] PHILOCTETES: The one enemy on earth which he had not o’ercome, e’en fire, is vanquished; this also has been added to the beasts; fire has taken its place midst the toils of Hercules.
[1617] CHORUS: But tell us, in what wise were the flames o’ercome?
[1618] PHILOCTETES: When the whole sorrowing band fell upon Oeta’s woods, by the hands of one the beech-tree lost its shade and lay full length, hewn to the ground; one fiercely felled a pine-tree, towering to the stars, and from the clouds’ midst he summoned it; in act to fall, it shook the rocky slope and with itself brought down the lesser woods. A huge oak stood, wide spreading, such as Chaonia’s oak of prophecy, excluding the light of day and stretching its branches far beyond all the grove. Threat’ning it groaned, by many a blow beset, and broke the wedges; back bounded the smiting steel; its edge was dulled, too soft for such a task. When the tree, at last dislodged, falling, brings widespread ruin down, straightway the place lets the sun’s full rays; the birds, driven from their perches, flit aimless through the day midst the felled grove, and, loudly complaining, with wearied wings seek for their nests. And now every tree resounded, and even the sacred oaks felt the dread steel-armed hand, and its ancient woods availed no holy grove. The whole forest was piled into a heap; and the logs, starward in layers rising, made all too small a pyre for Hercules – the pine-tree, quick to burn, the tough-fibred oak, the ilex of shorter trunk; but poplar wood, whose foliage adorns Alcides’ brow, filled out the pyre.
[1642] PHILOCTETES: But he, like some huge, suffering lion, which, in Libyan forest lying, roars out his pain, hurried along, – who would suppose him hasting to the flames? His gaze was of one who seeks the stars, not fires of earth, when he set foot on Oeta and with his eyes surveyed the pyre complete. The great beams broke beneath him. Then for his shafts and bow he called, and said: “Take these, thou sons of Poeas, take them as Alcides’ gift and pledge of love. These did the Hydra feel; by these the Stymphalian birds lie low, and all other pests which at distance I overcame. O youth with valour blest, never in vain shalt thou send these ‘gainst a foe; or if birds from the very clouds thou wouldst fetch away, birds will fall down, and out of the sky will thy shafts, sure of their prey, come floating; and ne’er will this bow disappoint thy hand. Well has it learned to poise the feathered shafts and unerringly send them flying; while the shafts themselves, loosed from the string, fail never to find their mark. Only do thou, I pray, apply the fire and set the last torch for me. Let this club,” he said, “which no hand but mine has wielded, burn in the flames with me; this weapon alone shall follow Hercules. This also shouldst thou have,” said he, “if thou couldst wield it. Let it add fuel to its master’s pyre.” Then did he call for the Nemean monster’s shaggy skin to burn with him; ‘neath the skin the pyre was hidden.
[1667] PHILOCTETES: The whole throng set up a lamentation, and sorrow filled the eyes of all with tears. His mother, passionate in grief, her eager bosom stript, and she smote her breasts, naked e’en to the waist, in endless lamentation; and with her cries assailing the gods and Jove himself, she filled all the region round with womanish bewailings. “Mother,” he said, “thou dost disgrace the death of Hercules; restrain thy tears and confine thy womanish grief within thy heart. Why for thy weeping should Juno count this day joyful? For she rejoices to see her rival’s tears. Curb thy faint heart, my mother; ’tis a sin to tear the breasts and the womb that bore Alcides.” Then with dread mutterings, as when through Argive towns he dragged the dog, what time, triumphant over hell, in scorn of Dis and trembling death he returned to earth, so did he lay him down upon the pyre. What victor ever stood in his chariot so joyfully triumphant? What tyrant king with such a countenance ever gave laws to nations? How calmly he bore his fate! Even our tears were stayed, grief’s shock subsided, none grieves that he must perish. Now were we ‘shamed to weep; Alcmena, herself, whose sex impels to mourning, stood with dry cheeks, a mother now well-nigh equal to her son.
[1691] CHORUS: Sent he no supplications, heavenward to the gods e’er the fire was lit? Looked he not to Jove to hear his prayers?
[1693] PHILOCTETES: Careless of self he lay and, gazing at heaven, quested with his eyes whether from any quarter his sire looked down at him. Then, with hands outstretched, he spoke: “O father, from what quarter soe’er thou lookest on thy son, (he truly is my father, for whose sake night joined with day and one day ceased to be,) if both the bounds of Phoebus sing my praise, the tribes of Scythia and every burning strand which daylight parches; if peace fills all the earth; if no cities groan and no man stains with sin his altar-fires; if crimes have ceased, admit this soul, I pray thee, to the stars. I have no fear of the infernal realm of death, nor do the sad realms of dusky Jove affright me; but to go, naught but a shade, to those gods I overcame, O sire, I am ashamed. Dispel the clouds, spread wide the day, that the eyes of gods may gaze on burning Hercules. Though thou deny me stars and a place in heaven, O sire, thou shalt even be compelled – ah! if pain will excuse any words of mine, then open the Stygian pools and give me to death again; but prove me first thy son. This day will make me seem worthy of the stars. Worthless is all that has been done; this day, my father, will bring Hercules to light or doom him.”
[1715] PHILOCTETES: When he had thus said, he called for fire. “Up now, Alcides’ willing friend,” said he, “catch up the Oetaean torch; let my step-dame see how I can bear the flames. Why did thy right hand tremble? Did thy hand shrink timid from such unholy deed? Then give me my quiver back, thou undaring, unskilled, unwarlike – that the hand to bend my bow! Why do thy cheeks grow pale? Come, seize on the torch with courage, with face thou seest on prone Alcides. Poor soul, have some regard for him who soon will burn.
[1725] PHILOCTETES: “But lo! now doth my father call me and he opens heaven. I come, O sire.” Then was his face no more the same. With trembling hand I applied the blazing pine; the flames shrunk back, the torch resisted and would not touch his limbs; but Hercules followed up the shrinking flames. Thou wouldst suppose that Caucasus or Pindus or Athos was ablaze; no sound burst forth, save that the fire seemed groaning. O stubborn heart! Had huge Typhon been lying on that pyre, he would have groaned aloud, and fierce Enceladus who upon his shoulders bore Ossa, uptorn from earth.
[1736] PHILOCTETES: But Hercules, midst roaring flames upstarting, all charred and mangled, gazed dauntless round and cried: “Now art thou parent true of Hercules; thus ’tis meet that thou shouldst stand, my mother, beside the pyre, and thus ’tis meet that Hercules be mourned.” Midst scorching heat and threat’ning flames, unmoved, unshaken, to neither side turning his tortured limbs, he encourages, advises, is active still, though all aflame. To all his ministrants stoutness of soul he gives; you would deem him all on fire to burn. The whole crowd stand in speechless wonder and the flames have scarce belief, so calm his brow, the hero so majestic. Nor does he speed his burning; but when now he deemed that courage enough had been shown in death, from every side he dragged the burning logs which the fire least fed upon, and into that blazing mass he strode and sought where the flames leaped highest, all unafraid, defiant. Awhile he feasted his eyes upon the fires. But now his heavy beard burned bright; and even when threat’ning fire assailed his face and the hot tongues licked about his head, he did not close his eyes. – But what is this? I see the sad mother bearing in her bosom the remains of great Alcides, and Alcmena, tossing her squalid locks, bewails her son.[Enter ALCMENA, carrying in her bosom a funeral urn.]
[1758] ALCMENA: Fear ye the fates, O powers above! [Holding up the urn.] See the scant dust of Hercules – to this, to this has that mighty body shrunk! O Sun, how great a mass has passed away to nothingness! Ah me, this aged breast can hold Alcides, this is a tomb for him. See, Hercules has scarce filled all the urn; how light for me his weight upon whose shoulders the whole heavens as a light weight rested. Once to the farthest realms of Tartarus, O son, didst thou go but to return – Oh, when from infernal Styx wilt thou come again? Not in such wise as to bring e’en spoil with thee, nor that Theseus again may owe thee the light of day, – but when, though all alone? Will the whole world, heaped on thee, hold thy shade, on the hell-hound avail to keep thee back? When wilt thou batter down the Taenarian gates, or to what yawning jaws shall my mother betake herself, where is the approach to death? Thou takest thy journey to the dead, and ‘twill be thy only one. Why do I waste time in wailing? Why dost endure, O wretched life? Why clingest to the light? What Hercules can I again bring forth to Jove? What son so great will call me mother, will call me his Alcmena? Oh, too, too happy thou, my Theban husband, for thou to the realms of Tartarus didst descend, thy son still living; at thy approach the infernal ones, perchance, were filled with fear, merely because thou wast the sire of Hercules, even though falsely called. – What lands shall an aged woman seek, hated by savage kigns, if spite of all any savage king is left alive? Oh, woe is me! All sons who lament their murdered sires will seek revenge from me; they all will overwhelm me. If any young Busiris or if any young Antaeus terrifies the region of the burning zone, I shall be led off as booty; if any Ismarian seeks revenge for the herds of the bloody king of Thrace, upon my limbs will his horrid herds be fed. Juno, perchance, in anger will seek revenge; against me will the whole force of her wrath incline; though her soul is more disturbed by Alcides, o’ercome at last, I, the concubine, am left – ah! what punishments will she inflict, lest I be again a mother! This son has made my womb a thing of fear.
[1796] ALCMENA: Whither shall Alcmena flee? What place, what region, what quarter of the world will take my part, or to what hiding-place shall thy mother betake herself, know everywhere though thee? Shall I seek my fatherland and my wretched home? Eurystheus is king at Argos. Shall I seek Thebes, my husband’s kingdom, the Ismenus and my bridal chamber, where once, greatly beloved by him, I looked on Jove? Oh, happy, far too happy had I been, if I myself, too, had know Jove’s thunderbolt! Oh, would that from my womb the infant Alcides had been ripped! But now was the chance given me, yea ’twas given to see my son vying in praise with Jove, that this, too, might be given me – to know of how much fate had power to rob me.
[1809] ALCMENA: What people will live mindful of thee, O son? Now is the whole race ungrateful. Shall I seek Cleonae? seek the Arcadian tribes and hunt out the lands made famous by thy righteous toils? Here fell the serpent dire, here the bird-monster, here fell a bloody king, and here by thy hand subdued, the lion fell, who, while thou liest buried here, holds a place in heaven. If earth is grateful, let every people shield thine Alcmena. Shall I go to the Thracian peoples, and to Hebrus’ tribes? for this land, too, was defended by thy toils; low do the stables with the kingdom lie. Here peace was granted when the bloody king was overthrown; for where has it not been granted?
[1821] ALCMENA: What tomb for thee shall a luckless old woman seek? Let the whole world contend for thy remains. The ashes of mighty Hercules, what people or what temples, what races desire to have? Who then, who seeks, who demands Alcmena’s burden? What sepulchre, O son, what tomb is great enough for thee? Thy tomb is the whole wide world, and fame shall be thine epitaph. Why, soul of mine, art fearful? Thou holdst the dust of Hercules; embrace his bones; his mere dust will bring thee aid, will be defence enough; even thy ghost will cause kings to tremble.
ALCMENA: HYLLUS[Who seems to have been present during the preceding scene.][1831] Though truly they are due thy son, restrain thy tears, mother of Alcides the illustrious. He is neither to be mourned nor pursued with grievous prayers, whoe’er by his valour hath halted the march of fate; his deathless valour forbids to weep for Hercules. Brave men forbid to mourn, cowards command.
[1837] ALCMENA: When her deliverer is lost, shall a mother abate her grief?
[1838] HYLLUS: Both land and sea and where the shining sun from his bright car looks down upon both oceans, (not thou alone dost grieve) all mourn for their lost deliverer.
[1840] ALCMENA: How many sons has his wretched mother buried in him alone! Kingdom I lacked, yet kingdoms could I give. I only, midst all the mothers whom the earth contains, refrained from prayer; naught from the gods I asked, while my son remained; for what could the love of Hercules not grant to me? What god could deny me aught? In my own hands were the answers to my prayers: whatever Jove denied, Hercules could bestow. What son like this has a mortal mother borne? Once a mother stiffened into stone when, stripped of her whole brood, she stood and, one alone, lamented her twice seven children; but to how many broods like hers could my son be compared? Till now for mother’s grief a measure vast enough was lacking – Alcmena will furnish it. Then cease, ye mothers, whom persistent woe still bids to mourn, whom crushing sorrow has transformed to stone; yield ye, yea, all of you, to these my woes. Then come, beat on this aged breast, O wretched hands, – and canst thou alone suffice for loss so vast, an aged spent old woman? Soon will the whole world unite to mourn with thee. Yet raise thy arms, however weary, in lamentation; that by thy grief thou mayst stir envy in the gods, summon the whole race of men unto thy mourning.
ALCMENA: [Here follows ALCMENA’s formal song of mourning accompanied by the usual Oriental gestures of lamentation.][1863] Come ye, bewail Alcmena’s son and mighty Jove’s, for whose conception one day was lost and lingering dawn joined two nights in one; something greater than the day itself is lost. Together lament, ye nations all, whose cruel tyrants he bade descend to the abodes of Styx and lay down the sword, reeking with blood of peoples. To such deserts pay tribute of your tears; let all, yea all the world echo to your laments. Alcides let sea-girt Crete bewail, land to the great Thunderer dear; let its hundred peoples beat upon their arms. Now Cretans, now priests of Cybele, with your hands clash Ida’s cymbals; ’tis meet that with arms ye mourn him. Now, now make him just funeral; low lies Alcides, equal, O Crete, to the Thunderer himself. Weep for Alcides’ passing, O Arcadians, who were a people ere yet the moon was born; let Parthenius’ heights and Nemea’s hills resound and Maenalus smite heavy blows of grief. The bristly boar, within your fields laid low, demands lament for great Alcides, and the huge bird whose wings hid all the sky, challenged to meet his shafts. Weep, Argive Cleonae, weep; here long ago the lion who kept your walls in fear my son’s right hand destroyed. Ye Bistonian dames, beat your breasts, and let cold Hebrus resound to your beatings; weep for Alcides, for no more are your children born for the stalls, nor your offspring as food for the herds. Weep thou, O land from Antaeus delivered, ye regions from fierce Geryon saved; yea, with me, ye unhappy nations, lament; let both seas re-echo your beatings.
[1903] ALCMENA: You too, ye thronging deities of the whirling heavens, bewail Hercules’ fate; for my Alcides bore your heavens upon his shoulders, your sky, ye gods above, when Atlas, starry Olympus’ prop, was eased of his load awhile. Where now are thy heights, O Jove? Where is the promised palace in the sky? Alcides, mortal, is dead! mortal, is buried! How oft did he save thee thy lightnings, how seldom thy fire needed hurling! Against me at least brandish thy lightning, and deem me Semele.
[1916] ALCMENA: And now, O son, holdst thou the Elysian seats, holdst now the shore whither nature calls all peoples? Or after the dog was stolen has the dark Styx barred thy way, and on the very threshold of Dis do the fates delay thee? What confusion now, my son, seizes the shadowy spirits? Does the boatman draw away his skiff in flight? Do Thessalian Centaurs with flying hoofs smite the affrighted ghosts? Does the hydra in terror plunge his snaky heads beneath the waves and do thy toils all fear thee, O my son? Fooled, fooled am I, distracted, mad! Nor ghosts nor shadows are afraid of thee; the fearsome pelt, stripped from the Argolic lion, with its tawny mane shields thy left arm no more, and its savage teeth hedge not thy temples; thy quiver thou hast given away and now a lesser hand will aim thy shafts. Unarmed, my son, thou farest through the shades, and with them forever shalt thou abide.
ALCMENA: THE VOICE OF HERCULES
[1940] ALCMENA: [From above.] Why, since I hold the realms of starry heaven and at last have attained the skies, dost by lamentation bid me taste of death? Give o’er; for now has my valour borne me to the stars and to the gods themselves.
[1944] ALCMENA: [Bewildered.] Whence, oh, whence falls that sound upon my startled ears? Whence do the thunderous tones bid check my weeping? Now know I that chaos has been o’ercome.
[1947] ALCMENA: From the Styx, O son, art come again to me? Broken a second time is the power of grisly death? Hast escaped once more death’s stronghold and the infernal skiff’s dark pools? Is Acheron’s wan stream retraceable and mayst thou alone recross it? And after thy death do the fates hold thee no more? Has Pluto barred thy way, and trembling for his own sovereignty? Surely upon the blazing logs I saw thee laid, when the vast, fearful flames raged to the sky. Thou wast consumed – why, why did the bottomless abyss not gain thy shade? What part of thee did the ghosts fear, I pray? Is e’en thy shade to terrible for Dis”
ALCMENA: HERCULES[His form now taking shape in the air above.][1963] The pools of groaning Cocytus hold me not, nor has the dark skiff borne o’er my shade; then cease thy laments, my mother; once and for all have I seen the shadowy ghosts. Whate’er in me was mortal and of thee, the vanquished flame has borne away my father’s part to heaven, thy part to the flames has been consigned. Cease then thy lamentations which to a worthless son might well be given. Let tears for the inglorious flow; valour fares starward, fear, to the realm of death. In living presence, mother, from the stars Alcides speaks; soon shall bloody Eurystheus make thee full recompense; o’er his proud head shalt thou in triumph ride. But now ’tis meet that I pass to the realm above; Alcides once again has conquered hell.[He vanishes from sight.]
[1977] ALCMENA: Stay but a little! – he has banished from my sight, is gone, to the stars faring. Am I deceived or do my eyes but deem they saw my son? My soul for very grief cannot believe it. – But no! thou art divine, and deathless the heavens possess thee. In thy triumphant entrance I believe.
[1981] ALCMENA: Now will I take me to the realm of Thebes and there proclaim the new god added to their temples. [Exit.]
[1983] CHORUS: Never to Stygian shades is glorious valour borne. The brave live on, nor shall the cruel fates bear you o’er Lethe’s waters; but when the last day shall bring the final hour, glory will open wide the path to heaven.
[1989] CHORUS: But do thou, O mighty conqueror of beasts, peace-bringer to the world, be with us yet; still as of old regard this earth of ours; and if some strange-visaged monster cause us with dire fear to tremble, do thou o’ercome him with the forked thunderbolts – yea, more mightily than thy father’s self the thunders hurl.

