Iphigenia in Aulis and Other Plays

Full Text

Source: Perseus Digital Library TEI transcriptions (canonical-greekLit, tlg0006) of E. P. Coleridge, The Plays of Euripides (London: George Bell & Sons, 1891) Source URL: https://github.com/PerseusDL/canonical-greekLit/tree/master/data/tlg0006 Translator: E. P. Coleridge (1891) Public domain basis: Complete prose translations by Edward P. Coleridge (1891) of eleven plays not otherwise in the library: Iphigenia in Aulis, The Heracleidae, Andromache, The Suppliants, Heracles, Ion, Helen, The Phoenician Maidens, Orestes, Rhesus (authorship disputed) and the satyr play The Cyclops. Editorial notes omitted. Public domain.

IPHIGENIA IN AULIS (Translated by E. P. Coleridge, 1891)

AGAMEMNON [Scene. — The sea-coast at Aulis.] Leda, the daughter of Thestius, had three children, maidens, Phoebe, Clytemnestra my wife, and Helen; the foremost of the favored sons of Hellas came to woo Helen; but terrible threats of spilling his rival’s blood were uttered by each of them, if he should fail to win the girl. Now the matter filled Tyndareus, her father, with perplexity, whether to give her or not, how he might best succeed. This thought occurred to him: the suitors should swear to each other and join right hands and pour libations with burnt-sacrifice, binding themselves by this curse: whoever wins the child of Tyndareus for wife, they will assist that man, in case a rival takes her from his house and goes his way, robbing her husband of his rights; and march against that man in armed array and raze his city to the ground, Hellene no less than barbarian. Now when they had once pledged their word and old Tyndareus with no small cleverness had beguiled them by his shrewd device, he allowed his daughter to choose from among her suitors the one towards whom the sweet breezes of Aphrodite might carry her. Her choice fell on Menelaus; would she had never taken him! Then there came to Lacedaemon from the Phrygians the man who, Argive legend says, judged the goddesses’ dispute; in robes of gorgeous hue, ablaze with gold, in true barbaric pomp; and he, finding Menelaus gone from home, carried Helen off, in mutual desire, to his steading on Ida. Goaded to frenzy, Menelaus flew through Hellas, invoking the ancient oath exacted by Tyndareus and declaring the duty of helping the injured husband. And so the Hellenes, brandishing their spears and donning their harness, came here to the narrow straits of Aulis with armaments of ships and troops, with many horses and chariots, and they chose me to captain them all for the sake of Menelaus, since I was his brother. Would that some other had gained that distinction instead of me! But after the army was gathered and come together, we still remained at Aulis weatherbound. In our perplexity, we asked Calchas, the seer, and he answered that we should sacrifice my own child Iphigenia to Artemis, whose home is in this land, and we would sail and sack the Phrygians’ capital if we sacrificed her, but if we did not, these things would not happen. When I heard this, I commanded Talthybius with loud proclamation to disband the whole army, as I could never bear to slay my daughter. Whereupon my brother, bringing every argument to bear, persuaded me at last to face the crime; so I wrote in a folded scroll and sent to my wife, bidding her despatch our daughter to me on the pretence of wedding Achilles, at the same time magnifying his exalted rank and saying that he refused to sail with the Achaeans, unless a bride of our lineage should go to Phthia. Yes, this was the inducement I offered my wife, inventing, as I did, a sham marriage for the maiden. Of all the Achaeans we alone know the real truth, Calchas, Odysseus, Menelaus and myself; but that which I then decided wrongly, I now rightly countermand again in this scroll, which you, old man, have found me opening and resealing beneath the shade of night. Up now and away with this missive to Argos, and I will tell you by word of mouth all that is written here, the contents of the folded scroll, for you are loyal to my wife and house. Old man, come here and stand before my dwelling.

OLD MAN I come; what new schemes now, king Agamemnon?

AGAMEMNON Will you hurry?

OLD MAN I am hurrying. It is little enough sleep old age allows me and keenly it watches over my eyes.

AGAMEMNON What can that star be, steering its course there?

OLD MAN Sirius, still shooting over the zenith on his way near the Pleiads’ sevenfold track.

AGAMEMNON The birds are still at any rate and the sea is calm, hushed are the winds, and silence broods over the Euripus.

OLD MAN Then why are you outside your tent, why so restless, my lord Agamemnon? All is yet quiet here in Aulis, the watch on the walls is not yet astir. Let us go in.

AGAMEMNON I envy you, old man, yes, and every man who leads a life secure, unknown and unrenowned; but little I envy those in office.

OLD MAN And yet it is there that we place the be-all and end-all of existence.

AGAMEMNON Yes, but that is where the danger comes; and ambition, sweet though it seems, brings sorrow with its near approach. At one time the unsatisfied claims of the gods upset our life, at another the numerous peevish fancies of our subjects shatter it.

OLD MAN I do not like these sentiments in one who is a chief. It was not to enjoy all blessings that Atreus begot you, Agamemnon; but you must experience joy and sorrow alike, mortal as you are. Even though you like it not, this is what the gods decree. But you, after letting your taper spread its light abroad, write the letter which is still in your hands and then erase the same words again, sealing and reopening the tablet, then flinging it to the ground with floods of tears, and leaving nothing undone in your aimless behavior to stamp you mad. What is it that troubles you? what news is there affecting you, king? Come, share with me your story; you will be telling it to a loyal and trusty heart; for Tyndareus sent me that day to form part of your wife’s dowry and to wait upon the bride with loyalty.

AGAMEMNON Daughter of Leda, in addition to my first letter, I am sending you word —.

OLD MAN Say on and make it plain, that what my tongue utters may accord with what you have written.

AGAMEMNON Not to despatch your daughter to Euboea’s deep-gulfed wing, to the waveless bay of Aulis, for after all we will celebrate our child’s wedding at another time.

OLD MAN And how will Achilles, cheated of his bride, curb the fury of his indignation against you and your wife? Here also is a danger. Make clear what you are saying.

AGAMEMNON It is his name, not himself that Achilles is lending, knowing nothing of the marriage or of my scheming or my professed readiness to betroth my daughter to him for a husband’s embrace.

OLD MAN A dreadful venture yours, king Agamemnon, you that, by promise of your daughter’s hand to the son of the goddess, were bringing the maid here to be sacrificed for the Danaids.

AGAMEMNON Ah me! I am utterly distraught; alas! bewilderment comes over me. Away! hurry your steps, yielding nothing to old age.

OLD MAN I will make haste, king.

AGAMEMNON Do not sit down by woodland fountains; scorn the witcheries of sleep.

OLD MAN Hush!

AGAMEMNON And when you pass any place where roads diverge, cast your eyes all round, taking heed that no mule-wagon eacape you, passing by on rolling wheels, bearing my child to the ships of the Danaids.

OLD MAN It shall be so.

AGAMEMNON Start then from the bolted gates, and if you meet the escort, start them back again, and drive at full speed to the abodes of the Cyclopes.

OLD MAN But tell me, how shall my message find credit with your wife or child?

AGAMEMNON Preserve the seal which you bear on this tablet. Away! Already the dawn is growing grey, lighting the lamp of day and the fire of the sun’s four steeds; help me in my trouble. Exit Old man. No mortal is prosperous or happy to the last, for no one was ever born to a painless life. Exit Agamemnon.

CHORUS To the sandy beach of sea-coast Aulis I have come after a voyage through the tides of narrow Euripus, leaving Chalcis, my city which feeds the waters of far-famed Arethusa near the sea, so that I might behold the army of the Achaeans and the ships rowed by those godlike heroes; for our husbands tell us that fair-haired Menelaus and high-born Agamemnon are leading them to Troy on a thousand ships in quest of Helen, whom Paris the herdsman carried off from the banks of reedy Eurotas, his gift from Aphrodite, when that queen of Cyprus entered beauty’s contest with Hera and Pallas at the gushing fountain.

CHORUS Through the grove of Artemis, rich with sacrifice, I sped my course, my cheek stained with red from maiden modesty, in my eagerness to see the soldiers’ camp, the tents of the mail-clad Danaids, and their crowd of horses. I saw two met together in council; one was Aias, son of Oileus; the other Aias, son of Telamon, crown of glory to the men of Salamis; and I saw Protesilaus and Palamedes, sprung from the son of Poseidon, sitting there amusing themselves with intricate figures at checkers; Diomedes too at his favorite sport of hurling quoits; and Meriones, Ares’ son, a marvel to mankind, stood at his side; likewise I beheld the son of Laertes, who came from his island hills, and with him Nireus, handsomest of the Achaeans.

CHORUS Achilles next, that nimble runner, swift on his feet as the wind, whom Thetis bore and Chiron trained, I saw upon the beach, racing in full armor along the shingle, and straining every nerve to beat a team of four horses, as he sped round the track on foot; and Eumelus, the grandson of Pheres, their driver, was shouting when I saw him, goading on his lovely steeds, with their bits of chased gold-work; the center pair, that bore the yoke, had dappled coats picked out with white, while the tracehorses, on the outside, facing the turning-post in the course, were bays with spotted fetlocks. Close beside them Peleus’ son leapt on his way, in all his harness, keeping abreast the rail by the axle-box.

CHORUS Next I sought the countless fleet, a wonder to behold, that I might fill my girlish eyes with gazing, a sweet delight. The warlike Myrmidons from Phthia held the right wing with fifty swift cruisers, upon whose sterns, right at the ends, stood Nereid goddesses in golden effigy, the ensign of Achilles’ armament.

CHORUS Near these were moored the Argive ships in equal numbers, over which Mecisteus’ son, whom Talaus his grandfather reared, and Sthenelus, son of Capaneus, were in command; next in order, Theseus’ son was stationed at the head of sixty ships from Attica, having the goddess Pallas set in a winged chariot drawn by steeds with solid hoof, a lucky sight for mariners.

CHORUS Then I saw Boeotia’s fleet of fifty sails decked with ensigns; these had Cadmus at the stern holding a golden dragon at the beaks of the vessels, and earth-born Leitus was their admiral. And there were ships from Phocis; and from Locris came the son of Oileus with an equal contingent, leaving famed Thronium’s citadel.

CHORUS And from Mycenae, the Cyclopes’ town, Atreus’ son sent a hundred well-manned galleys, and Adrastoshis brother was with him in command, as friend with friend, that Hellas might exact vengeance on the one who had fled her home to wed a foreigner. Also I saw upon Gerenian Nestor’s prows from Pylos the ensign of his neighbour Alpheus, four-footed like a bull.

CHORUS Moreover there was a squadron of twelve Aenianian sail under King Gouneus; and then near them the lords of Elis, whom all the people named Epeians; and Eurytus was lord of these; Iikewise he led the Taphian warriors with the white oar-blades, the subjects of Meges, son of Phyleus, who had left the isles of the Echinades, where sailors cannot land.

CHORUS Lastly, Aias, reared in Salamis, was joining his right wing to the left of those near whom he was posed, closing the line with his outermost ships, twelve barques obedient to the helm, as I heard and then saw the crews; the one who brings his barbaric boats to grapple Aias shall obtain no safe return. There I saw the naval armament, but some things I heard at home about the gathered army, of which I still have a recollection.

OLD MAN [as Menelaus wrests a letter from him.] Strange daring yours, Menelaus, where you have no right.

MENELAUS Stand back! You carry loyalty to your master too far.

OLD MAN The very reproach you have for me is to my credit.

MENELAUS You shall rue it, if you meddle in matters that do not concern you.

OLD MAN You had no right to open a letter, which I was carrying.

MENELAUS No, nor you to be carrying sorrow to all Hellas.

OLD MAN Argue that point with others, but surrender that letter to me.

MENELAUS I shall not let go.

OLD MAN Nor will I let loose my hold.

MENELAUS Why then, this staff of mine will be dabbling your head with blood before long.

OLD MAN To die in my master’s cause would be a noble death.

MENELAUS Let go! you are too wordy for a slave.

OLD MAN [seeing Agamemnon approaching] Master, he is wronging me; he snatched your letter violently from my grasp, Agamemnon, and will not heed the claims of right.

AGAMEMNON Ah! what is this uproar at the gates, this indecent brawling?

MENELAUS My tale, not his, has the better right to be spoken.

AGAMEMNON You, Menelaus! what quarrel do you have with this man, why are you dragging him here? Exit ATTENDANT.

MENELAUS Look me in the face! May that be the prelude to my story.

AGAMEMNON Shall I, the son of Atreus, close my eyes from fear?

MENELAUS Do you see this tablet, the bearer of a shameful message?

AGAMEMNON I see it, yes; now, you first of all surrender it.

MENELAUS No, not till I have shown its contents to all the army.

AGAMEMNON What! have you broken the seal and know already what you should never have known?

MENELAUS Yes, I opened it and know to your sorrow the secret machinations of your heart.

AGAMEMNON Where did you get it? O gods! what shameless heart you have!

MENELAUS I was awaiting your daughter’s arrival at the camp in Argos.

AGAMEMNON What right have you to watch my doings? is not this a proof of shamelessness?

MENELAUS My wish to do it gave the spur, for I am no slave to you.

AGAMEMNON Infamous! Am I not to be allowed the management of my own house?

MENELAUS No, for you think crooked thoughts, one thing now, another formerly, and something different presently.

AGAMEMNON Most exquisite refining on evil themes! A hateful thing the tongue of cleverness!

MENELAUS Yes, but a mind unstable is an unjust possession, disloyal to friends. Now I am anxious to test you, and do not seek from rage to turn aside from the truth, nor will I on my part overstrain the case. Do you remember when you were all eagerness to captain the Danaids against Troy, making a pretence of declining, though eager for it in your heart; how humble you were then, taking each man by the hand and keeping open doors for every fellow-townsman who cared to enter, affording each in turn chance to speak with you, even though some did not wish it, seeking by these methods to purchase popularity from all bidders? Then when you had secured the command, there came a change over your manners; you were no longer so cordial as before to former friends, but hard of access, seldom to be found at home. But the man of real worth ought not to change his manners in the hour of prosperity, but should then show himself most staunch to friends, when his own good fortune can help them most effectually. This was the first cause I had to reprove you, for it was here I first discovered your villainy; but afterwards, when you came to Aulis with all the gathered hosts of Hellas, you were of no account; no! the want of a favorable breeze filled you with consternation at the chance dealt out by the gods. Then the Danaids began demanding that you should send the fleet away instead of vainly toiling on at Aulis; what dismay and confusion was then depicted in your looks, to think that you, with a thousand ships at your command, had not occupied the plains of Priam with your armies! And you would ask my counsel, What am I to do? What scheme can I devise, where find one?—to save yourself being stripped of your command and losing your fair fame. Next when Calchas bade you offer your daughter in sacrifice to Artemis, declaring that the Danaids should then sail, you were overjoyed, and gladly undertook to offer the girl, and of your own accord—never allege compulsion—you are sending word to your wife to despatch your daughter here on pretence of wedding Achilles. And after all you turn round and have been caught casting your letter to this effect: I will no longer be my daughter’s murderer. Exactly so! This is the same air that heard you say it. Countless others have done the same; they make an effort while in power, and then retire dishonorably, sometimes owing to the senselessness of the citizens, sometimes deservedly, because they are too feeble of themselves to maintain their watch upon the state. For my part, I am more sorry for our unhappy Hellas, whose purpose was to read these worthless foreigners a lesson, while now she will let them escape and mock her, thanks to you and your daughter. May I never appoint a man to rule my country or lead its warriors because of his couragekinship! Sense is what the general must have; since any man, with ordinary intelligence, can govern a state.

CHORUS LEADER For brothers to come to words and blows, whenever they disagree, is terrible.

AGAMEMNON I wish to rebuke you in turn, briefly, not lifting my eyes too high shamelessly, but in more sober fashion, as a brother; for it is a good man’s way to be considerate. Tell me, why this burst of fury, these bloodshot eyes? who wrongs you? what is it you want? are you longing to have a virtuous wife? WeIl, I cannot supply you; for she, whom you once had, was ill-controlled by you. Am I then, a man who never went astray, to suffer for your sins? or is it my popularity that galls you? No! it is the longing you have to keep a beautiful woman in your embrace, casting reason and honor to the winds. A bad man’s pleasures are like himself. Am I mad, if I change to wiser counsels, after previously deciding amiss? Yours is the madness rather in wishing to recover a wicked wife, once you had lost her—a stroke of heaven-sent luck. Those foolish suitors swore that oath to Tyndareus in their longing to wed; but Hope was the goddess that led them on, I think, and she it was that brought it about rather than you and your strength. So take the field with them; they are ready for it in the folly of their hearts; for the deity is not without insight, but is able to discern where oaths have been wrongly pledged or forcibly extorted. I will not slay my children, nor shall your interests be prospered by justice in your vengeance for a worthless wife, while I am left wasting, night and day, in sorrow for what I did to one of my own flesh and blood, contrary to all law and justice. Here is your answer shortly given, clear and easy to understand; and if you will not come to your senses, I shall do the best for myself.

CHORUS LEADER This differs from your previous declaration, but there is good in it, your child’s reprieve.

MENELAUS Ah me, how sad my lot! I have no friends then after all.

AGAMEMNON Friends you have, if you do not seek their destruction.

MENELAUS Where will you find any proof that you are sprung from the same father as I?

AGAMEMNON It is your moderation, not your madness, that I share by nature.

MENELAUS Friends should sympathize with friends in sorrow.

AGAMEMNON Claim my help by kindly service, not by paining me.

MENELAUS So you have no mind to share this trouble with Hellas?

AGAMEMNON No, Hellas is diseased like you, according to some god’s design.

MENELAUS Go boast of your scepter, after betraying your own brother! while I will seek some different means and other friends.

MESSENGER [entering hurriedly.] Agamemnon, lord of Hellas! I have come and bring you your daughter, whom you call Iphigenia in your home; and her mother, your wife Clytemnestra, is with her, and the child Orestes, a sight to gladden you after your long absence from your home; but they had been travelling long and far, they are now resting their tender feet at the waters of a fair spring, they and their horses, for we turned these loose in the grassy meadow to browse their fill. But I have come as their forerunner to prepare you for their reception; for the army knows already of your daughter’s arrival, so quickly did the rumor spread; and all the people are running together to the sight, that they may see your child; for Fortune’s favorites enjoy world-wide fame and have all eyes fixed on them. Some say: Is it a wedding, or what is happening? or has king Agamemnon from fond yearning summoned his daughter here? From others you would have heard: They are presenting the maiden to Artemis, queen of Aulis, previous to marriage; who can the bridegroom be, that is to lead her home? Come, then, begin the rites, that is the next step, by getting the baskets ready; crown your heads—you too, lord Menelaus; prepare the wedding hymn; let flutes sound throughout the tents with noise of dancer’s feet; for this is a happy day, that has come for the maid.

AGAMEMNON You have my thanks; now go within; for the rest it will be well, as Fate proceeds. Exit Messenger. Ah, woe is me! unhappy wretch, what can I say? where shall I begin? To what cruel straits have I been plunged! A god has outwitted me, proving far cleverer than any cunning of mine. What an advantage humble birth possesses! for it is easy for her sons to weep and tell out all their sorrows; while to the high-born man come these same sorrows, but we heve dignity throned over our life and are the people’s slaves. I, for instance, am ashamed to weep, and no less ashamed, poor wretch, to check my tears at the dreadful pass to which I am brought. Enough; what am I to tell my wife? how shall I welcome her? with what face meet her? for she too has undone me by coming uninvited in this my hour of sorrow; yet it was only natural she should come with her daughter to prepare the bride and perform the fondest duties, where she will discover my villainy. And for this poor maid—why maid? Death, it seems, will soon make her his bride—how I pity her! Thus will she plead to me, I think: My father, will you slay me? May you yourself make such a marriage, and whoever is a friend to you! While Orestes, from his station near us, will cry in childish accents, inarticulate, yet fraught with meaning. Alas! to what utter ruin Paris, the son of Priam, the cause of these troubles, has brought me by his union with Helen!

CHORUS LEADER I pity her myself, as a woman who is a stranger may grieve for the misfortunes of royalty.

MENELAUS [offering his hand.] Your hand, brother! let me grasp it.

AGAMEMNON I give it; yours is the victory, mine the sorrow.

MENELAUS By Pelops our reputed grandsire and Atreus our father, I swear to tell you the truth from my heart, without any covert purpose, but only what I think. The sight of you in tears made me pity you, and in return I shed a tear for you myself; I withdraw from my former proposals, ceasing to be a cause of fear to you; yes, and I will put myself in your present position; and I counsel you, do not slay your child or prefer my interests to yours; for it is not just that you should grieve, while I am glad, or that your children should die, while mine still see the light of day. What is it, after all, I seek? If I am set on marriage, could I not find a bride as choice elsewhere? Was I to lose a brother—the last I should have lost—to win a Helen, getting bad for good? I was mad, impetuous as a youth, till I perceived, on closer view, what slaying children really meant. Moreover I am filled with compassion for the hapless maiden, doomed to bleed that I may wed, when I reflect that we are kin. What has your daughter to do with Helen? Let the army be disbanded and leave Aulis; dry those streaming eyes, brother, and do not provoke me to tears. Whatever concern you have in oracles that affect your child, let it be none of mine; into your hands I resign my share. A sudden change, you’ll say, from my dread proposals? A natural course for me; affection for my brother caused the change. These are the ways of a man not devoid of virtue, to pursue on each occasion what is best.

CHORUS LEADER A generous speech, worthy of Tantalus, the son of Zeus; you do not shame your ancestry.

AGAMEMNON I thank you, Menelaus, for this unexpected suggestion; it is an honorable proposal, worthy of you. Sometimes love, sometimes the selfishness of their families, causes a quarrel between brothers; I loathe a relationship of this kind which is bitterness to both. But it is useless, for circumstances compel me to carry out the murderous sacrifice of my daughter.

MENELAUS How so? who will compel you to slay your own?

AGAMEMNON The whole Achaean army here assembled.

MENELAUS Not if you send her back to Argos.

AGAMEMNON I might do that unnoticed, but there will be another thing I cannot.

MENELAUS What is that? You must not fear the mob too much.

AGAMEMNON Calchas will tell the Argive army his oracles.

MENELAUS Not if he should die before that—an easy matter.

AGAMEMNON The whole tribe of seers is a curse with its ambition.

MENELAUS Yes, and good for nothing and useless, when among us.

AGAMEMNON Has the thought, which is rising in my mind, no terrors for you?

MENELAUS How can I understand your meaning, unless you declare it?

AGAMEMNON The son of Sisyphus knows all.

MENELAUS Odysseus cannot possibly hurt us.

AGAMEMNON He was ever shifty by nature, siding with the mob.

MENELAUS True, he is enslaved by the love of popularity, a fearful evil.

AGAMEMNON Don’t you think, then, he will arise among the Argives and tell them the oracles that Calchas delivered, saying of me that I undertook to offer Artemis a victim, and after all am proving false? Then, when he has carried the army away with him, he will bid the Argives slay us and sacrifice the girl; and if I escape to Argos, they will come and destroy the place, razing it to the ground, Cyclopean walls and all. That is my trouble. Woe is me! to what perplexities the gods have brought me at this pass! Take one precaution for me, Menelaus, as you go through the army, that Clytemnestra does not learn this, till I have taken my child and devoted her to death, that my affliction may be attended with the fewest tears. Turning to the Chorus. And you, foreign women, keep silence. Exit Menelaus.

CHORUS Happy are they who find the goddess come in moderate might, sharing with self-restraint in Aphrodite’s gift of marriage and enjoying calm and rest from frenzied passions, where the Love-god, golden-haired, stretches his charmed bow with twin arrows, and one is aimed at happiness, the other at life’s confusion. O lady Cypris, queen of beauty! far from my bridal bower I ban the last. Be mine delight in moderation and pure desires, and may I have a share in love, but shun excess!

CHORUS Men’s natures vary, and their habits differ, but virtue is always manifest. Likewise the training that come of education conduces greatly to virtue; for not only is modesty wisdom, but it has also the rare grace of seeing by its better judgment what is right; whereby a glory, ever young, is shed over life by reputation. A great thing it is to hunt virtue, for women when they love secretly; while in men, an inborn sense of order, shown in countless ways, adds to a city’s greatness.