## Agamemnon

DRAMATIS PERSONAE
ARGUMENT
AGAMEMNON
AGAMEMNON, king of Argos, and leader of all the Greeks in their war against Troy.GHOST OF THYESTES, returned to earth to urge on his son to the vengeance which he was born to accomplish.AEGISTHUS, son of Thyestes by an incestuous union with his daughter; paramour of Clytemnestra.CHORUS of Argive women.EURYBATES, messenger of Agamemnon.CASSANDRA, daughter of Priam, captive of Agamemnon.ELECTRA, daughter of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra.STROPHIUS, king of Phocis.ORESTES, son of Agamemnon (persona muta).PYLADES, son of Strophius (persona muta).BAND of captive Trojan women.
THE SCENE is laid partly within and partly without the palace of Agamemnon at Argos or Mycenae, on the day of the return of the king from his long absence at Troy, beginning in the period of darkness just preceding the dawn.
THE BLOOD-FEUD BETWEEN Atreus and Thyestes was not ended with the terrible vengeance which Atreus wreaked upon his brother. It was yet in fate that Thyestes should live to beget upon his own daughter a son, Aegisthus, who should slay Atreus and bring ruin and death upon the great Atrides, Agamemnon.
The Trojan war is done. And now the near approach of the victorious king, bringing his captives and treasure home to Argos, has been announced. But little does he dream to what a home he is returning. For Clytemnestra, enraged at Agamemnon because he had sacrificed her daughter Iphigenia at Aulis to appease the winds, and full of jealousy because he brings Cassandra as her rival home, estranged also by the long-continued absence of her lord, but most estranged by her own guilty union with Aegisthus, is now plotting to slay her husband on his return, gaining thus at once revenge and safety from his wrath.

## AGAMEMNON

[1] GHOST OF THYESTES: Leaving the murky regions of infernal Dis, I come, sent forth from Tartarus’ deep pit, doubting which world I hate the more – Thyestes flees the lower, the upper he puts to flight. Lo, my spirit shudders, my limbs quake with fear; I see my father’s, nay more, my brother’s house. This is the ancient seat of Pelops’ line; here ’tis the custom of the Pelasgians to crown their kings; on the this throne sit high lords whose proud hands wield the sceptre; here is their council-chamber – here they feast.
[12] GHOST OF THYESTES: Fain would I turn me back. Is it not better to haunt even the gloomy pools, better to gaze upon the guardian of the Styx, tossing his three-fold neck with sable mane? where one, his body bound on the swift-flying wheel, is whirled back upon himself; where vain uphill toil is mocked as the stone rolls ever backward; where a greedy bird tears at the liver constantly renewed; and the old man, thirst-parched midst waters, catches at fleeting waves with cheated lips, doomed to pay dearly for the banquet of the gods. But how small a part of my offence is his? Let us take count of all whom for their impious deeds the Cretan judge with whirling urn condemns; all of them by my crimes shall I, Thyestes, conquer. But by my brother shall I be conquered, full of my three sons buried in me; my own flesh have I consumed.
[28] GHOST OF THYESTES: Nor thus far only has Fortune defiled the sire, but, daring greater crime than that committed, she bade him seek his daughter’s incestuous embrace. Fearlessly and to the dregs did I drain her bidding, but ’twas an impious thing I did. And therefore, that a father’s power might extend o’er all his children, my daughter, forced by fate, bore child to me, worthy to call me father. Nature has been confounded; father with grandsire, yea, monstrous! husband with father, grandsons with sons, have I confused – day with night.
[37] GHOST OF THYESTES: But at length, though late and coming after death, the promise of dim prophecy is fulfilled to me, worn with my woes; that king of kings, that leader of leaders, Agamemnon, following whose banner a thousand ships once covered the Trojan waters with their sails, now that, after ten courses of Phoebus, Ilium is o’erthrown, now is he near at hand – to give his throat into his wife’s power. Now, now shall this house swim in blood other than mine; swords, axes, spears, a king’s head cleft with the axe’s heavy stroke, I see; now crimes are near, now treachery, slaughter, gore – feasts are being spread. The author of thy birth has come, Aegisthus. Why dost hang thy head in shame? Why doth thy trembling hand, doubtful of purpose, fall? Why doest take counsel with thyself, why turn the question o’er and o’er whether this deed become thee? Think on thy mother; it becomes thee well.
[53] GHOST OF THYESTES: But why suddenly is the summer night prolonged to winter’s span? or what holds the setting stars in the sky? Are we delaying Phoebus? [Preparing to go.] Give back the day now to the universe. [Ghost vanishes.]
[57] CHORUS: O Fortune, who dost bestow the throne’s high boon with mocking hand, in dangerous and doubtful state thou settest the too exalted. Never have sceptres obtained calm peace or certain tenure; care on care weighs them down, and ever do fresh storms vex their souls. Not so on Libyan quicksands does the sea rage and roll up wave on wave; not so, stirred from their lowest depths, surge Euxine’s waters, hard by the icy pole, where, undipped in the azure waves, Boötes follows his shining wain, as does Fortune roll on the headlong fates of kings. To be feared they long, and to be feared they dread; kindly night gives them no safe retreat, and sleep, which conquers care, soothes not their breasts.
[77] CHORUS: What palace has not crime answering crime hurled headlong? What palace do impious arms not vex? Law, shame, the sacred bonds of marriage, all flee from courts. Hard in pursuit comes grim Bellona of the bloody hand, and she who frets the proud, Erinys, forever dogging homes too high, which any hour brings low from high estate.
[87] CHORUS: Though arms be idle and treachery give o’er, great kingdoms sink of their own weight, and Fortune gives way ‘neath the burden of herself. Sails swollen with favouring breezes fear blasts too strongly theirs; the tower which rears its head to the very clouds is beaten by rainy Auster; the grove, spreading dense shade around, sees ancient oak-trees riven; ’tis the high hills that the lightnings strike; large bodies are more to disease exposed, and while common herds stray o’er vagrant pastures, the head highest upreared is marked for death.
[101] CHORUS: Whatever Fortune has raised on high, she lifts but to bring low. Modest estate has longer life; then happy he whoe’er, content with the common lot, with safe breeze hugs the shore, and, fearing to trust his skiff to the wider sea, with unambitious oar keeps close to land.
[108] CLYTEMNESTRA: Why, sluggish soul, dost safe counsel seek? Why waver? Already the better way is closed. Once thou mightest have guarded thy chaste bed and thy widowed sceptre with pure, wifely faith; gone are good fashions, right doing, honour, piety, faith, – and modesty, which, once ’tis gone, knows no return. Fling loose the reins and, forward bent, rouse onward all iniquity; through crime ever is the safe way for crime. Devise now in thine own heart a woman’s wiles, – what any faithless wife, beside herself with blind passion, what step-mother’s hands have dared, or what she dared, that maid ablaze with impious love, who fled her Phasian realm in that Thessalian bark; dare sword, dare poison; or else flee from Mycenae with the partner of thy guilt, in stealthy bark. But why timidly talk of stealth, of exile, and of flight? Such things thy sister did; thee some greater crime becomes.
[125] NURSE: Queen of the Greeks, Leda’s illustrious child, what ponderest thou in silence, what mad deed, ungoverned in thy purpose, art planning with restless soul? Though thy say no word, thy face discovers all thy anguish. Wherefore, whate’er it be, give thyself time and room; what reason cannot, delay has ofttimes cured.
NURSE: CLYTEMNESTRA]131] Passions rack me too strong to endure delay; flames are burning my very marrow and my heart; here fear blent with anguish plies the spur, and my breast throbs with jealousy; there base love forces its yoke upon my mind and forbids me to give way. And midst such fires that beset my soul, shame, weary indeed and conquered and utterly undone, still struggles on. By shifting fllods am I driven, as when here wind, there tide harries the deep, and the waters halt uncertain to which foe they will yield. Wherefore I have let go the rudder from my hands – where wrath, where smart, where hope shall carry me, there will I go; to the waves have I given my bark. Where reason fails, ’tis best to follow chance.
[145] NURSE: Blind is he and rash who follows chance.
[146] CLYTEMNESTRA: When fortune is at its worst, why fear its hazard?
[147] NURSE: Sae is thy sin and hidden, if thou allow it so.
[148] CLYTEMNESTRA: Open to view is a royal house’s every sin.
[149] NURSE: Dost repent the old crime, yet plan the new?
[150] CLYTEMNESTRA: Surely ’tis folly to stop midway in sin.
[151] NURSE: Whoso piles crime on crime, makes greater what he dreads.
[152] CLYTEMNESTRA: Both knife and cautery oft take the place of drugs.
[153] NURSE: Desperate remedies no one tries at first.
[154] CLYTEMNESTRA: In midst of ills, we must snatch at headlong ways.
[155] NURSE: But let the hallowed name of wedlock turn thee back.
[156] CLYTEMNESTRA: For ten years widowed, shall I still think on husband?
[157] NURSE: Thine offspring of him thou shouldst remember.
[158] CLYTEMNESTRA: I do remember my daughter’s wedding fires, my son-in-law, Achilles; true faith he showed a mother!
[160] NURSE: She freed our becalmed fleet from delay, and roused the sluggish sea from its deep repose.
[162] CLYTEMNESTRA: Oh, shame! oh, anguish! I, child of Tyndarus, of heavenly lineage, have borne a sacrifice for the Grecian fleet! Once more in memory I see my daughter’s wedding rites, which he made worthy of Pelops’ house, when, with prayer on lip, the father stood before the altars, how fit for nuptials! Calchas shuddered at his own oracles and at the recoiling altar-fires. O house that ever o’ertops crime with crime! With blood we purchased winds, and war with murder! But, say you, by this means a thousand ships spread sail together? ’Twas by no favouring god the fleet was freed; no! Aulis from port drave forth the impious ships. Thus beginning, not more happily did he wage the war. With love of a captive smitten, unmoved by prayer, he held as spoil the child of Smynthean Apollo’s aged priest, then as now mad with passion for a sacred maid. Neither Achilles, unmoved by threats, could bend him, nor he who alone sees the secrets of the universe, (for me and mine sure seer, for slave-girls of no weight), nor the plague-smit people, nor the blazing pyres. Midst the death-struggle of falling Greece, conquered, but by no foe, he languishes, has leisure for love, seeks new amours; and, lest his widowed couch ever be free from some barbaric mistress, he lusted for the Lyrnesian maid, Achilles’ spoil, nor blushed toe bear her away, torn from her lord’s embrace – he, the enemy of Paris! Now, wounded afresh, he rages with passion for the inspired Phrygian maid; and after Troy’s conquest, after Ilium’s overthrow, he comes back home, a captive’s husband Priam’s son-in-law!
[193] CLYTEMNESTRA: Now gird thee up, my soul; no trivial strife art thou preparing. Crime must be forestalled. Sluggish, what day dost thou await? Till Phrygian wives shall wield our Pelops’ sceptre? Do the virgin daughters of thy house and Orestes, image of his father, hold thee back? Nay, ’tis the ills that that threaten them that should urge thee on; o’er them a storm of woes hangs lowering. Why, wretched woman, dost thou hesitate? Through thine own side, if not otherwise it can be done, let the sword be driven, and so slay two. Mingle thy blood with his, in thy death destroy thy husband; death hath no pang when shared with whom thou wouldest.
[203] NURSE: O Queen, restrain thyself, check thine impetuous wrath and think what thou art daring; the conqueror of wild Asia is at hand, Europe’s avenger, dragging in triumph captive Pergama and the Phrygians, long since subdued. Against him now with guile and stealth dost thou essay to fight, whom Achilles with his savage sword hurt not, though in grim wrath he armed his insolent hand, nor the better Ajax raging and bent on death, nor Hector, sole bulwark against the warring Greeks, nor the sure-aimed shafts of Paris, nor swarthy Memnon, nor Xanthus, rolling down corpses and arms commingled, nor Simoïs, its waves running red with blood, nor Cycnus, snowy offspring of the Ocean-god, nor warlike Rhesus and his Thracian horde, nor the Amazon, with her painted quiver, battle-axe in hand, and crescent shield? Him, home-returning, dost thou prepare to slay and to defile thine altars with slaughter impious? Will victorious Greece leave such a deed unavenged? Horses and arms, the sea studded with ships, set these before thine eyes, the ground flowing with streams of blood, and the whole fate of the captured house of Dardanus turned ‘gainst the Greeks. Control thy fierce passions, and do thou thyself set thine own soul at peace. [Exit.]
[Enter AEGISTHUS.]
[226] AEGISTHUS: [In soliloquy.] The hour which always in my heart and soul I dreaded is here indeed, the hour of fate for me. Why, would, dost fear to face it? Why at the first onslaught dost lay down thy arms? Be sure that for thee destruction and dread doom the pitiless gods prepare. Then set thy vile life to face all punishments, and with confronting breast welcome both sword and flame, Aegisthus; for one so born, ’tis no penalty to die.
[234] AEGISTHUS: [To CLYTEMNESTRA.] Thou partner of my peril, thou, Leda’s daughter, be but my comrade still; then blood for blood shall he repay to thee, this cowardly warrior and valiant sire. But why does pallor o’erspread thy trembling cheeks, and why in thy listless face is thine eye so dull and drooping?
[239] CLYTEMNESTRA: Love for my husband conquers and turns me back. Return we thither whence ‘twere well never to have come away. E’en now let us reseek purity and truth, for never too late is trod the path to honesty; whose repents his sin is well-nigh innocent.
[244] AEGISTHUS: Whither art borne, mad one? Dost believe or hope that Agamemnon is still true to his marriage vows? Though there were nought in thine own heart to rouse grave fears, still would his arrogant, immoderate, o’er-inflated fortune swell his pride. Harsh to his allies was he while Troy still stood; what thinkest thou Troy has added to a spirit by its own nature fierce? Mycenae’s king he was; he will come back her tyrant; – prosperity urges pride beyond itself. With what magnificence the surging throng of harlots comes! But one stands out among the throng and holds the king in thrall, the handmaid of the fate-revealing god. Wilt thou give up and endure a sharer in thy marriage bed? But she will not. A wife’s utmost of woe is a mistress openly queening it in her husband’s house. Nor throne nor bed can brook a partnership.
[260] CLYTEMNESTRA: Aegisthus, why dost thou again drive me headlong, and fan to flame my wrath already cooling? Suppose the victor has allowed himself some liberty toward a captive maid; ’tis meet neither for wife nor mistress to take note of this. There is one law for thrones, one for the private bed. What? Does my own heart, itself conscious of base guilt, suffer me to pass harsh judgment on my husband? Let her forgive freely who forgiveness needs.
[268] AEGISTHUS: Sayst thou so? Canst bargain for mutual forgiveness? Are the rights of kings unknown to thee or strange? To us harsh judges, partial to themselves, they deem this the greatest pledge of kingship, if whate’er to others is unlawful is unlawful to them alone.
[273] CLYTEMNESTRA: He pardoned Helen; joined to her Menelaüs she returns, who Europe and Asia to like ruin dashed.
[275] AEGISTHUS: Aye, but no woman with stealthy love has stolen Atrides and captured his heart close-barred against his wife. Already thy lord seeks charge against thee, intends cause of strife. Suppose no baseness has been done by thee; what boots an honest life and sinless? Whom a master hates is condemned of guilt unheard. Spurned away, wilt thou go back to Sparta and thy Eurotas, wilt flee to thy father’s house? The rejected of kings have no escape. With false hope dost thou relieve thy fears.
[284] CLYTEMNESTRA: None knows my guilt save one faithful friend.
[285] AEGISTHUS: Faith never crosses the threshold of a king.
[286] CLYTEMNESTRA: With wealth will I purchase, with bribes will I blind faith.
[287] AEGISTHUS: Faith gained by bribes is overcome by bribes.
[288] CLYTEMNESTRA: The remnant of my old time chastity revives; why dost thou cry against it? Why with cozening words dost give me evil counsel? Deserting the king of kings, shall I wed with thee, a high-born woman with an outcast?
[292] AEGISTHUS: And wherefore less than Atreus’ son do I seem to thee, who am Thyestes’ son?
[293] CLYTEMNESTRA: If that is not enough, say grandson, too.
[294] AEGISTHUS: Phoebus was the source of my begetting; my birth shames me not.
[295] CLYTEMNESTRA: Dost thou name Phoebus as source of an incestuous birth, whom, calling back his steeds in sudden night, you drove from heaven? Why besmirch the gods? Thou, trained by guile to steal the marriage bed, whom we know only as man of unlawful love, depart at once, take from my sight the infamy of our house; this home is waiting for its king and lord.
[302] AEGISTHUS: Exile is not new to me; I am used to woe. If thou commandest, O queen, not alone from home and Argos do I flee: I am ready at thy bidding to plunge sword into my heart, o’erweighed with grief.
[306] CLYTEMNESTRA: [Aside.] Yet, should I, cruel daughter of Tyndareus, let this be done. [To AEGISTHUS.] Who jointly sins owes also faith to crime. Come thou with me, that the dark and threatening state of our affairs joint plans may set in order.{Exeunt.}
[310] CHORUS: Sing ye, O maids renowned, of Phoebus! To thee, Phoebus, the festal throng wreaths the head, to thee, waving laurel-bough, the Argive maid in wonted fashion spreads forth her virgin locks; and thou who drinkest of Erasinus’ cool waters, who of Eurotas, and who of Ismenus drinkest, silently flowing along its green banks; thou, too, though stranger in Thebes, come join in our chorus, whom Manto, reader of fate, Tiresias’ daughter, warmed with due rites to worship the gods, offspring of Latona.
[326] CHORUS: Thy bow, now peace has come back, all-conquering Phoebus, loose, and thy quiver, full of swift arrows, lay down from thy shoulder and let resound, smit by thy flying fingers, the tuneful lyre. No stern, high strains in lofty measures would I have it sound, but such simply song as ’tis thy wont to modulate on lighter shell, when the learned Muse surveys thy sports. ’Tis thy right, too, on heavier strings to sound such strain as thou sangest when gods saw Titans by thunder overcome, even when mountains, on lofty mountains set, furnished pathway for grim monsters, when Pelion stood on Ossa set beneath, and cloud-capped Olympus weighed on both.
[348] CHORUS: Thou, too, be near, who as wife and sister sharest the sceptre’s might, Juno the royal! We, thy chosen band, in Mycenae adore thee. Thou art the sole protector of Argos that calls on thee with anxious prayers; thou in thy hand holdest war and peace. Accept now the laurels of Agamemnon, victorious goddess. To thee the box-wood flute of many openings soundeth its solemn strains; to thee skilled maidens touch the strings in soothing melody; to thee Grecian mothers wave the votive torch; at thy shrines shall fall the bull’s white mate, which knows not the plough, whose neck the yoke ne’er scarred.
[368] CHORUS: And thou, child of the great Thunderer, glorious Pallas, who oft with thy spear didst attack the Dardanian towers, to thee in mingled chorus mothers, younger and older, kneel, and at thy coming the priest throws wide the doors of the temple. To thee the throng, crowned with woven wreaths, advances; to thee aged and spent old men, their petitions heard, give thanks and with trembling hand pour wine in libation.
[382] CHORUS: Thee, too, O Trivia, with mindful hearts and prayer familiar we adore. Thou biddest thy natal Delos to stand firm, Lucina, erstwhile a Cyclad, drifting hither and yon at the will of the winds; now ’tis a stable land with root firm fixed, repels the winds and gives anchorage for ships, though wont to follow them. Victorious, thou countest o’er the corpses that their mother, child of Tantalus, bemoaned; now on Sipylus’ high top she stands, a weeping statue, and to this day fresh tears the ancient marble drips. Zealously both maid and man adore the twin divinities.
[400] CHORUS: And thou before all others, father and ruler, god of the thunder, by whose mere nod the farthest poles do tremble, O Jove, thou author of our race, kindly accept our gifts, and with a father’s care take thought for thine own true progeny.
[408] CHORUS: But lo, a soldier, hurrying with huge steps, hastes hither with signs of joyful tidings clearly visible, (for his spear bears a laurel wreath on its iron tip,) and Eurybates, the ever faithful servant of the king, is here.
[Enter EURYBATES with laurel-wreathed spear.]
[392a] EURYBATES: Ye shrines and altars of the heavenly gods, ye household deities of my fathers, after long wanderings wearied, and scarce trusting mine own eyes, I humbly give reverence. [To the people.] Pay now your vows to the high gods; the pride and glory of the Argive land returns to his own house at last, Agamemnon, victorious!
[Enter CLYTEMNESTRA in time to hear the herald’s concluding words.]
[397a] CLYTEMNESTRA: Blessed news this that falls upon mine ears! But where delays my husband whom I have sought through ten long years? Rests he on sea, or land?
[400a] EURYBATES: Unharmed, increased in glory, illustrious with praise, he hath set homeward foot upon the longed-for shore.
[402a] CLYTEMNESTRA: With sacred rites let us hail the day, fortunate at last, and the gods, even if propitious, yet slow in granting our request. But tell me, thou, does my husband’s brother live, and where is my sister, tell.
[406a] EURYBATES: Better than our hopes I pray and beseech the gods; for the sea’s dubious lot forbids to speak certainty. When our scattered fleet met swollen seas, one ship could scarce descry her sister ship. Nay, e’en Atrides’ self, on the boundless ocean wandering, endured losses heavier by sea than war, and like a vanquished man, though victor, he returns, bringing but few and shattered vessels from his mighty fleet.
[414] CLYTEMNESTRA: Tell what calamity has swallowed up my ships, or what mishap by sea has dispersed the chiefs.
[416] EURYBATES: A tale bitter in the telling thou demandest; thou biddest me mix the unlucky message with the glad. My sick mind shrinks from speech and shudders at the thought of such disasters.
[419] CLYTEMNESTRA: Tell on; who shrinks from knowledge of his calamities but aggravates his fear; troubles half seen do torture all the more.
[421] EURYBATES: When all Pergamum fell ‘neath the Doric fire, the spoil was divided and in eager haste all sought the sea. And now the warrior eases his side of the sword’s weary load, and unheeded lie the shields along the high sterns; the oar is fitted to the warrior’s hands, and to their eager haste all tarrying seems over long. Then, when the signal for return gleamed on the royal ship, and the loud trumpet-blast warned the glad rowers, the king’s gilded prow, leading, marked out the way, and opened up the course for a thousand ships to follow.
[431] EURYBATES: A gentle breeze at first steals into our sails and drives our vessels onward; the tranquil waves, scarce stirring, ripple beneath soft Zephyr’s breathing, and the sea reflects the splendour of the fleet, hiding the while beneath it. ’Tis sweet to gaze on the bare shores of Troy, sweet to behold deserted Sigeum’s wastes. The young men all haste to bend the oars, with strokes together, aid winds with hands and move their sturdy arms with rhythmic swing. The furrowed waters quiver, the vessel’s sides hiss through the waves and dash the blue sea into hoary spray. When a fresher breeze strains the swelling sails, the warriors lay by their oars, trust ship to wind and, stretched along the benches, either watch the far-fleeing land as the sails retreat, or rehearse their wars – brave Hector’s threats, the chariot and his ransomed body given to the pyre, Hercean Jove sprinkled with royal blood. Then, too, the Tyrrhene fish plays to and fro in the smooth water, leaps over the heaving seas with arching back, and sports around, now dashing about in circles, now swimming by our side, now gaily leading and again following after; anon the band in sheer wantonness touch the leading prow, now round and round the thousandth ship they swim.
[456] EURYBATES: Meanwhile all the shore is hid and the plains sink from view, and dimly the ridges of Ida’s mount appear; and now, what alone the keenest eye can see, the smoke of Ilium shows but a dusky spot. Already from the yoke Titan was freeing his horses’ weary necks; now to the stars his rays sink low, now day goes headlong down. A tiny cloud, growing to a murky mass, stains the bright radiance of the setting sun, and the many coloured sun-set has made us doubt the sea.
[465] EURYBATES: Young night had spangled the sky with stars; the sails, deserted by the wind, hung low. Then from the mountain heights there falls a murmur deep, whose threatening, and the wide-sweeping shore and rocky headlands send forth a moaning sound; the waves, lashed by the rising wind, roll high – when suddenly the moon is hid, the stars sink out of sight, skyward the sea is lifted, the heavens are gone. ’Tis doubly night; dense fog o’erwhelms the dark and, all light withdrawn, confuses sea and sky. From all sides at once the winds fall on and ravage the sea, from its lowest depths upturned, West wind with East wind striving, South with North. Each wields his own weapons, with deadly assault stirring up the deep, while a whirlwind churns the waves. Strymonian Aquilo sends the deep snow whirling, and Libyan Auster stirs up the sands of Syrtes; nor stand the strife with Auster: Notus, heavey with clouds, blows up, swells waves with rain, while Eurus attacks the dawn, shaking Nabataean realms, and eastern gulfs. What wrought fierce Corus, thrusting forth his head from ocean? The whole sky he tears from its foundations, and you might think the very gods falling from the shattered heavens, and black chaos enveloping the world. Flood strives with wind and wind backward rolls the flood. The sea contains not itself, and rain and waves mingle their waters. Then even this comfort fails their dreadful plight, to see at least and know the disaster by which they perish. Darkness weighs on their eyes, and ’tis the infernal night of awful Styx. Yet fires burst forth, and from the riven clouds gleams the dire lightning flash, and to the poor sailors great is the sweetness of that fearful gleam; even for such light they pray.