CHORUS You came, O Paris, to the place where you were reared to herd the cows among the white heifers of Ida, piping in foreign strain and breathing on your reeds an echo of the Phrygian airs Olympus played. Full-uddered cows were browsing at the spot where that verdict between goddesses was awaiting you—the cause of your going to Hellas to stand before the ivory palace, kindling love in Helen’s entranced eyes and feeling its flutter in your own breast; from which the fiend of strife brought Hellas with her spear and ships to the towers of Troy.

CHORUS OF ARGIVE MEN Oh! great is the bliss the great enjoy. Behold Iphigenia, the king’s child, my lady, and Clytemnestra, the daughter of Tyndareus; how proud their lineage! how high their pinnacle of fortune! These mighty ones, whom wealth attends, are very gods in the eyes of less favored folk.

CHORUS Let us stand here, maidens of Chalcis, and lift the queen from her chariot to the ground without stumbling, supporting her gently in our arms, with kind intent, that the renowned daughter of Agamemnon, just arrived, may feel no fear; strangers ourselves, let us avoid anything that may disturb or frighten the strangers from Argos.

CLYTEMNESTRA I take this as a lucky omen, your kindness and auspicious greeting, and have good hope that it is to a happy marriage I conduct the bride. To attendants. Take from the chariot the dowry I am bringing for my daughter and convey it within with careful heed. My daughter, leave the horse-drawn chariot, planting your faltering footstep delicately. To the Chorus. Young women, take her in your arms and lift her from the chariot, and let one of you give me the support of her hand, that I may quit my seat in the carriage with fitting grace. Some of you stand at the horses’ heads; for the horse has a timid eye, easily frightened; here, take this child Orestes, son of Agamemnon, baby as he still is. What! sleeping, little one, tired out by your ride in the chariot? Awake to bless your sister’s wedding; for you, my gallant boy, shall get by this marriage a kinsman gallant as yourself, the Nereid’s godlike offspring. Come here to your mother, my daughter, Iphigenia, and seat yourself beside me, and stationed near show my happiness to these strangers; yes, come here and welcome the father you love so dearly.

IPHIGENIA Do not be angry with me, mother, if I run from your side and throw myself on my father’s breast.

CLYTEMNESTRA Hail! my honored lord, king Agamemnon! we have obeyed your commands and have come.

IPHIGENIA O my father! I long to outrun others and embrace you after this long while; for I yearn to see your face; do not be angry with me.

CLYTEMNESTRA You may do so, daughter; for of all the children I have borne, you have always loved your father best.

IPHIGENIA [throwing herself into Agamemnon’s arms.] I see you, father, joyfully after a long time.

AGAMEMNON And I, your father, see you; your words do equal duty for both of us.

IPHIGENIA All hail, father! you did well in bringing me here to you.

AGAMEMNON I know not how I am to say yes or no to that, my child.

IPHIGENIA Ah! how wildly you are looking, spite of your joy at seeing me.

AGAMEMNON A man has many cares when he is king and general too.

IPHIGENIA Be mine, all mine today; do not turn to moody thoughts.

AGAMEMNON Why so I am, all yours today; I have no other thought.

IPHIGENIA Then smooth your knitted brow, unbend and smile.

AGAMEMNON See! my child, my joy at seeing you is even as it is.

IPHIGENIA And do you then have tears streaming from your eyes?

AGAMEMNON Yes, for long is the absence from each other, that awaits us.

IPHIGENIA I do not know, dear father, I do not know of what you are speaking.

AGAMEMNON You are moving my pity all the more by speaking so sensibly.

IPHIGENIA My words shall turn to senselessness if that will cheer you more.

AGAMEMNON Alas! this silence is too much. You have my thanks.

IPHIGENIA Stay with your children at home, father.

AGAMEMNON My own wish! But to my sorrow I may not

IPHIGENIA Ruin seize their wars and the woes of Menelaus!

AGAMEMNON First will that, which has been my life-long ruin, bring ruin to others.

IPHIGENIA How long you were absent in the bays of Aulis!

AGAMEMNON Yes, and there is still a hindrance to my sending the army forward.

IPHIGENIA Where do men say the Phrygians live, father?

AGAMEMNON In a land where I wish Paris, the son of Priam, never had dwelt.

IPHIGENIA It is a long voyage you are bound on, father, after you leave me.

AGAMEMNON You will meet your father again, my daughter.

IPHIGENIA Ah! would it were seemly for you to take me as a fellow voyager!

AGAMEMNON You too have a voyage to make to a haven where you will remember your father.

IPHIGENIA Shall I sail there with my mother or alone?

AGAMEMNON All alone, without father or mother.

IPHIGENIA What! have you found me a new home, father?

AGAMEMNON Enough of this! it is not for girls to know such things.

IPHIGENIA Please hurry home from Troy, father, as soon as you have triumphed there.

AGAMEMNON There is a sacrifice I have first to offer here.

IPHIGENIA Yes, it is your duty to heed religion with aid of holy rites.

AGAMEMNON You will witness it, for you will be standing near the libations.

IPHIGENIA Am I to lead the dance then round the altar, father?

AGAMEMNON I count you happier than myself because you know nothing. Go within—it is wrong for maidens to be seen—after you have given me your hand and a kiss, on the eve of your lengthy sojourn far from your father’s side. Breast, cheek, and golden hair! ah, how grievous you have found Helen and the Phrygians’ city! I can speak no more; the tears come welling to my eyes, the moment I touch you. Go into the house. Exit Iphigenia. Agamemnon turns to Clytemnestra. I beg your pardon, daughter of Leda, if I showed excessive grief at the thought of giving my daughter to Achilles; for though we are sending her to taste of bliss, still it wrings a parent’s heart, when he, the father who has toiled so hard for them, commits his children to the homes of strangers.

CLYTEMNESTRA I am not so senseless; But I think I will go through this as well, when I lead the girl from the chamber to the sound of the marriage hymn; so I do not chide you; but custom will combine with time to make the smart grow less. As for him, to whom you have betrothed our daughter, I know his name, it is true, but want to learn his lineage and the land of his birth.

AGAMEMNON There was one Aegina, the daughter of Asopus.

CLYTEMNESTRA Who wedded her? Some mortal or a god?

AGAMEMNON Zeus, and she bore Aeacus, the prince of Oenone.

CLYTEMNESTRA What son of Aeacus secured his father’s halls?

AGAMEMNON Peleus, who wedded the daughter of Nereus.

CLYTEMNESTRA With the god’s consent, or when he had taken her in spite of gods?

AGAMEMNON Zeus betrothed her, and her guardian gave consent.

CLYTEMNESTRA Where did he marry her? in the billows of the sea?

AGAMEMNON In Chiron’s home, at sacred Pelion’s foot.

CLYTEMNESTRA What! the abode ascribed to the race of Centaurs?

AGAMEMNON It was there the gods celebrated the marriage feast of Peleus.

CLYTEMNESTRA Did Thetis or his father train Achilles?

AGAMEMNON Chiron brought him up, to prevent his learning the ways of the wicked.

CLYTEMNESTRA Ah! wise the teacher, still wiser the one who gave his son.

AGAMEMNON Such is the future husband of your daughter.

CLYTEMNESTRA A blameless lord; but what city in Hellas is his?

AGAMEMNON He dwells on the banks of the river Apidanus, in the borders of Phthia.

CLYTEMNESTRA Will you convey our daughter there?

AGAMEMNON He who takes her to himself will see to that.

CLYTEMNESTRA Happiness attend the pair! Which day will he marry her?

AGAMEMNON As soon as the full moon comes to give its blessing

CLYTEMNESTRA Have you already offered the goddess a sacrifice to usher in the maiden’s marriage?

AGAMEMNON I am about to do so; that is the very thing I was engaged in.

CLYTEMNESTRA And then will you celebrate the marriage feast afterwards?

AGAMEMNON Yes, when I have offered a sacrifice required by the gods of me.

CLYTEMNESTRA But where am I to make ready the feast for the women?

AGAMEMNON Here beside our gallant Argive ships.

CLYTEMNESTRA Finely here! but still I must; good come of it for all that!

AGAMEMNON Do you know what to do, lady? Then obey me.

CLYTEMNESTRA In what matter? for I was ever accustomed to obey you.

AGAMEMNON Here, where the bridegroom is, I will—

CLYTEMNESTRA Which of my duties will you perform in the mother’s absence?

AGAMEMNON Give your child away with help of Danaids.

CLYTEMNESTRA And where am I to be then?

AGAMEMNON Go to Argos, and take care of your unwedded daughters.

CLYTEMNESTRA And leave my child? Then who will raise her bridal torch?

AGAMEMNON I will provide the proper wedding torch.

CLYTEMNESTRA That is not the custom; but you think lightly of these things.

AGAMEMNON It is not good for you to be alone among a soldier-crowd.

CLYTEMNESTRA It is good that a mother should give her own child away.

AGAMEMNON Yes, and that those maidens at home should not be left alone.

CLYTEMNESTRA They are well guarded in their maiden bowers.

AGAMEMNON Obey.

CLYTEMNESTRA No, by the goddess-queen of Argos! Go, manage matters out of doors; but in the house it is my place to decide what is proper for maidens at their wedding.

AGAMEMNON Woe is me! my efforts are baffled; I am disappointed in my hope, anxious as I was to get my wife out of sight; foiled at every point, I form my plots and subtle schemes against my best-beloved. But I will go, in spite of all, with Calchas the priest, to inquire the goddess’s good pleasure, fraught with ill-luck as it is to me, and with trouble to Hellas. He who is wise should keep in his house a good and useful wife or none at all.

CHORUS The Hellenes’ gathered army will come in arms aboard their ships to Simois with its silver eddies, to Ilium, the plain of Troy beloved by Phoebus; where Cassandra, I am told, wildly tosses her golden tresses, wreathed with crown of green laurel, whenever the god’s resistless prophecies inspire her.

CHORUS And on the towers of Troy and round her walls shall Trojans stand, when sea-borne troops with brazen shields row in on shapely ships to the channels of the Simois, eager to take Helen, the sister of that heavenly pair whom Zeus begot, from Priam, and bear her back to Hellas by toil of Achaean shields and spears.

CHORUS The son of Atreus, encircling Pergamus, the Phrygians’ town, with murderous war around her stone-built towers, dragging Paris’s head backward to cut his throat and sacking the city from roof to base, shall be a cause of many tears to maids and Priam’s wife. And Helen, the daughter of Zeus, shall weep in bitter grief because she left her lord. Never may there appear to me or to my children’s children the prospect which the wealthy Lydian ladies and Phrygia’s brides will have as at their looms they converse: Tell me, who will pluck me away from my ruined country, tightening his grasp on lovely tresses till the tears flow? it is all through you, the offspring of the long-necked swan; if indeed it is a true report that Leda bore you to a winged bird, when Zeus transformed himself there, or whether, in the tablets of the poets, fables have carried these tales to men’s ears idly, out of season.

ACHILLES Where is Achaea’s general? Which of his servants will announce to him that Achilles, the son of Peleus, is at his gates seeking him? For this delay at the Euripus is not the same for all of us; there are some, for instance, who, bing still unwed, have left their houses desolate and are idling here upon the beach, while others are married but without children; so strange the longing for this expedition that has fallen on their hearts by the will of the gods. My own just plea I must declare, and whoever else has any wish will speak for himself. Though I have left Pharsalia, and Peleus, still I linger here by reason of these light breezes at the Euripus, restraining my Myrmidons, while they are always pressing on me, saying: Why do we tarry, Achilles? how much longer must we count the days to the start for Ilium? do something if you are so minded; or lead home your men, and do not wait for the tardy action of these Atridae.

CLYTEMNESTRA Hail to you, son of the Nereid goddess! I heard your voice from within the tent and came forth.

ACHILLES O modesty revered! who can this lady be whom I behold, so richly dowered with beauty’s gifts?

CLYTEMNESTRA No wonder you do not know me, seeing I am one you have never before set eyes on; I praise your reverent address to modesty.

ACHILLES Who are you, and why have you come to the mustering of the Danaids—you, a woman, to a fenced camp of men?

CLYTEMNESTRA I am the daughter of Leda; my name is Clytemnestra; and my husband king Agamemnon.

ACHILLES Well and shortly answered on all important points, but it is shameful for me to stand talking to women.

CLYTEMNESTRA Stay; why seek to escape? give me your hand, a prelude to a happy marriage.

ACHILLES What is it you say? I give you my hand? To lay a finger where I have no right, I could never meet Agamemnon’s eye.

CLYTEMNESTRA The best of rights you have, seeing it is my child you will wed, O son of the sea-goddess, daughter of Nereus.

ACHILLES What wedding do you speak of? Words fail me, lady; can your wits have gone astray and are you inventing this?

CLYTEMNESTRA All men are naturally shy in the presence of new relations, when these remind them of their wedding.

ACHILLES Lady, I have never courted your daughter, nor have the sons of Atreus ever mentioned marriage to me.

CLYTEMNESTRA What can it mean? Your turn now to marvel at my words, for yours are very strange to me.

ACHILLES Hazard a guess; that we can both do in this matter; for it may be we are both correct in our statements.

CLYTEMNESTRA What! have I suffered such indignity? The marriage I am courting has no reality it seems; I am ashmed of it.

ACHILLES Some one perhaps has made a mock of you and me; pay no heed to it; make light of it.

CLYTEMNESTRA Farewell; I can no longer face you with unfaltering eyes, after being made a liar and suffering undeservedly.

ACHILLES It is farewell I bid you too, lady; and I go within the tent to seek your husband.

OLD MAN [calling through the tent door.] Stranger of the race of Aeacus, stay awhile! Ho there! I mean you, O goddess-born, and you, daughter of Leda.

ACHILLES Who is it calling through the half-opened door? What fear his voice betrays!

OLD MAN A slave; of that I am not proud, for fortune does not permit it.

ACHILLES Whose slave are you? not mine; for mine and Agamemnon’s goods are separate.

OLD MAN I belong to this lady who stands before the tent, a gift to her from Tyndareus her father.

ACHILLES I am waiting; tell me, if you are desirous, why you have stopped me.

OLD MAN Are you really all alone here at the door?

ACHILLES To us alone will you address yourself; come forth from the king’s tent.

OLD MAN [coming out.] O Fortune and my own foresight, preserve whom I desire!

ACHILLES That speech will save them in the future; it has a certain pompous air.

CLYTEMNESTRA Delay not for the sake of touching my right hand, if there is anything that you would say to me.

OLD MAN Well, you know my character and my devotion to you and your children.

CLYTEMNESTRA I know you have grown old in the service of my house.

OLD MAN Likewise you know it was in your dowry king Agamemnon received me.

CLYTEMNESTRA Yes, you came to Argos with me, and have been mine this long time past.

OLD MAN True; and I bear all goodwill to you, less to your husband.

CLYTEMNESTRA Come, come, unfold whatever you have to say.

OLD MAN Her father, he that begot her, is on the point of slaying your daughter with his own hand.

CLYTEMNESTRA How? That for your story, old man! you are mad.

OLD MAN Severing with a sword the hapless girl’s white throat.

CLYTEMNESTRA Ah, alas for me! Does my husband happen to have gone mad?

OLD MAN No; he is sane, except where you and your daughter are concerned; there he is mad.

CLYTEMNESTRA What is his reason? what vengeful fiend impels him?

OLD MAN Oracles, at least so Calchas says, in order that the army may start—

CLYTEMNESTRA Where? Alas for me, and for the one her father is going to kill!

OLD MAN To the halls of Dardanus, that Menelaus may recover Helen.

CLYTEMNESTRA So Helen’s return then was fated to affect Iphigenia?

OLD MAN You know all; her father is about to offer your child to Artemis.

CLYTEMNESTRA But that marriage—what pretext had it for bringing me from home?

OLD MAN An inducement to you to bring your daughter cheerfully, to wed her to Achilles.

CLYTEMNESTRA On a deadly errand have you come, my daughter, both you, and I, your mother.

OLD MAN Piteous the lot of both of you, and dreadful Agamemnon’s venture.

CLYTEMNESTRA Alas, I am undone; my eyes can no longer hold their tears.

OLD MAN If the loss of children is painful, shed your tears.

CLYTEMNESTRA From where, old man, do you say you had this news?

OLD MAN I had started to carry you a letter referring to the former writing.

CLYTEMNESTRA Forbidding or combining to urge my bringing the child to her death?

OLD MAN No, forbidding it, for your lord was then in his sober senses.

CLYTEMNESTRA How comes it then, if you were really bringing me a letter, that you do not now deliver it into my hands?

OLD MAN Menelaus snatched it from me, he who caused this trouble.

CLYTEMNESTRA Do you hear that, son of Peleus, the Nereid’s child?

ACHILLES I have been listening to the tale of your sufferings, and I do not bear my own lightly.

CLYTEMNESTRA They will slay my child; they have tricked her with your marriage.

ACHILLES Like you I blame your lord, nor do I view it with mere indifference.

CLYTEMNESTRA No longer will I let shame prevent my kneeling to you, a mortal to one goddess-born; why do I affect reserve? whose interests should I consult before my child’s? Throwing herself before Achilles. Oh! help me, goddess-born, in my sore distress, and her that was called your bride, in vain, it is true, yet called she was. For you it was I wreathed her head and led her forth as if to marriage, but now it is to slaughter I am bringing her. On you will come reproach because you did not help her; for though not wedded to her, yet were you the loving husband of my hapless girl in name at any rate. By your beard, your right hand, and mother too I do implore you; for your name it was that worked my ruin, and you are bound to stand by that. Except your knees I have no altar to fly to; and not a friend stands at my side. You have heard the cruel abandoned scheme of Agamemnon; and I, a woman, have come, as you see, to a camp of lawless sailor-folk, bold in evil’s cause, though useful when they wish; Now if you boldly stretch forth your arm in my behalf, our safety is assured; but if not, we are lost.

CHORUS LEADER A strange thing is motherhood, carrying with it a potent spell, in which all share, so that for their children’s sake they will endure affliction.

ACHILLES My proud spirit is stirred to range aloft, butI have learned to grieve in misfortune and rejoice in high prosperity with equal moderation. For these are the men who can count on ordering all their life rightly by wisdom’s rules. True, there are cases where it is pleasant not to be too wise, but there are others, where some store of wisdom helps. Brought up in godly Chiron’s halls myself, I learned to keep a single heart; and provided the Atridae lead well, I will obey them; but when they cease from that, no more will I obey; no, but here and in Troy I will show the freedom of my nature, and, as far as in me lies, do honor to Ares with my spear. You, lady, who have suffered so cruelly from your nearest and dearest, I will, by every effort in a young man’s power, set right, investing you with that amount of pity and never shall your daughter, after being once called my bride, die by her father’s hand; for I will not lend myself to your husband’s subtle tricks; no! for it will be my name that kills your child, although it does not wield the sword. Your own husband is the actual cause, but I shall no longer be guiltless, if, because of me and my marriage, this maiden perishes, she that has suffered past endurance and been the victim of affronts most strangely undeserved. So am I made the poorest wretch in Argos; I a thing of nothing, and Menelaus counting for a man! No son of Peleus I, but the issue of a vengeful fiend, if my name shall serve your husband for the murder. No! by Nereus, who begot my mother Thetis, in his home amid the flowing waves, never shall king Agamemnon touch your daughter, no! not even to the laying of a finger-tip upon her robe; or Sipylus, that frontier town of barbarism, the cradle of those chieftains’ line, will be henceforth a city indeed, while Phthia’s name will nowhere find mention. Calchas, the seer, shall rue beginning the sacrifice with his barley-meal and lustral water. Why, what is a seer? A man who with luck tells the truth sometimes, with frequent falsehoods, but when his luck deserts him, collapses then and there. It is not to secure a bride that I have spoken thus—there are maids unnumbered eager to have my love—no! but king Agamemnon has put an insult on me; he should have asked my leave to use my name as a means to catch the child, for it was I chiefly who induced Clytemnestra to betroth her daughter to me; I would had yielded this to Hellas, if that was where our going to Ilium broke down; I would never have refused to further my fellow soldiers’ common interest. But as it is, I am as nothing in the eyes of those chieftains, and little they care of treating me well or ill. My sword shall soon know if any one is to snatch your daughter from me, for then will I make it reek with the bloody stains of slaughter, before it reach Phrygia. Calm yourself then; as a god in his might I appeared to you, without being so, but such will I show myself for all that.

CHORUS LEADER Son of Peleus, your words are alike worthy of you and that sea-born deity, the holy goddess.

CLYTEMNESTRA Ah! would I could find words to utter your praise without excess, and yet not lose the graciousness of it by stinting it; for when the good are praised, they have some sort of feeling of hatred for those who in their praise exceed the mean. But I am ashamed of intruding a tale of woe, since my affliction touches myself alone and you are not affected by troubles of mine; but still it looks well for the man of worth to assist the unfortunate, even when he is not connected with then. Therefore pity us, for our suffering cries for pity; in the first place, I have harbored an idle hope, in thinking to have you marry my daughter; and next, perhaps, the slaying of my child will be to you an evil omen in your wooing hereafter, against which you must guard yourself. Your words were good, both first and last; for if you will it so, my daughter will be saved. Will you have her clasp your knees as a suppliant? it is no maid’s part; yet if it seems good to you, why, come she shall with the modest look of free-born maid; but if I shall obtain the same end from you without her coming then let her abide within, for there is dignity in her reserve; still reserve must only go as far as the case allows.

ACHILLES Do not bring your daughter out for me to see, lady, nor let us incur the reproach of the ignorant; for an army, when gathered together without domestic duties to employ it, loves the evil gossip of malicious tongues. After all, should you both supplicate me, you will attain a like result as if I had never been supplicated; for I am myself engaged in a mighty struggle to rid you of your troubles. One thing be sure you have heard; I will not tell a lie; if I do that or idly mock you, may I die, but live if I preserve the girl.

CLYTEMNESTRA Bless you for always helping the distressed!

ACHILLES Hearken then to me, that the matter may succeed.

CLYTEMNESTRA What is your proposal? for hear you I must.

ACHILLES Let us once more urge her father to a better frame of mind.

CLYTEMNESTRA He is something of a coward, and fears the army too much.

ACHILLES Still argument overthrows argument.

CLYTEMNESTRA Cold hope indeed; but tell me what I must do.

ACHILLES Supplicate him first not to slay his children; and if he is stubborn, come to me. For if he consents to your request, my intervention need go no further, since this consent insures your safety. I too shall show myself in a better light to my friend, and the army will not blame me, if I arrange the matter by reason rather than force; while, should things turn out well, the result will prove satisfactory both to you and your friends, even without my interference.

CLYTEMNESTRA How sensibly you speak! I must act as seems best to you; but should I fail of my object, where am I to see you again, where? Must I turn my wretched steps and find you ready to champion my distress?

ACHILLES I will keep watch to guard you, where occasion calls, that none may see you passing through the army of Danaids with that scared look. Do not shame your father’s house; for Tyndareus does not deserve not to be ill spoken of, being a mighty man in Hellas.

CLYTEMNESTRA It will be so. Command me; I must play the slave to you. If there are gods, you for your righteous dealing will find them favorable; if there are none, what need to toil? Exeunt Achilles and Clytemnestra.

CHORUS What wedding-hymn was that which raised its strains to the sound of Libyan flutes, to the music of the dancer’s lyre, and the note of the pipe of reeds? It was on the day Pieria’s lovely-haired choir came over the slopes of Pelion to the wedding of Peleus, beating the ground with print of golden sandals at the banquet of the gods, and hymning in dulcet strains the praise of Thetis and the son of Aeacus, over the Centaurs’ hill, down woods of Pelion. There was the Dardanian boy, dainty morsel of Zeus’ bed, drawing off the wine he mixed in the depths of golden bowls, Ganymede the Phrygian; while, along the gleaming sand, the fifty daughters of Nereus graced the marriage with their dancing, circling in a mazy ring.