[497] EURYBATES: The fleet itself helps on its own destruction, prow crashing on prow and side on side. One ship the yawning deep sucks into the abyss, engulfs and spews forth again, restored to the sea above; one sinks of its own weight, another turns its wrecked side to the waves, and one the tenth wave o’erwhelms. Here, battered and stripped of all its ornament, one floats, with neither sails nor oars nor straight mast bearing the high sailyards, a broken hulk, drifting wide on the Icarian sea. Reason, experience, are of no avail; skill yields to dire calamity. Horror holds their limbs; the sailors all stand stupefied, their tasks abandoned; oars drop from hands. To prayer abject fear drives the wretches, and Trojans and Greeks beg the same things of the gods. What can near doom accomplish? Pyrrhus envies his father, Ulysses Ajax, the younger Atrides Hector, Agamemnon Priam; whoever at Troy lies slain is hailed as blessed, who by deeds of arms earned death, whom glory guards, whom the land he conquered buries. “Do se and wave bear those who have dared naught noble and shall a coward’s doom o’erwhelm brave men? Must death be squandered? Whoe’er of heaven’s gods thou art, not yet with our sore troubles sated, let thy divinity be at last appeased; o’er our calamities e’en Troy would weep. But if thy hate is stubborn, and ’tis thy pleasure to send the Greek race to doom, why wouldst have those perish along with us, for whose sake we perish? Allay the raging sea: this fleet bears Greeks but it bears Trojans too.” They can no more; the sea usurps their words.
[528] EURYBATES: But lo! disaster on disaster! Pallas, armed with the bolt of angry Jove, threatening essays whate’er she may, not with spear, not with aegis, not with Gorgon’s rage, but with her father’s lightning, and throughout the sky new tempests blow. Ajax alone, undaunted by disaster, keeps up the struggle. Him, shortening sail with straining halyard, the hurtling lightning grazed. Another bolt is levelled; this, with all her might, Pallas launched true, with hand back drawn, in imitation of her father. Through Ajax it passed, and through his ship, and part of the ship with it, and Ajax it bore away. Then he, nothing moved, like some high crag, rises flame-scorched from the briny deep, cleaves the raging sea, with his breast bursts through the floods and, holding to his wrecked vessel with his hand, drags flames along, shines brightly midst the darkness of the sea and illumines the waves. At last, gaining a rock, in mad rage he thunders: “’Tis sweet to have conquered all things, flood and flame, to have vanquished sky, Pallas, thunderbolt and sea. If led not in terror of the god of war; both Hector at once and Mars did I with my sole arm withstand; nor did together with their Phrygians, I conquered; – and shall I shrink from thee? Another’s weapon with weakling hand thou hurlest. What, if he himself should hurl –? When in his madness he would be daring more, father Neptune, pushing with his trident, o’erwhelmed the rock, thrusting forth his head from his waves’ depths, and broke off the drag. This in his fall Ajax bears down with him, and now he lies, by earth and fire and billows overcome.
[557] EURYBATES: But us shipwrecked mariners, another, worse ruin challenges. There is a shallow water, a deceitful shoal full of rough boulders, where treacherous Caphereus hides his rocky base beneath whirling eddies; the sea boils upon the rocks, and ever the flood seethes with its ebb and flow. A precipitous headland o’erhangs, which on either hand looks out upon both stretches of the sea. Hence thou mayst descry thine own Pelopian shores, and Isthmus which, backward curving with its narrow soil, forbids the Ionian sea to join with Phrixus’ waves; hence also Lemnos, infamous for crime, and Calchedon, and Aulis which long delayed the fleet. Seizing this summit, the father of Palamedes with accursed hand raised from the high top a beacon-light and with treacherous torch lured the fleet upon the reefs. There hang the ships caught on jagged rocks; some are broken to pieces in the shallow water; the prow of one vessel is carried away, while a part sticks fast upon the rock; one ship crashes with another as it draws back, both wrecked and wrecking. Now ships fear land and choose the seas. Towards dawn the storm’s rage is spent; now that atonement has been made for Ilium, Phoebus returns and sad day reveals the havoc of the night.
[579] CLYTEMNESTRA: Shall I lament or rejoice me at my lord’s return? I do rejoice to see him home again, but o’er our realm’s heavy loss am I forced to grieve. At last O father, that dost shake the high-resounding heavens, restore to the Greeks their gods appeased. Now let every head by crowned with festal wreaths, let the sacrificial flute give forth sweet strains, and the white victim at the great altars fall.
[586] CLYTEMNESTRA: But see, a mournful throng with locks unbound, the Trojan women are here, while high above them all, with proud step advancing, Phoebus’ mad priestess waves the inspired laurel branch.
[Enter band of Trojan women led by CASSANDRA.]
[589] CHORUS OF TROJAN WOMEN: Alas, how alluring a bane is appointed unto mortals, even dire love of live, though refuge from heir woes opes wide, and death with generous hand invites the wretched, a peaceful port of everlasting rest. Nor fear nor storm of raging Fortune disturbs that calm, nor bolt of the harsh Thunderer. Peace so deep fears no citizens’ conspiracy, no victor’s threatening wrath, no wild seas ruffled by stormy winds, no fierce battle lines or dark cloud raised by barbaric squadrons’ hoofs, no nations falling with their city’s utter overthrow, while the hostile flames lay waste the walls, no fierce, ungovernable war. All bonds will he break through, who dares scorn the fickle gods, who on the face of dark Acheron, on fearful Styx can look, unfearful, and is bold enough to put an end to life. A match for kings, a match for the high gods will he be. Oh, how wretched ’tis to know not how to die!
[612] CHORUS OF TROJAN WOMEN: We saw our country fall on that night of death, when you, ye Doric fires, ravished Dardania’s homes. She, not in war conquered, not by arms, not, as aforetime, by Hercules’ arrows, fell; her, not Peleus’ and Thetis’ son o’ercame, nor he, well-beloved by overbrave Pelides, when in borrowed arms he shone and drove Troy’s sons in flight, a false Achilles; nor, when Pelides’ self through grief gave o’er his fierce resentment, and the Trojan women, from the ramparts watching, feared his swift attack, did she lose amid her woes the crowning glory of suffering conquest bravely; for ten long years she stood, fated to perish by one night’s treachery.
[627] CHORUS OF TROJAN WOMEN: We saw that feigned gift, measureless in bulk, and with our own hands trustfully dragged along the Greeks’ deadly offering; and oft on the threshold of the gate the noisy footed monster stumbled, bearing within its hold hidden chiefs and war. We might have turned their guile against themselves, and caused the Pelasgians by their own trick to fall. Oft sounded their jostled shields, and a low muttering smote our ears, when Pyrrhus grumbled, scarce yielding to crafty Ulysses’ will.
[638] CHORUS OF TROJAN WOMEN: All unafraid, the Trojan youth joy to touch the fatal ropes. Companies of their own age here Astyanax leads, there she, to the Thessalian pyre betrothed, she leading maids, he youths. Gaily do mothers bring votive offerings to the gods; gaily do fathers approach the shrines; each wears but one look the city o’er; and, what never we saw since Hector’s funeral, Hecuba was glad. And now, unhappy grief, what first, what last, wilt thou lament? Walls by divine hands fashioned, by our own destroyed? Temples upon their own gods consumed? Time lacks to weep such ills – thee, O great father, the Trojan women weep. I saw, I saw in the old man’s throat the sword of Pyrrhus scarce wet in his scanty blood.
[659] CASSANDRA: Restrain your tears which all time will seek, ye Trojan women, and do you yourselves grieve for your own dead with groans and lamentations; my losses refuse all sharing. Cease then your grief for my disasters. I myself shall suffice for the woes of mine own house.
[664] CHORUS: ’Tis sweet to mingle tears with tears; griefs bring more smart where they wound in solitude, but ’tis sweet in company to bewail one’s friends; nor shalt thou, though strong, heroic, and inured to woe, avail to lament calamities so great. Not the sad nightingale, which from the vernal bough pours forth her liquid song, piping of Itys in ever changing strains; not the bird which, perching on Bistonian battlements, tells o’er and o’er the hidden sins of her cruel lord, will e’er be able, with all her passionate lament, worthily to mourn thy house. Should bright Cycnus’ self, haunting midst snowy swans Ister and Tanaïs, utter his dying song; should halcyons mourn their Ceyx midst the light wave’s lapping, when, though distrustful, boldly they trust once more to the tranquil ocean, and anxiously on unsteady nest cherish their young; should the sad throng which follows the unmanned men bruise their arms along with thee, the throng which, by the shrill flute maddened, smite their breasts to the tower-crowned mother, that for Phrygian Attis they may lament, – not so, Cassandra, is there measure for our tears, for what we suffer has outmeasured measure.
[693] CHORUS: But why dost tear off the holy fillets from thy head? Methinks the gods should be most reverenced by unhappy souls.
[695] CASSANDRA: Now have our woes o’ermastered every fear. Neither do I appease the heavenly gods by any prayer, nor, should they wish to rage, have they wherewith to harm me. Fortune herself has exhausted all her powers. What fatherland remains? What father? What sister now? Altars and tombs have drunk up my blood. What of that happy throng of brothers? Gone, all! in the empty palace only sad old men are left; and throughout those many chambers they see all women, save her of Sparta, widowed. That mother of so many kings, queen of the Phrygians, Hecuba, fruitful for funeral-fires, proving new laws of fate, has put on bestial form: around her ruined walls madly she barked, surviving Troy, son, husband – and herself!
[710] CHORUS: The bride of Phoebus suddenly is still, pallor o’erspreads her cheeks, and constant tremors master all her frame. Her fillets stand erect, her soft locks rise in horror, her labouring heart sounds loud with pent murmuring, her glance wanders uncertain, her eyes seem backward turned into herself, anon they stare unmoving. Now she lifts her head into the air higher than her wont, and walks with stately tread; now makes to unlock her struggling lips, now vainly tries to close them on her words, a mad priestess fighting against the god.
[720] CASSANDRA: Why, O Parnassus’ sacred heights, do ye prick me with fury’s goads anew, why do you sweep me on, bereft of sense? Away! O Phoebus, I am no longer thine; quench thou the flames set deep within my breast. For whose sake wander I now in madness? for whose sake in frenzy rave? Now Troy has fallen – what have I, false prophetess, to do?
[726] CASSANDRA: Where am I? Fled is the kindly light, deep darkness blinds my eyes, and the sky, buried in gloom, is hidden away. But see! with double sun the day gleams forth ,and double Argos lifts up twin palaces! Ida’s groves I see; there sits the shepherd, fateful judge midst mighty goddesses. – Fear him, ye kings, I warn you, fear the child of stolen love; that rustic foundling shall overturn your house. What means that mad woman with drawn sword in hand? What hero seeks she with her right hand, a Spartan in her garb, but carrying an Amazonian axe? – What sight is that other which now employs mine eyes? The king of beasts with his proud neck, by a base fang lies low, an Afric lion, suffering the bloody bites of his bold lioness. – Why do ye summon me, saved only of my house, my kindred shades? Thee, father, do I follow, eye-witness of Troy’s burial; thee, brother, help of the Phrygians, terror of the Greeks, I see not in thine old-time splendour, or with thine hands hot from the burning of the ships, but mangled of limb, with those arms wounded by the deep-sunk thongs; thee, Troilus, I follow, to early with Achilles met; unrecognisable the face thou wearest, Deiphobus, the gift of thy new wife. ’Tis sweet to fare along the very Stygian pools; sweet to behold Tartarus’ savage dog and the realms of greedy Dis! To-day this skiff of murky Phlegethon shall bear royal souls, vanquished and vanquisher. Ye shades, I pray; thou stream on which the gods make oath, thee no less I pray: for a little withdraw the covering of that dark world, that on Mycenae the shadowy throng of Phrygians may look forth. Behold, poor souls; the fates turn backward on themselves.
[759] CASSANDRA: They press on, the squalid sisters, their bloody lashes brandishing; their left hands half-burned torches bear; bloated are their pallid cheeks, and dusky robes of death their hollow loins encircle; the fearsome cries of night resound, and a huge body’s bones, rotting with long decay, lie in a slimy marsh. And see! that spent old man, forgetting thirst, no longer catches at the mocking waters, grieving at death to come; but father Dardanus exults and walks along with stately tread.
[775] CHORUS: Now has her rambling frenzy spent itself, and falls, as before the altar with sinking knees falls the bull, receiving an ill-aimed stroke upon his neck. Let us lift up her body. But lo! at last his own gods, wreathed with victorious bay, Agamemnon comes; his wife with joy has gone forth to meet him, and now returns, joining her steps in harmony with his.
[Enter AGAMEMNON. He has been met and greeted by his wife, who enters with him and goes on alone into the palace.]
[782] AGAMEMNON: At length am I returned in safety to my father’s house. O dear land, hail! To thee many barbaric nations have given spoil, to thee proud Asia’s Troy, long blest of heaven, has yielded. – Why does the priestess there faint and fall tottering with drooping head? Slaves, lift her up, revive her with cool water. Now with languid gaze she again beholds the light. [To CASSANDRA.] Awake to life! that longed for haven from our woes is here; this is a festal day.
[791] CASSANDRA: ’Twas festal, too, at Troy.
[792] AGAMEMNON: Let us kneel before the altar.
[792] CASSANDRA: Before the altar my father fell.
[793] AGAMEMNON: To Jove let us pray together.
[793] CASSANDRA: Hercean Jove?
[794] AGAMEMNON: Dost think thou lookst on Ilium?
[794] CASSANDRA: And Priam, too.
[795] AGAMEMNON: Here is not Troy.
[795] CASSANDRA: Where a Helen is, I think is Troy.
[796] AGAMEMNON: Fear thou no mistress, though a slave.
[796] CASSANDRA: Freedom is near at hand.
[797] AGAMEMNON: Live on, secure.
[797] CASSANDRA: For me, death is security.
[798] AGAMEMNON: For thee there is naught to fear.
[798] CASSANDRA: But much for thee.
[799] AGAMEMNON: What can a victor fear?
[799] CASSANDRA: What he doth not fear.
[800] AGAMEMNON: Ye faithful slaves, restrain her till she throw off the god, lest in her wild frenzy she do some harm. But thee, O father, who the dire thunder hurlest, and driv’st the clouds, who the stars and lands dost rule, to whom in triumph victors bring their spoils; and thee, sister of thine almighty lord, Argolian Juno, gladly with votive flocks, with gifts from Araby, and with suppliant offerings of entrails will I adore.[Exit into the palace.]
[808] CHORUS OF ARGIVE WOMEN: O Argos, ennobled by thy noble citizens, Argos, dear to the step-dame though enraged, ever mighty sons thou fosterest and hast made even the odd number of the gods. That hero of thine by his twelve labours earned the right to be chosen for the skies, great Hercules, for whom, the world’s law broken, Jove doubled the hours of dewy night, bade Phoebus more slowly drive his hastening car, and thy team to turn back with laggard feet, O pale Phoebe. Backward the star turned his steps, the star who changes from name to name, and marvelled still to be called Hesperus, evening star. Aurora stirred at the accustomed hour of dawn, but, sinking back, laid her head and neck upon the breast of her aged husband. The rising, yea, and the setting of the sun felt the birth of Hercules; a hero so mighty could not be begotten in a single night. For thee the whirling universe stood still, O boy, destined to mount the skies.
[829] CHORUS OF ARGIVE WOMEN: The lightning-swift lion of Nemea felt thy power, crushed by thy straining arms, and the Parrhasian hind, the ravager of Arcady’s fields, felt thee, too, and loud bellowed the savage bull, leaving the fields of Crete. The hydra, fertile in death, he overcame and forbade new births from each neck destroyed; the mated brethren, springing three monsters from a single body, he crushed, leaping on them with his crashing club, and brought to the east the western herd, spoil of the three-formed Geryon. He drove the Thracian herd which the tyrant fed, not on the grass of the Strymon or on the banks of the Hebrus; cruel, he offered his savage horses the gore of strangers – and the blood of their driver was the last to stain red their jaws. Warlike Hippolyte saw the spoil snatched from about her breast; and by his shafts down from the riven sky from high heaven fell the Stymphalian bird. The tree, laden with golden fruit, shrank from his hands, unused to such plucking, and the bough, relieved of its burden, sprang into the air. The cold, sleepless guardian heard the sound of the clinking metal, only when heavy laden Alcides was leaving the grove all stripped of its tawny gold. Dragged to the upper world by triple fetters, the infernal dog was silent, nor with any mouth did he bay, shrinking from the hues of unexperienced light. Under thy leadership fell the lying house of Dardanus and suffered the arrows, once again to be feared; under thy leadership in as many days Troy fell as it took years thereafter.
[867] CASSANDRA: [Alone upon the stage.] A great deed is done within, a match for ten years of war. Ah! What is this? Rise up, my soul, and take the reward of thy madness – we are conquerors, we conquered Phrygians! ’Tis well! Troy has risen again! In thy fall, O father, thou hast dragged down Mycenae; thy conqueror gives way! Never before did my mind’s prophetic frenzy give sight to mine eyes so clear; I see, I am in the midst of it, I revel in it; ’tis no doubtful image cheats my sight; let me gaze my fill.
[875] CASSANDRA: A feast is spread within the royal house and thronged with guests, like that last banquet of the Phrygians; the couches gleam with Trojan purple, and their wine they quaff from the golden cups of old Assaracus. Lo, he himself in broidered vestments lies on lofty couch, wearing on his body the proud spoils of Priam. His wife bids him doff the raiment of his foe and don instead the mantle her own fond hands have woven – I shudder and my soul trembles at the sight! Shall an exile slay a king? an adulterer a husband? The fatal hour has come. The banquet’s close shall see the master’s blood, and gore shall fall into the wine. The deadly mantle he has put on delivers him bound treacherously to his doom; the loose, impenetrable folds refuse outlet to his hands and enshroud his head. With trembling right hand the half-man stabs at his side, but hath not driven deep; in mid stroke he stands as one amazed. But he, as in the deep woods a bristling boar, though with the net entangled, still tries for freedom, and by his struggling draws close his bonds and rages all in vain, – he strives to throw off the blinding folds all around him floating, and, though closely enmeshed, seeks for his foe. Now Tyndaris in mad rage snatches the two-edged axe and, as at the altar the priest marks with his eye the oxen’s necks before he strikes, so, now here, now there, her impious hand she aims. He has it! the deed is done! The scarce severed head hangs by a slender part; here blood streams o’er his headless trunk, there lie his moaning lips. And not yet do they give o’er; he attacks the already lifeless man, and keeps hacking at the corpse; she helps him in the stabbing. Each one in this dire crime answers to his own kin – he is Thyestes’ son, she, Helen’s sister. See, Titan, the day’s work done, stands hesitant whether his own or Thyestes’ course to run.[Remains beside the altar.]
[Enter ELECTRA, leading her young brother, ORESTES.]
[910] ELECTRA: Fly, O sole avenger of our father’s death, fly and escape our enemies’ miscreant hands. O’erthrown is our house to its foundations, our kingdom fallen.
[913] ELECTRA: But who is yonder stranger, driving his chariot at speed? Come brother, I will hide thee ‘neath my robe. Why, foolish heart, dost thou shrink away? Strangers dost fear? ’Tis our home that must be feared. Put away now thy trembling dread, Orestes; the trusty protection of a friend I see.
[Enter STROPHIUS in a chariot, accompanied by his son PYLADES.]
[918] STROPHIUS: I, Strophius, had Phocis left, and now am home returning, made glorious by the Elean palm. The cause of my coming hither was to congratulate my friend, o’erthrown by whose hand and crushed by ten years of war has Ilium fallen. [He notices ELECTRA’s distress.] But who is that yonder, watering her sad face with tears, fear-struck and sorrowful? One of the royal house I recognize. Electra! What cause of weeping can be in this glad house?
[925] ELECTRA: My father lies murdered by my mother’s crime; they seek the son to share in his father’s death; Aegisthus holds the throne by guilty love secured.
[928] STROPHIUS: Alas! no happiness if of lengthened stay.
[929] ELECTRA: By the memory of my father I beseech thee, by his sceptre known to all the world, by the fickle gods: take this boy, Orestes, and hide the holy theft.
[932] STROPHIUS: Although murdered Agamemnon warns me to beware, I will brave the danger and gladly, Orestes, will I steal thee off. Good fortune asks for faith, adversity demands it. [Takes ORESTES into the chariot.] Take thou this crown, won in the games, as an ornament for thy head, and, holding this victor’s bough in thy left hand, shield thy face with its great branch, and may that palm, the gift of Pisaean Jove, afford thee at once a covering and an omen. And do thou, Pylades, who standest as comrade to guide thy father’s car, learn faith from the example of thy sire. And now, do you, my horses, whose speed all Greece has seen, flee from this treacherous place in headlong flight.[Exeunt at great speed.]
[944] ELECTRA: [Looking after them.] He has departed, gone, his car at a reckless pace has vanished from my sight. Now free from care shall I await my foes, and willingly oppose myself to death.
[947] ELECTRA: [She sees CLYTEMNESTRA approaching.] Here is the bloody conqueror of her lord, with the signs of murder on her blood-stained robe. Her hands are still reeking with blood fresh-spilled, and her savage features bear tokens of her crime. I’ll take me to the altar. Let me be joined, Cassandra, with thy fillets, since I fear like doom with thee.
[Enter CLYTEMNESTRA.]
[953] CLYTEMNESTRA: Foe of thy mother, unfilial and froward girl, by what custom doest thou, a maid, seek public gatherings?
[955] ELECTRA: Because I am a maid have I left the adulterer’s home.
[956] CLYTEMNESTRA: Who would believe thee maid?
[956] ELECTRA: A child of thine?
[957] CLYTEMNESTRA: More gently with thy mother!
[957] ELECTRA: Dost thou teach piety?
[958] CLYTEMNESTRA: Thou hast a mannish soul, a heart puffed up; but, tamed by suffering, shalt thou learn to play a woman’s part.
[960] ELECTRA: If perchance, I mistake not, a sword befits a woman.
[961] CLYTEMNESTRA: And thinkest thou, mad one, thou art a match for us?
[962] ELECTRA: For you? What other Agamemnon is that of thine? Speak thou as widow; lifeless if thy lord.
[964] CLYTEMNESTRA: The unbridled tongue of an unfilial girl hereafter as queen I’ll check; meanwhile be quick and tell where is my son, where is thy brother.
[967] ELECTRA: Far from Mycenae.
[967] CLYTEMNESTRA: Restore me now my son.
[968] ELECTRA: And do thou restore my father.
[968] CLYTEMNESTRA: Where does he hide?
[969] ELECTRA: In peace and safety, where he fears no new-made king; for a righteous mother ’tis enough.
[970] CLYTEMNESTRA: But too little for an angry one. Thou shalt die this day.
[971] ELECTRA: So but it be by this hand of thine. I leave the altar. If ’tis thy pleasure in my throat to plunge the sword, I offer my throat to thee; of if, as men smite sheep, thou wouldst cut off my neck, my bent neck waits thy stroke. The crime is ready; thy right hand, smeared and rank with a husband’s slaughter, purge with this blood of mine.
[Enter AEGISTHUS.]
[978] CLYTEMNESTRA: Thou partner equally in my perils and my throne, Aegisthus, come. My child undutifully insults her mother, and keeps her brother hidden.
[981] AEGISTHUS: Mad girl, hold thy impious tongue, and speak not words unworthy of thy mother’s ears.
[983] ELECTRA: Shall he e’en give instruction, the worker of an impious crime, one criminally begot, whom even his own parents cannot name, son of his sister, grandson of his sire?
[986] CLYTEMNESTRA: Aegisthus, why dost hesitate to strike off her wicked head with the sword? Let her at once give up her brother or her life.
[988] AEGISTHUS: Mured in a dark, rocky dungeon shall she spend her life and, by all kinds of tortures racked, perchance she will consent to give back him she now conceals. Resourceless, starving, in prison pent, buried in filth, widowed ere wedded, in exile, scorned by all, denied the light of day, then will she, though too late, yield to her doom.
[994] ELECTRA: Oh, grant me death.
[994] AEGISTHUS: Shouldst plead against, I’d grant. An unskilled tyrant he who punishes by death.
[996] ELECTRA: Is aught worse than death?
[996] AEGISTHUS: Yes, life, if thou longest to die. Away, ye slaves, with this unnatural girl; far from Mycenae bear her, and in the remotest corner of the realm chain her immured in the black darkness of a cell, that prison walls may curb the unmanageable maid.[ELECTRA is dragged away.]
[1001] CLYTEMNESTRA: [Indicating CASSANDRA.] But she shall pay her penalty with death, that captive bride, that mistress of the royal bed. Drag her away, that she may follow the husband whom she stole from me.
[1004] CASSANDRA: Nay, drag me not, I will precede your going. I hasten to be first to bear news unto my Phrygians – of the sea covered with the wrecks of ships, of Mycenae taken, of the leader of a thousand leaders (that so he might meet doom equal to Troy’s woes) slain by a woman’s gift – by adultery, by guile. Take me away; I hold not back, but rather give you thanks. Now, now ’tis sweet to have outlived Troy, ’tis sweet.
[1012] CLYTEMNESTRA: Mad creature, thou shalt die.
[1012] CASSANDRA: On you, as well, a madness is to come.

## Oedipus

DRAMATIS PERSONAE
ARGUMENT
OEDIPUS
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.
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] OEDIPUS: 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] OEDIPUS: 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, 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 fugitive 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] OEDIPUS: 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.
[37] OEDIPUS: 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’s 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] OEDIPUS: 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!
OEDIPUS: 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.
[87] OEDIPUS: 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] OEDIPUS: [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.
[110] CHORUS: 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, to be feared for their flying shafts; they pierced to the shores of the ruddy sea, whence Phoebus discloses his rising beams, opens the gates of day, and with nearer torch darkens the naked Indians.
[124] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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 open; 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] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: They have burst the bars of abysmal Erebus, the throng of sisters with Tartarean torch, and Phlegethon, changing his own course, has mingled Styx with our Sidonian streams. Dark Death opens wide his greedy, gaping jaws and unfolds all his wings, and the boatman 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 dog 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] CHORUS: 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 citadel and distend the cheeks with blood; the eyes stand staring, and accursèd fire 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, ye 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.]
[202] OEDIPUS: 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?
[205] CHORUS: He is at hand, Creon, by all our prayers desired.
[Enter CREON.]
[206] OEDIPUS: With dread am I shaken, fearing the trend of fate, 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] OEDIPUS: O brother of my consort, if to weary hearts thou bringest any aid, quickly declare thy news.
[212] CREON: Doubtful lies the answer and involved the doom.
[213] OEDIPUS: Who grants a doubtful help to sufferers, grants none.
[214] CREON: In mazy riddles is the Delphic god wont to hide his secrets.
[215] OEDIPUS: Speak out, though it be doubtful; to read riddles to Oedipus alone is given.
[217] CREON: 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.
[221] OEDIPUS: And who was the murderer of the illustrious king? Tell whom Phoebus names, that he may pay the penalty.
[223] CREON: 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:
[233] CREON: “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.”
[239] OEDIPUS: 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.
[244] CREON: Our care for the dead is greater fear dispelled.
[245] OEDIPUS: Did any fear prevent a pious duty?
[246] CREON: Aye, the Sphinx and the dire threats of her accursèd chant.
[247] OEDIPUS: Now at Heaven’s command let the crime be expiated. Whoever of the gods dost look with favour upon kingdoms – thou, thou whose are the laws of the swift-revolving heavens; and thou, greatest glory of the unclouded sky, who presidest over the twelve signs in thy changing course, who doest unroll the slow centuries with swift wheel; and thou, his sister, ever faring opposite to thy brother, Phoebe, night-wanderer; thou whom the winds obey, who over the level deep dost speed thy azure care; and thou who 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 side with scanty waves. And do thou 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] OEDIPUS: But tell me, where was the impious crime committed? Did he die in open battle or by treachery?
[276] CREON: 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 land 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.
CREON: [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.]
[291] OEDIPUS: O thou to the gods consecrate, thou next to Phoebus’ self, explain the oracle; tell whom the fates demand.
[293] TIRESIAS: 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. 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.]
[303] MANTO: A perfect victim stands before the sacred altars.
[304] TIRESIAS: To our vows invoke Heaven’s presence with the accustomed prayer, and heap the altars with the Orient’s gift of frankincense.
[306] MANTO: Now have I heaped incense on the gods’ sacred hearth.
[307] TIRESIAS: What of the flame? Doth is already seize upon the generous feast?
[308] MANTO: It flashed up with sudden light, and suddenly died down.
[309] TIRESIAS: 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?
[314] MANTO: 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] MANTO: 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.
[328] TIRESIAS: 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?
[337] MANTO: Facing east, the bull, lifting high his head, shrank from the day and turned in terror from the sun’s bright face.
[340] TIRESIAS: With one blow smitten do they fall to earth?
[341] MANTO: 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.
[345] TIRESIAS: Does the blood spurt quick from out a narrow thrust, or does it but slowly o’erflood a deep-driven blow?
[347] MANTO: 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.
[351] TIRESIAS: These ill-omened sacrifices rouse dread forebodings. But describe to me the sure marks of the entrails.
[353] MANTO: 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 hostile 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.
[384] OEDIPUS: 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.
[387] TIRESIAS: Thou wilt look with envy upon these ills for which thou seekest aid.
[388] OEDIPUS: Tell me the one thing the gods would have me know: who has defiled his hands with the murder of the king?
[390] TIRESIAS: 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.
[399] OEDIPUS: Thee, Creon, this task demands, to whom as next in succession my kingdom looks.
[401] TIRESIAS: 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.]
[403] CHORUS: Bind your streaming locks with the nodding ivy, and in your soft hands grasp the Nysaean thyrsus!
[405] CHORUS: 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’s 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] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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 Arcadian constellation looks down from the zenith and the wagons twain. He has subdued the scattered Gelonians; he has wrested their arms form the warrior maidens; 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 Ophionian slaughter; the Proetides fled to the woods, and Argos, in his stepdame’s very presence, paid homage to Bacchus.
[487] CHORUS: Naxos, girt by the Aegean sea, gave him in marriage a deserted maiden, compensating her loss with a better husband. Out of the dry rock there gushed Nyctelian 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] CHORUS: 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 caerulean Nereus; so long shall we worship the shining face of beauteous Lyaeus.
[Enter CREON, returned from the rites of necromancy.]
[509] OEDIPUS: Although thy very face displays signs of woe, declare by whose life we are to appease the gods.
[511] CREON: Thou bidst me speak what fear would leave unsaid.
[512] OEDIPUS: If falling Thebes is not enough to move thee, at least be moved by the tottering sceptre of a kindred house.
[514] CREON: Thou wilt long not to have known what thou desirest o’ermuch to know.
[515] OEDIPUS: An idle remedy for ills is ignorance. What! wilt e’en bury revelations of the public weal?
[517] CREON: Where foul the medicine, ’tis loathsome to be healed.
[518] OEDIPUS: Speak out thy tidings, or, by severe suffering broken, thou shalt know what the power of an angered king can do.
[520] CREON: Kings hate the words whose speaking they compel.
[521] OEDIPUS: To Erebus shalt thou be sent, a cheap sacrifice for all, unless by thy speech thou disclose the secrets which the rites reveal.
[523] CREON: Let me be silent. Can any less liberty be sought from kings?
[524] OEDIPUS: Often, e’en more than speech, to king and kingdom dumb liberty brings bane.
[526] CREON: When silence is not allowed, what is allowed?
[527] OEDIPUS: He weakens power who is silent when bidden to speak.
[528] CREON: Words forced from me I pray thee hear with calm.
[529] OEDIPUS: Was any ever punished for speech compelled?
[530] CREON: 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] CREON: Hither when the aged priest came, there was no delay; the place furnished night. Then 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. 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-fleeced 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 him 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 left hand, repeats his chants, and, with gaze on ground, summons the ghosts with deeper tone and wild.
[569] CREON: 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] CREON: 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 Dircaean 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 she 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] CREON: 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, 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] CREON: 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] CREON: “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. Rob ye him of the earth; his father will take from him the sky.”
[659] OEDIPUS: 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? – 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.
[671] CREON: 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.
[678] OEDIPUS: Dost even urge me of free will to lay down the heavy cares of state?
[679] CREON: 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.
[682] OEDIPUS: 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.
[685] CREON: Does not my long loyalty plead enough for me?
[686] OEDIPUS: To traitors loyalty gives opening for treason.
[687] CREON: 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?
[694] OEDIPUS: What sill is lacking; prosperity has no bounds.
[695] CREON: Shall I then, my cause unheard, fall like a criminal?
[696] OEDIPUS: 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.
[699] CREON: What if I am innocent?
[699] OEDIPUS: Doubts as if certainties kings are wont to fear.
[700] CREON: Who trembles with vain fear, true fear deserves.
[701] OEDIPUS: Set free the guilty, and he hates; let all that’s doubtful perish.
[703] CREON: Thus is hatred bred.
[703] OEDIPUS: He who fears hatred overmuch knows not to rule; fear is the guard of kingdoms.
[705] CREON: Who harshly wields the sceptre with tyrannic sway, fears those who fear; terror recoils upon its author’s head.
[707] OEDIPUS: [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.]
[709] CHORUS: Not thou 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 wanderer and Dirce bathed the colonists from Tyre, what time great Agenor’s son, weary with tracking Jove’s thefts 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 quest and named a nation from that ill-omened heifer.
[725] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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 wanderer quaked at prodigies so strange, and fearfully awaited the assault of the new-born folk; until the savage youth fell in death, and their mother 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 Hercules know those fratricidal struggles only!
[751] CHORUS: 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 feathers 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 goddess of too stern chastity had bathed her virgin limbs!
[764] OEDIPUS: 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.
OEDIPUS: [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?
[776] JOCASTA: Midway between age and youth, but nearer age.
[777] OEDIPUS: Did a great thong gird the king about?
[778] JOCASTA: The most mistook the uncertain path and strayed; a few by faithful toil kept near his car.
[780] OEDIPUS: Did any companion share the royal fate?
[781] JOCASTA: One did faith and valour cause to share his fate.
[782] OEDIPUS: [Aside.] I have the guilty man; the number tallies, and the place. [To JOCASTA.] But add the time.
[783] JOCASTA: Now is the tenth harvest being reaped.
[Enter an old Corinthian messenger.]
[784] OLD MAN: [To OEDIPUS.] The Corinthians summon thee to thy father’s throne. Polybus has gained his everlasting rest.
[786] OEDIPUS: How heartless Fortune assails me on every hand! But tell me by what fate my sire is fallen.
[788] OLD MAN: Soft slumber set his aged spirit free.
[789] OEDIPUS: 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.
[793] OLD MAN: All fears thy father’s kingdom will dispel.
[794] OEDIPUS: I would seek my father’s kingdom, but from my mother do I shrink.
[795] OLD MAN: Dost fear thy mother, who, in anxious suspense, longs for thy coming.
[796] OEDIPUS: ’Tis love itself bids me flee.
[797] OLD MAN: Wilt leave her widowed?
[797] OEDIPUS: There dost thou touch on the very thing I fear!
[798] OLD MAN: Speak out; what hidden fear weighs on thy soul? ’Tis my wont to offer kings a loyal silence.
[800] OEDIPUS: Warned by the Delphic oracle, I dread my mother’s bed.
[801] OLD MAN: Then cease thy empty fears, thy horrible forebodings; Merope was not in truth thy mother.
[803] OEDIPUS: What did she hope to gain by a changeling son?
[804] OLD MAN: Kings’ children hold rude loyalty in check.
[805] OEDIPUS: The secrets of the chamber – tell how thou knowest them.
[806] OLD MAN: ’Twas these hands gave thee, a tiny babe, unto thy mother.
[807] OEDIPUS: Thou gav’st me to my mother; but who gave to thee?
[808] OLD MAN: A shepherd, ‘neath Cithaeron’s snowy peak.
[809] OEDIPUS: What chance brought thee within that wood?
[810] OLD MAN: On that mountain-side was I tending my horned flocks.
[811] OEDIPUS: Now name also the sure marks upon my body.
[812] OLD MAN: Thy soles had been pierced with iron, and thou hast thy name from thy swollen and crippled feet.
[814] OEDIPUS: Who was he who gave thee my body as a gift? I seek to know.
[815] OLD MAN: He fed the royal flocks; there was humbler band of shepherds under him.
[817] OEDIPUS: Tell me his name.
[817] OLD MAN: An old man’s early memory grows faint, failing through weakness and long disuse.
[819] OEDIPUS: Couldst recognize the man by face and feature?
[820] OLD MAN: Perchance I might; some trifling mark oft-times calls back the memory of things that time hath buried and made dim.
[822] OEDIPUS: 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.]
[825] OLD MAN: 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.
[828] OEDIPUS: Can any bane greater than all this be feared?
[829] OLD MAN: 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.
[833] OEDIPUS: ’Tis not expedient to disturb a happy state; that is with safety changed which is at its worst.
[835] OLD MAN: Dost seek for a nobler thing than royal lineage? Beware lest thou rue the finding of thy parentage.
[837] OEDIPUS: I will seek certainty even of rueful birth; so resolved am I to know.
OEDIPUS: [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?
[841] OLD MAN: His form comes easily to my memory; but that face, while not well known, again is not unknown to me.
[843] OLD MAN: [To PHORBAS.] While Laïus held the throne, didst ever as a slave drive rich flocks on Cithaeron’s tracts?
[845] PHORBAS: Cithaeron, abounding ever in fresh pasturage, in summer-time gave feeding-ground for my flocks.
[847] OLD MAN: Dost thou know me?
[847] PHORBAS: My memory falters and is in doubt.
[848] OEDIPUS: 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.
[851] PHORBAS: Thou stirrest matters o’erclouded by long lapse of time.
[852] OEDIPUS: Speak, lest pain force thee to the truth.
[853] PHORBAS: I did give him an infant, a worthless gift; ever could he have enjoyed the light or sky.
[855] OLD MAN: Far be the omen! He lives and I pray may live.
[856] OEDIPUS: Why dost thou say that the child thou gavest did not survive?
[857] PHORBAS: Through both his feet a slender iron rod was driven, binding his legs together. A swelling engendered in the wound, galled the child’s body, a loathsome plague.
[860] OEDIPUS: [To himself.] Why seekest further? Now doth fate draw near. [To PHORBAS.] Who was the babe? Speak out.
[861] PHORBAS: My loyalty forbids.
[862] OEDIPUS: Hither with fire, someone! Now shall flames banish loyalty.
[863] PHORBAS: Is truth to be sought along such cruel ways? Pardon I beg.
[864] OEDIPUS: 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?
[867] PHORBAS: Born of thy – wife.
[868] OEDIPUS: 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.]
[882] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: While, in fear of the Cretan king, madly the lad 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. 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.
CHORUS: [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.
[915] MESSENGER: 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] MESSENGER: “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. O soul, why shrinkst from death? ’Tis death alone saves innocence from fortune.”
[935] MESSENGER: 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! 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] MESSENGER: 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] MESSENGER: 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.
[980] CHORUS: 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 high; 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] CHORUS: The gates have sounded, and he himself, with none to guide and sightless, gropes his way.
[Enter OEDIPUS.]
[998] OEDIPUS: 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.]
[1004] CHORUS: See, there, with hurried step, frantic, beside herself, Jocasta rushes forth, just as, in frenzied rage, the Cadmean mother 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.
[1009] JOCASTA: 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?
[1012] OEDIPUS: 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.
[1019] JOCASTA: Fate’s is that fault of thine: by fate no one is made guilty.
[1020] OEDIPUS: 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.
[1024] JOCASTA: 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] JOCASTA: [To OEDIPUS.] Come, lend thy hand against thy mother, if thou art parricide; this lacks to crown thy work.
[1034] JOCASTA: [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.]
[1040] CHORUS: There lies she slain. Her hand dies on the wound, and the sword is driven out by strong streams of blood.
[1042] OEDIPUS: 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] OEDIPUS: 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] OEDIPUS: 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.]

## Medea

DRAMATIS PERSONAE
ARGUMENT
MEDEA
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.
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] MEDEA: Ye gods of wedlock, and thou, Lucina, guardian of the nuptial couch, and thou 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 lord of the realm of gloom, and thou, his queen, won by violence but with better faith, with ill-omened speech I make my prayer to you. Be present, be present, ye goddesses 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] MEDEA: 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 him 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 delay to ships, be consumed by flames and bring the two seas together.
[37] MEDEA: 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 match 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.
MEDEA: 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 Thunderers 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 her 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, 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, 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] MEDEA: Our maiden in beauty far excels the Cecropian brides, and those who on Taÿgetus’ ridges are trained after the manner of mean by the unwalled city, and those who bathe in Aonia’s waters and Alpheus’ sacred stream. Should he wish to be judged in beauty, all will yield to the son of Aeson, our leader – the ruthless lightning’s son who yokes with wild tigers, and he who makes tremble the tripod, the stern virgin’s 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.
[98] MEDEA: While on such beauty the young lover gazes, her cheeks are suddenly covered with rosy blushes. 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] MEDEA: 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 maid – now at last ’tis with the parents’ will.
[107] MEDEA: 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 scion 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.
[116] MEDEA: 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! 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 comrade 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] MEDEA: 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 gift 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.
[150] NURSE: 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.
[155] MEDEA: Light is the grief which can take counsel and hide itself; great ills lie not in hiding. ’Tis pleasing to face the foe.
[157] NURSE: Stay this frenzied outburst, my child; even silent calm can scarce defend thee.
[159] MEDEA: Fortune fears the brave, the cowardly overwhelms.
[160] NURSE: If there is place for courage, then should it be approved.
[161] MEDEA: It can never be that for courage there is no place.
[162] NURSE: No hope points out a way for our broken fortunes.
[163] MEDEA: Whoso has naught to hope, let him despair of naught.
[164] NURSE: The Colchians are no longer on thy side, thy husband’s vows have failed, and there is nothing left of all thy wealth.
[166] MEDEA: Medea, is left – in her thou beholdest sea and land, and sword and fire and gods and thunderbolts.
[168] NURSE: The king is to be feared.
[168] MEDEA: My father was a king.
[169] NURSE: Fearst thou not arms?
[169] MEDEA: Not though they were sprung from earth.
[170] NURSE: Thou’lt die.
[170] MEDEA: I wish it.
[170] NURSE: Flee!
[170] MEDEA: Of flight I have repented.
[171] NURSE: Medea,
[171] MEDEA: Will I be.
[171] NURSE: Thou art a mother.
[171] MEDEA: By whom, thou seest.
[172] NURSE: Dost delay flight?
[172] MEDEA: Flee I shall, but I’ll take my vengeance first.
[173] NURSE: The avenger will pursue.
[173] MEDEA: Perchance I shall find means to stay him.
[174] NURSE: Check thy words, spare now thy threats, foolish one, and thy proud spirit humble; ’tis well to fit thee to the times.
[176] MEDEA: 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.]
[179] CREON: 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.
CREON: [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!
[192] MEDEA: What crime, what fault is punishment by my exile?
[193] CREON: What cause expels her – that may an innocent woman ask.
[194] MEDEA: If thou’rt my judge, then hear me; if my king, command.
[195] CREON: A king’s commands, just and unjust, thou must obey.
[196] MEDEA: Unjust rule never abides continually.
[197] CREON: Go, complain to the Colchians.
[197] MEDEA: I go; but let him take me who brought me thence.
[198] CREON: Thy prayer comes too late; my resolve is fixed.
[199] MEDEA: Didst thou hear Pelias ere he suffered punishment? But say on; be a hearing granted to thine excellent case.
[203] MEDEA: 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, all that the unwedded hordes, 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, has torn me from royalty and given me o’er to exile.
[221] MEDEA: 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. 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, and Lynceus, who with far-flung gaze sees things removed even beyond Pontus, – and all the Minyans. For of the leader 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] MEDEA: 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. 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. 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.
[252] CREON: 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, 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, his 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, harry the gods.
[272] MEDEA: Dost force me to flee? Give back then to the fugitive her ship, yea, give back her comrade. Why dost thou bid me flee alone? I did not come alone. If ’tis war 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 wives – ’tis no crime of mine. Full oft have I been made guilty, but never for myself.
[281] CREON: Thy going is already overdue. Why doest contrive delay with words?
[282] MEDEA: Suppliant I make this last prayer to thee as I depart: let not the mother’s guilt drag down her guiltless sons.
[284] CREON: Go then; these will I take as father to my fatherly embrace.
[285] MEDEA: 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.
[290] CREON: For treachery thou art seeking time.
[291] MEDEA: What treachery can be feared in time so scant?
[292] CREON: No time is too brief for harm to those on evil bent.
[293] MEDEA: Dost refuse a poor mother just a little time for tears?
[294] CREON: Though my ingrained fear bids me refuse thy plea, one day shall be given to prepare for banishment.
[296] MEDEA: ’Tis more than enough, though thou retrench it somewhat. I also am in haste.
[298] CREON: With thy life shalt thou pay penalty if before Phoebus brings the bright day thou art not gone from Isthmus.
[299] CREON: But the marriage rites summon me, summons the festal day to pray to Hymen.[Exuent.]
[301] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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 sheet 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 ship made one, bade the deep suffer blows, and the sequestered sea become a part of our human fear.
[340] CHORUS: 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. What, when the maid 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 pests 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] CHORUS: 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, has 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.
CHORUS: NURSE[Sees MEDEA hurrying out of the house.][380] Dear child, whither hurriest thou abroad? Stay, curb thy passion, check thy impetuous haste.
CHORUS: [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.
CHORUS: [MEDEA now approached][396] I see madness in her face. May Heaven avert my fears!
[397] MEDEA: [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 dry 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] MEDEA: Did he fear Creon and the threats of Thessaly’s king? 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.
[425] NURSE: Win back thy woe-troubled heart, my mistress; calm thy soul.
[426] MEDEA: 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.]
MEDEA: 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.]
[431] JASON: 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.
JASON: [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.
[447] MEDEA: 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] MEDEA: 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-bearing 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 crime; think on the daughters 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, 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.
[490] JASON: When angry Creon was bent on thy destruction, ’twas by my tears he was prevailed upon to grant thee banishment.
[492] MEDEA: As punishment I deemed it; now, as I see, exile is a boon.
[493] JASON: Depart while still thou mayst; take thyself hence; grievous ever is the wrath of kings.
[494] MEDEA: In urging this upon me, thou art Creusa’s advocate; thou wouldst remove the rival whom she hates.
[496] JASON: What! Medea charge me with love?
[496] MEDEA: Yes, murder, too, and treachery.
[497] JASON: What crime, pray, canst thou charge to me?
[498] MEDEA: Whatever I have don.
[498] JASON: This one thing remains still for me, to become guilty of thy sins as well.
[500] MEDEA: 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.
[504] JASON: Unwelcome is life which one is ashamed to have accepted.
[505] MEDEA: Then one should not keep a life which he is ashamed to have accepted.
[506] JASON: Nay, calm thy wrath-stirred heart; for thy sons sake be reconciled.
[507] MEDEA: I reject, forswear, disown them! Shall Creusa bear brothers to my children?
[509] JASON: Yes, a queen, to the sons of exiles; a royal lady to the fallen.
[510] MEDEA: 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.
[513] JASON: Why, wretched woman, dost thou drag both me and thee to ruin? Begone, I pray thee.
[514] MEDEA: Creon has heard my prayer.
[515] JASON: What can I do? Tell me.
[515] MEDEA: For me? Crime.
[516] JASON: A king on this side and on that –
[516] MEDEA: There is (and this more fearsome still) Medea. Let us strive together, and let the prize be Jason.
[518] JASON: I yield, worn with trouble. And do thou thyself beware lest thou tempt fate too often.
[520] MEDEA: Always has every fortune stood beneath my feet.
[521] JASON: Acastus is hard after us.
[521] MEDEA: Nearer foe is Creon; flee them both. That thou arm thy hand against thy father-in-law, and stain thyself with kindred blood, Medea does not compel thee; remain guiltless and escape with me.
[525] JASON: And who will resist if double war assail us, if Creon and Acastus unite their arms?
[527] MEDEA: Add the Colchians to these, add Aeetes, too, to lead them, join Scythians with Pelasgians; to destruction will I give them all.
[529] JASON: I tremble at lofty sceptres.
[529] MEDEA: See that thou lust not after them.
[530] JASON: Cut short this long discourse, lest it arouse suspicion.
[531] MEDEA: 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.
[537] JASON: 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.
[540] MEDEA: 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.
[544] JASON: 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.
[549] MEDEA: [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.
[557] JASON: 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.]
[560] MEDEA: 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] MEDEA: [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.
[579] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: Have mercy, O gods, be gracious, we beseech you, that he may live in safety who tamed the sea; but the lord of the deep is enraged that the second realm is conquered. The youth 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] CHORUS: Whoever handled that daring ship’s famous oars and despoiled Pelion of his sacred grove’s thick shade, whoever entered between the roaming rocks 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] CHORUS: 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.
[625] CHORUS: That son 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 familiar Styx and Tartarus, never to return.
[634] CHORUS: Alcides laid low the sons of Aquilo, he slew Neptune’s son 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, his wife’s offering.
[643] CHORUS: The bristling boar, 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 charge for which that tender boy, 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] CHORUS: Idmon, though he well knew his fate, was slain by a serpent on Libya’s sands; true to all, but false to himself alone, Mopsus fell and saw not Thebes again. If he told truth as to the future, Thetis’ husband shall in exile wander. Nauplius, while striving to wreck the Argives by false beacon fires, shall fall headlong into the deep; his son shall perish and pay the penalty of his father’s sin; Oileus, too, dying midst flame and flood; redeeming from death her lord of Pherae, the wife 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 him who was ordered to the task.
[670] NURSE: [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, 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 serpent descend which lies like a vast rushing stream, whose huge folds the two beasts feel, the greater and the less ( the greater used 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. Let Hydra return and every serpent cut off by the hand of Hercules, restoring itself by its own destruction. Thou, too, ever-watchful dragon, quitting the Colchians, come thou to my aid, thou who through my incantations wast first lulled to slumber.”
[705] NURSE: 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, 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] NURSE: 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.]
[740] MEDEA: 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 Sisyphus backward o’er the rocks.
[750] MEDEA: Now, summoned by my sacred rites, do thou, orb of the night, put on thy most evil face and come, threatening in all thy forms.
[752] MEDEA: 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.
MEDEA: [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. – You have given forth your voice, ye altars; I see my tripods shaken by the favouring deity.
[787] MEDEA: 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. 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 branch 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] MEDEA: But if thou complainest that too often thou art called on by my prayers, pardon, I pray; the cause, O Perses’ daughter, of my too oft calling on thy bows is one and the same ever, Jason.
[817] MEDEA: 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, Phaëthon. I have gifts from Chimaera’s middle part, 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] MEDEA: 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] MEDEA: 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: [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.]
[849] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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] CHORUS: 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.]
[879] MESSENGER: All is lost! The kingdom’s props have fallen. Daughter and father in commingled ashes lie.
[881] CHORUS: By what snare taken?
[881] MESSENGER: By the common snare of kings – by gifts.
[882] CHORUS: What snare could have been in them?
[883] MESSENGER: 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.
[897] CHORUS: Let water put out the flames.
[898] MESSENGER: 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 defences does it seize upon.
[Enter MEDEA, in time to hear the last words.]
[891] NURSE: [To MEDEA.] Quickly begone, Medea, from the land of Pelops; seek headlong any land thou wilt!
[893] MEDEA: What I – shall I give ground? Nay, had I fled already, for this I should return. Strange nuptials see I here.
MEDEA: [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] MEDEA: 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, glad that I armed daughters for an old man’s death. Seek thou fresh fields, my grief; no untrained hand wilt thou bring to any crime.
[916] MEDEA: Whither, then, wrath, art tending, or what weapons art thou aiming at the forsworn foe? 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] MEDEA: 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] MEDEA: 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] MEDEA: 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] MEDEA: 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.]
[978] JASON: 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.
JASON: 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: 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.
[997] MEDEA: 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.
[1002] JASON: 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.
[1006] MEDEA: Here 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.
[1008] JASON: One is enough for punishment.
[1009] MEDEA: 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.
[1014] JASON: Now end what thou hast begun – I make no more entreaty – and at least spare my sufferings this suspense.
[1016] MEDEA: Enjoy a slow revenge, hasten not, my grief; mine is the day; we are but using the allotted time.
[1018] JASON: O heartless one, slay me.
[1018] MEDEA: 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 thus 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.]
[1026] JASON: [Calling after her.] Go on through the lofty spaces of high heaven and bear witness, where thou ridest, that there are no gods.