CHORUS The revel-rout of Centaurs came too, mounted on horses, to the feast of the gods and the mixing-bowl of Bacchus, leaning on fir-trees, with wreaths of green foliage round their heads; and Chiron cried loudly: Daughter of Nereus, you shall bear a son, a dazzling light to Thessaly; and the prophet, skilled in arts inspired by Phoebus, gave his name; for he shall come with an army of Myrmidon spearmen to the famous land of Priam, to set it in a blaze, his body cased in a suit of golden mail forged by Hephaestus, a gift from his goddess-mother, from Thetis who bore him. Then the gods shed a blessing on the marriage of the high-born bride, who was first of Nereus’ daughters, and on the wedding of Peleus.

CHORUS But the Argives will crown you, wreathing the lovely tresses of your hair, like a pure, dappled heifer brought from some rocky cave, and staining with blood your human throat; though you were never reared among the piping and whistling of herdsmen, but at your mother’s side, to be decked as the bride of a son of Inachus. Where now does the face of modesty or virtue have any strength? seeing that godlessness holds sway, and virtue is neglected by men and thrust behind them, lawlessness over law prevailing, and mortals no longer making common cause to keep the jealousy of gods from reaching them.

CLYTEMNESTRA [reappearing from the tent.] I have come from the tent to look out for my husband, who went away and left its shelter long ago; while my poor child, hearing of the death her father designs for her, is in tears, uttering in many keys her piteous lamentation. Catching sight of Agamamnon. It seems I was speaking of one not far away; for there is Agamemnon, who will soon be detected in the commission of a crime against his own child.

AGAMEMNON Daughter of Leda, it is lucky I have found you outside the tent, to discuss with you in our daughter’s absence subjects not suited for the ears of maidens on the eve of marriage.

CLYTEMNESTRA What critical moment is it that you are seizing?

AGAMEMNON Send the maiden out to join her father, for the lustral water stands there ready, and barley-meal to scatter with the hand on the cleansing flame, and heifers to be slain before the marriage, in honor of the goddess Artemis, their black blood spouting from them.

CLYTEMNESTRA Though the words you use are good, I do not know how I am to name your deeds in terms of praise. Come forth, my daughter; well you know what is in your father’s mind; take the child Orestes, your brother, and bring him with you in the folds of your robe. Behold! she comes, in obedience to your summons. I will speak the rest for her and for myself.

AGAMEMNON My child, why do you weep and no longer look cheerfully? why are you fixing your eyes upon the ground and holding your robe before them?

CLYTEMNESTRA Ah! with which of my woes shall I begin? for I may treat them all as first, or put them last or midway, anywhere.

AGAMEMNON What is it? I find you all alike, confusion and alarm in every eye.

CLYTEMNESTRA My husband, answer frankly the questions I ask you.

AGAMEMNON There is no necessity to order me; I am willing to be questioned.

CLYTEMNESTRA Do you mean to slay your child and mine?

AGAMEMNON [starting.] Ha! these are heartless words, unwarranted suspicions!

CLYTEMNESTRA Peace! answer me that question first.

AGAMEMNON Put a fair question and you shall have a fair answer.

CLYTEMNESTRA I have no other questions to put; give me no other answers.

AGAMEMNON O fate revered, O destiny, and my fortune!

CLYTEMNESTRA Yes, and mine and hers too; the three share one bad fortune.

AGAMEMNON Whom have I injured?

CLYTEMNESTRA Do you ask this question? A thought like that itself amounts to tboughtlessness.

AGAMEMNON Ruined! my secret betrayed!

CLYTEMNESTRA I know all; I have heard what you are bent on doing to me. Your very silence and those frequent groans are a confession; do not tire yourself by telling it.

AGAMEMNON See, I am silent; for why should I tell you a falsehood, and add effrontery to misfortune?

CLYTEMNESTRA Well, now listen; for I will unfold my meaning and no longer employ dark riddles. In the first place—to reproach you first with this—it was not of my own free will but by force that you took and wed me, after slaying Tantalus, my former husband, and dashing my baby on the ground when you had torn him from my breast with brutal violence. Then those two sons of Zeus, who were my brothers, came flashing on horseback to war with you; but Tyndareus, my old father, rescued you because of your suppliant prayers, and you in turn had me to wife. Once I was reconciled to you upon this footing, you will bear me witness I have been a blameless wife to you and your family, chaste in love, an honor to your house, that so your coming in might be with joy and your going out with gladness. And it is seldom a man secures a wife like this, though the getting of a worthless woman Is no rarity. Besides three daughters, of one of whom you are heartlessly depriving me, I am the mother of this son of yours. If anyone asks you your reason for slaying her, tell me, what will you say? or must I say it for you? It is that Menelaus may recover Helen. An honorable exchange, indeed, to pay a wicked woman’s price in children’s lives! It is buying what we most detest with what we hold most dear. Again, if you go forth with the army, leaving me in your halls and are long absent at Troy, what will my feelings be at home, do you think? when I behold each vacant chair and her chamber now deserted, and then sit down alone in tears, making ceaseless lamentation for her, Ah! my child, he that begot you has slain you himself, he and no one else, nor are was it by another’s hand, leaving behind him such a return to his home. For it needs now only a trifling pretext for me and the daughters remaining to give you the reception it is right you should receive. I adjure you by the gods, do not compel me to sin against you, or sin yourself. Well; suppose you sacrifice the child; what prayer will you utter, when it is done? what will the blessing be that you will invoke upon yourself as you are slaying our daughter? An ill returning, seeing the disgrace that speeds your going forth? Is it right that I should pray for any luck to attend you? Surely we should deem the gods devoid of sense, if we harbored a kindly feeling towards murder? Shall you embrace your children on your coming back to Argos? No, you have no right. Will any child of yours ever face you, if you have surrendered one of them to death? Has this ever entered into your calculations, or does your one duty consist in carrying a scepter about and marching at the head of an army? When you might have made this fair proposal among the Argives; Is it your wish, Achaeans, to sail for Phrygia’s shores? Why then, cast lots whose daughter has to die. For that would have been a fair course for you to pursue, instead of picking out your own child for the victim and presenting her to the Danaids; or Menelaus, as it was his concern, should have slain Hermione for her mother. As it is, I, who still am true to your bed, must lose my child; while she, who went astray, will return with her daughter, and live in happiness at Sparta. If I am wrong in my words, answer me; but if they have been fairly urged, do not still slay your child, who is mine too, and you will be wise.

CHORUS LEADER Hearken to her, Agamemnon, for to join in saving your children’s lives is surely a noble deed; no one will deny this.

IPHIGENIA If I had the eloquence of Orpheus, my father, to move the rocks by chanted spells to follow me, or to charm by speaking anyone I wished, I would have resorted to it. But as it is, I’ll bring my tears—the only art I know; for that I might attempt. And about your knees, as a suppliant, I twine my limbs—these limbs your wife here bore. Do not destroy me before my time, for it is sweet to look upon the light, and do not force me to visit scenes below. I was the first to call you father, you the first to call me child; I was the first to sit upon your knee and give and take the fond caress. And this was what you would saythen: Shall I see you, my child, living a happy prosperous life in a husband’s home one day, in a manner worthy of myself? And I in my turn would ask, as I hung about your beard, where I now am clinging, What then will I do for you? Shall I be giving you a glad reception in my halls, father, in your old age, repaying all your anxious care in rearing me? I remember all we said, it is you who have forgotten and now would take my life. By Pelops, I entreat you spare me, by your father Atreus and my mother here, who suffers now a second time the pangs she felt before when bearing me! What have I to do with the marriage of Paris and Helen? Why is his coming to prove my ruin, father? Look upon me; bestow one glance, one kiss, that this at least I may carry to my death as a memorial of you, though you do not heed my pleading. holding up the baby Orestes. Feeble ally though you are, brother, to your loved ones, yet add your tears to mine and entreat our father for your sister’s life; even in babies there is a natural sense of evil. O father, see this speechless supplication made to you; pity me; have mercy on my tender years! Yes, by your beard we two fond hearts implore your pity, the one a baby, a full-grown maid the other. By summing all my pleas in one, I will prevail in what I say: to gaze upon the light is man’s most cherished gift; that life below is nothingness, and whoever longs for death is mad. Better live a life of woe than die a death of glory!

CHORUS LEADER Ah, wretched Helen! Great is the struggle that has come sons to the of Atreus and their children, thanks to you and those marriages of yours.

AGAMEMNON While loving my own children, I yet understand what should move my pity and what should not; I would be a madman otherwise. It is terrible for me to bring myself to this, nor is it less terrible to refuse, daughter; for I must do this. You see the vastness of that naval army, and the numbers of bronze-clad warriors from Hellas, who can neither make their way to Ilium’s towers nor raze the far-famed citadel of Troy, unless I offer you according to the word of Calchas the seer. Some mad desire possesses the army of Hellas to sail at once to the land of the barbarians, and put a stop to the rape of wives from Hellas, and they will slay my daughter in Argos as well as you and me, if I disregard the goddess’s commands. It is not Menelaus who has enslaved me to him, child, nor have I followed his wish; no, it is Hellas, for whom I must sacrifice you whether I will or not; to this necessity I bow my head; for her freedom must be preserved, as far as any help of yours daughter, or mine can go; or they, who are the sons of Hellas, must be pillaged of their wives by barbarian robbery. Exit Agamemnon.

CLYTEMNESTRA My child! oh, foreign women! Alas for me, for your death! Your father escapes, surrendering you to Hades.

IPHIGENIA Alas for me, mother! for the same lament has fallen to both of us in our fortune. No more for me the light of day! no more these beams of the sun! Oh, oh! that snow-beat glen in Phrygia and the hills of Ida, where Priam once exposed a tender baby, torn from his mother’s arms to meet a deadly doom, Paris, called the child of Ida in the Phrygians’ town. Would that he never had settled Alexander, the herdsman reared among the herds, beside that water crystal-clear, where are fountains of the Nymphs and their meadow rich with blooming flowers, where hyacinths and rose-buds blow for goddesses to gather! Here one day came Pallas and Cypris of the subtle heart, Hera too and Hermes messenger of Zeus; Cypris, proud of the longing she causes, Pallas of her prowess; and Hera of her royal marriage with king Zeus; to decide a hateful strife about their beauty; but it is my death, maidens, bringing, it is true, glory to the Danaids, that Artemis has received as an offering, before they begin the voyage to Ilium. O mother, mother! he that begot me to this life of sorrow has gone and left me all alone. Ah! woe is me! a bitter, bitter sight for me was Helen, evil Helen! to me now doomed to bleed and die, slaughtered by an impious father! I wish this Aulis had never received in its havens here the stems of their bronze-beaked ships, the fleet which was speeding them to Troy; and would that Zeus had never breathed on the Euripus a wind to stop the expedition, tempering, as he does, a different breeze to different men, so that some have joy in setting sail, and sorrow some, and others hard constraint, to make some start and others prepare and others delay! Full of trouble then, it seems, is the race of mortals, full of trouble indeed; and it is Fate’s decree that man should find distress. Woe! woe to you, you child of Tyndareus, for the suffering and anguish sore, which you are causing the Danaids!

CHORUS LEADER I pity you for your cruel fate—a fate I would you never had met!

IPHIGENIA O mother that bore me! I see a throng of men approaching.

CLYTEMNESTRA It is the goddess’ son you see, child, for whom you came here.

IPHIGENIA [calling into the tent.] Open the tent-door to me, servants, that I may hide myself

CLYTEMNESTRA Why seek to escape, my child?

IPHIGENIA I am ashamed to face Achilles.

CLYTEMNESTRA But why?

IPHIGENIA The luckless ending to our marriage causes me to feel abashed.

CLYTEMNESTRA No time for affectation now in face of what has happened. Stay then; reserve will do no good, if we may profit.

ACHILLES Daughter of Leda, lady of sorrows!

CLYTEMNESTRA No misnomer that.

ACHILLES A fearful cry is heard among the Argives.

CLYTEMNESTRA What is it? tell me.

ACHILLES It concerns your child.

CLYTEMNESTRA An evil omen for your words.

ACHILLES They say her sacrifice is necessary.

CLYTEMNESTRA And is there no one to say a word against them?

ACHILLES Indeed I was in some danger myself from the tumult.

CLYTEMNESTRA In danger of what, stranger?.

ACHILLES Of being stoned.

CLYTEMNESTRA Surely not for trying to save my daughter?

ACHILLES The very reason.

CLYTEMNESTRA Who would have dared to lay a finger on you?

ACHILLES All the men of Hellas.

CLYTEMNESTRA Were not your Myrmidon warriors at your side?

ACHILLES They were the first who turned against me.

CLYTEMNESTRA My child! we are lost, it seems.

ACHILLES They taunted me as the man whom marriage had enslaved.

CLYTEMNESTRA And what did you answer them?

ACHILLES Not to kill the one I meant to wed—

CLYTEMNESTRA Justly so.

ACHILLES The wife her father promised me.

CLYTEMNESTRA Yes, and sent to fetch from Argos.

ACHILLES But I was overcome by clamorous cries.

CLYTEMNESTRA Truly the mob is a dire mischief.

ACHILLES But I will help you for all that.

CLYTEMNESTRA Will you really fight them single-handed?

ACHILLES Do you see these warriors here, carrying my arms?

CLYTEMNESTRA Bless you for your kind intent!

ACHILLES Well, I shall be blessed.

CLYTEMNESTRA Then my child will not be slaughtered now?

ACHILLES No, not with my consent at any rate.

CLYTEMNESTRA But will any of them come to lay hands on the maid?

ACHILLES Thousands of them, with Odysseus at their head.

CLYTEMNESTRA The son of Sisyphus?

ACHILLES The very same.

CLYTEMNESTRA Acting for himself or by the army’s order?

ACHILLES By their choice—and his own.

CLYTEMNESTRA An evil choice indeed, to stain his hands in blood.

ACHILLES But I will hold him back.

CLYTEMNESTRA Will he seize and bear her off against her will?

ACHILLES Yes, by her golden hair no doubt.

CLYTEMNESTRA What must I do, when it comes to that?

ACHILLES Keep hold of your daughter.

CLYTEMNESTRA Be sure that she shall not be slain, as far as that that can help her.

ACHILLES Believe me, it will come to this.

IPHIGENIA Mother, hear me while I speak, for I see that you are angry with your husband to no purpose; it is hard for us to persist in impossibilities. Our thanks are due to this stranger for his ready help; but you must also see to it that he is not reproached by the army, leaving us no better off and himself involved in trouble. Listen, mother; hear what thoughts have passed across my mind. I am resolved to die; and this I want to do with honor, dismissing from me what is mean. Towards this now, mother turn your thoughts, and with me weigh how well I speak; to me the whole of mighty Hellas looks; on me the passage over the sea depends; on me the sack of Troy; and in my power it lies to check henceforth barbarian raids on happy Hellas, if ever in the days to come they seek to seize her women, when once they have atoned by death for the violation of Helen’s marriage by Paris. All this deliverance will my death insure, and my fame for setting Hellas free will be a happy one. Besides, I have no right at all to cling too fondly to my life; for you did not bear me for myself alone, but as a public blessing to all Hellas. What! shall countless warriors, armed with shields, those myriads sitting at the oar, find courage to attack the foe and die for Hellas, because their fatherland is wronged, and my one life prevent all this? What kind of justice is that? could I find a word in answer? Now let us turn to that other point. It is not right that this man should enter into battle with all Argos or be slain for a woman’s sake. Better a single man should see the light than ten thousand women. If Artemis has decided to take my body, am I, a mortal, to thwart the goddess? no, that is impossible. I give my body to Hellas; sacrifice it and make an utter end of Troy. This is my enduring monument; marriage, motherhood, and fame—all these is it to me. And it is right, mother, that Hellenes should rule barbarians, but not barbarians Hellenes, those being slaves, while these are free.

CHORUS LEADER You play a noble part, maiden; but the whims of Fate and the goddess are diseased.

ACHILLES Daughter of Agamemnon! some god was bent on blessing me, if I could have won you for my wife. In you I consider Hellas happy, and you in Hellas; for this that you have said is good and worthy of your fatherland; since you, abandonIng a strife with heavenly powers, which are too strong for you, have fairly weighed advantages and needs. But now that I have looked into your noble nature, I feel still more a fond desire to win you for my bride. Look to it; for I want to serve you and receive you in my halls; and, Thetis be my witness, how I grieve to think I shall not save your life by doing battle with the Danaids. Reflect, I say; a dreadful ill is death.

IPHIGENIA This I say, without regard to anyone. Enough that the daughter of Tyndareus is causing wars and bloodshed by her beauty; then be not slain yourself, stranger, nor seek to slay another on my account; but let me, if I can, save Hellas.

ACHILLES Heroic spirit! I can say no more to this, since you are so minded; for yours is a noble resolve; why should not one speak the truth? Yet I will speak, for you will perhaps change your mind; that you may know then what my offer is, I will go and place these arms of mine near the altar, resolved not to permit your death but to prevent; for brave as you are at sight of the knife held at your throat, you will soon avail yourself of what I said. So I will not let you perish through any thoughtlessness of yours, but will go to the goddess with these arms and await your arrival there. Exit Achilles.

IPHIGENIA Mother, why so silent, your eyes wet with tears?

CLYTEMNESTRA I have reason, woe is me! to be sad at heart.

IPHIGENIA Stop; do not make me a coward; here in one thing obey me.

CLYTEMNESTRA Tell me, my child, for at my hands you shall never suffer injury.

IPHIGENIA Cut not off the tresses of your hair for me, nor clothe yourself in sable garb.

CLYTEMNESTRA Why, my child, what is it you have said? When I have lost you?

IPHIGENIA You wll not lose me; I am saved and you renowned, as far as I can make you.

CLYTEMNESTRA How so? Must I not mourn your death?

IPHIGENIA By no means, for I shall have no tomb heaped over me.

CLYTEMNESTRA What then? It is death, not the tomb, that is rightly mourned.

IPHIGENIA The altar of the goddess, Zeus’s daughter, will be my tomb.

CLYTEMNESTRA Well, my child, I will let you persuade me, for you speak well.

IPHIGENIA Yes, as one who prospers and does Hellas service.

CLYTEMNESTRA What message shall I carry to your sisters?

IPHIGENIA Do not put mourning raiment on them either.

CLYTEMNESTRA But is there no fond message I can give the maidens from you?

IPHIGENIA Yes, my farewell words; and promise me to rear Orestes to manhood.

CLYTEMNESTRA Press him to your bosom; it is your last look.

IPHIGENIA O you that are most dear to me! you have helped your friends as you had means.

CLYTEMNESTRA Is there anything I can do in Argos to please you?

IPHIGENIA Yes, do not hate my father, your own husband.

CLYTEMNESTRA Fearful are the trials through which he has to go because of you.

IPHIGENIA It was against his will he ruined me for the sake of Hellas.

CLYTEMNESTRA Ah! but he employed base treachery, unworthy of Atreus.

IPHIGENIA Who will escort me from here, before my hair is torn?

CLYTEMNESTRA I will go with you—

IPHIGENIA No, not you; that is not well saidl.

CLYTEMNESTRA Clinging to your robes.

IPHIGENIA Be persuaded by me, mother, stay here; for this is the better way both for me and you; but let one of these attendants of my father conduct me to the meadow of Artemis, where I shall be sacrificed.

CLYTEMNESTRA Are you gone from me, my child?

IPHIGENIA Yes, and with no chance of ever returning.

CLYTEMNESTRA Leaving your mother?

IPHIGENIA Yes, as you see, undeservedly.

CLYTEMNESTRA Hold! do not leave me!

IPHIGENIA I cannot let you shed a tear. To the Chorus. May it be yours, maidens, to hymn in joyous strains Artemis, the child of Zeus, for my hard lot; and let the order for a solemn hush go forth to the Danaids. Begin the sacrifice with the baskets, let the fire blaze for the purifying meal of sprinkling, and my father pace from left to right about the altar; for I come to bestow on Hellas safety crowned with victory.

IPHIGENIA Lead me away, the destroyer of Ilium’s town and the Phrygians; give me wreaths to cast about me; bring them here; here are my tresses to crown; bring lustral water too. Dance to Artemis, queen Artemis the blest, around her shrine and altar; for by the blood of my sacrifice I will blot out the oracle, if it must be. O mother, lady revered! I will, not give you my tears; for at the holy rites it is not fitting. Sing with me, maidens, sing the praises of Artemis, whose temple faces Chalcis, where angry spearmen madly chafe, here in the narrow havens of Aulis, because of me. O Pelasgia, land of my birth, and Mycenae, my home!

CHORUS Is it on Perseus’ citadel you call, that town Cyclopean workmen built?

IPHIGENIA To be a light to Hellas did you rear me, and so I do not say No to death.

CHORUS You are right; no fear that fame will ever desert you!

IPHIGENIA Hail to you, bright lamp of day and light of Zeus! A different life, a different lot is henceforth mine. Farewell I bid you, light beloved! Exit Iphigenia. .

CHORUS Behold the maiden on her way, the destroyer of Ilium’s town and the Phrygians, with garlands twined about her head, and drops of lustral water on her, soon to be sprinkled with her gushing blood the altar of a murderous goddess, when her shapely neck is severed. For you fair streams of a father’s pouring and lustral waters are in store, for you Achaea’s army is waiting, eager to reach the citadel of Ilium. But let us celebrate Artemis, the daughter of Zeus, queen among the gods, as if upon some happy chance. O lady revered, delighting in human sacrifice, send on its way to Phrygia’s land the army of the Hellenes, to Troy’s abodes of guile, and grant that Agamemnon may wreathe his head with deathless fame, a crown of fairest glory for the spearmen of Hellas.

MESSENGER Come forth, O Clytemnestra, daughter of Tyndareus, from the tent, to hear my news.

CLYTEMNESTRA I heard your voice and have come in sad dismay and fearful dread, not sure but what you have arrived with tidings of some fresh trouble for me besides the present woe.

MESSENGER No, rather I want to unfold to you a strange and marvellous story about your child.

CLYTEMNESTRA Do not delay, then, but speak at once.

MESSENGER Dear mistress, you shall learn all clearly; from the outset will I tell it, unless my memory fails me somewhat and confuses my tongue in its account. As soon as we reached the grove of Artemis, the child of Zeus, and the flowery meadows, where the Achaean troops were gathered, bringing your daughter with us, at once the Argive army began assembling; but when king Agamemnon saw the maiden on her way to the grove to be sacrificed, he gave one groan, and, turning away his face, let the tears burst from his eyes, as he held his robe before them. But the maid, standing close by her father, spoke thus: O my father, here I am; willingly I offer my body for my country and all Hellas, that you may lead me to the altar of the goddess and sacrifice me, since this is Heaven’s ordinance. May good luck be yours for any help that I afford! and may you obtain the victor’s gift and come again to the land of your fathers. So then let none of the Argives lay hands on me, for I will bravely yield my neck without a word. She spoke; and each man marvelled, as he heard the maiden’s brave speech. But in the midst Talthybius stood up, for this was his duty, and bade the army refrain from word or deed; and Calchas, the seer, drawing a sharp sword from its scabbard laid it in a basket of beaten gold, and crowned the maiden’s head. Then the son of Peleus, taking the basket and with it lustral water in his hand, ran round the altar of the goddess uttering these words: O Artemis, you child of Zeus, slayer of wild beasts, that wheel your dazzling light amid the gloom, accept this sacrifice which we, the army of the Achaeans and Agamemnon with us, offer to you, pure blood from a beautiful maiden’s neck; and grant us safe sailing for our ships and the sack of Troy’s towers by our spears. Meanwhile the sons of Atreus and all the army stood looking on the ground. [But the priest, seizing his knife, offered up a prayer and was closely scanning the maiden’s throat to see where he should strike. It was no slight sorrow filled my heart, as I stood by with bowed head; when there was a sudden miracle! Each one of us distinctly heard the sound of a blow, but none saw the spot where the maiden vanished. The priest cried out, and all the army took up the cry at the sight of a marvel all unlooked for, due to some god’s agency, and passing all belief, although it was seen; for there upon the ground lay a deer of immense size, magnificent to see, gasping out her life, with whose blood the altar of the goddess was thoroughly bedewed. Then spoke Calchas thus—his joy you can imagine—You captains of this leagued Achaean army, do you see this victim, which the goddess has set before her altar, a mountain-roaming deer? This is more welcome to her by far than the maid, that she may not defile her altar by shedding noble blood. Gladly she has accepted it, and is granting us a prosperous voyage for our attack on Ilium. Therefore take heart, sailors, each man of you, and away to your ships, for today we must leave the hollow bays of Aulis and cross the Aegean main. Then, when the sacrifice was wholly burnt to ashes in the blazing flame, he offered such prayers as were fitting, that the army might win return; but Agamemnon sends me to tell you this, and say what heaven-sent luck is his, and how he has secured undying fame throughout the length of Hellas. Now I was there myself and speak as an eyewitness; without a doubt your child flew away to the gods. A truce then to your sorrowing, and cease to be angry with your husband; for the gods’ ways with man are not what we expect, and those whom they love, they keep safe; yes, for this day has seen your daughter dead and living.