## Octavia

INTRODUCTION
SUMMARY OF THE IMPERIAL FAMILY HISTORY WHICH FORMS A BACKGROUND TO THE OCTAVIA AND TO WHICH REFERENCES ARE MADE THROUGHOUT THE PLAY.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
OCTAVIA

## OCTAVIA

AFABULA PRAETEXTA
THE ONLY EXTANT ROMAN HISTORICAL DRAMA
THE ROMAN HISTORICAL drama had a place among the earliest products of Roman literature, and seems to have enjoyed a degree of popularity through all succeeding periods. That Roman literary genius did not find a much fuller expression through this channel was not due to a lack of national pride and patriotism, nor yet to a dearth of interesting and inspiring subjects in Roman history. The true reason is probably to be found in the fact that by the time national conditions were ripe for the development of any form of literature, the Greeks had already worked, and well worked, nearly all available fields, and had produced a mass of literature which dazzled the Roman mind when at last circumstances brought these two nations into closer contact.
The natural and immediate result was an attempt on the part of the Romans to imitate these great models. And hence we have in drama, both in tragedy and in comedy, a wholesale imitation of the Greek dramas, oftentimes nothing more than a translation of these, with only here and there an attempt to produce something of a strictly native character, entirely independent of the Greek influence.
This imitative impulse was augmented by the fact that the Romans were following the line of least resistance, since it is always easier to imitate than to create. Furthermore, they had as yet developed no national pride of literature to hold them to their own lines of national development; they had no forms of their own so well established that the mere force of literary momentum would carry them steadily on toward a fuller development, in spite of the disturbing effects of the influx of other and better models. They had, indeed, developed a native Saturnian verse which, had it been allowed a free field, might have reached a high pitch of literary excellence. But it speedily gave way at the approach of the more elegant imported forms.
The overwhelming influence of Greek tragedy upon the Roman dramatists can be seen at a glance as we review the dramatic product of the Roman tragedians. We have titles and fragments of nine tragedies by Livius Andronicus, seven by Naevius, twenty-two by Ennius, thirteen by Pacuvius, forty-six by Accius, and many fragments from each of these, unassignable to definite plays, which indicate numerous other plays of the same character. To these should be added additional fragments from nearly a score more of Roman writers during the next two hundred years after Accius. All the above-mentioned plays are on Greek subjects; and most of those whose fragments are sufficiently extensive to allow us to form an opinion of their character are either translations or close imitations of the Greeks, or are so influenced by these as to be decidedly Greek rather than Roman in character.
And what of the genuine Roman dramatic product? Speaking for the fabula praetexta, or Roman historical drama, alone, the entire output, so far as our records go, is contained in the following list of authors and titles.
From Naevius (265-204 B.C.) we have the Clastidium, written in celebration of the victory of Marcellus (at Clastidium in 222 B.C.) over Vidumarus, king of the Transpadane Gauls, whom Marcellus slew and stripped of his armour, thus gaining the rare spolia opima. The play was probably written for the especial occasion either of the triumph of Marcellus or of the celebration of his funeral.
We have also from Naevius a play variously entitled Lupus or Romulus or Alimonium Remi et Romuli, evidently one of those dramatic reproductions of scenes in the life of a god, enacted as a part of the ceremonies of his worship. This play is comparable to dramatic representations among the Greeks in the worship of Dionysus.
The Ambracia and the Sabinae of Ennius (239-169 B.C.) are ordinarily classed as fabulae praetextaey although Lucian Miiller classes the fragments of the Ambracia among the Salurae of Ennius; while Vahlen puts the Aînbracia under the heading Comoediarum et ceterorum carminum reliquiae, and classifies the fragments of the Sabinae under ex incerlis saturarum libris. The Ambracia is evidently called after the city of that name in Epirus, celebrated for the long and remarkable siege which it sustained against the Romans under M. Fulvius Nobilior. That general finally captured the city in 189 B.C. If the piece is to be considered as a play, it was, like the Clastidium) written in honour of the Roman general, and acted on the occasion either of his triumph or of his funeral.
We have four short fragments from the Paulus of Pacuvius (220-130 B.C.), written in celebration of the exploits of L. Aemilius Paulus who conquered Perseus, king of Macedonia, in the battle of Pydna, 168 B.C.
The fragments of the plays already mentioned are too brief to afford any adequate idea of their character or content. But in the Brutus of Accius (b. 170. B.C.), which centres around the expulsion of the Tarquins and the establishment of the Republic, we have a larger glimpse into the play through two most interesting fragments consisting of twelve iambic trimeters and ten trochaic tetrameters, respectively. In the first, King Tarquin relates to his seer an ill-ominous dream which he has had; the second is the seer’s interpretation of this dream, pointing to Tarquin’s dethronement by Brutus. Other short fragments give glimpses of the outrage of Lucretia by Sextus at Collatia, and the scene in the forum where Brutus takes his oath of office as first consul. This play, unlike most of its predecessors, was not written at the time of the events which it portrays, but may still be classed with them, so far as its object is concerned, since it is generally thought to have been written in honour of D. Junius Brutus, who was consul in 138 B.C., and with whom the poet enjoyed an intimate friendship.
Another praetexta of Accius is preserved, the Decius, of which eleven short fragments remain. This play celebrates the victory of Quintus Fabius Maximus and P. Decius Mus over the Samnites and Gauls at Sentinum in 295 B.C. The climax of the play would be the self-immolation of Decius after the example of his father in the Latin war of 340 B.C.
A In addition to these plays of the Roman dramatists of the Republic, we have knowledge of a few which date from later times. There was a historical drama entitled Iter, by L. Cornelius Balbus, who dramatized the incidents of a journey which he made to Pompey’s camp at Dyrrachium at the opening of civil war in 49 b c. Balbus was under commission from Caesar 404 to treat with the consul, L. Cornelius Lentulus, and other optimates who had fled from Rome, concerning their return to the city. The journey was a complete fiasco, so far as results were concerned; but the vanity of Balbus was so flattered by this (to him) important mission that he must needs dramatize his experiences and present the play under his own direction in his native city of Gades.
We have mention also of an Aeneas by Pomponius Secundus, and of two praetextae by Curiatius Maternus, entitled Domitius and Cato.
These eleven historical plays are, as we have seen, for the most part, plays of occasion, and would be at best of but temporary interest, born of the special circumstances which inspired them. They are in no way comparable with such historical dramas on Roman subjects as Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar or Coriolanus, whose interest is for all times.
We have still a twelfth play of this class, which enjoys the unique distinction of being the only Roman historical drama which has come down to us in its complete form — the Octavia. Its authorship is unknown, although tradition gives it a place among the tragedies of Seneca, the philosopher. The general opinion of modern critics, however, is against this tradition, chiefly because one passage in the play, in the form of a prophecy, too circumstantially describes the death of Nero, which occurred three years after the death of Seneca. It is generally agreed that the play must have been written soon after the death of Nero, and by some one, possibly Maternus, who had been an eye-witness of the events, and who had been inspired by his sympathies for the unfortunate Octavia to write this story of her sufferings.
SUMMARY OF THE IMPERIAL FAMILY HISTORY WHICH FORMS A BACKGROUND TO THE OCTAVIA AND TO WHICH REFERENCES ARE MADE THROUGHOUT THE PLAY.
TIBERIUS CLAUDIUS DRUSUS NERO CAESAR GER- MANICUS, more commonly known as Claudius, fourth emperor of Rome, had taken for his third wife the daughter of M. Valerius Messala, Messalina, who bore to him two children, Britannicus and Octavia. Always notorious for her profligacy and licentiousness, Messalina crowned her career by publicly marrying C. Silius at Rome during the temporary sojourn of her imperial husband at Ostia. Claudius long wavered as to her punishment, but at last, through the influence of his favourite, Narcissus, he signed her death warrant, and she was executed by a tribune of the guards in 48 A.D.
In the following year, through the intrigue of the freedman Pallas, Claudius married his brother’s daughter, Agrippina, who brought with her into the emperor’s household Lucius Domitius, her son by her first husband, Cn. Domitius Ahenobarbus.
Immediately Agrippina began to plot for the succession of her son to the throne of the Caesars. In 50 A.D. she prevailed upon Claudius to adopt, to the prejudice of Britannicus, her own son, who was thereafter known as Nero. She had already caused Seneca, who had been exiled at the instance of Messalina, to be recalled that he might serve as Nero’s tutor. In 53 A.D. she further advanced her plans by compassing the marriage of her son to Octavia, the emperor’s daughter. Octavia had already been betrothed by Claudius to L. Silanus, who now, to escape the vengeance of Agrippina, committed suicide.
Her plans being now fully laid for the final act, Agrippina secretly poisoned Claudius on October 12th, 54 A.D., and on the following day Nero succeeded to the throne, being then seventeen years of age. In the following year, by the joint plotting of mother and son, the young Britannicus, also, was poisoned.
Because of the youth and inexperience of her son, Agrippina enjoyed four years of practically imperial power; but at last, in 59 A.D., Nero, tired of his mother’s ascendancy, caused her to be assassinated, after an unsuccessful attempt upon her life by means of a treacherous vessel, in which death-trap he had sent her to sea.
Nero had long since become enamoured of Poppaea, a beautiful profligate, who had left her husband, Rufinus Crispinus, to live with Otho, and who now became mistress of the emperor. Aspiring to be his wife, she had plotted to bring about the death of Agrippina and later the divorce of Octavia. Through these machinations of his mistress and Nero’s own more than ready acquiescence, Octavia was falsely accused of adultery and in 62 A.D. she was banished to Pandataria, where she was shortly afterwards put to death.
Poppaea herself died in 65 A.D. as the result, it was said, of a kick by her brutal husband when she was far advanced in pregnancy. In the same year, at the command of the emperor, Seneca committed suicide; and three years thereafter, in 68 A.D., Nero himself, deposed by the praetorian guards, who had espoused the cause of Galba, and condemned to death by the Senate, fled from Rome and, after vain efforts to escape, received his death-stroke by his own request at the hands of a faithful attendant who had fled with him.

## DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

OCTAVIA, stepsister and wife of Nero. NURSE of OCTAVIA. POPPAEA, mistress and afterward wife of Nero. Nurse of POPPAEA. GHOST Of AGRIPPINA, mother of NERO, slain by him. NERO, Emperor of Rome. SENECA, former tutor of Nero, and later one of his chief counsellors. PREFECT of Roman Soldiers. MESSENGER. CHORUS OF ROMANS, sympathetic with OCTAVIA. CHORUS, attached to the interests of the court.
THE SCENE is laid throughout in different apartments of the palace of Nero, and is concerned with the events of the year 62 a. D.