[Exit Messenger.]

CHORUS LEADER What joy to hear these tidings from the messenger! He tells you your child is living still, among the gods.

CLYTEMNESTRA Which of the gods, my child, has stolen you? How am I to address you? How can I be sure that this is not an idle tale told to cheer me, to make me cease my piteous lamentation for you?

CHORUS See! king Agamemnon approaches, to confirm this story for you.

AGAMEMNON Lady, we may be counted happy, as far as concerns our daughter; for in truth she has fellowship with gods. But you must take this tender child and start for home, for the army is looking now to sail. Fare you well! it is long before I shall greet you on my return from Troy; may it be well with you!

CHORUS Son of Atreus, start for Phrygia’s land with joy and so return, I pray, after taking from Troy her fairest spoils.

THE HERACLEIDAE (Translated by E. P. Coleridge, 1891)

[Scene.—Before the altar of Zeus at Marathon.]

IOLAUS I hold this true, and long have held: Nature hath made one man upright for his neighbours’ good, while another hath a disposition wholly given over to gain, useless alike to the state and difficult to have dealings with, but for himself the best of men; and this I know, not from mere hearsay. I, for instance, from pure regard and reverence for my kith and kin, though I might have lived at peace in Argos, alone of all my race shared with Heracles his labours, while he was yet with us, and now that he dwells in heaven, I keep these his children safe beneath my wing, though myself I need protection. For when their father passed from earth away, Eurystheus would first of all have slain us, but we escaped. And though our home is lost, our life was saved. But in exile we wander from city to city, ever forced to roam. For, added to our former wrongs, Eurystheus thought it fit to put this further outrage upon us: wheresoe’er he heard that we were settling, thither would he send heralds demanding our surrender and driving us from thence, holding out this threat, that Argos is no mean city to make a friend or foe, and furthermore pointing to his own prosperity. So they, seeing how weak my means, and these little ones left without a father, bow to his superior might and drive us from their land. And I share the exile of these children, and help them bear their evil lot by my sympathy, loth to betray them, lest someone say, Look you! now that the children’s sire is dead, Iolaus no more protects them, kinsman though he is. Not one corner left us in the whole of Hellas, we are come to Marathon and its neighbouring land, and here we sit as suppliants at the altars of the gods, and pray their aid; for ’tis said two sons of Theseus dwell upon these plains, the lot of their inheritance, scions of Pandion’s stock, related to these children; this the reason we have come on this our way to the borders of glorious Athens. To lead the flight two aged guides are we; my care is centred on these boys, while she, I mean Alcmena, clasps her son’s daughter in her arms, and bears her for safety within this shrine, for we shrink from letting tender maidens come anigh the crowd or stand as suppliants at the altar. Now Hyllus and the elder of his brethren are seeking some place for us to find a refuge, if we are driven by force from this land. O children, children, come hither! hold unto my robe; for lo! I see a herald coming towards us from Eurystheus, by whom we are persecuted, wanderers excluded from every land. A curse on thee and him that sent thee, hateful wretch! for that same tongue of thine hath oft announced its master’s evil hests to these children’s noble sire as well.

COPREUS Doubtless thy folly lets thee think this is a good position to have taken up, and that thou art come to a city that will help thee. No ! there is none that will prefer thy feeble arm to the might of Eurystheus. Begone! why take this trouble? Thou must arise and go to Argos, where awaits thee death by stoning.

IOLAUS Not so, for the god’s altar will protect me, and this land of freedom, wherein we have set foot.

COPREUS Wilt give me the trouble of laying hands on thee?

IOLAUS By force at least shalt thou never drag these children hence.

COPREUS That shalt thou soon learn; it seems thou wert a poor prophet, after all, in this. [Copreus here seizes the children.

IOLAUS This shall never happen while I live.

COPREUS Begone! for I will take them hence, for all thy refusals, for I hold that they belong to Eurystheus, as they do indeed.

IOLAUS Help, ye who long nave had your home in Athens! we suppliants at Zeus’ altar in your market-place are being haled by force away, our sacred wreaths defiled, shame to your city, to the gods dishonour.

CHORUS Hark, hark! What cry is this that rises near the altar? At once explain the nature of the trouble.

IOLAUS See this aged frame hurled in its feebleness upon the ground! Woe is me!

CHORUS Who threw thee down thus pitiably?

IOLAUS Behold the man who flouts your gods, kind sirs, and tries by force to drag me from my seat before the altar of Zeus.

CHORUS From what land, old stranger, art thou come to this confederate state of four cities? or have ye left Euboea’s cliffs, and, with the oar that sweeps the sea, put in here from across the firth?

IOLAUS Sirs, no island life I lead, but from Mycenae to thy land I come.

CHORUS What do they call thee, aged sir, those folk in Mycenae?

IOLAUS Maybe ye have heard of Iolaus, the comrade of Heracles, for he was not unknown to fame.

CHORUS Yea, I have heard of him in bygone days; but tell me, whose are the tender boys thou bearest in thine arms?

IOLAUS These, sirs, are the sons of Heracles, come as suppliants to you and your city.

CHORUS What is their quest? Are they anxious, tell me, to obtain an audience of the state?

IOLAUS That so they may escape surrender, nor be tom with violence from thy altars, and brought to Argos.

COPREUS Nay, this will nowise satisfy thy masters, who o’er thee have a right, and so have tracked thee hither.

CHORUS Stranger, ’tis but right we should reverence the gods’ suppliants, suffering none with violent hand to make them leave the altars, for that will dread Justice ne’er permit.

COPREUS Do thou then drive these subjects of Eurystheus forth, and this hand of mine shall abstain from violence.

CHORUS ’Twere impious for the state to neglect the suppliant stranger’s prayer.

COPREUS Yet ’tis well to keep clear of troubles, by adopting that counsel, which is the wiser.

CHORUS Thou then, shouldst have told the monarch of this land thy errand before being so bold, out of regard to his country’s freedom, instead of trying to drag strangers by force from the altars of the gods.

COPREUS Who is monarch of this land and state?

CHORUS Demophon, son of gallant Theseus.

COPREUS Surely it were most to the purpose to discuss this matter somewhat with him; all else has been said in vain.

CHORUS Lo! here he comes in person, in hot haste, and Acamas his brother, to hear what thou hast to say.

DEMOPHON Since thou for all thy years hast outstripped younger men in coming to the rescue to this altar of Zeus, do thou tell me what hath chanced to bring this crowd together.

CHORUS There sit the sons of Heracles as suppliants, having wreathed the altar, as thou seest, O king, and with them is Iolaus, trusty comrade of their sire.

DEMOPHON Why should this event have called for cries of pain?

CHORUS (turning to Copreus). This fellow caused the uproar by trying to drag them forcibly from this altar, and he tripped up the old man, till my tears for pity flowed.

DEMOPHON Hellenic dress and fashion in his robes doth he no doubt adopt, but deeds like these betray the barbarian. Thou, sirrah, tell me straight the country whence thou earnest thither.

COPREUS An Argive I; since that thou seek’st to know. Who sent me, and the object of my coming, will I freely tell. Eurystheus, king of Mycenae, sends me hither to fetch these back; and I have come, sir stranger, with just grounds in plenty, alike for speech or action. An Argive myself, Argives I come to fetch, taking with me these runaways from my native city, on whom the doom of death was passed by our laws there; and we have a right, since we rule our city independently, to ratify its sentences. And though they have come as suppliants to the altars of numerous others, we have taken our stand on these same arguments, and no one has ventured to bring upon himself evils of his own getting. But they have come hither, either because they perceived some folly in thee, or, in their perplexity, staking all on one risky throw to win or lose; for surely they do not suppose that thou, if so thou hast thy senses still, and only thou, in all the breadth of Hellas they have traversed, wilt pity their foolish troubles. Come now, put argument against argument: what will be thy gain, suppose thou admit them to thy land, or let us take them hence? From us these benefits are thine to win: this city can secure as friends Argos, with its far-reaching arm, and Eurystheus’ might complete; whilst if thou lend an ear to their piteous pleading and grow soft, the matter must result in trial of arms; for be sure we shall not yield this struggle without appealing to the sword. What pretext wilt thou urge? Of what domains art thou robbed that thou shouldst take and wage war with the Tirynthian Argives? What kind of allies art thou aiding? For whom will they have fallen whom thou buriest? Surely thou wilt get an evil name from the citizens, if for the sake of an old man with one foot in the grave, a mere shadow I may say, and for these children, thou wilt plunge into troublous waters. The best thou canst say is, that thou wilt find in them a hope, and nothing more; and yet this falls far short of the present need; for these would be but a poor match for Argives even when fully armed and in their prime, if haply that raises thy spirits; moreover, the time ’twixt now and then is long, wherein ye may be blotted out. Nay, hearken to me; give me naught, but let me take mine own, and so gain Mycenae; but forbear to act now, as is your Athenian way, and take the weaker side, when it is in thy power to choose the stronger as thy friends.

Full Text (part 2)

CHORUS Who can decide a cause or ascertain its merits, till from both sides he clearly learn what they would say?

IOLAUS O king, in thy land I start with this advantage, the right to hear and speak in turn, and none, ere that, will drive me hence as elsewhere they would. ’Twixt us and him is naught in common, for we no longer have aught to do with Argos since that decree was passed, but we are exiles from our native land; how then can he justly drag us back as subjects of Mycenae, seeing that they have banished us? For we are strangers. Or do ye claim that every exile from Argos is exiled from the bounds of Hellas? Not from Athens surely; for ne’er will she for fear of Argos drive the children of Heracles from her land. Here is no Trachis, not at all; no! nor that Achaean town, whence thou, defying justice, but boasting of the might of Argos in the very words thou now art using, didst drive the suppliants from their station at the altar. If this shall be, and they thy words approve, why then I trow this is no more Athens, the home of freedom. Nay, but I know the temper and nature of these citizens; they would rather die, for honour ranks before mere life with men of worth. Enough of Athens! for excessive praise is apt to breed disgust; and oft ere now I have myself felt vexed at praise that knows no bounds. But to thee, as ruler of this land, I fain would show the reason why thou art bound to save these children. Pittheus was the son of Pelops; from him sprung Aethra, and from her Theseus thy sire was born. And now will I trace back these children’s lineage for thee. Heracles was son of Zeus and Alcmena; Alcmena sprang from Pelops’ daughter; therefore thy father and their father would be the sons of first cousins. Thus then art thou to them related, O Demophon, but thy just debt to them beyond the ties of kinship do I now declare to thee; for I assert, in days gone by, I was with Theseus on the ship, as their father’s squire, when they went to fetch that girdle fraught with death; yea, and from Hades’ murky dungeons did Heracles bring thy father up; as all Hellas doth attest. Wherefore in return they crave this boon of thee, that they be not surrendered up nor torn by force from the altars of thy gods and cast forth from the land. For this were shame on thee, and hurtful likewise in thy state, should suppliants, exiles, kith and kin of thine, be haled away by force. For pity’s sake! cast one glance at them. I do entreat thee, laying my suppliant bough upon thee, by thy hands and beard, slight not the sons of Heracles, now that thou hast them in thy power to help. Show thyself their kinsman and their friend; be to them father, brother, lord; for better each and all of these than to fall beneath the Argives’ hand.

CHORUS O king, I pity them, hearing their sad lot Now more than ever do I see noble birth o’ercome by fortune; for these, though sprung from a noble sire, are suffering what they ne’er deserved.

DEMOPHON Three aspects of the case constrain me, Iolaus, not to spurn the guests thou bringest; first and foremost, there is Zeus, at whose altar thou art seated with these tender children gathered round thee; next come ties of kin, and the debt I owe to treat them kindly for their father’s sake; and last, mine honour, which before all I must regard; for if I permit this altar to be violently despoiled by stranger hands, men will think the land I inhabit is free no more, and that through fear I have surrendered suppliants to Argives, and this comes nigh to make one hang oneself. Would that thou hadst come under a luckier star! yet, as it is, fear not that any man shall tear thee and these children from the altar by force. Get thee (to Copreus) to Argos and tell Eurystheus so; yea and more, if he have any charge against these strangers, he shall have justice; but never shalt thou drag them hence.

COPREUS Not even if I have right upon my side and prove my case?

DEMOPHON How can it be right to drag the suppliant away by force?

COPREUS Well, mine is the disgrace; no harm will come to thee.

DEMOPHON Tis harm to me, if I let them be haled away by thee.

COPREUS Banish them thyself, and then will I take them from elsewhere.

DEMOPHON Nature made thee a fool, to think thou knowest better than the god.

COPREUS It seems then evildoers are to find a refuge here.

DEMOPHON A temple of the gods is an asylum open to the world.

COPREUS Maybe they will not take this view in Mycensa.

DEMOPHON What! am I not lord of this domain?

COPREUS So long as thou injure not the Argives, and if wise, thou wilt not.

DEMOPHON Be injured for all I care, provided I sin not against the gods.

COPREUS I would not have thee come to blows with Argos.

DEMOPHON I am of like mind in this; but I will not dismiss these from my protection.

COPREUS For all that, I shall take and drag my own away.

DEMOPHON Why then perhaps thou wilt find a difficulty in returning to Argos.

COPREUS That shall I soon find out by making the attempt.

DEMOPHON Touch them and thou shalt rue it, and that without delay.

CHORUS I conjure thee, never dare to strike a herald.

DEMOPHON Strike I will, unless that herald learn discretion.

CHORUS Depart; and thou, O king, touch him not.

COPREUS I go; for ’tis feeble fighting with a single arm. But I will come again, bringing hither a host of Argive troops, spearmen clad in bronze; for countless warriors are awaiting my return, and king Eurystheus in person at their head; anxiously he waits the issue here on the borders of Alcathous’ realm. And when he hears thy haughty answer, he will burst upon thee, and thy citizens, on this land and all that grows therein; for all in vain should we possess such hosts of picked young troops in Argos, should we forbear to punish thee. [Exit Copreus.

DEMOPHON Perdition seize thee ! I am not afraid of thy Argos. Be very sure thou shalt not drag these suppliants hence by force, to my shame; for I hold not this city subject unto Argos, but independently.

CHORUS ’Tis time to use our forethought, ere the host of Argos approach our frontier, for exceeding fierce are the warriors of Mycenae, and in the present case still more than heretofore. For all heralds observe this custom, to exaggerate what happened twofold. Bethink thee what a tale he will tell his master of his dreadful treatment, how he came very near losing his life altogether.

IOLAUS Children have no fairer prize than this, the being born of a good and noble sire, and the power to wed from noble families; but whoso is enslaved by passion and makes a lowborn match, I cannot praise for leaving to his children a legacy of shame, to gratify himself. For noble birth offers a stouter resistance to adversity than base parentage; we, for instance, in the last extremity of woe, have found friends and kinsmen here, the only champions of these children through all the length and breadth of this Hellenic world. Give, children, give to them your hand, and they the same to you; draw near to them. Ah! children, we have made trial of our friends, and if ever ye see the path that leads you back to your native land, and possess your home and the honours of your father, count them ever as your friends and saviours, and never lift against their land the foeman’s spear, in memory of this, but hold this city first midst those ye love. Yea, they well deserve your warm regard, in that they have shifted from our shoulders to their own the enmity of so mighty a land as Argos and its people, though they saw we were vagabonds and beggars; still they did not give us up nor drive us forth. So while I live, and after death,—come when it will,—loudly will I sing thy praise, good friend, and will extol thee as I stand at Theseus’ side, and cheer his heart, as I tell how thou didst give kind welcome and protection to the sons of Heracles, and how nobly thou dost preserve thy father’s fame through the length of Hellas, and hast not fallen from the high estate, to which thy father brought thee, a lot which few others can boast; for ’mongst the many wilt thou find one maybe, that is not degenerate from his sire.

CHORUS This land is ever ready in an honest cause to aid the helpless. Wherefore ere now it hath endured troubles numberless for friends, and now in this I see a struggle nigh at hand.

DEMOPHON Thou hast spoken well, and I feel confident their conduct will be such; our kindness will they not forget. Now will I muster the citizens and set them in array, that I may receive Mycenae’s host with serried ranks. But first will I send scouts to meet them, lest they fall upon me unawares; for at Argos every man is prompt to answer to the call, and I will assemble prophets and ordain a sacrifice. But do thou leave the altar of Zeus and go with the children into the house; for there are those, who will care for thee, even though I be abroad. Enter then my house, old man.

IOLAUS I will not leave the altar. Let us sit here still, praying for the city’s fair success, and when thou hast made a glorious end of this struggle, will we go unto the house; nor are the gods who champion us weaker than the gods of Argos, O king; Hera, wife of Zeus, is their leader; Athena ours. And this I say is an omen of success, that we have the stronger deity, for Pallas will not brook defeat. [Exit Demophon.

CHORUS Though loud thy boasts, there be others care no more for thee for that, O stranger from the land of Argos; nor wilt thou scare my soul with swelling words. Not yet be this the fate of mighty Athens, beauteous town! But thou art void of sense, and so is he, who lords it o’er Argos, the son of Sthenelus,

CHORUS —thou that comest to another state, in no wise weaker than Argos, and, stranger that thou art, wouldst drag away by force suppliants of the gods, wanderers that cling to my land for help, refusing to yield to our king, nor yet having any honest plea to urge. How can such conduct count as honourable, at least in wise men’s judgment?

CHORUS I am for peace myself; yet I tell thee, wicked king, although thou come unto my city, thou shalt not get so easily what thou expectest. Thou art not the only man to wield a sword or targe with plates of brass. Nay, thou eager warrior, I warn thee, bring not war’s alarms against our lovely town; restrain thyself.

IOLAUS My son, why, prithee, art thou returned with that anxious look? Hast thou news of the enemy? Are they coming, are they here, or what thy tidings? For of a surety yon herald will not play us false. No! sure I am their captain, prosperous heretofore, will come, with thoughts exceeding proud against Athens. But Zeus doth punish overweening pride.

DEMOPHON The host of Argos is come, and Eurystheus its king; my own eyes saw him, for the man who thinks he knows good generalship must see the foe not by messengers alone. As yet, however, he hath not sent his host into the plain, but, camped upon a rocky brow, is watching—I only tell thee what I think this means—to see by which road to lead his army hither without fighting, and how to take up a safe position in this land. However, all my plans are by this time carefully laid; the city is under arms, the victims stand ready to be slain to every god, whose due this is; my seers have filled the town with sacrifices, to turn the foe to flight and keep our country safe. All those who chant prophetic words have I assembled, and have examined ancient oracles, both public and secret, as means to save this city. And though the several answers differ in many points, yet in one is the sentiment of all clearly the same; they bid me sacrifice to Demeter’s daughter some maiden from a noble father sprung. Now I, though in your cause I am as zealous as thou seest, yet will not slay my child, nor will I compel any of my subjects to do so against his will; for who of his own will doth harbour such an evil thought as to yield with his own hands the child he loves? And now thou mayest see angry gatherings, where some declare, ’tis right to stand by suppliant strangers, while others charge me with folly; but if I do this deed, a civil war is then and there on foot. Do thou then look to this and help to find a way to save yourselves and this country without causing me to be slandered by the citizens. For I am no despot like a barbarian monarch; but provided I do what is just, just will my treatment be.

CHORUS Can it be that heaven forbids this city to help strangers, when it hath the will and longing so to do?

IOLAUS My children, we are even as those mariners, who have escaped the storm’s relentless rage, and have the land almost within their reach, but after all are driven back from shore by tempests to the deep again. Even so we, just as we reach the shore in seeming safety, are being thrust back from this land. Ah me! Why, cruel hope, didst thou then cheer my heart, though thou didst not mean to make the boon complete? The king may well be pardoned, if he will not slay his subjects’ children; and with my treatment here I am content; if indeed ’tis heaven’s will, I thus should fare, still is my gratitude to thee in no wise lost. Children, I know not what to do for you. Whither shall we turn? for what god’s altar have we left uncrowned? to what fenced city have we failed to go? Ruin and surrender are our instant lot, poor children! If I must die, ’tis naught to me, save that thereby I give those foes of mine some cause for joy. But you, children, I lament and pity, and that aged mother of your sire, Alcmena. Ah, woe is thee for thy long span of life! and woe is me for all my idle toil! ’Twas after all our destined doom to fall into the hands of our hated foe, and die a death of shame and misery. But lend me thine aid, thou knowest how; for all hope of these children’s safety has not yet left me. Give me up instead of them to the Argives, O king; run no risk, but let me save the children; to love my life becomes me not; let it pass. Me will Eurystheus be most glad to take and treat despitefully, as I was Heracles’ companion; for the man is but a boor; wherefore wise men ought to pray to get a wise man for their foe, and not a proud senseless fool; for so, even if by fortune flouted, one would meet with much consideration.

CHORUS Old man, blame not this city; for though perhaps a gain to us, yet would it be a foul reproach that we betrayed strangers.

DEMOPHON A generous scheme is thine, but impossible. ’Tis not in quest of thee yon king comes marching hither; what would Eurystheus gain by the death of one so old? Nay, ’tis these children’s blood he wants. For there is danger to a foe in the youthful scions of a noble race, whose memory dwells upon their father’s wrongs; all this Eurystheus must foresee. But if thou hast any scheme besides, that better suits the time, be ready with it, for, since I heard that oracle, I am at a loss and full of fear. [Exit Demophon.

MACARIA Sirs, impute not boldness to me, because I venture forth; this shall be my first request, for a woman’s fairest crown is this, to practise silence and discretion, and abide at home in peace. But when I heard thy lamentations, Iolaus, I came forth, albeit I was not appointed to take the lead in my family. Still in some sense am I fit to do so, for these my brothers are my chiefest care, and I fain would ask, as touching myself, whether some new trouble, added to the former woes, is gnawing at thy heart.

IOLAUS My daughter, ’tis nothing new that I should praise thee, as I justly may, above all the children of Heracles. Our house seemed to be prospering, when back it fell again into a hopeless state; for the king declares the prophets signify that he must order the sacrifice, not of bull or heifer, but of some tender maid of noble lineage, if we and this city are to exist. Herein is our perplexity; the king refuses either to sacrifice his own or any other’s child. Wherefore, though he use not terms express, yet doth he hint, that, unless we find some way out of this perplexity, we must seek some other land, for he this country fain would save.

MACARIA Are these indeed the terms on which our safety depends?

IOLAUS Yea, on these; if, that is, we are successful otherwise.