## OCTAVIA

[1] OCTAVIA: Now doth flushing dawn drive the wandering stars from heaven; with radiant beams the sun arises and gives the world once more the light of day. On then, with all thy woes weighed down, resume thy now accustomed plaints and outwail the sea-bred Halcyons, out-wail the birds of old Pandion’s house; for more grievous is thy lot than theirs. O mother, constant source of tears to me, first cause of my misfortunes, hearken to thy daughter’s sad complaints, if any consciousness remains among the shades. Oh, that the ancient Clotho with her own hand had clipped my threads before sadly I saw thy wounds, thy face with foul gore besmeared! O light, ever calamitous to me, from that time, O light, thou art more hateful than the dark! We have endured a cruel step-dame’s orders, her hostile spirit and her aspect fierce. ’Twas she, ’twas she, the baleful fury, who bore the Stygian torches to my bridal chamber, and quenched thy light, O wretched father, whom but yesterday the whole world obeyed, even beyond Ocean’s bounds, before whom the Britons fled, erstwhile to our leaders all unknown and unsubdued. Alas, my father, by thy wife’s plots thou liest crushed, and thy house together with thy child bends to a tyrant’s will.
[Exit to her chamber. Enter nurse.]
OCTAVIA: NURSE Whoso, overpowered by the novel splendor and the frail blessings of deceitful royalty, stands awestruck and amazed, lo, beneath the sudden blow of lurking Fate, let him behold, overthrown, the house and stock of Claudius, but now all powerful, under whose rule the whole world was brought, whom the Ocean, long to sway unknown, obeyed and, all unwillingly, received his ships. Lo, he who first on the Britons set a yoke, who covered unknown floods with his mighty fleets, who was safe midst tribes barbaric, midst raging seas, by his wife’s crime is fallen; she soon by her son’s hand fell; and by his poison lies my brother slain. The unhappy sister, yea, the unhappy wife grieves on, nor can she hide her bitter sufferings, forced to the angry will of her cruel husband. From him ever the pure girl recoils, and her husband, though by equal hate inspired, with incestuous passion burns. Our fond love strives in vain to console her grieving heart; her cruel smart overcomes our counsels, nor can the noble passion of her soul be governed, but from her woes she draws new strength. Alas! how my fears forbode some desperate deed, which may the gods forbid.
OCTAVIA: OCTAVIA [heard speaking from her chamber]
OCTAVIA: O fate of mine, to be matched by no misfortunes, though I recall thy woes, Electra. Thou couldst weep out thy grief for thy father’s murder, couldst take vengeance on the crime with thy brother as avenger, whom thy love snatched from the foe and thy faithful care protected; but me fear forbids to mourn my parents reft from me by cruel fate, forbids to bewail my brother’s taking off, in whom was my sole hope, the fleeting solace of my many woes. And now, saved but to my suffering, I remain, the shadow of a noble name.
OCTAVIA: NURSE Hark! the voice of my sad foster-child strikes on mine ears. Does thy slow age take thee to her chamber with lagging steps?
[She advances toward the chamber, but is met by OCTAVIA, coming forth.]
OCTAVIA: OCTAVIA Receive my tears, dear nurse, thou trusty witness of my suffering.
OCTAVIA: NURSE What day will free thee from thy mighty cares, poor child?
OCTAVIA: OCTAVIA The day that sends me to the Stygian shades.
OCTAVIA: NURSE Far from us be the omen of that word, I pray.
OCTAVIA: OCTAVIA No longer is it thy prayers that shape my life but the fates.
OCTAVIA: NURSE God in his mercy will bring to thine affliction better days. Do thou but be soothed, and win thy husband with gentle courtesy.
OCTAVIA: OCTAVIA Sooner shall I win savage lions and fierce tigers, than that savage tyrant’s brutal heart. He hates all born of noble blood, scorns gods and men alike; nor can he of himself wield his high fortune which by a monstrous crime his impious mother bestowed on him. Yes! though the ungrateful wretch count it shame to take this empire as his cursed mother’s gift, though he requite her mighty gift with death, still will the woman even after death win the fame thereof for ever through unending age.
OCTAVIA: NURSE Check thou the utterance of thy raging heart; repress the words thou hast poured forth too rashly.
OCTAVIA: OCTAVIA Though I should endure what must be borne, never could my woes be ended, save by gloomy death. With my mother slain, my father by crime snatched from me, robbed of my brother, by wretchedness and grief overwhelmed, by sorrow crushed, by my husband hated, and set beneath my slave, the sweet light brings no joy to me; for my heart is ever trembling, not with the fear of death, but of crime — be crime but lacking to my misfortunes, death will be delight. For ’tis a punishment far worse than death to look in the tyrant’s face, all swollen with rage against wretched me, to kiss my foe, to fear his very nod, obedience to whom my smarting grief could not endure after my brother’s death, most sinfully destroyed, whose throne he usurps, and rejoices in being the worker of a death unspeakable. How oft does my brother’s sad shade appear before my eyes when rest has relaxed my body, and sleep weighed down my eyes, weary with weeping. Now with smoking torches he arms his feeble hands, and with deadly purpose aims at his brother’s eyes and face; and now in trembling fright takes refuge in my chamber; his enemy pursues and, even while the lad clings in my embrace, savagely he thrusts his sword through both our bodies. Then trembling and mighty terror banish my slumbers, and bring back to my wretched heart its grief and fear. Add to all this the proud concubine, bedecked with our house’s spoil, as gift for whom the son set his own mother on the Stygian bark; and, when she had overcome dread shipwreck and the sea, himself more pitiless than ocean’s waves, slew her with the sword. What hope of safety, after crime so great, have I? My victorious foe threatens my chamber, blazes with hate of me, and, as the reward of her adultery, demands of my husband his lawful consort’s head. Arise thou, my father, from the shades and bring help to thy daughter who calls on thee; or else, rending the earth, lay bare the Stygian abyss, that I may plunge thither headlong.
OCTAVIA: NURSE In vain dost thou call upon thy father’s ghost, poor girl, in vain, for no care for his child abides amidst the shades with him who to his own son could prefer one born of other blood, and, taking his brother’s child to wife, wed her with couch incestuous and gloomy torch. Thence sprung a train of crimes — murders, deceits, the lust for empire, thirst for illustrious blood; as victim offered to the father’s marriage bed the son-in-law was slain, lest, wedded to thee he might become too strong. Oh, monstrous crime! To a woman was Silanus given as a boon and with his blood defiled the ancestral gods, charged with a crime that was not his. Then entered the foe, ah me! into the conquered palace, by a step-mother’s wiles made an emperor’s son-in-law and son withal, a youth of bent unnatural, fertile in crime, whose passion thy cruel mother fanned, and forced thee by fear to wed him, against thy will. Triumphant and emboldened by such success, she dared aspire to the awful empire of the world. Who can rehearse the various forms of crime, the wicked hopes, the cozening wiles of her who by all crimes would mount to empire round by round? Then holy Piety with trembling step withdrew, and raging Fury with baleful feet entered the empty palace, defiled with Stygian torch the holy household-gods, and in mad rage rent nature’s laws and all things sacred. The wife for her husband mingled deadly poison, and soon by her son’s crime the same wife fell. Thou too dost lie dead, unhappy youth, ever to be mourned by us, but late the world’s star, the prop of a noble house, Britannicus, and now, ah me! only light ashes and a mournful shade, over whom even thy step-mother wept, when on the pyre she gave thy body to be burned, and when thy limbs and features, that were like a winged god’s, were by the mournful flame consumed.
OCTAVIA: OCTAVIA Let him destroy me also, lest by my hand he fall.
OCTAVIA: NURSE Nature has not bestowed on thee such strength.
OCTAVIA: OCTAVIA Anguish, anger, sorrow, wretchedness, grief will bestow it.
OCTAVIA: NURSE By compliance, rather, win thine unfeeling lord.
OCTAVIA: OCTAVIA That he may give back to me my brother, wickedly destroyed?
OCTAVIA: NURSE That thou mayst be thyself unharmed, that one day thou mayst restore thy father’s tottering house with sons of thine.
OCTAVIA: OCTAVIA The royal house expects another son; me my poor brother’s cruel fates drag down.
OCTAVIA: NURSE Let thy soul be strengthened by the citizens’ great love.
OCTAVIA: OCTAVIA That comforts my woes but does not lighten them.
OCTAVIA: NURSE The people’s power is mighty.
OCTAVIA: OCTAVIA But the emperor’s mightier.
OCTAVIA: NURSE Of himself will he respect his wife.
OCTAVIA: OCTAVIA His concubine forbids.
OCTAVIA: NURSE Surely she is scorned by all.
OCTAVIA: OCTAVIA But to her husband, dear.
OCTAVIA: NURSE She is not yet a wife.
OCTAVIA: OCTAVIA But soon will be, and a mother, too.
OCTAVIA: NURSE Youthful passion burns fierce at the first rush but readily grows dull, nor long endures in foul adultery, like heat of flickering flame; but a chaste wife’s love remains perpetual. She who first dared profane thy bed, and, though a slave, has long held in thrall her master’s heart, already herself fears —
OCTAVIA: OCTAVIA Aye! a more favored mistress.
OCTAVIA: NURSE — subdued and humble, and gives signs by which she confesses her own great fear. Even her shall winged Cupid, false and fickle god, betray; though she be passing fair, boastful in power, hers shall be but a transitory joy.
OCTAVIA: The queen of the gods herself like sorrows suffered, when the lord of heaven and father of the gods into all forms changed, and now wings of a swan put on, now the horns of a bull of Sidon, and again in a golden shower poured down; the stars of Leda glitter in the sky, Bacchus on his father’s Olympus dwells, Alcides as a god possesses Hebe and now no more fears Juno’s wrath; he is her son-in-law who was her enemy. Yet wise compliance and controlled wrath won victory for the queenly wife; without rival, without care does Juno hold the Thunderer on her heavenly couch, and no more does Jupiter, by mortal beauty smitten, desert the court of heaven. Thou too, on earth a second Juno, Augustus’ wife and sister, thy grievous woes overcome.
OCTAVIA: OCTAVIA Sooner shall savage seas unite with stars, water with fire, heaven with sad Tartarus, the kindly light with darkness, day with the dewy night, than with my accursed husband’s impious soul this soul of mine, that ever broods upon my brother’s death. And oh, that the lord of the heaven-dwellers, who often shakes the lands with deadly bolt and terrifies our souls with awful fires and portents strange, would make ready to whelm with flames this impious prince. We have seen a glowing radiance in the sky, a comet spreading its baleful trail, where slow Bootes, numb with Arctic chill, with endless, nightlong wheeling, guides his wain. Lo, by the pestilential breath of this destructive leader the very air is tainted; the stars threaten unheard disasters for the nations which this godless leader rules. Not such a pest was Typhon, whom wrathful mother Earth produced in scorn of Jove; this scourge, worse than he, this enemy of gods and men, has driven the heavenly ones from their shrines, and citizens from their country, from his brother has he reft the breath of life, and drained his mother’s blood — and he still sees the light of day, still lives and draws his baneful breath! O high exalted father, why vainly, why so oft at random dost thou hurl thy darts invincible with thine imperial hand? Against one so criminal why is thy right hand stayed? Would that he might pay penalty for his crimes, this spurious Nero, son of Domitius, tyrant of a world he burdens with his shameful yoke, and with foul ways pollutes the name Augustus!
OCTAVIA: NURSE Unworthy he, I do confess it, to mate with thee; but yield thee to the fates and to thy lot, my child, I beg, nor rouse thy violent husband’s wrath. Perchance some god will arise as thine avenger, and a day of happiness will come again.
OCTAVIA: OCTAVIA Long since has the heavy wrath of the gods pursued our house, which harsh Venus first overwhelmed in my poor mother’s madness; for she, already wed, in mad folly wed another with unholy torch, of me, of her husband forgetful, and regardless of the laws. Against her to that hellish couch, with streaming hair and girt about with snakes, came the avenging Fury and quenched those stolen wedding fires in blood; with rage she inflamed the cruel emperor’s heart to impious murder; my ill-starred mother fell, alas, and, by the sword destroyed, overwhelmed me in endless suffering; her husband and her son did she drag down to death and shamefully betrayed our fallen house.
OCTAVIA: NURSE Forbear with weeping to renew thy filial griefs, and vex not thy mother’s spirit, who for her madness has grievously atoned. [Exeunt.]
OCTAVIA: CHORUS What rumor has but now come to our ears? May it prove false and gain no credence though vainly told over and over; and may no new wife the emperor’s chamber enter, and may his bride, the child of Claudius, keep her rightful home, and bring forth sons, pledges of peace, wherein the untroubled world may rejoice and Rome preserve her everlasting glory. Her brother’s bridal chamber mightiest Juno won and holds; why is Augustus’s sister, made partner of his couch, driven from her father’s house? Of what avail to her is pure devotion, a father deified, virginity, unblemished chastity? We too, after his death have quite forgot our leader, and betray his child at the bidding of sick fear. Right Roman virtue of old our fathers had; in such men was the true race and blood of Mars. They from this city arrogant kings expelled, and well did they avenge thy ghost, O virgin, slain by thy father’s hand lest thou shouldst suffer slavery’s heavy load, and lest cruel lust, victorious, should gain its shameless prize. Thee also a sad war followed, daughter of Lucretius, slain, poor girl, by thine own hand, by a brutal tyrant outraged. With Tarquin Tullia, his wife, paid penalty for crime unspeakable, who, over the body of her murdered father heartlessly drove her cruel car, and, mad daughter, refused the mangled old man a funeral-pyre.
OCTAVIA: This age as well has seen a son’s dire crime, when in a deadly bark the prince sent his mother out on the Tyrrhene sea, by a trick ensnared. At his bidding the sailors make haste to leave the peaceful port and, smit by the oars, the sea resounds. The vessel is borne far out upon the deep; and there, with loosened timbers, sinking, overwhelmed, it yawns wide and drinks in the sea. A mighty outcry rises to the stars, mingled with shrieks of women. Death stalks dire before the eyes of all; each for himself seeks refuge from destruction; some cling naked to planks of the broken ship and face the floods, while others, swimming, seek to gain the shore; fate plunges many into the depths below. Augusta rends her garments and tears her hair and waters her cheeks with grieving tears.
OCTAVIA: At last, with hope of safety gone, blazing with anger and now overcome with woe, she cries; “Such reward as this for my great boon, O son, dost thou return me? Worthy am I of this ship, I do confess, who brought thee forth, who gave thee light and empire and the name of Caesar, fool that I was. Thrust forth thy face from Acheron, and glut thee with my punishment, O husband; I caused thy death, poor soul, was the author of thy son’s destruction, and lo, as I have merited, to thy ghost am I now borne unburied, whelmed in the cruel waters of the sea.”
OCTAVIA: Even while she speaks the waves wash over her lips, and down into the deep she plunges; anon she rises from the briny weight and with her hands, fear driving her, lashes the sea; but soon, outwearied, gives over the struggle. There still lived in secret hearts fidelity which scorned the grim fear of death. Many to their mistress dare bring aid, when her strength is exhausted by the sea, and, as she drags her arms, though sluggishly, along, with their voices cheer her and lift her with their hands. But what availed it to have escaped the waters of the cruel sea? By the sword of thine own son thou art to die, to whose crime scarce will posterity, slowly will all future ages, give belief. He rages and grieves that his mother, snatched from the sea, still lives, the impious monster, and heaps huge guilt on guilt; bent on his wretched mother’s death, he brooks no stay of crime. Sent to the task, his creature works his will, and with the sword lays open his mistress’ breast. The unhappy woman, dying, begs her murderer to sheathe his fell sword within her womb: “’Tis this, ’tis this that must with the sword be pierced, which gave such monster birth!” After such utterance, with a dying groan commingled, at length through the cruel wound she yielded her sad ghost.
OCTAVIA: SENECA [alone] Why, potent Fortune, with false, flattering looks, hast high exalted me when contented with my lot, that, raised to a lofty pinnacle, in heavier ruin I might fall, and might look out upon so many fears? Better was I hid, far out of the reach of envy’s sting, midst the crags of Corsica, facing on the sea, where my spirit, free and its own lord, had ever time to contemplate my favorite themes. Oh, ’twas joy — a joy surpassing anything to which mother Nature, contriver of this fabric infinite, hath given birth, to gaze upon the heavens, the sun’s sacred chariot, the motions of the universe and the sun’s recurring rounds, and the orb of Phoebe, which the wandering stars encircle, and the far effulgent glory of the mighty sky. If this sky is growing old, doomed wholly once more to fall into blind nothingness, then for the universe is that last day at hand which shall crush sinful man beneath heaven’s ruin, that so once more a reborn and better world may bring forth a new race such as she bore in youth, when Saturn held the kingdoms of the sky. Then did that virgin, Justice, goddess of mighty sway, from heaven sent down with holy Faith to earth, rule with mild sway the race of men. No wars the nations knew, no trumpet’s threatening blasts, no arms, nor were they used to surround their cities with a wall: open to all was the way, in common was the use of every thing; and the glad Earth herself willingly laid bare her fruitful breast, a mother happy and safe amid such duteous nurslings.
OCTAVIA: But another race arose which proved less gentle; another yet, cunning in unknown arts, but holy still; then came a restless race, which dared pursue the wild beasts in the chase, draw fish from their coverts beneath the sea with weighted net or slender rod, catch birds, on a strong leash hold unruly dogs, force headstrong bullocks to endure the yoke, furrow the earth which had never felt the plow, and which, now thus outraged, had hidden her fruits deeper in her sacred bosom. But into its mother’s bowels did that degenerate age intrude; it dug out heavy iron and gold, and soon did it arm savage hands for war. Marking out boundaries, it established kingdoms, built cities, hitherto unknown, guarded its own dwellings or, bent on booty, with weapons attacked another’s. Away from earth that scorned her, from the wild ways of men and hands defiled with bloody slaughter, fled the maid, Astraea, chief glory of the firmament. Lust for war increased and hunger for gold throughout the world; luxury arose, deadliest of ills, a luring pest, which acquired strength and force by long use and grievous error. These sins, through many ages gathering, are overflowing upon us; a heavy age weighs us down, wherein crime is regnant, impiety runs mad, all-potent lust lords it with shameless love, and triumphant luxury has long with greedy hands been clutching the world’s unbounded stores — that she may squander them.
[NERO is seen approaching.]
OCTAVIA: But see, with startled step and savage mien Nero approaches. At thought of what he brings I tremble.
[Enfer NERO, followed by a Prefect.]
OCTAVIA: NERO [to Prefect] Go do my bidding; send one to slay me Plautus and Sulla and bring back their severed heads.
OCTAVIA: PREFECT Thy bidding will I do: to the camp forthwith I’ll take me. [Exit.]
OCTAVIA: SENECA ’Tis not becoming to proceed rashly against one’s friends.
OCTAVIA: NERO ’Tis easy to be just when the heart is free from fear.
OCTAVIA: SENECA A sovereign cure for fear is clemency.
OCTAVIA: NERO To destroy foes is a leader’s greatest virtue.
OCTAVIA: SENECA For the father of his country to save citizens, is greater still.
OCTAVIA: NERO A mild old man should give schooling to boys.
OCTAVIA: SENECA More needful ’tis that fiery youth be ruled.
OCTAVIA: NERO I deem that at this age we are wise enough.
OCTAVIA: SENECA May thy deeds be ever pleasing to the gods.
OCTAVIA: NERO Foolish I’d be to fear the gods, when I myself make them.
OCTAVIA: SENECA Fear thou the more, that so great power is thine.
OCTAVIA: NERO My fortune doth allow all things to me.
OCTAVIA: SENECA Indulgent fortune trust more cautiously; she is a fickle goddess.
OCTAVIA: NERO ’Tis a dullard’s part not to know what he may do.
OCTAVIA: SENECA ’Tis praiseworthy to do, not what one may, but what one ought.
OCTAVIA: NERO Him who lies down the crowd trample on.
OCTAVIA: SENECA Him whom they hate, they crush.
OCTAVIA: NERO The sword protects the prince.
OCTAVIA: SENECA Still better, loyalty.
OCTAVIA: NERO A Caesar should be feared.
OCTAVIA: SENECA But more be loved.
OCTAVIA: NERO But men must fear —
OCTAVIA: SENECA What is compelled is burdensome.
OCTAVIA: NERO Let them obey our orders.
OCTAVIA: SENECA Give righteous orders —
OCTAVIA: NERO I shall myself decide.
OCTAVIA: SENECA which the general thought may ratify.
OCTAVIA: NERO Reverence for the sword will ratify them.
OCTAVIA: SENECA May heaven forbid!
OCTAVIA: NERO Shall I then go on suffering them to seek my blood, that, unavenged and scorned, I may suddenly be crushed? Exile has not broken Plautus and Sulla, though far removed, whose persistent rage arms the agents of their guilt to work my death, since still, though absent, great is the favor they enjoy in this our city, which nurtures the exiles’ hopes. Let the sword remove foemen whom I suspect; let my hateful wife perish and follow the brother whom she loves. Whatever is high exalted, let it fall.
OCTAVIA: SENECA ’Tis glorious to tower aloft amongst great men, to have care for father-land, to spare the downtrodden, to abstain from cruel bloodshed, to be slow to wrath, give quiet to the world, peace to one’s time. This is virtue’s crown, by this way is heaven sought. So did that first Augustus, his country’s father, gain the stars, and is worshipped in the temples as a god. Yet him did Fortune toss for long on land and sea in battle’s deadly chances, until his father’s foes he overwhelmed. But to thee hath she yielded her divinity, unstained of blood; hath with easy hand given thee the reins of government, and to thy nod subjected lands and seas. Sour hate, overcome, hath yielded in loyal harmony; the senate’s favor and the knights’ is warm toward thee; and by the people’s prayers and the judgment of the Fathers, thou art the source of peace, the arbiter of human destinies, chosen to rule the world with godlike mien, the country’s father. This name Rome prays thee to preserve, and to thy care commends her citizens.