MACARIA No longer then cower before the hated Argive spear; for I, of my own free will, or ever they bid me, am ready to die and offer myself as a victim. For what excuse have we, if, while this city deems it right to incur a great danger on our behalf, we, though we might save ourselves, fly from death, by foisting our trouble on others? No! indeed, ’twere surely most ridiculous to sit and mourn as suppliants of the gods, and show ourselves but cowards, children as we are of that illustrious sire. Where among the brave is such conduct seen? Better, I suppose, this city should be taken and I (which Heaven forefend!) fall into the hands of the enemy, and then, for all I am my noble father’s child, meet an awful doom, and face the Death-god none the less. Shall I wander as an exile from this land? Shall I not feel shame then, when someone says, as say they will, Why are ye come hither with suppliant boughs, loving your lives too well? Begone from our land! for we will not succour cowards. Nay, if these be slain and I alone be saved, I have no hope in any wise of being happy, though many ere now have in this hope betrayed their friends. For who will care to wed a lonely maid or make me mother of his children? ’Tis better I should die than meet such treatment, little as I merit it. This were fitter treatment for some other, one that is not born to fame as I am. Conduct me to the scene of death, crown me with garlands, and begin the rites, if so it please you; then be victorious o’er the foe, for here I offer my life freely and without constraint, and for my brothers and myself I undertake to die. For I, by loving not my life too well, have found a treasure very fair, a glorious means to leave it.

CHORUS Ah, what shall I say on hearing the maid’s brave words, she that is ready to die for her brothers? Who can speak more noble words or do more noble deeds henceforth for ever?

IOLAUS Daughter, thou art his own true child, no other man’s but Heracles’, that godlike soul; proud am I of thy words, though I sorrow for thy lot. Yet will I propose a fairer method: ’tis right to summon hither all the sisters of this maiden, and then let her, on whom the lot shall fall, die for her family; for that thou shouldst die without the lot is not just.

MACARIA My death shall no chance lot decide; there is no graciousness in that; peace! old friend. But if ye accept and will avail you of my readiness, freely do I offer my life for these, and without constraint.

IOLAUS Ah, this is even nobler than thy former word; that was matchless, but thou dost now surpass thy bravery and noble speech. I cannot bid, will not forbid thy dying, Omy daughter! for by thy death thou dost thy brothers serve.

MACARIA A cautious bidding thine! Fear not to take a stain of guilt from me; only let me die as one whose death is free. Follow me, old friend, for in thy arms I fain would die; stand by and veil my body with my robe, for I will go even to the dreadful doom of sacrifice, seeing whose daughter I avow myself.

IOLAUS I cannot stand by and see thee bleed.

MACARIA At least do thou beg me this boon of the king, that I may breathe out my life in women’s arms instead of men’s.

DEMOPHON It shall be so, unhappy maid; for this were shame to me to refuse thee honour due, for many reasons: because thou hast a soul so brave; because ’tis right; and thou hast shown more courage than any of thy sex my eyes have ever seen. Now, if thou hast aught to say to these children or thy aged guide, oh! say the last thou hast to say—then go.

MACARIA Farewell, old friend, farewell! and prithee teach these children to be like thyself, wise at every point; let them strive no further, for that will suffice them. And seek to save them from death, even as thou art anxious to do; thy children are we, thy care it was that nurtured us. Thou seest how I yield my bridal bloom to die for them. For you, my brothers gathered here, may you be happy! and may every blessing be yours, for the which my blood shall pay the price! Honour this old friend, and her that is within the house, Alcmena, the aged mother of my sire, and these strangers too. And if ever heaven for you devise release from trouble and a return to your home, remember the burial due to her that saved you, a funeral fair as I deserve; for I have not failed, but stood by you, and died to save my race. This shall be my pearl of price instead of children, and for the maiden life I leave, if there be really aught beyond the grave—God grant there may not be! For if, e’en there, we who are to die shall find a life of care, I know not whither one shall turn; for death is held a sovereign cure for every ill.

IOLAUS Maiden of heroic soul, transcending all thy race, be sure the fame that thou shalt win from us, in life, in death, shall leave the rest of women far behind; farewell to thee! I dare not say harsh words of her to whom thou art devoted, the goddess-daughter of Demeter. [Exit Macaria.] Children, I am undone, grief unnerves my limbs; take hold and support me to a seat hard by, when ye have drawn my mantle o’er my face, my sons. For I am grieved at what hath happened, and yet, were it not fulfilled, we could not live; thus were the mischief worse, though this is grief enough.

CHORUS Without the will of heaven none is blest, none curst, I do maintain; nor doth the same house for ever tread the path of bliss; for one kind of fortune follows hard upon another; one man it brings to naught from his high estate, another though of no account it crowns with happiness. To shun what fate decrees, is no wise permitted; none by cunning shall thrust it from him; but he, who vainly would do so, shall have unceasing trouble.

CHORUS Then fall not prostrate thou, but bear what heaven sends, and set a limit to thy soul’s grief; for she, poor maid! in dying for her brothers and this land, hath won a glorious death, and splendid fame shall be her meed from all mankind; for virtue’s path leads through troublous ways. Worthy of her father, worthy of her noble birth is this conduct. And if thou dost honour the virtuous dead, I share with thee that sentiment.

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) All hail, ye children! Where is aged Iolaus? where the mother of your sire, absent from their place at this altar?

IOLAUS Here am I, so far as I can be present at all.

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) Why dost thou lie there? Why that downcast look?

IOLAUS There is come a sorrow on my house, whereby I am distressed.

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) Arise, lift up thy head.

IOLAUS I am old, and all my strength is gone.

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) But I come with tidings of great joy for thee.

IOLAUS Who art thou? Where have I met thee? I have no remembrance.

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) I am a vassal of Hyllus; dost not recognize me now?

IOLAUS Best of friends, art thou come to save us twain from hurt?

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) Assuredly; and moreover thou art lucky in the present case.

IOLAUS Alcmena, mother of a noble son, to thee I call! come forth, hear this welcome news. For long has anguish caused thee inwardly to waste, wondering if those, who now are here, would ever come.

ALCMENA What means that shout, that echoes throughout the house? Hath there come yet a herald from Argos, O Iolaus, and is he treating thee with violence? Feeble is any strength of mine; yet thus much let me tell thee, stranger, never, whilst I live, shalt thou drag them hence. Shouldst thou succeed, no more let me be thought the mother of that hero. And if thou lay a finger on them, thou wilt struggle to thy shame with two aged foes.

IOLAUS Courage, aged dame, fear not; not from Argos is a herald come, with hostile messages.

ALCMENA Why then didst raise a cry, fear’s harbinger?

IOLAUS I called thee to come to me in front of this temple.

ALCMENA I know not what it means; who is this?

IOLAUS A messenger who says thy grandson cometh hither.

ALCMENA All hail to thee for these thy tidings! But why is he not here, where is he? if in this land he hath set foot. What hath happened to keep him from coming hither with thee, to cheer my heart?

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) He is posting the army he brought with him, and seeing it marshalled.

ALCMENA Then have I no concern herein.

IOLAUS Yes, thou hast; though it is my business to inquire into these matters.

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) What then wouldst thou learn of these events?

IOLAUS About how many allies has he with him?

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) A numerous force; I cannot otherwise describe the number.

IOLAUS The leaders of the Athenians know this, I suppose?

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) They do; already is their left wing set in array.

IOLAUS Is then the host already armed for battle?

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) Yea, and already are the victims brought near the ranks.

IOLAUS About what distance is the Argive host from us?

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) Near enough for their general to be plainly seen.

IOLAUS What is he about? marshalling the enemy’s line?

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) So we guessed; we could not hear exactly. But I must go, for I would not that my master should engage the foe without me, if I can help it.

IOLAUS I also will go with thee; for I like thee am minded, so it seems, to be there and help my friends.

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) It least of all becomes thee thus to utter words of folly.

IOLAUS Far less to shrink from sharing with my friends the stubborn fight.

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) Mere looks can wound no one, if the arm do naught.

IOLAUS Why, cannot I smite even through their shields?

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) Smite perhaps, more likely be smitten thyself.

IOLAUS No foe will dare to meet me face to face.

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) Friend, the strength, that erst was thine, is thine no more,

IOLAUS Well, at any rate, I will fight with as many as ever I did.

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) Small the weight thou canst throw into the balance for thy friends.

IOLAUS Detain me not, when I have girded myself for action.

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) The power to act is thine no more, the will maybe is there.

IOLAUS Stay here I will not, say what else thou wilt

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) How shalt thou show thyself before the troops unarmed?

IOLAUS There be captured arms within this shrine; these will I use, and, if I live, restore; and, if I am slain, the god will not demand them of me back. Go thou within, and from its peg take down a suit of armour and forthwith bring it to me. To linger thus at home is infamous, while some go fight, and others out of cowardice remain behind. [Exit Servant.

CHORUS Not yet hath time laid low thy spirit, ’tis young as ever; but thy body’s strength is gone. Why toil to no purpose? ’Twill do thee hurt and benefit our city little. At thy age thou shouldst confess thy error and let impossibilities alone. Thou canst in no way get thy vigour back again.

ALCMENA What means this mad resolve to leave me with my children undefended here?

IOLAUS Men must fight; and thou must look to them.

ALCMENA And what if thou art slain? what safety shall I find?

IOLAUS Thy son’s surviving children will care for thee.

ALCMENA Suppose they meet with some reverse? which Heaven forefend!

IOLAUS These strangers will not give thee up, fear not.

ALCMENA They are my last and only hope, I have no other.

IOLAUS Zeus too, I feel sure, cares for thy sufferings.

ALCMENA Ah! of Zeus will I never speak ill, but himself doth know, whether he is just to me.

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) Lo! here thou seest a full coat of mail; make haste to case thyself therein; for the strife is nigh, and bitterly doth Ares loathe loiterers; but if thou fear the weight of the armour, go for the present without it, and in the ranks do on this gear; meantime will I carry it.

IOLAUS Well said! keep the harness ready to my hand, put a spear within my grasp, and support me on the left side, guiding my steps.

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) Am I to lead this warrior like a child?

IOLAUS To save the omen, we must go without stumbling.

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) Would thy power to act were equal to thy zeal!

IOLAUS Hasten; I shall feel it grievously, if I am too late for the battle.

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) ’Tis thou who art slow, not I, though thou fanciest thou art doing wonders.

IOLAUS Dost not mark how swift my steps are hasting?

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) I mark more seeming than reality in thy haste.

IOLAUS Thou wilt tell a different tale when thou seest me there.

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) What shall I see thee do? I wish thee all success, at any rate.

IOLAUS Thou shalt see me smite some foeman through the shield.

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) Perhaps, if ever we get there. I have my fears of that.

IOLAUS Ah! would to Heaven that thou, mine arm, e’en as I remember thee in thy lusty youth, when with Heracles thou didst sack Sparta, couldst so champion me to-day! how I would put Eurystheus to flight! since he is too craven to wait the onslaught. For prosperity carries with it this error too a reputation for bravery; for we think the prosperous man a master of all knowledge.

CHORUS O earth, and moon that shines by night, and dazzling radiance of the god, that giveth light to man, bear the tidings to me, shout aloud to heaven for joy, and beside our ruler’s throne, and in the shrine of grey-eyed Athene. For my fatherland and home will I soon decide the issue of the strife with the gleaming sword, because I have taken suppliants under my protection.

CHORUS ’Tis a fearful thing, that a city prosperous as Mycenae is, one famed for martial prowess, should harbour wrath against my land; still, my countrymen, it were a shameful thing in us to yield up suppliant strangers at the bidding of Argos. Zeus is on my side, I am not afraid; Zeus hath a favour unto me, as is my due; never by me shall gods be thought weaker than mortal men.

CHORUS O dread goddess, thine the soil whereon we stand, thine this city, for thou art its mother, queen, and saviour; wherefore turn some other way the impious king, who leadeth a host from Argos with brandished lance against this land; for, such my worth, I little merit exile from my home.

CHORUS For thy worship is aye performed with many a sacrifice, and never art thou forgotten as each month draweth to its close, when young voices sing and dancers’ music is heard abroad, while on our wind-swept hill goes up the cry of joy to the beat of maidens’ feet by night.

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) Mistress, the message that I bring is very short for thee to hear and fair for me, who stand before thee, to announce. O’er our foes we are victorious, and trophies are being set up, with panoplies upon them, taken from thy enemies.

ALCMENA Best of friends! this day hath wrought thy liberty by reason of these tidings. But there still remains one anxious thought thou dost not free me from;—a thought of fear;—are those, whose lives I cherish, spared to me?

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) They are, and high their fame through all the army spreads.

ALCMENA The old man Iolaus,—is he yet alive?

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) Aye, that he is, a hero whom the gods delight to honour.

ALCMENA How so? Did he perform some deed of prowess?

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) He hath passed from age to youth once more.

ALCMENA Thy tale is passing strange; but first I would that thou shouldst tell me, how our friends won the day.

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) One speech of mine puts it all clearly before thee. When we had deployed our troops and marshalled them face to face with one another, Hyllus dismounted from his four-horsed chariot and stood midway betwixt the hosts. Then cried he, Captain, who art come from Argos, why cannot we leave this land alone? No hurt wilt thou do Mycenae, if of one man thou rob her; come! meet me in single combat, and, if thou slay me, take the children of Heracles away with thee, but, if thou fall, leave me to possess my ancestral honours and my home. The host cried yes! saying the scheme he offered was a fair one, both to rid them of their trouble and satisfy their valour. But that other, feeling no shame before those who heard the challenge or at his own cowardice, quailed, general though he was, to come within reach of the stubborn spear, showing himself an abject coward; yet with such a spirit he came to enslave the children of Heracles. Then did Hyllus withdraw to his own ranks again, and the prophets seeing that no reconciliation would be effected by single combat, began the sacrifice without delay and forthwith let flow from a human throat auspicious streams of blood. And some were mounting chariots, while others couched beneath the shelter of their shields, and the king of the Athenians, as a highborn chieftain should, would exhort his host: Fellow-citizens, the land, that feeds you and that gave you birth, demands to-day the help of every man. Likewise Eurystheus besought his allies that they should scorn to sully the feme of Argos and Mycenae. Anon the Etrurian trumpet sounded loud and clear, and hand to hand they rushed; then think how loudly clashed their ringing shields, what din arose of cries and groans confused! At first the onset of the Argive spearmen broke our ranks; then they in turn gave ground; next, foot to foot and man to man, they fought their stubborn fray, many falling the while. And either chief cheered on his men, Sons of Athens! Ye who till the fields of Argos! ward from your land disgrace. Do all we could, and spite of every effort, scarce could we turn the Argive line in flight. When lo! old Iolaus sees Hyllus starting from the ranks, whereon he lifts his hands to him with a prayer to take him up into his chariot. Thereon he seized the reins and went hard after the horses of Eurystheus. From this point onward must I speak from hearsay, though hitherto as one whose own eyes saw. For as he was crossing Pallene’s hill, sacred to the goddess Athene, he caught sight of Eurystheus’ chariot, and prayed to Hebe and to Zeus, that for one single day he might grow young again and wreak his vengeance on his foes. Now must thou hear a wondrous tale: two stars settled on the horses’ yokes and threw the chariot into dark shadow, which—at least so say our wiser folk—were thy son and Hebe; and from that murky gloom appeared that aged man in the form of a youth with strong young arms; then by the rocks of Sciron the hero Iolaus o’ertakes Eurystheus’ chariot. And he bound his hands with gyves, and is bringing that chieftain once so prosperous as a trophy hither, whose fortune now doth preach a lesson, clear as day, to all the sons of men, that none should envy him, who seems to thrive, until they see his death; for fortune’s moods last but a day.

CHORUS O Zeus, who puttest my foes to flight, now may I behold the day that frees me from cruel fear!

ALCMENA At last, O Zeus, hast thou turned a favouring eye on my affliction; yet do I thank thee for what has happened. And though ere this I did not believe my son was gathered to the gods, now am I convinced thereof. My children, now at last from toil shall ye be free, free from him, whom hideous death awaits, Eurystheus; now shall ye behold your father’s city, and set foot in the land of your inheritance, and sacrifice to those ancestral gods, from whom ye have been debarred and forced to lead in strangers’ lands a life of wretched vagrancy. But tell me, what sage purpose Iolaus nursed in his heart, that he spared the life of Eurystheus, for to my mind this is no wisdom, to catch a foe and wreak no vengeance on him.

SERVANT (OF HYLLUS) ’Twas his regard for thee, that thou might’st see him subject to thy hand, and triumph o’er him. Rest assured, ’twas no willing prisoner he made, but by strong constraint he bound him, for Eurystheus was loth indeed to come alive into thy presence and pay his penalty. Farewell, my aged mistress; I pray thee remember thy first promise when I was beginning my story; set me free; for, at such a time as this, sincerity becometh noble lips. [Exit Servant.

CHORUS Sweet is the dance to me, whenso the clear-toned flute and lovely Aphrodite shed grace upon the feast; and a joyful thing too it is, I trow, to witness the good luck of friends, who till then ne’er dreamt of it. For numerous is the offspring of Fate, that bringeth all to pass, and of Time, the son of Cronos.

CHORUS Thine is the path of justice, O my city; this must no man wrest from thee, thy reverence for the gods, and, whoso denieth it of thee, draws nigh to frenzy’s goal, with these plain proofs in view. Yea, for the god proclaims it clearly, by cutting short the bad man’s pride in every case.

CHORUS In heaven, mother, lives thy son, passed from earth away; that he went down to Hades’ halls, his body burnt by the fire’s fierce flame, is past belief; in golden halls reclined he has to wife Hebe, lovely nymph. Thou, O Hymen, hast honoured them, children both of Zeus.

CHORUS Things for the most part form a single chain; for instance, men say Athene used to champion their father, and now the citizens of that goddess have saved his children, and checked the insolence of him, whose heart preferred violence to justice. God save me from such arrogance, such greed of soul! [Eurystheus is brought in bound.

MESSENGER Mistress, though thine eyes see him, yet will I announce we have brought Eurystheus hither for thy pleasure, an unexpected sight, for him no less a chance he ne’er foresaw; for little he thought of ever falling into thy hands, what time he marched from Mycenae with his toil-worn warriors, to sack Athens, thinking himself far above fortune. But a power divine hath reversed our destinies, changing their position. Now Hyllus and brave Iolaus I left raising an image to Zeus, who routs the foe, for their triumphant victory, whilst they bid me bring this prisoner to thee, wishing to gladden thy heart; for ’tis the sweetest sight to see a foe fall on evil days after prosperity.

ALCMENA Art come, thou hateful wretch? Hath Justice caught thee then at last? First, turn thy head this way to me, and endure to look thy enemies in the face, for thou art no more the ruler, but the slave. Art thou the man—for this I fain would learn—who didst presume to heap thy insults on my son, who now is where he is, thou miscreant? What outrage didst thou abstain from putting upon him? Thou that didst make him go down alive even to Hades, and wouldst send him with an order to slay hydras and lions? Thy other evil schemes I mention not, for to tell them were a tedious task for me. Nor did it content thee to venture thus far only; no! but from all Hellas wouldst thou drive me and my children, heaven’s suppliants though we were, grey-heads some of us, and some still tender babes. But here hast thou found men and a free city, that feared not thee. Die in torment must thou, and e’en so wilt thou gain in every way, for one death is not thy due, after all the sorrow thou hast caused.

MESSENGER Thou mayst not slay him.

ALCMENA Then have we taken him captive in vain. But say, what law forbids his death?

MESSENGER It is not the will of the rulers of this land.

ALCMENA Why, what is this? Do they not approve of slaying enemies?

MESSENGER Not such as they have taken alive in battle.

ALCMENA Did Hyllus uphold this decision?

MESSENGER He, I suppose, ought to have disobeyed the law of the land.

ALCMENA The prisoner’s life ought not to have been spared a moment.

MESSENGER It was then that he was wronged, by not being slain at first.

ALCMENA Why, then, he is still in time to pay his penalty.

MESSENGER There is no one, who will slay him now.

ALCMENA I will; and yet I count myself someone.

MESSENGER Well, thou wilt incur great blame, if thou do this deed.

ALCMENA I love this city well; that cannot be gainsaid. But since this man hath fallen into my power, no mortal hand shall wrest him from me. Wherefore let who will, call me the woman bold, with thoughts too high for her sex; yet shall this deed be brought to pass by me.

CHORUS Lady, full well I understand thou hast a dire quarrel with this man, and ’tis pardonable.

EURYSTHEUS Woman, be sure I will not flatter thee nor say aught to save my life, that can give any occasion for a charge of cowardice. It was not of my own free will I took this quarrel up; I am aware that I was born thy cousin, and kinsman to Heracles, thy son; but whether I would or no, Hera, by her power divine, caused me to be afflicted thus. Still, when I undertook to be his foe, and when I knew I had to enter on this struggle, I set myself to devise trouble in plenty, and oft from time to time my midnight communing bore fruit, scheming how to push aside and slay my foes, and for the future divorce myself from fear; for I knew that son of thine was no mere cipher, but a man indeed; yea, for, though he was my foe, I will speak well of him, because he was a man of worth. Now, after he was taken hence, was I not forced, by reason of these children’s hatred, and because I was conscious of an hereditary feud, to leave no stone unturned by slaying, banishing, and plotting against them? So long as I did so, my safety was assured. Suppose thyself hadst had my lot, wouldst not thou have set to harassing the lion’s angry whelps, instead of letting them dwell at Argos undisturbed? Thou wilt not persuade us otherwise. Now therefore, since they did not slay me then, when I was prepared to die, by the laws of Hellas my death becomes a curse on him, who slays me now. The city wisely let me go, in that she regarded the gods more than her hatred of me. Thou hast had my answer to thy words; henceforth must I be called avenging spirit and noble hero too. ’Tis even thus with me; to die have I no wish, but, if I leave my life, I shall in no way be grieved.

CHORUS Alcmena, fain I would advise thee somewhat; let this man go, for ’tis the city’s will.

ALCMENA Suppose he die, and yet I obey the city?

CHORUS That would be best of all; but how can this be?

ALCMENA I will teach thee easily. I will slay him and then give up his corpse to those of his friends, who come for it, for, as regards his body, I will not disobey the state; but by his death shall he pay me the penalty.

EURYSTHEUS Slay me, I do not ask thee for mercy; yet since this city let me go and shrunk from slaying me, I will reward it with an old oracle of Loxias, which in time will benefit them more than doth appear. Bury my body after death in its destined grave in front of the shrine of the virgin goddess at Pallene. And I will be thy friend and guardian of thy city for ever, where I lie buried in a foreign soil, but a bitter foe to these children’s descendants, whensoe’er with gathered host they come against this land, traitors to your kindness now; such are the strangers ye have championed. Why then came I hither, if I knew all this, instead of regarding the god’s oracle? Because I thought, that Hera was mightier far than any oracle, and would not betray me. Waste no drink-offering on my tomb, nor spill the victim’s blood; for I will requite them for my treatment here with a journey they shall rue; and ye shall have double gain from me, for I will help you and harm them by my death.

ALCMENA Why, why delay to kill this man, after hearing this, since this is needed to secure the safety of your city and your children? Himself points out the safest road. Though the man is now our foe, yet after death is he our gain. Away with him, ye servants, and cast him to the dogs when ye have slain him. Think not thou shalt live to cast me forth from my native land again.

CHORUS I agree. Lead on, servants. Our conduct shall bring no stain of guilt upon our rulers.

ANDROMACHE (Translated by E. P. Coleridge, 1891)

ANDROMACHE O city of Thebes, glory of Asia, whence on a day I came to Priam’s princely home with many a rich and costly thing in my dower, affianced unto Hector to be the mother of his children, I Andromache, envied name in days of yore, but now of all women that have been or yet shall be the most unfortunate; for I have lived to see my husband Hector slain by Achilles, and the babe Astyanax, whom I bore my lord, hurled from the towering battlements, when the Hellenes sacked our Trojan home; and I myself am come to Hellas as a slave, though I was esteemed a daughter of a race most free, given to Neoptolemus that island-prince, and set apart for him as his special prize from the spoils of Troy. And here I dwell upon the boundaries of Phthia and Pharsalia’s town, where Thetis erst, the goddess of the sea, abode with Peleus apart from the world, avoiding the throng of men; wherefore the folk of Thessaly call it the sacred place of Thetis, in honour of the goddess’s marriage. Here dwells the son of Achilles and suffers Peleus still to rule Pharsalia, not wishing to assume the sceptre while the old man lives. Within these halls have I born a boy to the son of Achilles, my master. Now aforetime for all my misery I ever had a hope to lead me on, that, if my child were safe, I might find some help and protection from my woes; but since my lord hath wedded that Spartan Hermione in scorn of his bondmaid’s charms, I am tormented by her most cruelly; for she saith that I by secret enchantment am making her barren and distasteful to her husband, and that I design to take her place in this house, ousting her the rightful mistress by force; whereas I at first submitted against my will and now have resigned my place; be almighty Zeus my witness that it was not of my own free will I became her rival! But I cannot convince her, and she longs to kill me, and her father Menelaus is an accomplice in this. E’en now is he within, arrived from Sparta for this very purpose, while I in terror am come to take up a position here in the shrine of Thetis adjoining the house, if haply it may save me from death; for Peleus and his descendants hold it in honour as a symbol of his marriage with the Nereid. My only son am I secretly conveying to a neighbour’s house in fear for his life. For his sire stands not by my side to lend his aid and cannot avail his child at all, being absent in the land of Delphi, where he is offering recompense to Loxias for the madness he committed, when on a day he went to Pytho and demanded of Phoebus satisfaction for his father’s death, if haply his prayer might avert those past sins and win for him the god’s goodwill hereafter.

MAID Mistress mine, be sure I do not hesitate to call thee by that name, seeing that I thought it thy right in thine own house also, when we dwelt in Troy-land: as I was ever thy friend and thy husband’s while yet he was alive, so now have I come with strange tidings, in terror lest any of our masters learn hereof but still out of pity for thee; for Menelaus and his daughter are forming dire plots against thee, whereof thou must beware.

ANDROMACHE Ah! kind companion of my bondage, for such thou art to her, who, erst thy queen, is now sunk in misery; what are they doing? What new schemes are they devising in their eagerness to take away my wretched life?

MAID Alas! poor lady, they intend to slay thy son, whom thou hast privily conveyed from out the house.

ANDROMACHE Ah me! Has she heard that my babe was put out of her reach? Who told her? Woe is me! how utterly undone!

MAID I know not, but thus much of their schemes I heard myself; and Menelaus has left the house to fetch him.

ANDROMACHE Then am I lost; ah, my child! those vultures twain will take and slay thee; while he who is called thy father lingers still in Delphi.

MAID True, for had he been here thou wouldst not have fared so hardly, I am sure; but, as it is, thou art friendless.

ANDROMACHE Have no tidings come of the possible arrival of Peleus?

MAID He is too old to help thee if he came.

ANDROMACHE And yet I sent for him more than once.

MAID Surely thou dost not suppose that any of thy messengers heed thee?

ANDROMACHE Why should they? Wilt thou then go for me?

MAID How shall I explain my long absence from the house?

ANDROMACHE Thou art a woman; thou canst invent a hundred ways.

MAID There is a risk, for Hermione keeps no careless guard.

ANDROMACHE Dost look to that? Thou art disowning thy friends in distress.

MAID Not so; never taunt me with that. I will go, for of a truth a woman and a slave is not of much account, e’en if aught befall, me.

ANDROMACHE Go then, while I will tell to heaven the lengthy tale of lamentation, mourning, and weeping, that has ever been my hard lot; for ’tis woman’s way to delight in present misfortunes even to keeping them always on her tongue and lips. But I have many reasons, not merely one for tears,–my city’s fall, my Hector’s death, the hardness of the lot to which I am bound, since I fell on slavery’s evil days undeservedly. ’Tis never right to call a son of man happy, till thou hast seen his end, to judge from the way he passes it how he will descend to that other world.

ANDROMACHE ’Twas no bride Paris took with him to the towers of Ilium, but a curse to his bed when he brought Helen to her bower. For her sake, O Troy, did eager warriors, sailing from Hellas in a thousand ships, capture and make thee a prey to fire and sword; and the son of sea-born Thetis mounted on his chariot dragged my husband Hector round the walls, ah woe is me! while I was hurried from my chamber to the beach, with slavery’s hateful pall upon me. And many a tear I shed as I left my city, my bridal bower, and my husband in the dust. Woe, woe is me! why should I prolong my life, to serve Hermione? Her cruelty it is that drives me hither to the image of the goddess to throw my suppliant arms about it, melting to tears as doth a spring that gushes from the rock.

CHORUS Lady, thus keeping thy weary station without pause upon the floor of Thetis’ shrine, Phthian though I am, to thee a daughter of Asia I come, to see if I can devise some remedy for these perplexing troubles, which have involved thee and Hermione in fell discord, because to thy sorrow thou sharest with her the love of Achilles’ son.

CHORUS Recognize thy position, weigh the present evil into the which thou art come. Thou art a Trojan captive; thy rival is thy mistress, a true-born daughter of Sparta. Leave then this home of sacrifice, the shrine of our sea-goddess. How can it avail thee to waste thy comeliness and disfigure it by weeping by reason of a mistress’s harsh usage? Might will prevail against thee; why vainly toil in thy feebleness?

CHORUS Come, quit the bright sanctuary of the Nereid divine. Recognize that thou art in bondage on a foreign soil, in a strange city, where thou seest none of all thy friends, luckless lady, cast on evil days.

CHORUS Yea, I did pity thee most truly, Trojan dame, when thou earnest to this house; but from fear of my mistress I hold my peace, albeit I sympathize with thee, lest she, whom Zeus’s daughter bore, discover my good will toward thee.

HERMIONE With a crown of golden workmanship upon my head and about my body this embroidered robe am I come hither; no presents these I wear from the palace of Achilles or Peleus, but gifts my father Menelaus gave me together with a sumptuous dower from Sparta in Laconia, to insure me freedom of speech. Such is my answer to you; but as for thee, slave and captive, thou wouldst fain oust me and secure this palace for thyself, and thanks to thy enchantment I am hated by my husband; thou it is that hast made my womb barren and cheated my hopes; for Asia’s daughters have clever heads for such villainy; yet will I check thee therefrom, nor shall this temple of the Nereid avail thee aught, no! neither its altar or shrine, but thou shalt die. But if or god or man should haply wish to save thee, thou must atone for thy proud thoughts of happier days now past by humbling thyself and crouching prostrate at my knees, by sweeping out my halls, and by learning, as thou sprinklest water from a golden ewer, where thou now art. Here is no Hector, no Priam with his gold, but a city of Hellas. Yet thou, miserable woman, hast gone so far in wantonness that thou canst lay thee down with the son of the very man that slew thy husband, and bear children to the murderer. Such is all the race of barbarians; father and daughter, mother and son, sister and brother mate together; the nearest and dearest stain their path with each others blood, and no law restrains such horrors. Bring not these crimes amongst us, for here we count it shame that one man should have the control of two wives, and men are content to turn their attention to one lawful love, that is, all who care to live an honourable life.

CHORUS Women are by nature somewhat jealous, and do ever show the keenest hate to rivals in their love.

ANDROMACHE Ah! well-a-day! Youth is a bane to mortals, in every case, that is, where a man embraces injustice in his early days. Now I am afraid that my being a slave will prevent thee listening to me in spite of many a just plea, or if I win my case, I fear I may be damaged on this very ground, for the high and mighty cannot brook refuting arguments from their inferiors; still I will not be convicted of betraying my own cause. Tell me, proud young wife, what assurance can make me confident of wresting from thee thy lawful lord? Is it that Laconias capital yields to Phrygia? is it that my fortune outstrips thine? or that in me thou seest a free woman? Am I so elated by my youth, my full healthy figure, the extent of my city, the number of my friends that I wish to supplant thee in thy home? Is my purpose to take thy place and rear myself a race of slaves, mere appendages to my misery? or, supposing thou bear no children, will any one endure that sons of mine should rule oer Phthia? Ah no! there is the love that Hellas bears me, both for Hectors sake and for my own humble rank forsooth, that never knew a queens estate in Troy. ’Tis not my sorcery that makes thy husband hate thee, nay, but thy own failure to prove thyself his help-meet. Herein lies love’s only charm tis not beauty, lady, but virtuous acts that win our husbands’ hearts. And though it gall thee to be told so, albeit thy city in Laconia is no doubt a mighty fact, yet thou findest no place for his Scyros, displaying wealth ’midst poverty and setting Menelaus above Achilles: and that is what alienates thy lord. Take heed; for a woman, though bestowed upon a worthless husband, must be with him content, and ne’er advance presumptuous claims. Suppose thou hadst wedded a prince of Thrace, the land of flood and melting snow, where one lord shares his affections with a host of wives, wouldst thou have slain them? If so, thou wouldst have set a stigma of insatiate lust on all our sex. A shameful charge! And yet herein we suffer more than men, though we make a good stand against it. Ah! my dear lord Hector, for thy sake would I e’en brook a rival, if ever Cypris led thee astray, and oft in days gone by I held thy bastard babes to my own breast, to spare thee any cause for grief. By this course I bound my husband to me by virtue’s chains, whereas thou wilt never so much as let the drops of dew from heaven above settle on thy lord, in thy jealous fear. Oh! seek not to surpass thy mother in hankering after men, for ’tis well that all wise children should avoid the habits of such evil mothers.

CHORUS Mistress mine, be persuaded to come to terms with her, as far as readily comes within thy power.

HERMIONE Why this haughty tone, this bandying of words, as if, forsooth, thou, not I, wert the virtuous wife?

ANDROMACHE Thy present claims at any rate give thee small title thereto.

HERMIONE Woman, may my bosom never harbour such ideas as thine!

ANDROMACHE Thou art young to speak on so delicate a subject.

HERMIONE As for thee, thou dost not speak thereof but, as thou canst, dost put it into action against me.

ANDROMACHE Canst thou not conceal thy pangs of jealousy?

HERMIONE What! doth not every woman put this first of all?

ANDROMACHE Yes, if her experiences are happy; otherwise, there is no honour in speaking of them.

HERMIONE Barbarians’ laws are not a standard for our city.

ANDROMACHE Alike in Asia and in Hellas infamy attends base actions.

HERMIONE Clever, clever quibbler! yet die thou must and shalt.

ANDROMACHE Dost see the image of Thetis with her eye upon thee?

HERMIONE A bitter foe to thy country because of the death of Achilles.

ANDROMACHE ’Twas not I that slew him, but Helen that mother of thine.

HERMIONE Pray, is it thy intention to probe my wounds yet deeper?

ANDROMACHE Behold, I am dumb, my lips are closed.

HERMIONE Tell me that which was my only reason for coming hither.

ANDROMACHE No! all I tell thee is, thou hast less wisdom than thou needest.

HERMIONE Wilt thou leave these hallowed precincts of the sea-goddess?

ANDROMACHE Yes, if I am not to die for it; otherwise, I never will.

HERMIONE Since that is thy resolve, I shall not even wait my lord’s return.

ANDROMACHE Nor yet will I, at any rate ere that, surrender to thee.

HERMIONE I will bring fire to bear on thee, and pay no heed to thy entreaties.

ANDROMACHE Kindle thy blaze then; the gods will witness it.

HERMIONE And make thy flesh to writhe by cruel wounds.

ANDROMACHE Begin thy butchery, stain the altar of the goddess with blood, for she will visit thy iniquity.

HERMIONE Barbarian creature, hardened in impudence, wilt thou brave death itself? Still will I find speedy means to make thee quit this seat of thy free-will; such a bait have I to lure thee with. But I will hide my meaning, which the event itself shall soon declare. Yes, keep thy seat, for I will make thee rise, though molten lead is holding thee there, before Achilles’ son, thy trusted champion, arrive. Exit Hermione.

ANDROMACHE My trusted champion, yes! how strange it is, that, though some god hath devised cures for mortals against the venom of reptiles, no man ever yet hath discovered aught to cure a woman’s venom, which is far worse than viper’s sting or scorching flame; so terrible a curse are we to mankind.

CHORUS Ah! what sorrows did the son of Zeus and Maia herald, in the day he came to Ida’s glen, guiding that fair young trio of goddesses, all girded for the fray in bitter rivalry about their beauty, to the shepherd’s fold, where dwelt the youthful herdsman all alone by the hearth of his lonely hut.

CHORUS Soon as they reached the wooded glen, in gushing mountain springs they bathed their dazzling skin, then sought the son of Priam, comparing their rival charms in more than rancorous phrase. But Cypris won the day by her deceitful promises, sweet-sounding words, but fraught with ruthless overthrow to Phrygia’s hapless town and Ilium’s towers.

CHORUS Would God his mother had smitten him a cruel death-blow on the head before he made his home on Ida’s slopes, in the hour Cassandra, standing by the holy bay-tree, cried out, Slay him, for he will bring most grievous bane on Priam’s town. To every prince she went, to every elder sued for the babe’s destruction.

CHORUS Ah! had they listened, Ilium’s daughters ne’er had felt the yoke of slavery, and thou, lady, hadst been established in the royal palace; and Hellas had been freed of all the anguish she suffered during those ten long years her sons went wandering, spear in hand, around the walls of Troy; brides had never been left desolate, nor hoary fathers childless.

MENELAUS Behold I bring thy son with me, whom thou didst steal away to a neighbour’s house without my daughter’s knowledge. Thou wert so sure this image of the goddess would protect thee and those who hid him, but thou hast not proved clever enough for Menelaus. And so if thou refuse to leave thy station here, he shall be slain instead of thee. Wherefore weigh it well: wilt die thyself, or see him slain for the sin whereof thou art guilty against me and my daughter?

ANDROMACHE O fame, fame! full many a man ere now of no account hast thou to high estate exalted. Those, indeed, who truly have a fair repute, I count blest; but those who get it by false pretences, I will never allow have aught but the accidental appearance of wisdom. Thou for instance, caitiff that thou art, didst thou ever wrest Troy from Priam with thy picked troops of Hellenes? thou that hast raised such a storm, at the word of thy daughter, a mere child, and hast entered the lists with a poor captive; unworthy I count thee of Troy’s capture, and Troy still more disgraced by thy victory. Those who only in appearance are men of sense make an outward show, but inwardly resemble the common herd, save it be in wealth, which is their chiefest strength. Come now, Menelaus, let us discuss this argument. Suppose I am slain by thy daughter, and she work her will on me, yet can she never escape the pollution of murder, and public opinion will make thee too an accomplice in this deed of blood, for thy share in the business must needs implicate thee. But even supposing I escape death myself, will ye kill my child? Even then, how will his father brook the murder of his child? Troy has no such coward’s tale to tell of him; nay, he will follow duty’s call; his actions will prove him a worthy scion of Peleus and Achilles. Thy daughter will he thrust forth from his house; and what wilt thou say when seeking to betroth her to another? wilt say her virtue made her leave a worthless lord? Nay, that will be false. Who then will wed her? wilt thou keep her without a husband in thy halls, grown grey in widowhood? Unhappy wretch! dost not see the flood-gates of trouble opening wide for thee? How many a wrong against a wife wouldst thou prefer thy daughter to have found to suffering what I now describe? We ought not on trifling grounds to promote serious mischief; nor should men, if we women are so deadly a curse, bring their nature down to our level. No! if, as thy daughter asserts, I am practising sorcery against her and making her barren, right willingly will I, without any crouching at altars, submit in my own person to the penalty that lies in her husband’s hands, seeing that I am no less chargeable with injuring him if I make him childless. This is my case; but for thee, there is one thing I fear in thy disposition; it was a quarrel for a woman that really induced thee to destroy poor Ilium’s town.

CHORUS Thou hast said too much for a woman speaking to men. that discretion hath shot away its last shaft from thy soul’s quiver.

MENELAUS Woman, these are petty matters, unworthy, as thou sayest, of my despotic sway, unworthy too of Hellas. Yet mark this well; his special fancy of the hour is of more moment to a man than Troy’s capture. I then have set myself to help my daughter because I consider her loss of a wife’s rights a grave matter; for whatever else a woman suffers is secondary to this; if she loses her husband’s love she loses her life therewith. Now, as it is right Neoptolemus should rule my slaves, so my friends and I should have control of his; for friends, if they be really friends, keep nothing to themselves, but have all in common. So if I wait for the absent instead of making the best arrangement I can at once of my affairs, I show weakness, not wisdom. Arise then, leave the goddess’s shrine, for by thy death this child escapeth his, whereas, if thou refuse to die, I will slay him; for one of you twain must perish.

ANDROMACHE Ah me! ’tis a bitter lot thou art offering about my life; whether I take it or not I am equally unfortunate. Attend to me, thou who for a trifling cause art committing an awful crime. Why art thou bent on slaying me? What reason hast thou? What city have I betrayed? Which of thy children was ever slain by me? What house have I fired? I was forced to be my master’s concubine; and spite of that wilt thou slay me, not him who is to blame, passing by the cause and hurrying to the inevitable result? Ah me! my sorrows! Woe for my hapless country! How cruel my fate! Why had I to be a mother too and take upon me a double load of suffering? Yet why do I mourn the past, and o’er the present never shed a tear or compute its griefs? I that saw Hector butchered and dragged behind the chariot, and Ilium, piteous sight! one sheet of flame, while I was haled away by the hair of my head to the Argive ships in I slavery, and on my arrival in Phthia was assigned to Hector’s murderer as his mistress. What pleasure then has life for me? Whither am I to turn my gaze? to the present or the past? My babe alone was left me, the light of my life; and him these ministers of death would slay. No! they shall not, if my poor life can save him; for if he be saved, hope in him lives on, while to ’twere shame to refuse to die for my son. Lo! here I leave the altar and give myself into your hands, to cut or stab, to bind or hang. Ah! my child, to Hades now thy mother passes to save thy dear life. Yet if thou escape thy doom, remember me, my sufferings and my death, and tell thy father how I fared, with fond caress and streaming eye and arms thrown round his neck. Ah! yes, his children are to every man as his own soul; and whoso sneers at this through inexperience, though he suffers less anguish, yet tastes the bitter in his cup of bliss.

CHORUS Thy tale with pity fills me; for every man alike, stranger though he be, feels pity for another’s distress. Menelaus, ’tis thy duty to reconcile thy daughter and this captive, giving her a respite from sorrow.

MENELAUS Ho! sirrahs, catch me this woman; hold her fast; for ’tis no welcome story she will have to hear. It was to make thee leave the holy altar of the goddess that I held thy child’s death before thy eyes, and so induced thee to give thyself up to me to die. So stands thy case, be well assured; but as for this child, my daughter shall decide whether she will slay him or no. Get thee hence into the house, and there learn to bridle thy insolence in speaking to the free, slave that thou art.

ANDROMACHE Alas! thou hast by treachery beguiled me; I was deceived.

MENELAUS Proclaim it to the world; I do not deny it

ANDROMACHE Is this counted cleverness amongst you who dwell by the Eurotas?

MENELAUS Yes, and amongst Trojans too, that those who suffer should retaliate.

ANDROMACHE Thinkest thou God’s hand is shortened, and that thou wilt not be punished?

MENELAUS Whene’er that comes, I am ready to bear it. But thy life will I have.

ANDROMACHE Wilt likewise slay this tender chick, whom thou hast snatched from ’neath my wing?

MENELAUS Not I, but I will give him to my daughter to slay if she will.

ANDROMACHE Ah me! why not begin my mourning then for thee, my child?

MENELAUS Of a truth ’tis no very sure hope that he has left.

ANDROMACHE O citizens of Sparta, the bane of all the race of men, schemers of guile, and masters in lying, devisers of evil plots, with crooked minds and tortuous methods and ne’er one honest thought, ’tis wrong that ye should thrive in Hellas. What crime is wanting in your list? How rife is murder with you! How covetous ye are! One word upon your lips, another in your heart, this is what men always find with you. Perdition catch ye! Still death is not so grievous, as thou thinkest, to me. No! for my life ended in the day that hapless Troy was destroyed with my lord, that glorious warrior, whose spear oft made a coward like thee quit the field and seek thy ship. But now against a woman hast thou displayed the terrors of thy panoply, my would-be murderer. Strike then! for this my tongue shall never flatter thee or that daughter of thine. For though thou wert of great account in Sparta, why so was I in Troy. And if I am now in sorry plight, presume not thou on this; thou too mayst be so yet.

CHORUS Never, oh! never will I commend rival wives or sons of different mothers, a cause of strife, of bitterness, and grief every house. I would have a husband content with one wife whose rights he shareth with no other.

CHORUS Not even in states is dual monarchy better to bear than undivided rule; it only doubles burdens and causes faction amongst the citizens. Often too will the Muse sow strife ’twixt rivals in the art of minstrelsy.

CHORUS Again, when strong winds are drifting mariners, the divided counsel of the wise is not conducive to steering, and their collective wisdom has less weight than the inferior intelligence of the single man who has sole authority; for this is the essence of power alike in house and state, whene’er men care to find the proper moment.

CHORUS This Spartan, the daughter of the great chief Menelaus, proves this; for she hath kindled hot fury against a rival, and is bent on slaying the hapless Trojan maid and her child to further her bitter quarrel. Tis a murder gods and laws and kindness all forbid. Ah! lady, retribution for this deed will visit thee yet.

CHORUS But lo! before the house I see those two united souls, condemned to die. Alas! for thee, poor lady, and for thee, unhappy child, who art dying on account of thy mother’s marriage, though thou hast no share therein and canst not be blamed by the royal house.

ANDROMACHE Behold me journeying on the downward path, my hands so tightly bound with cords that they bleed.

MOLOSSUS O mother, mother mine! I too share thy downward path, nestling ’neath thy wing.

ANDROMACHE A cruel sacrifice! ye rulers of Phthia!

MOLOSSUS Come, father! succour those thou lovest.

ANDROMACHE Rest there, my babe, my darling! on thy mother’s bosom, e’en in death and in the grave.

MOLOSSUS Ah, woe is me! what will become of me and thee too, mother mine?

MENELAUS Away, to the world below! from hostile towers ye came, the pair of you; two different causes necessitate your deaths; my sentence takes away thy life, and my daughter Hermione’s requires his; for it would be the height of folly to leave our foemen’s sons, when we might kill them and remove the danger from our house.

ANDROMACHE O husband mine! I would I had thy strong arm and spear to aid me, son of Priam.

MOLOSSUS Ah, woe is me! what spell can I now find to turn death’s stroke aside?

ANDROMACHE Embrace thy master’s knees, my child, and pray to him.

MOLOSSUS Spare, O spare my life, kind master!

ANDROMACHE Mine eyes are wet with tears, which trickle down my cheeks, as doth a sunless spring from a smooth rock. Ah me!

MOLOSSUS What remedy, alas! can I provide me ’gainst my ills?

MENELAUS Why fall at my knees in supplication? hard as the rock and deaf as the wave am I. My own friends have I helped, but for thee have I no tie of affection; for verily it cost me a great part of my life to capture Troy and thy mother; so thou shalt reap the fruit thereof and into Hades’ halls descend.

CHORUS Behold! I see Peleus drawing nigh; with aged step he hasteth hither.

PELEUS calling out as he comes in sight. What means this? I ask you and your executioner; why is the palace in an uproar? give a reason; what mean your lawless machinations? Menelaus, hold thy hand. Seek not to outrun justice. To his attendant. Forward! faster, faster! for this matter, methinks, admits of no delay; now if ever would I fain resume the vigour of my youth. First however will I breathe new life into this captive, being to her as the breeze that blows a ship before the wind. Tell me, by what right have they pinioned thine arms and are dragging thee and thy child away? like a ewe with her lamb art thou led to the slaughter, while I and thy lord were far away.

ANDROMACHE Behold them that are haling me and my child to death, e’en as thou seest, aged prince. Why should I tell thee? For not by one urgent summons alone but by countless messengers have I sent for thee. No doubt thou knowest by hearsay of the strife in this house with this man’s daughter, and the reason of my ruin. So now they have torn and are dragging me from the altar of Thetis, the goddess of thy chiefest adoration and the mother of thy gallant son, without any proper trial, yea, and without waiting for my absent master; because, forsooth, they knew my defencelessness and my child’s, whom they mean to slay with me his hapless mother, though he has done no harm. But to thee, O sire, I make my supplication, prostrate at thy knees, though my hand cannot touch thy friendly beard; save me, I adjure thee, reverend sir, or to thy shame and my sorrow shall we be slain.