OCTAVIA: NERO ’Tis the gift of heaven that Rome herself and the senate are subject unto me, and that from unwilling lips prayers and servile words are extorted by fear of me. To preserve citizens, to ruler and fatherland alike oppressive, puffed up with pride of race — what folly is it, when with a word one may give to death those he suspects? Brutus for the murder of his chief, to whom he owed his safety, armed his hands; and Caesar, invincible in battle shock, tamer of nations, walking, a very Jove, along the upward path of honors, died by the unspeakable crime of citizens. What streams of her own blood did Rome then behold, so often rent with strife! He who earned heaven by piety, the deified Augustus, how many nobles did he put to death, young men and old, scattered throughout ihe world, when they fled their own homes through fear of death and the sword of the three handed chiefs — all by the accusing list delivered to grim destruction! The grieving fathers saw the heads of the slain set out upon the rostra, but dared not weep their dead nor groan, while the forum reeked with foul corruption, and sluggish gore dripped down the rotting faces. Nor was this the end of slaughter and of blood: long did grim Philippi feed birds and beasts of prey, and the Sicilian sea engulfed fleets and men often retreating; the world was shaken by its own contending forces. The great commander, by the leaders’ array overcome, with his ships prepared for flight, hied him to the Nile, himself doomed soon to perish; incestuous Egypt a second time drank a Roman leader’s blood, and now covers his flitting shade. There civil strife is buried, waged impiously and long. At last the victor now weary, sheathed his sword, blunted with savage blows, and maintained his sway by fear. Safe under the protection of his loyal guards he lived, and when he died, by the surpassing piety of his son was made a god, hallowed and enshrined. Me, too, shall the stars await, if with relentless sword I first destroy whatever is hostile to me, and on a worthy offspring found my house.
OCTAVIA: SENECA With stock celestial will she fill thy halls, she, the daughter of a god [Claudius, by courtesy and custom called divus after death], the Claudian race’s glory, who has, like Juno, gained her brother’s bed.
OCTAVIA: NERO A harlot mother brings her birth in doubt; — and the soul of my wife was never linked with mine.
OCTAVIA: SENECA In tender years rarely is love revealed, when, by modesty overcome, it hides its fires.
OCTAVIA: NERO This truly I, too, myself have vainly trusted long, although clear signs from her unloving heart and face betrayed her hate of me; which to avenge at last my hot grief has resolved. And now I have found a wife worthy of my bed in birth and beauty, to whom Venus, outshone, would yield, and the wife of Jove and the goddess bold in battle.
OCTAVIA: SENECA But honor, wifely faith, virtue and modesty, should please a husband; for ’tis these only, the treasures of mind and heart, that, subject to none, abide perpetual; but beauty’s flower each passing day despoils.
OCTAVIA: NERO All charms upon one woman has God bestowed, and such was she born, — so have the fates decreed, — for me.
OCTAVIA: SENECA Love will depart from thee, be not too credulous.
OCTAVIA: NERO What? He whom the lightning’s lord cannot put off? Heaven’s tyrant, who enters the savage seas and the realm of Dis, and draws gods from the sky?
OCTAVIA: SENECA ’Tis our human ignorance fashions Love a winged god, implacable, and arms with shafts and bow his sacred hands, equips him with blazing torch, and counts him the son of Venus, Vulcan’s seed. This “Love” is a mighty force of mind, a fond heat of the soul; ’tis born of youth, ’tis nursed by luxury and ease midst the glad gifts of Fortune; and if thou cease to feed and foster it, it falls away and quickly is its power dead and lost.
OCTAVIA: NERO This do I deem the chiefest source of life, whence pleasure hath its birth; ’tis a deathless thing, since the human race is evermore renewed by pleasing Love, who softens even savage beasts. May this god bear before me the wedding torch, and with his fire join Poppaea to my bed.
OCTAVIA: SENECA The people’s grief could scarce endure to see such marriage, nor would holy reverence allow it.
OCTAVIA: NERO Shall I alone be forbidden what all may do?
OCTAVIA: SENECA Greatest from highest ever the state exacts.
OCTAVIA: NERO Fain would I make trial whether, broken by my might, this rashly cherished regard would not vanish from their hearts.
OCTAVIA: SENECA Bend, rather, peacefully to thy people’s will.
OCTAVIA: NERO Ill fares the state when commons govern kings.
OCTAVIA: SENECA He justly chafes who naught avails by prayer
OCTAVIA: NERO Is it right to extort what prayer cannot obtain
OCTAVIA: SENECA To refuse is harsh.
OCTAVIA: NERO To force a prince is outrage.
OCTAVIA: SENECA He should himself give way.
OCTAVIA: NERO But rumor will report him conquered.
OCTAVIA: SENECA A trivial and empty thing is rumor.
OCTAVIA: NERO Even so, it disgraces many.
OCTAVIA: SENECA It fears the high exalted.
OCTAVIA: NERO But none the less maligns.
OCTAVIA: SENECA ‘Twill easily be crushed. Let the merits of thy sainted father break thy will, and thy wife’s youth, her faith, her chastity.
OCTAVIA: NERO Have done at last; already too wearisome has thy insistence grown; permit me to do what Seneca disapproves. Long since am I myself Poppaea’s prayers delaying, since in her womb she bears a pledge and part of me. Why not appoint to-morrow for the wedding day? [Exeunt.]
[Enter Ghost of AGRIPPINA bearing a flaming torch.]
OCTAVIA: AGRIPPINA Through the rent earth from Tartarus have I come forth, bringing in bloody hand a Stygian torch to these cursed marriage rites. With these flames let Poppaea wed my son, which a mother’s avenging hand and grief shall turn to grim funeral pyres. Ever amidst the shades the memory of my impious murder abides with me, burdening my ghost still unavenged. The payment I received for all my services was that death-fraught ship, and the reward of empire, that night wherein I mourned my wreck. My comrades’ murder and my son’s heartless crime I would have wept — no time was given for tears, but with crime he doubled that awful crime. Though saved from the sea, yet by the sword undone, loathsome with wounds, midst the holy images I gave up my troubled ghost. Still my blood quenched not the hatred of my son. Rages the mad tyrant against his mother’s name, longs to blot out her merits; my statues, my inscriptions he destroys by threat of death throughout the world — the world which, to my own punishment, my ill-starred love gave to a boy’s government.
[She seems to see her husband’s ghost.]
OCTAVIA: Wrathfully doth my dead husband harass my ghost, and with torches attacks my guilty face; pursues me, threatens, charges to me his death and his son’s burial mound, demands the author of the murderous deed. Have done; he shall be given; ’tis no long time I seek. The avenging Fury plans for the impious tyrant a worthy doom; blows and base flight and sufferings whereby he may surpass even Tantalus’ thirst, the dread toil of Sisyphus, the bird of Tityus and the wheel which whirls Ixion’s limbs around. Though in his pride he build him marble palaces and roof them in with gold, though armed guards stand at their chieftain’s door, though the beggared world send him its boundless riches, though Parthians in suppliance seek his bloody hand, though kingdoms bring wealth to him; the day and the hour will come when for his crimes he shall pay his guilty soul, shall give his throat to his enemies, abandoned and undone and stripped of all.
OCTAVIA: Alas! to what end my labor and my prayers? Hath thy frenzy carried thee so far in madness and thy destiny, my son, that the wrath of a mother murdered by thy hand gives way before such woes? Would that, ere I brought thee, a tiny babe, to light, and suckled thee, savage beasts of prey had rent my vitals; then without crime, without sense and innocent, thou wouldst have died — my own; close clinging to my side, thou wouldst forever see the quiet seats of the underworld, thy grandsires and thy sire, heroes of glorious name, whom now shame and grief perpetual await because of thee, thou monster, and of me who bore such son. But why delay to hide my face in Tartarus, as step-dame, mother, wife, a curse unto my own?
[The Ghost vanishes. Enter OCTAVIA.]
OCTAVIA: OCTAVIA [to the Chorus] Restrain your tears on this glad, festal day of Rome, lest your great love and care for me arouse the emperor’s sharp wrath, and I be cause of suffering to you. This wound is not the first my heart has felt; far heavier have I borne; but this day shall end my cares even by my death. No more shall I be forced to look on my brutal husband’s face, nor to enter a slave’s chamber which I hate; Augustus’ sister shall I be, not wife. Only may I be spared dire punishments and fearful death. — And canst thou, poor, foolish girl, remembering thy cruel husband’s crimes, yet hope for this? Long kept back for this marriage-festival, thou shalt fall at last, an ill-starred victim. But why so often to thy father’s house dost look back with streaming eyes? Haste thee to leave this roof; abandon the blood-stained palace of the emperor. [Exit.]
OCTAVIA: CHORUS Lo, now has dawned the day long dim foreseen, so oft by rumor bruited. Departed is Claudia from cruel Nero’s chamber, which even now Poppaea holds in triumph, while lags our love by grievous fear repressed, and grief is numb. Where is the Roman people’s manhood now, which oft in olden times hath crushed illustrious chiefs, given laws to an unconquered land, the fasces to worthy citizens, made war and peace at will, conquered wild races and imprisoned captive kings? Lo, grievous to our sight, on every hand now gleams Poppaea’s image, with Nero’s joined! Let violent hands throw them to the ground, too like their mistress’ features; let them drag her down from her lofty couch, and then with devouring flames and savage spears attack the palace of the emperor. [Exit CHORUS.]
[Enter POPPAEA’S NURSE and POPPAEA herself, who appears, distraught, coming out of her chamber.]
OCTAVIA: NURSE Whither, dear child, dost pass all trembling from the chamber of thy lord, or what hidden place seekst thou with troubled face? Why are thy checks wet with weeping? Surely the day sought by our prayers and vows has dawned; to thy Caesar art thou joined by the marriage torch, him whom thy beauty snared, whom Venus hath delivered in bonds to thee, Venus, of Seneca flouted, mother of Love, most mighty deity. Oh, how beautiful and stately wast thou on the high couch reclining in the hall! The senate looked on thy beauty in amaze, when incense to the gods thou offeredst and with pleasing wine didst sprinkle the sacred shrines, thy head covered with filmy marriage-veil, flame-colored. And close beside thee, majestic midst the favoring plaudits of the citizens, walked the prince himself, showing, in look and bearing, his joy and pride. So did Peleus take Thetis for his bride, risen up from Ocean’s foam, to whose marriage, they say, the heaven-dwellers thronged, and with equal joy each sea divinity. What cause so suddenly has changed thy face? Tell me what mean thy pallor and thy tears.
OCTAVIA: POPPAEA My sad heart, dear nurse, is confused and troubled by a fearful vision of yester-night, and my senses reel. For, after joyful day had to the dark stars yielded, and the sky to night, held close in my Nero’s arms I lay relaxed in slumber. But not long was it granted to enjoy sweet rest; for my marriage chamber seemed thronged with many mourners; with streaming hair did Roman matrons come, making tearful lamentations; midst oft repeated and fearful trumpet blasts, my husband’s mother, with threatening mien and savage, brandished a blood-spattered torch.
OCTAVIA: While I was following her, driven by urgent fear, suddenly the earth yawned beneath me in a mighty chasm. Downward through this I plunged and there, as on earth, beheld my wedding-couch, wondering to behold it, whereon I sank in utter weariness, I saw approaching, with a throng around him, my former husband and my son. Crispinus hastened to take me in his arms, to kiss me as long ago; when hurriedly into my chamber Nero burst and buried his savage sword in the other’s throat. At length a mighty fear roused me from slumber; my bones and limbs shook with a violent trembling; my heart beat wildly; fear checked my utterance, which now thy love and loyalty have restored to me. Alas! What do the spirits of the dead threaten me, or what means the blood of my husband that I saw?
OCTAVIA: NURSE Whatever the mind’s waking vigor eagerly pursues, a mysterious, secret sense, swift working, brings back in sleep. Dost marvel that thou didst behold husband and marriage-bed, held fast in thy new lord’s arms? But do hands beating breasts and streaming hair on a day of joy trouble thee? ’Twas Octavia’s divorce they mourned midst her brother’s sacred gods and her father’s house. That torch which thou didst follow, borne in Augusta’s hand, foretells the name that thou shall gain illumed by envy. Thy abode in the lower world promises the stablished marriage-bed of a home unending. Whereas thine emperor buried his sword in that other’s throat, wars shall he not wage, but in peace shall sheathe his sword. Take heart again, recall thy joy, I pray; banish thy fear and return thee to thy chamber.
OCTAVIA: POPPAEA Rather am I resolved to seek the shrines and sacred altars, and with slain victims sacrifice to the holy gods, that the threats of night and sleep may be averted, and that my crazed terror may turn against my foes. Do thou make vows for me and with pious prayers implore the gods of heaven that my present lot may be abiding. [Exeunt.]
OCTAVIA: CHORUS [of Roman women in sympathy with POPPAEA.] If truly speaks babbling rumor of the Thunderer’s sweet stolen loves, (who now, they say, in feathery plumage hid, held Leda in his embrace, now over the waves, in fierce bull-form, the stolen Europa bore,) even now will he desert the stars over which he rules and seek thy arms, Poppaea, which even to Leda’s he might prefer, and to thine, O Danae, before whose wondering eyes in olden time he poured down in yellow gold. Let Sparta vaunt the beauty of her daughter, and let the Phrygian shepherd vaunt his prize; she will outshine the face of Tyndaris, which set dread war on foot and levelled Phrygia’s kingdom with the ground.
OCTAVIA: But who comes running with excited steps? What tidings bears he in his heaving breast?
[Enter MESSENGER.]
OCTAVIA: MESSENGER Whatever guard holds watch over our leader’s house, let it defend the palace which the people’s fury threatens. See, in trembling haste the captains are bringing cohorts to defend the town; nor does the mob’s madness, rashly roused, give place, overcome with fear, but gathers strength.
OCTAVIA: CHORUS What is that wild frenzy which stirs their hearts?
OCTAVIA: MESSENGER Smitten with love for Octavia and beside themselves with rage, the throngs rush on, in mood for any crime.
OCTAVIA: CHORUS What do they dare to do, or what is their plan, tell thou.
OCTAVIA: MESSENGER They plan to give back to Claudia her dead father’s house, her brother’s bed and her due share of empire.
OCTAVIA: CHORUS Which even now Poppaea shares with her lord in mutual loyalty?
OCTAVIA: MESSENGER ’Tis this too stubborn love that inflames their minds and into rash madness drives them headlong. Whatever statue was set up of noble marble or of gleaming bronze, which bore the features of Poppaea, lies low, cast down by base-born hands and by relentless bars overturned; the limbs, pulled down by ropes, they drag piecemeal, trample them over and over and cover them with foul mud. Commingled curses match their savage acts, which I am afraid to tell of. They make ready to hem the emperor’s house with flames should he not yield to the people’s wrath his new-made bride, not yield to Claudia the home that is her own. That he himself may know of the citizens’ uprising, with my own lips will I hasten to perform the prefect’s bidding. [Exit.]
OCTAVIA: CHORUS Why do you stir up dire strife in vain? Invincible the shafts that Cupid bears; with his own flames will he overwhelm your fires, with which he oft has quenched thunderbolts and dragged Jove as his captive from the sky. To the offended god dire penalties shall you pay even with your blood. Not slow to wrath is the glowing boy, nor easy to be ruled; ’twas he who bade the fierce Achilles smite the lyre, broke down the Greeks, broke down Atrides, the kingdoms of Priam overthrew, and famed cities utterly destroyed; and now my mind shudders at the thought of what the unchecked power of the relentless god will do.
[Enter NERO.]
OCTAVIA: NERO Oh, too slow are my soldiers’ hands, and too patient my wrath after such sacrilege as this, seeing that the blood of citizens has not quenched the fires they kindled against me, and that with the slaughter of her people mourning Rome reeks not, who bore such men as these. But she for whose sake the citizens rage at me, my sister-wife whom with distrust I ever look upon, shall give her life at last to sate my grief, and quench my anger with her blood. But now death is too light a punishment for her deeds. Heavier doom has the people’s unhallowed guilt deserved. Quickly let Rome’s roofs fall beneath my flames; let fires, let ruins crush the guilty populace, and wretched want, and grief and hunger dire. The huge mob grows riotous, distempered by the blessings of my age, nor hath it understanding of my mercy in its thanklessness nor can it suffer peace; but here ’tis swept along by restless insolence and there by its own recklessness is headlong borne. By suffering must it be held in check, be ever pressed beneath the heavy yoke, that it may never dare the like again, and against my wife’s sacred countenance lift its eyes; crushed by the fear of punishment, it shall be taught to obey its emperor’s nod.
OCTAVIA: But here I see the man whose rare loyalty and proven faith have made him captain of my royal guards.
[Enter PREFECT.]
OCTAVIA: PREFECT The people’s rage by slaughter of some few, who recklessly long resisted, is put down: such is my report.
OCTAVIA: NERO And is this enough? Is it thus a soldier has obeyed his chief? “Put down,” sayst thou? Is this the vengeance due to me?
OCTAVIA: PREFECT The guilty ring-leaders of the mob have fallen by the sword.
OCTAVIA: NERO But the mob itself, that dared to attack my household with their torches, dictate to the emperor, from my very bed to drag my noble wife, to offer her violence, so far as lay in their power, with hands unclean and voices insolent? Are they still without due punishment?
OCTAVIA: PREFECT Shall angry grief determine penalty against thy citizens?
OCTAVIA: NERO It shall determine, the tale of which no age shall banish from men’s lips.
OCTAVIA: PREFECT Which neither wrath nor fear of us can hold in check?
OCTAVIA: NERO She first shall appease who has first deserved my wrath.
OCTAVIA: PREFECT Whom it demands tell thou, that my hand may spare not.
OCTAVIA: NERO The slaughter of my sister it demands, and her hateful head.
OCTAVIA: PREFECT Fearful, benumbing horror holds me fast.
OCTAVIA: NERO Does thy obedience falter?
OCTAVIA: PREFECT Why dost condemn my faith?
OCTAVIA: NERO Because thou sparest my foe.
OCTAVIA: PREFECT Callest thou a woman foe?
OCTAVIA: NERO If crime she has committed.
OCTAVIA: PREFECT Who charges her with guilt?
OCTAVIA: NERO The people’s rage.
OCTAVIA: PREFECT But who can check their madness?
OCTAVIA: NERO She who could rouse it.
OCTAVIA: PREFECT Not any one, I think.
OCTAVIA: NERO Woman, to whom nature has given a mind to mischief prone, and equipped her heart with wiles to work us ill.
OCTAVIA: PREFECT But strength it has denied her.
OCTAVIA: NERO That so she might not be impregnable, but that fear or punishment might break her feeble strength, a punishment which now, though late, shall crush the criminal, who has too long been guilty.
OCTAVIA: But have done with advice and prayers, and do my bidding: let her be borne by ship to some far distant shore and there be slain, that at last the terror at my heart may be at rest. [Exeunt.]
OCTAVIA: CHORUS Oh, dire and deadly to many has the people’s favor proved, that has filled their vessels’ sails with prosperous breeze and borne them out afar, then, languishing, has failed them on the deep and dangerous sea. The wretched mother of the Gracchi wept her sons, whom, though nobly born, for loyal faith and eloquence renowned, though brave in heart, keen in defense of law, the great love and excessive favor of the citizens destroyed. Thee also, Livius, to fate like theirs did fortune give, whom neither his lictors’ rods nor his own house protected. But present grief forbids us to rehearse more instances. Her, to whom but now the citizens decreed the restoration of her father’s house, her brother’s bed, now may they see dragged out in tears and misery to punishment and death. Oh, blessed poverty, content to hide beneath a lowly roof, while lofty homes the storm-blasts oft-times shatter, or fortune overthrows.
[Enter OCTAVIA in the custody of the palace guards, who are dragging her roughly away.]
OCTAVIA: OCTAVIA Oh, whither do ye drag me? What exile does the tyrant or his queen ordain, if, softened and overcome by all my miseries, she grants me life? But if by death she is ready to crown my sufferings, why, cruel, does she even grudge me death at home? But now is no hope of safety — ah, woe is me, I see my brother’s ship. And lo, on that vessel on which his mother once was borne, now, driven from his chamber, his wretched sister, too, shall sail away. Now Piety no longer has divinity, nor are there any gods; grim Fury reigns throughout the universe. Who worthily can lament my evil plight? What nightingale can match my tears with her complaints? Whose wings would that the fates might grant to wretched me! Then on swift pinions borne, would I leave my grievous troubles far behind, the dismal haunts of men, and cruel slaughter. There, all alone, within some solitary wood, perched on a slender bough, might I pour forth from plaintive throat my song of woe.
OCTAVIA: CHORUS Our mortal race is ruled by fate, nor may any promise to himself that the path of life will be sure and steadfast, along which each coming day with its continual fears brings ever-shifting chances. Comfort now thy heart with the many sufferings which thine own house has borne. In what has fortune been more harsh to thee?
OCTAVIA: And thee first must I name, the mother of so many sons, Agrippa’s child, Augustus’ daughter-in-law, a Caesar’s wife, whose name shone bright throughout the world, whose teeming womb brought forth so many hostages of peace; yet thou wast doomed to suffer exile, blows and galling chains, loss of thy friends, and bitter grief, and at last a death of lingering agony. And Livia, blest in her Drusus’ chamber, in her sons, fell into brutal crime — and punishment. Julia met her mother’s fate; though after long delay, yet she was slain by the sword, though no man called her guilty. What power once was thy mother’s, who ruled the palace of the emperor, dear to her husband, and in her son secure? Yet she was made subject to her slave, and fell beneath a brutal soldier’s sword. And what of her who might have hoped for the very throne of heaven, the emperor’s great mother? Was she not first by a murderous boatman’s hand abused, then, mangled by the sword, lay she not long the victim of her cruel son?
OCTAVIA: OCTAVIA Me also to the gloomy shades and ghosts, the cruel tyrant, see, is sending. Why do I now make vain and pitiable delay? Hurry me on to death, ye to whose power fortune hath given me. Witness, ye heavenly gods — what wouldst thou, fool? Pray not to deities who scorn thee. Witness, O Tartarus, ye goddesses of Erebus who punish crime, and thou, O father: destroy the tyrant, worthy such death and punishment. [To her guards.] I dread not the death you threaten. Put your ship in readiness, set sail upon the deep, and let your pilot speed before the winds to Pandataria’s shore.
[Exit OCTAVIA with her guards.]
OCTAVIA: CHORUS Ye gentle breezes and ye zephyrs mild, that once caught Iphigenia wrapped in an airy cloud, and bore her from the altar of the cruel maid, this maiden, too, far from her dire punishment bear ye, I pray, to the shrine of Trivia. More merciful than Rome is Aulis and the Taurians’ barbarous land: there by the blood of strangers are the gods appeased; but Rome’s delight is in her children’s blood.