PELEUS Loose her bonds, I say, ere some one rue it; untie her folded hands.

MENELAUS I forbid it, for besides being a match for thee, I have a far better right to her.

PELEUS What! art thou come hither to set my house in order? Art not content with ruling thy Spartans?

MENELAUS She is my captive; I took her from Troy.

PELEUS Aye, but my son’s son received her as his prize.

MENELAUS Is not all I have his, and all his mine?

PELEUS For good, but not evil ends; and surely not for murderous violence.

MENELAUS Never shalt thou wrest her from my grasp.

PELEUS With this good staff I’ll stain thy head with blood!

MENELAUS Just touch me and see! Approach one step!

PELEUS What! shalt thou rank with men? chief of cowards, son of cowards! What right hast thou to any place ’mongst men? Thou who didst let a Phrygian rob thee of thy wife, leaving thy home without bolt or guard, as if forsooth the cursed woman thou hadst there was a model of virtue. No! a Spartan! maid could not be chaste, e’en if she would, who leaves her home and bares her limbs and lets her robe float free, to share; with youths their races and their sports,-- customs I cannot away with. Is it any wonder then that ye fail to educate your women in virtue? Helen might have asked thee this, seeing that she said goodbye to thy affection and tripped off with her young gallant to a foreign land. And yet for her sake thou didst marshal all the hosts of Hellas and lead them to Ilium, whereas thou shouldst have shown thy loathing for her by refusing to stir a spear, once thou hadst found her false; yea, thou shouldst have let her stay there, and even paid a price to save ever having her back again. But that was not at all the way thy thoughts were turned; wherefore many a brave life hast thou ended, and many an aged mother hast thou left childless in her home, and grey-haired sires of gallant sons hast reft. Of that sad band am I a member, seeing in thee Achilles murderer like a malignant fiend; for thou and thou alone hast returned from Troy without a scratch, bringing back thy splendid weapons in their splendid cases just as they went. As for me, I ever told that amorous boy to form no alliance with thee nor take unto his home an evil mother’s child; for daughters bear the marks of their mothers’ ill-repute into their new homes. Wherefore, ye wooers, take heed to this my warning: Choose the daughter of a good mother. And more than this, with what wanton insult didst thou treat thy brother, bidding him sacrifice his daughter in his simpleness! So fearful wast thou of losing thy worthless wife. Then after capturing Troy,–for thither too will I accompany thee,–thou didst not slay that woman, when she was in thy power; but as soon as thine eyes caught sight of her breast, thy sword was dropped and thou didst take her kisses, fondling the shameless traitress, too weak to stem thy hot desire, thou caitiff wretch! Yet spite of all thou art the man to come and work havoc in my grandson’s halls when he is absent, seeking to slay with all indignity a poor weak woman and her babe; but that babe shall one day make thee and thy daughter in thy home rue it, e’en though his birth be trebly base. Yea, for oft ere now hath seed, sown on barren soil, prevailed o’er rich deep tilth, and many a bastard has proved a better man than children better born. Take thy daughter hence with thee! Far better is it for mortals to have a poor honest man either as married kin or friend than a wealthy knave; but as for thee, thou art a thing of naught.

CHORUS The tongue from trifling causes contrives to breed great strife ’mongst men; wherefore are the wise most careful not to bring about a quarrel with their friends.

MENELAUS Why, pray, should one call these old men wise, or those who once had a reputation in Hellas for being so? when thou, the great Peleus, son of a famous father, connected with me by marriage, employest language disgraceful to thyself and abusive of me because of a barbarian woman, though thou shouldst have banished her far beyond the streams of Nile or Phasis, and ever encouraged me; seeing that she comes from Asia’s continent where fell so many of the sons of Hellas, victims to the spear; and likewise because she shared in the spilling of thy son’s blood; for Paris who slew thy son Achilles, was brother to Hector, whose wife she was. And dost thou enter the same abode with her, and deign to let her share thy board, and suffer her to rear her brood of vipers in thy house? But I, after all this foresight for thee, old man, and myself, am to have her torn from my clutches for wishing to slay her. Yet come now, for there is no disgrace in arguing the matter out; suppose my daughter has no child, while this woman’s sons grow up, wilt thou set them up to rule the land of Phthia, barbarians born and bred to lord it over Hellenes? Am I then so void of sense because I hate injustice, and thou so full of cleverness? Consider yet another point; say thou hadst given a daughter of thine to some citizen, and hadst then seen her thus treated, wouldst thou have sat looking on in silence? I trow not. Dost thou then for a foreigner rail thus at thy nearest friends? Again, thou mayst say, husband and wife have an equally strong case if she is wronged by him, and similarly if he find her guilty of indiscretion in his house; yet while he has ample powers in his own hands, she depends on parents and friends for her case. Surely then I am right in helping my own kin! Thou art in thy dotage; for thou wilt do me more, good by speaking of my generalship than by concealing it. Helen’s trouble was not of her own choosing, but sent by heaven, and it proved a great benefit to Hellas; her sons, till then untried in war or arms, turned to deeds of prowess, and it is experience which teaches man all he knows. I showed my wisdom in refraining from slaying my wife, directly I caught sight of her. Would that thou too hadst ne’er slain Phocus! All this I bring before thee in pure good-will, not from anger. But if thou resent it, thy tongue may wag till it ache, yet shall I gain by prudent forethought.

CHORUS Cease now from idle words, ’twere better far, for fear ye both alike go wrong.

PELEUS Alas! what evil customs now prevail in Hellas! Whene’er the host sets up a trophy o’er the foe, men no more consider this the work of those who really toiled, but the general gets the credit for it. Now he was but one among ten thousand others to brandish his spear; he only did the work of one; but yet he wins more praise than they. Again, as magistrates in all the grandeur of office they scorn the common folk, though they are naught themselves; whereas those others are ten thousand times more wise than they, if daring combine with judgment. Even so thou and thy brother, now take your seats in all the swollen pride of Trojan fame and Trojan generalship, exalted by the toilsome efforts of others. But I will teach thee henceforth to consider Idaean Paris a foe less terrible than Peleus, unless forthwith thou pack from this roof, thou and thy childless daughter too, whom my own true son will hale through his halls by the hair of her head; for her barrenness will not let her endure fruitfulness in others, because she has no children herself. Still if she is unlucky in the matter of offspring, is that a reason why we should be left childless? Begone! ye varlets, let her go! I will soon see if anyone will hinder me from loosing her hands. To Andromache. Arise; these trembling hands of mine will untie the twisted thongs that bind thee. Out on thee, coward! is this how thou hast galled her wrists? Didst think thou wert lashing up a lion or bull? or wert afraid she would snatch a sword and defend herself against thee? Come, child, nestle to thy mother’s arms; help me loose her bonds; I will yet rear thee in Phthia to be their bitter foe. If your reputation for prowess and the battles ye have fought were taken from you Spartans, in all else, be very sure, you have not your inferiors.

CHORUS The race of old men practises no restraint; and their testiness makes it hard to check them.

MENELAUS Thou art only too ready to rush into abuse; while, as for me, I came to Phthia by constraint and have therefore no intention either of doing or suffering anything mean. Now must I return home, for I have no time to waste; for there is a city not so very far from Sparta, which aforetime was friendly but now is hostile; against her will I march with my army and bring her into subjection. And when I have arranged that matter as I wish, I will return; and face to face with my son-in-law I will give my version of the story and hear his. And if he punish her, and for the future she exercise self-control, she shall find me do the like; but if he storm, I’ll storm as well; and every act of mine shall be a reflex of his own. As for thy babbling, I can bear it easily; for, like to a shadow as thou art, thy voice is all thou hast, and thou art powerless to do aught but talk. Exit Menelaus.

PELEUS Lead on, my child, safe beneath my sheltering wing, and thou too, poor lady; for thou art come into a quiet haven after the rude storm.

ANDROMACHE Heaven reward thee and all thy race, old sire, for having saved my child and me his hapless mother! Only beware lest they fall upon us twain in some lonely spot upon the road and force me from thee, when they see thy age, my weakness, and this child’s tender years; take heed to this, that we be not a second time made captive, after escaping now.

PELEUS Forbear such words, prompted by a woman’s cowardice. Go on thy way; who will lay a finger on you? Methinks he will do it to his cost. For by heaven’s grace I rule o’er many a knight and spearman bold in my kingdom of Phthia; yea, and myself can still stand straight, no bent old man as thou dost think; such a fellow as that a mere look from me will put to flight in spite of my years. For e’en an old man, be he brave, is worth a host of raw youths; for what avails a fine figure if a man is a coward? Exeunt Peleus, Andromache, and Molossus.

CHORUS Oh! to have never been born, or sprung from noble sires, the heir to mansions richly stored; for if aught untoward e’er befall, there is no lack of champions for sons of noble parents, and there is honour and glory for them when they are proclaimed scions of illustrious lines; time detracts not from the legacy these good men leave, but the light of their goodness still burns on when they are dead.

CHORUS Better is it not to win a discreditable victory, than to make justice miscarry by an invidious exercise of power; for such a victory, though men think it sweet for the moment, grows barren in time and comes very near being a family reproach. This is the life I commend, this the life. I set before me as my ideal, to exercise no authority beyond what is right either in the marriage-chamber or in the state.

CHORUS O aged son of Aeacus! now am I sure that thou wert with the Lapithae, wielding thy famous spear, when they fought the Centaurs; and on Argo’s deck didst pass the cheerless strait beyond the sea-beat Symplegades on her voyage of note; and when in days long gone the son of Zeus spread slaughter round Troy’s famous town, thou too didst share his triumphant return to Europe.

NURSE Alas! good friends, what a succession of troubles is to-day provided us! My mistress Hermione within the house, deserted by her father and in remorse for her monstrous deed in plotting the death of Andromache and her child, is bent on dying; for she is afraid her husband will in requital for this expel her with dishonour from his house or put her to death, because she tried to slay the innocent. And the servants that watch her can scarce restrain her efforts to hang herself, scarce catch the sword and wrest it from her hand. So bitter is her anguish, and she hath recognized the villainy of her former deeds. As for me, friends, I am weary of keeping my mistress from the fatal noose; do ye go in and try to save her life; for if strangers come, they prove more persuasive than the friends of every day.

CHORUS Ah yes! I hear an outcry in the house amongst the servants, confirming the news thou hast brought. Poor sufferer! she seems about to show a lively grief for her grave crimes; for she has escaped her servants’ hands and is rushing from the house, eager to end her life.

HERMIONE rushing wildly on to the stage. Woe, woe is me! I will tear my hair and scratch cruel furrows in my cheeks.

NURSE My child, what wilt thou do? Wilt thou disfigure thyself?

HERMIONE Ah me! ah me! Begone, thou fine-spun veil! float from my head away!

NURSE Daughter, cover up thy bosom, fasten thy robe.

HERMIONE Why should I cover it? My crimes against my lord are manifest and clear, they cannot be hidden.

NURSE Art so grieved at having devised thy rival’s death?

HERMIONE Indeed I am; I deeply mourn my fatal deeds of daring; alas! I am now accursed in all men’s eyes!

NURSE Thy husband will pardon thee this error.

HERMIONE Oh! why didst thou hunt me to snatch away my sword? Give, oh! give it back, dear nurse, that I may thrust it through my heart. Why dost thou prevent me hanging myself?

NURSE What! was I to let thy madness lead thee on to death?

HERMIONE Ah me, my destiny! Where can I find some friendly fire? To what rocky height can I climb above the sea or ’mid some wooded mountain glen, there to die and trouble but the dead?

NURSE Why vex thyself thus? on all of us sooner or later heaven’s visitation comes.

HERMIONE Thou hast left me, O my father, left me like a stranded bark, all alone, without an oar. My lord will surely slay me; no home is mine henceforth beneath my husband’s roof. What god is there to whose statue I can as a suppliant haste? or shall I throw myself in slavish wise at slavish knees? Would I could speed away from Phthia’s land on bird’s dark pinion, or like that pine-built ship, the first that ever sailed betwixt the rocks Cyanean!

NURSE My child, I can as little praise thy previous sinful excesses, committed against the Trojan captive, as thy present exaggerated terror. Thy husband will never listen to a barbarian’s weak pleading and reject his marriage with thee for this. For thou wast no captive from Troy whom he wedded, but the daughter of a gallant sire, with a rich dower, from a city too of no mean prosperity. Nor will thy father forsake thee, as thou dreadest, and allow thee to be cast out from this house. Nay, enter now, nor show thyself before the palace, lest the sight of thee there bring reproach upon thee, my daughter. Exit Nurse.

CHORUS Lo! a stranger of foreign appearance from some other land comes hurrying towards us.

ORESTES Ladies of this foreign land! is this the home, the palace of Achilles’ son?

CHORUS Thou hast it; but who art thou to ask such a question?

ORESTES The son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, by name Orestes, on my way to the oracle of Zeus at Dodona. But now that I am come to Phthia, I am resolved to inquire about my kinswoman, Hermione of Sparta; is she alive and well? for though she dwells in a land far from my own, I love her none the less.

HERMIONE Son of Agamemnon, thy appearing is as a haven from the storm to sailors; by thy knees I pray, have pity on me in my distress, on me of whose fortunes thou art inquiring. About thy knees I twine my arms with all the force of sacred fillets.

ORESTES Ha! what is this? Am I mistaken or do I really see before me the queen of this palace, the daughter of Menelaus?

HERMIONE The same, that only child whom Helen, daughter of Tyndareus, bore my father in his halls; never doubt that.

ORESTES O saviour Phoebus, grant us respite from our woe! But what is the matter? art thou afflicted by gods or men?

HERMIONE Partly by myself, partly by the man who wedded me, and partly by some god. On every side I see ruin.

ORESTES Why, what misfortune could happen to a woman as yet childless, unless her honour is concerned?

HERMIONE My very complaint! Thou hast hit my case exactly.

ORESTES On whom has thy husband set his affections in thy stead?

HERMIONE On his captive, Hector’s wife.

ORESTES An evil case indeed, for a man to have two wives!

HERMIONE ’Tis even thus. So I resented it.

ORESTES Didst thou with woman’s craft devise a plot against thy rival?

HERMIONE Yes, to slay her and her bastard child.

ORESTES And didst thou slay them, or did something happen to rescue them from thee?

HERMIONE It was old Peleus, who showed regard to the weaker side.

ORESTES Hadst thou any accomplice in this attempted murder?

HERMIONE My father came from Sparta for this very purpose.

ORESTES And was he after all defeated by that old man’s prowess ?

HERMIONE Oh no! but by shame; and he hath gone and left me all alone.

ORESTES I understand; thou art afraid of thy husband for that thou hast done.

HERMIONE Thou hast guessed it; for he will have a right to me. What can I say for myself? Yet I beseech thee by Zeus the god of our family, send me to a land as far as possible from this, or to my father’s house; for these very walls seem to cry out Begone! and all the land of Phthia bates me. But if my lord return ere that from the oracle of Phoebus, he will put me to death on a shameful charge, or enslave me to his mistress, whom I ruled before. Maybe some one will say, How was it thou didst go thus astray? I was ruined by mischievous women who came to me and puffed me up with words like these: What! wilt thou suffer that vile captive, a mere bondmaid, to dwell within thy house and share thy wedded rights? By Heaven’s queen! if it were my house she should not live to reap my marriage-harvest! And I listened to the words of these Sirens, the cunning, knavish, subtle praters, and was filled with silly thoughts. What need had I to care about my lord? I had all I wanted, wealth in plenty, a house in which I was mistress, and as for children, mine would be born in wedlock, while hers would be bastards, half-slaves to mine. Oh! never, never,–this truth will I repeat,–should men of sense, who have wives, allow women-folk to visit them in their homes, for they teach them mischief; one, to gain some private end, helps to corrupt their honour; another, having made a slip herself, wants a companion in misfortune, while many are wantons; and hence it is men’s houses are tainted. Wherefore keep strict guard upon the portals of your houses with bolts and bars; for these visits of strange women lead to no good result, but a world of mischief.

Full Text (part 3)

CHORUS Thou hast given thy tongue too free a rein regarding thy own sex. I can pardon thee in this case, but still women ought to smooth over their sisters’ weaknesses.

ORESTES ’Twas sage counsel he gave who taught men to hear the arguments on both sides. I, for instance, though aware of the confusion in this house, the quarrel between thee and Hector’s wife, waited awhile and watched to see whether thou wouldst stay here or from fear of that captive art minded to quit these halls. Now it was not so much regard for thy message that brought me hither, as the intention of carrying thee away from this house, if, as now, thou shouldst grant me a chance of saying so. For thou wert mine formerly, but art now living with thy present husband through thy father’s baseness; since he, before invading Troy’s domains, betrothed thee to me, and then afterwards promised thee to thy present lord, provided he captured the city of Troy. So, as soon as Achilles’ son returned hither, I forgave thy father, but entreated the bridegroom to forego his marriage with thee, telling him all I had gone through and my present misfortune; I might get a wife, I said, from amongst friends, but outside their circle ’twas no easy task for one exiled like myself from home. Thereat he grew abusive, taunting me with my mother’s murder and those blood-boltered fiends. And I was humbled by the fortunes of my house, and though ’tis true, I grieved, yet did I endure my sorrow, and reluctantly departed, robbed of thy promised hand. Now therefore, since thou findest thy fortune so abruptly changed and art fallen thus on evil days and hast no help, I will take thee hence and place thee in thy father’s hands. For kinship hath strong claims, and in adversity there is naught better than a kinsman’s kindly aid.

HERMIONE As for my marriage, my father must look to it; ’tis not for me to decide that. Yes, take me hence as soon as may be, lest my husband come back to his house before I am gone, or Peleus hear that I am deserting his son’s abode and pursue me on horse-back.

ORESTES Rest easy about the old man’s power; and, as for Achilles’ son with all his insolence to me, never fear him; such a crafty net this hand hath woven and set for his death with knots that none can loose; whereof I will not speak before the time, but, when my plot begins to work, Delphi’s rock will witness it. If but my allies in the Pythian land abide by their oaths, this same murderer of his mother will show that no one else shall marry thee my rightful bride. To his cost will he demand satisfaction of King Phoebus for his father’s blood; nor shall his repentance avail him, though he is now submitting to the god. No! he shall perish miserably by Apollo’s hand and my fake accusations; so shall he end out my enmity. For the deity upsets the fortune of them that hate him. and suffers them not to be high-minded. Exeunt Orestes and Hermione.

CHORUS O Phoebus! who didst fence the hill of Ilium with a fair coronal of towers, and thou, ocean-god! coursing o’er the main with thy dark steeds, wherefore did ye hand over in dishonour your own handiwork to the war-god, master of the spear, abandoning Troy to wretchedness?

CHORUS Many a well-horsed car ye yoked on the banks of Simois, and many a bloody tournament did ye ordain with never a prize to win; and Ilium’s princes are dead and gone; no longer in Troy is seen the blaze of fire on altars of the gods with the smoke of incense.

CHORUS The son of Atreus is no more, slain by the hand of his wife, and she herself hath paid the debt of blood by death, and from her children’s hands received her doom. The god’s own bidding from his oracle was levelled against her, in the day that Agamemnon’s son set forth from Argos and visited his shrine; so he slew her, aye, spilt his own mother’s blood. O Phoebus, O thou power divine, how can I believe the story?

CHORUS Anon wherever Hellenes gather, was heard the voice of lamentation, mothers weeping o’er their children’s fate, as they left their homes to mate with strangers. Ah! thou art not the only one, nor thy dear ones either, on whom the cloud of grief hath fallen. Hellas had to bear the visitation, and thence the scourge crossed to Phrygia’s fruitful fields, raining the bloody drops the; death-god loves.

PELEUS Ye dames of Phthia, answer my questions. I heard a vague rumour that the daughter of Menelaus had left these halls and fled; so now am I come in hot haste to learn if this be true; for it is the duty of those who are at home to labour in the interests of their absent friends.

CHORUS Thou hast heard aright, O Peleus; ill would it become me to hide the evil case in which I now find myself; our queen has fled and left these halls.

PELEUS What was she afraid of? explain that to me.

CHORUS She was fearful her lord would cast her out

PELEUS In return for plotting his child’s death? surely not?

CHORUS Yea, and she was afraid of yon captive.

PELEUS With whom did she leave the house? with her father?

CHORUS The son of Agamemnon came and took her hence.

PELEUS What view hath he to further thereby? Will he marry her?

CHORUS Yes, and he is plotting thy grandson’s death.

PELEUS From an ambuscade, or meeting him fairly face to face?

CHORUS In the holy place of Loxias, leagued with Delphians.

PELEUS God help us! This is an immediate danger. Hasten one of you with all speed to the Pythian altar and tell our friends there what has happened here, ere Achilles’ son be slain by his enemies. Enter a Messenger.

MESSENGER Woe worth the day! what evil tidings have I brought for thee, old sire, and for all who love my master! woe is me!

PELEUS Alas! my prophetic soul hath a presentiment.

MESSENGER Aged Peleus, hearken! Thy grandson is no more; so grievously is he smitten by the men of Delphi and the stranger from Mycenae.

CHORUS Ah! what wilt thou do, old man? Fall not; uplift thyself.

PELEUS I am a thing of naught; death is come upon me. My voice is choked, my limbs droop beneath me.

MESSENGER Hearken; if thou art eager also to avenge thy friends, lift up thyself and hear what happened.

PELEUS Ah, destiny! how tightly hast thou caught me in thy toils, a poor old man at life’s extremest verge! But tell me how he was taken from me, my one son’s only child; unwelcome as such news is, I fain would hear it.

MESSENGER As soon as we reached the famous soil of Phoebus, for three whole days were we feasting our eyes with the sight. And this, it seems, caused suspicion; for the folk, who dwell near the god’s shrine, began to collect in groups, while Agamemnon’s son, going to and fro through the town, would whisper in each man’s ear malignant hints: Do ye see yon fellow, going in and out of the god’s treasure-chambers, which are full of the gold stored there by all mankind? He is come hither a second time on the same mission as before, eager to sack the temple of Phoebus. Thereon there ran an angry murmur through the city, and the magistrates flocked to their council-chamber, while those, who have charge of the god’s treasures, had a guard privately placed amongst the colonnades. But we, knowing naught as yet of this, took sheep fed in the pastures of Parnassus, and went our way and stationed ourselves at the altars with vouchers and Pythian seers. And one said: What prayer, young warrior, wouldst thou have us offer to the god? Wherefore art thou come? And he answered: I wish to make atonement to Phoebus for my past transgression; for once I claimed from him satisfaction for my father’s blood. Thereupon the rumour, spread by Orestes, proved to have great weight, suggesting that my master was lying and had come on a shameful errand. But he crosses the threshold of the temple to pray to Phoebus before his oracle, and was busy with his burnt-offering; when a body of men armed with swords set themselves in ambush against him in the cover of the bay- trees, and Clytemnestra’s son, that had contrived the whole plot was one of them. There stood the young man praying to the god in sight of all, when lo! with their sharp swords they stabbed Achilles’ unprotected son from behind. But he stepped back, for it was not a mortal wound he had received, and drew his sword, and snatching armour from the pegs where it hung on a pillar, took his stand upon the altar-steps, the picture of a warrior grim; then cried he to the sons of Delphi, and asked them: Why seek to slay me when I am come on a holy mission? What cause is there why I should die? But of all that throng of bystanders, no man answered him a word, but they set to hurling stones. Then he, though bruised and battered by the showers of missiles from all sides, covered himself behind his mail and tried to ward off the attack, holding his shield first here, then there, at arm’s length, but all of no avail; for a storm of darts, arrows and javelins, hurtling spits with double points, and butchers’ knives for slaying steers, came flying at his feet; and terrible was the war-dance thou hadst then seen thy grandson dance to avoid their marksmanship. At last, when they were hemming him in on all sides, allowing him no breathing space, he left the shelter of the altar, the hearth where victims are placed, and with one bound was on them as on the Trojans of yore; and they turned and fled like doves when they see the hawk. Many fell in the confusion; some wounded, and others trodden down by one another along the narrow passages; and in that hushed holy house uprose unholy din and echoed back from the rocks. Calm and still my master stood there in his gleaming harness like a flash of light, till from the inmost shrine there came a voice of thrilling horror, stirring the crowd to make a stand. Then fell Achilles’ son, smitten through the flank by some Delphian’s biting blade, some fellow that slew him with a host to help; and as he fell, there was not one that did not stab him, or cast a rock and batter his corpse. So his whole body, once so fair, was marred with savage wounds. At last they cast the lifeless clay, lying near the altar, forth from the fragrant fane. And we gathered up his remains forthwith and are bringing them to thee, old prince, to mourn and weep and honour with a deep-dug tomb. This is how that prince who vouchsafeth oracles to others, that judge of what is right for all the world, hath revenged himself on Achilles’ son, remembering his ancient quarrel as a wicked man would. How then can he be wise? Exit Messenger. The body of Neoptolemus is carried in on a bier.

CHORUS Lo! E’en now our prince is being carried on a bier from Delphi’s land unto his home. Woe for him and his sad fate, and woe for thee, old sire! for this is not the welcome thou wouldst give Achilles’ son, the lion’s whelp; thyself too by this sad mischance dost share his evil lot.

PELEUS Ah! woe is me! here is a sad sight for me to see and take unto my halls! Ah me! ah me! I am undone, thou city of Thessaly! My line now ends; I have no children left me in my home. Oh! the sorrows I seem born to endure! What friend can I look to for relief? Ah, dear lips, and cheeks, and hands! Would thy destiny had slain thee ’neath Ilium’s walls beside the banks of Simois!

CHORUS Had he so died, my aged lord, he had won him honour thereby, and thine had been the happier lot.

PELEUS O marriage, marriage, woe to thee! thou bane of my home, thou destroyer of my city! Ah my child, my boy! would that the honour of wedding thee, fraught with evil as it was to my children and house, had not thrown oer thee, my son, Hermiones deadly net! O that the thunderbolt had slain her sooner! and that thou, rash mortal, hadst never charged the great god Phoebus with aiming that murderous shaft that spilt thy hero-fathers blood!

CHORUS Woe! woe! alas! With due observance of funeral rites will I begin the mourning for my dead master.

PELEUS Alack and well-a-day! I take up the tearful dirge, ah me! old and wretched as I am.

CHORUS ’Tis Heaven’s decree; God willed this heavy stroke.

PELEUS O darling child, thou hast left me all alone in my halls, old and childless by thy loss.

CHORUS Thou shouldst have died, old sire, before thy children.

PELEUS Shall I not tear my hair, and smite upon my head with grievous blows? O city! of both my children hath Phoebus robbed me.

CHORUS What evils thou hast suffered, what sorrows thou hast seen, thou poor old man! what shall be thy life hereafter?

PELEUS Childless, desolate, with no limit to my grief, I must drain the cup of woe, until I die.

CHORUS ’Twas all in vain the gods wished thee joy on thy wedding day.

PELEUS All my hopes have flown away, fallen short of my high boasts.

CHORUS A lonely dweller in a lonely home art thou.

PELEUS I have no city any longer; there! on the ground my sceptre do I cast; and thou, daughter of Nereus, neath thy dim grotto, shalt see me grovelling in the dust, a ruined king.

CHORUS Look, look! A dim form of divine appearance in seen hovering in mid air. What is that moving? what influence divine am I conscious of? Look, maidens, mark it well; see, yonder is some deity, wafted through the lustrous air and alighting on the plains of Phthia, home of steeds.

THETIS O Peleus! because of my wedded days with thee now long agone, I Thetis am come from the halls of Nereus. And first I counsel thee not to grieve to excess in thy present distress, for I too who need ne’er have born children to my sorrow, have lost the child of our love, Achilles swift of foot, foremost of the sons of Hellas. Next will I declare why I am come, and do thou give ear. Carry yonder corpse, Achilles’ son, to the Pythian altar and there bury it, a reproach to Delphi, that his tomb may proclaim the violent death he met at the hand of Orestes. And for his captive wife Andromache,–she must dwell in the Molossian land, united in honourable wedlock with Helenus, and with her this babe, the sole survivor as he is of all the line of Aeacus, for from him a succession of prosperous kings of Molossia is to go on unbroken; for the race that springs from thee and me, my aged lord, must not thus be brought to naught; no! nor Troy’s line either; for her fate too is cared for by the gods, albeit her fall was due to the eager wish of Pallas. Thee too, that thou mayst know the saving grace of wedding me, will I, a goddess born and daughter of a god, release from all the ills that flesh is heir to and make a deity to know not death nor decay. From henceforth in the halls of Nereus shalt thou dwell with me, god and goddess together; thence shalt thou rise dry-shod from out the main and see Achilles, our dear son, settled in his island-home by the strand of Leuce, that is girdled by the Euxine sea. But get thee to Delphi’s god-built town, carrying this corpse with thee, and, after thou hast buried him, return and settle in the cave which time hath hollowed in the Sepian rock and there abide, till from the sea I come with choir of fifty Nereids to be thy escort thence; for fate’s decree thou must fulfil; such is the pleasure of Zeus. Cease then to mourn the dead; this is the lot which heaven assigns to all, and all must pay their debt to death.

PELEUS Great queen, my honoured wife, from Nereus sprung, all hail! thou art acting herein as befits thyself and thy children. So I will stay my grief at thy bidding, goddess, and, when I have buried the dead, will seek the glens of Pelion, even the place where I took thy beauteous form to my embrace. Surely after this every prudent man will seek to marry a wife of noble stock and give his daughter to a husband good and true, never setting his heart on a worthless woman, not even though she bring a sumptuous dowry to his house. So would men ne’er suffer ill at heaven’s hand.

CHORUS Many are the shapes of Heaven’s denizens, and many a thing they bring to pass contrary to our expectation; that which we thought would be is not accomplished, while for the unexpected God finds out a way. E’en such hath been the issue of this matter.

THE SUPPLIANTS (Translated by E. P. Coleridge, 1891)

[Scene.—The Temple of Demeter at Eleusis.]

AETHRA O Demeter, guardian of this Eleusinian land, and ye servants of the goddess who attend her fane, grant happiness to me and my son Theseus, to the city of Athens and the country of Pittheus, wherein my father reared me, Aethra, in a happy home, and gave me in marriage to Aegeus, Pandion’s son, according to the oracle of Loxias. This prayer I make, when I behold these aged dames, who, leaving their homes in Argos, now throw themselves with suppliant branches at my knees in their awful trouble; for around the gates of Cadmus have they lost their seven noble sons, whom on a day Adrastus, king of Argos, led thither, eager to secure for exiled Polynices, his son-in-law, a share in the heritage of Oedipus; so now their mothers would bury in the grave the dead, whom the spear hath slain, but the victors prevent them and will not allow them to take up the corpses, spurning Heaven’s laws. Here lies Adrastus on the ground with streaming eye, sharing with them the burden of their prayer to me, and bemoaning the havoc of the sword and the sorry fate of the warriors whom he led from their homes. And he doth urge me use entreaty, to persuade my son to take up the dead and help to bury them, either by winning words or force of arms, laying on my son and on Athens this task alone. Now it chanced, that I had left my house and come to offer sacrifice on behalf of the earth’s crop at this shrine, where first the fruitful corn showed its bristling shocks above the soil. And here at the holy altars of the twain goddesses, Demeter and her daughter, I wait, holding these sprays of foliage, a bond that bindeth not, in compassion for these childless mothers, hoary with age, and from reverence for the sacred fillets. To call Theseus hither is my herald to the city gone, that he may rid the land of that which grieveth them, or loose these my suppliant bonds, with pious observance of the gods’ will; for such as are discreet amongst women should in all cases invoke the aid of men.

CHORUS At thy knees I fall, aged dame, and my old lips beseech thee; arise, rescue from the slain my children’s bodies, whose limbs, by death relaxed, are left a prey to savage mountain beasts,

CHORUS beholding the bitter tears which spring to my eyes and my old wrinkled skin torn by my hands; for what can I do else? who never laid out my children dead within my halls, nor now behold their tombs heaped up with earth.

CHORUS Thou too, honoured lady, once a son didst bear, crowning thy lord’s marriage with fond joy; then share, O share with me thy mother’s feelings, in such measure as my sad heart grieves for my own dead sons; and persuade thy son, whose aid we implore, to go unto the river Ismenus, there to place within my hapless arms the bodies of my children, slain in their prime and left without a tomb.

CHORUS Though not as piety enjoins, yet from sheer necessity I have come to the fire-crowned altars of the gods, falling on my knees with instant supplication, for my cause is just, and ’tis in thy power, blest as thou art in thy children, to remove from me my woe; so in my sore distress I do beseech thee of my misery place in my hands my son’s dead body, that I may throw my arms about his hapless limbs.

CHORUS Behold a rivalry in sorrow! woe takes up the tale of woe; hark! thy servants beat their breasts. Come ye who join the mourners’ wail, come, O sympathetic band, to join the dance, which Hades honours; let the pearly nail be stained red, as it rends your cheeks, let your skin be streaked with gore; for honours rendered to the dead are a credit to the living.

CHORUS Sorrow’s charm doth drive me wild, insatiate, painful, endless, even as the trickling stream that gushes from some steep rock’s face; for ’tis woman’s way to fall a-weeping o’er the cruel calamity of children dead. Ah me! would I could die and forget my anguish!

THESEUS What is this lamentation that I hear, this beating of the breast, these dirges for the dead, with cries that echo from this shrine? How fluttering fear disquiets me, lest haply my mother have gotten some mischance, in quest of whom I come, for she hath been long absent from home. Ha! what now? A strange sight challenges my speech; I see my aged mother sitting at the altar and stranger dames are with her, who in various note proclaim their woe; from aged eyes the piteous tear is starting to the ground, their hair is shorn, their robes are not the robes of joy. What means it, mother? ’Tis thine to make it plain to me, mine to listen; yea, for I expect some tidings strange.

AETHRA My son, these are the mothers of those chieftains seven, who fell around the gates of Cadmus’ town. With suppliant boughs they keep me prisoner, as thou seest, in their midst.

THESEUS And who is yonder man, that moaneth piteously in the gateway?

AETHRA Adrastus, they inform me, king of Argos.

THESEUS Are those his children, those boys who stand round him?

AETHRA Not his, but the sons of the fallen slain.

THESEUS Why are they come to us, with suppliant hand outstretched?

AETHRA I know; but ’tis for them to tell their story, my son.

THESEUS To thee, in thy mantle muffled, I address my inquiries; unveil thy head, let lamentation be, and speak; for naught can be achieved save through the utterance of thy tongue.

ADRASTUS [rising] Victorious prince of the Athenian realm, Theseus, to thee and to thy city I, a suppliant, come.

THESEUS What seekest thou? What need is thine?

ADRASTUS Dost know how I did lead an expedition to its ruin?

THESEUS Assuredly; thou didst not pass through Hellas, all in silence.

ADRASTUS There I lost the pick of Argos’ sons.

THESEUS These are the results of that unhappy war.

ADRASTUS I went and craved their bodies from Thebes.

THESEUS Didst thou rely on heralds, Hermes’ servants, in order to bury them?

ADRASTUS I did; and even then their slayers said me nay.

THESEUS Why, what say they to thy just request?

ADRASTUS Say! Success makes them forget how to bear their fortune.

THESEUS Art come to me then for counsel? or wherefore?

ADRASTUS With the wish that thou, O Theseus, shouldst recover the sons of the Argives.

THESEUS Where is your Argos now? were its vauntings all in vain?

ADRASTUS Defeat and ruin are our lot. To thee for aid we come.

THESEUS this thy own private resolve, or the wish of all the city?

ADRASTUS The sons of Danaus, one and all, implore thee to bury the dead.

THESEUS Why didst lead thy seven armies against Thebes?

ADRASTUS To confer that favour on the husbands of my daughters twain.

THESEUS To which of the Argives didst thou give thy daughters in marriage?

ADRASTUS I made no match for them with kinsmen of my family.

THESEUS What! didst give Argive maids to foreign lords?

ADRASTUS Yea, to Tydeus, and to Polynices, who was Theban-born.

THESEUS What induced thee to select this alliance?

ADRASTUS Dark riddles of Phoebus stole away my judgment.

THESEUS What said Apollo to determine the maidens’ marriage?

ADRASTUS That I should give my daughters twain to a wild boar and a lion.

THESEUS How dost thou explain the message of the god?

ADRASTUS One night came to my door two exiles.

THESEUS The name of each declare; thou art speaking of both together.

ADRASTUS They fought together, Tydeus with Polynices.

THESEUS Didst thou give thy daughters to them as to wild beasts?

ADRASTUS Yea, for, as they fought, I likened them to those monsters twain.

THESEUS Why had they left the borders of their native land and come to thee?

ADRASTUS Tydeus was exiled for the murder of a kinsman.

THESEUS Wherefore had the son of Oedipus left Thebes?

ADRASTUS By reason of his father’s curse, not to spill his brother’s blood.

THESEUS Wise no doubt that voluntary exile.

ADRASTUS But those who stayed at home were for injuring the absent.

THESEUS What! did brother rob brother of his inheritance?

ADRASTUS To avenge this I set out; hence my ruin.

THESEUS Didst consult seers, and gaze into the flame of burnt-offerings?

ADRASTUS Ah me! thou pressest on the very point, wherein I most did fail.

THESEUS It seems thy going was not favoured by heaven.

ADRASTUS Worse; I went in spite even of Amphiaraus.

THESEUS And so heaven lightly turned its face from thee.

ADRASTUS I was carried away by the clamour of younger men.

THESEUS Thou didst favour courage instead of discretion.

ADRASTUS True; and many a general owes defeat to that. O king of Athens, bravest of the sons of Hellas, I blush to throw myself upon the ground and clasp thy knees, I a grey-haired king, blest in days gone by; yet needs must I yield to my misfortunes. I pray thee save the dead; have pity on my sorrows and on these, the mothers of the slain, whom hoary eld finds reft of their sons; yet they endured to journey hither and tread a foreign soil with aged tottering steps, bearing no embassy to Demeter’s mysteries; only seeking burial for their dead, which lot should have been theirs, e’en burial by the hands of sons still in their prime. And ’tis wise in the rich to see the poor man’s poverty, and in the poor man to turn ambitious eyes toward the rich, that so he may himself indulge a longing for property; and they, whom fortune frowns not on, should gaze on misery’s presentment; likewise, who maketh songs should take a pleasure in their making; for if it be not so with him, he will in no wise avail to gladden others, if himself have sorrow in his home; nay, ’tis not even right to expect it. Mayhap thou’lt say, Why pass the land of Pelops o’er, and lay this toil on Athens? This am I bound to declare. Sparta is cruel, her customs variable; the other states are small and weak. Thy city alone would be able to undertake this labour; for it turns an eye on suffering, and hath in thee a young and gallant king, for want whereof to lead their hosts states ere now have often perished.

CHORUS I too, Theseus, urge the same plea to thee; have pity on my hard fate.

THESEUS Full οft have I argued out this subject with others. For there are who say, there is more bad than good in human nature, to the which I hold a contrary view, that1 good o’er bad predominates in man, for if it were not so, we should not exist. He hath my praise, whoe’er of gods brought us to live by rule from chaos and from brutishness, first by implanting reason, and next by giving us a tongue to declare our thoughts, so as to2 know the meaning of what is said, bestowing fruitful crops, and drops of rain from heaven to make them grow, wherewith to nourish earth’s fruits and to water her lap; and more than this, protection from the wintry storm, and means to ward from us the sun-god’s scorching heat; the art of sailing o’er the sea, so that we might exchange with one another whatso our countries lack. And where sight fails us and our knowledge is not sure, the seer foretells by gazing on the flame, by reading signs in folds of entrails, or by divination from the flight of birds. Are we not then too proud, when heaven hath made such preparation for our life, not to be content therewith? But our presumption seeks to lord it over heaven, and in the pride of our hearts we think we are wiser than the gods. Methinks thou art even of this number, a son of folly, seeing that thou, though obedient to Apollo’s oracle in giving thy daughters to strangers, as if gods really existed, yet hast hurt thy house by mingling the stream of its pure line with muddy waters; no! never should the wise man have joined the stock of just and unjust in one, but should have gotten prosperous friends for his family. For the deity, confusing their destinies, doth oft destroy by the sinner’s fate him who never sinned nor committed injustice. Thou didst lead all Argos forth to battle, though seers proclaimed the will of heaven, and then in scorn of them and in violent disregard of the gods hast ruined thy city, led away by younger men, such as court distinction, and add war to war unrighteously destroying their fellow-citizens; one aspires to lead an army; another fain would seize the reins of power and work his wanton will; a third is bent on gain, careless of any mischief the people thereby suffer. For there are three ranks of citizens; the rich, a useless set, that ever crave for more; the poor and destitute, fearful folk, that cherish envy more than is right, and shoot out grievous stings against the men who have aught, beguiled as they are by the eloquence of vicious leaders; while the class that is midmost of the three preserveth cities, observing such order as the state ordains. Shall I then become thy ally? What fair pretext should I urge before my countrymen? Depart in peace! For why shouldst thou, having been ill-advised thyself, seek to drag our fortune down?

CHORUS He erred; but with the young men rests this error, while he may well be pardoned.

ADRASTUS I did not choose thee, king, to judge my affliction, but came to thee to cure it; no! nor if in aught my fortunes prove me wrong, came I to thee to punish or correct them, but to seek thy help. But if thou wilt not, I must be content with thy decision; for how can I help it? Come, aged dames, away! Yet leave behind you here the woven leaves of pale green foliage, calling to witness heaven and earth, Demeter, that fire-bearing goddess, and the sun-god’s light, that our prayers to heaven availed us naught.

CHORUS . . . . who was Pelops’ son, and we are of the land of Pelops and share with thee the blood of ancestors. What art thou doing? wilt thou betray these suppliant symbols, and banish from thy land these aged women without the boon they should obtain? Do not so; e’en the wild beast finds a refuge in the rock, the slave in the altars of the gods, and a state when tempest-tossed cowers to its neighbour’s shelter; for naught in this life of man is blest unto its end.

CHORUS Rise, hapless one, from the sacred floor of Persephone; rise, clasp him by the knees and implore him, O recover the bodies of our dead sons, the children that I lost—ah, woe is me!—beneath the walls of Cadmus’ town. Ah me! ah me! Take me by the hand, poor aged sufferer that I am, support and guide and raise me up. By thy beard, kind friend, glory of Hellas, I do beseech thee, as I clasp thy knees and hands in my misery; O pity me as I entreat for my sons with my tale of wretched woe, like some beggar; nor let my sons lie there unburied in the land of Cadmus, glad prey for beasts, whilst thou art in thy prime, I implore thee. See the teardrop tremble in my eye, as thus I throw me at thy knees to win my children burial.

THESEUS Mother mine, why weepest thou, drawing o’er thine eyes thy veil? Is it because thou didst hear their piteous lamentations? To my own heart it goes. Raise thy silvered head, weep not where thou sittest at the holy altar of Demeter.

AETHRA Ah woe!

THESEUS ’Tis not for thee their sorrows to lament.

AETHRA Ye hapless dames!

THESEUS Thou art not of their company.

AETHRA May I a scheme declare, my son, that shall add to thy glory and the state’s?

THESEUS Yea, for oft even from women’s lips issue wise counsels.

AETHRA Yet the word, that lurks within my heart, makes me hesitate.

THESEUS Shame! to hide from friends good counsel.

AETHRA Nay then, I will not hold my peace to blame myself hereafter for having now kept silence to my shame, nor will I forego my honourable proposal, from the common fear that it is useless for women to give good advice. First, my son, I exhort thee give good heed to heaven’s will, lest from slighting it thou suffer shipwreck; for in this one single point thou failest, though well-advised in all else. Further, I would have patiently endured, had it not been my duty to venture somewhat for injured folk; and this, my son, it is that brings thee now thy honour, and causes me no fear to urge that thou shouldst use thy power to make men of violence, who prevent the dead from receiving their meed of burial and funeral rites, perform this bounden duty, and check those who would confound the customs of all Hellas; for this it is that holds men’s states together,—strict observance of the laws. And some, no doubt, will say, ’twas cowardice made thee stand aloof in terror, when thou mightest have won for thy city a crown of glory, and, though thou didst encounter a savage swine, labouring for a sorry task, yet when the time came for thee to face the helmet and pointed spear, and do thy best, thou wert found to be a coward. Nay! do not so if thou be son of mine. Dost see how fiercely thy country looks on its revilers when they mock her for want of counsel? Yea, for in her toils she groweth greater. But states, whose policy is dark and cautious, have their sight darkened by their carefulness. My son, wilt thou not go succour the dead and these poor women in their need? I have no fears for thee, starting as thou dost with right upon thy side; and although I see the prosperity of Cadmus’ folk, still am I confident they will throw a different die; for the deity reverses all things again.

CHORUS Ah! best of friends, right well hast thou pleaded for me and for Adrastus, and hence my joy is doubled.

THESEUS Mother, the words that I have spoken are his fair deserts, and I have declared my opinion of the counsels that ruined him; yet do I perceive the truth of thy warning to me, that it ill suits my character to shun dangers. For by a long and glorious career have I displayed this my habit among Hellenes, of ever punishing the wicked. Wherefore I cannot refuse toil. For what will spiteful tongues say of me, when thou, my mother, who more than all others fearest for my safety, bidst me undertake this enterprise? Yea, I will go about this business and rescue the dead by words persuasive; or, failing that, the spear forthwith shall decide this issue, nor will heaven grudge me this. But I require the whole city’s sanction also, which my mere wish will ensure; still by communicating the proposal to them I shall find the people better disposed. For them I made supreme, when I set this city free, by giving all an equal vote. So I will take Adrastus as a text for what I have to say and go to their assembly, and when I have won them to these views, I will return hither, after collecting a picked band of young Athenians; and then remaining under arms I will send a message to Creon, begging the bodies of the dead. But do ye, aged ladies, remove from my mother your holy wreaths, that I may take her by the hand and conduct her to the house of Aegeus; for a wretched son is he who rewards not his parents by service; for, when he hath conferred on them the best he hath, he in his turn from his own sons receives all such service as he gave to them.

CHORUS O Argos, home of steeds, my native land! ye have heard with your ears these words, the king’s pious will toward the gods in the sight of great Pelasgia and throughout Argos.

CHORUS May he reach the goal! yea, and triumph o’er my sorrows, rescuing the gory corpse, the mother’s idol, and making the land of Inachus his friend by helping her.

CHORUS For pious toil is a fair ornament to cities, and carries with it a grace that never wastes away. What will the city decide, I wonder? Will it conclude a friendly truce with me, and shall we obtain burial for our sons?

CHORUS Help, O help, city of Pallas, the mother’s cause, that so they may not pollute the laws of all mankind. Thou, I know, dost reverence right, and to injustice dealest out defeat, a protection at all times to the afflicted.

THESEUS (to a herald.) Forasmuch as with this thy art thou hast ever served the stat£ and me by carrying my proclamations far and wide, so now cross Asopus and the waters of Ismenus, and declare this message to the haughty king of the Cadmeans: Theseus, thy neighbour, one who well may win the boon he craves, begs as a favour thy permission to bury the dead, winning to thyself thereby the love of all the Erechthidae. And if they will acquiesce, come back again, but if they hearken not, thy second message runneth thus, they may expect my warrior host; for at the sacred fount of Callichorus my army camps in readiness and is being reviewed. Moreover, the city gladly of its own accord undertook this enterprise, when it perceived my wish. Ha! who comes hither to interrupt my speech? A Theban herald, so it seems, though I am not sure thereof. Stay; haply he may save thee thy trouble. For by his coming he meets my purpose half-way.

HERALD Who is the despot of this land? To whom must I announce the message of Creon, who rules o’er the land of Cadmus, since Eteocles was slain by the hand of his brother Polynices, at the sevenfold gates of Thebes?

THESEUS Sir stranger, thou hast made a false beginning to thy speech, in seeking here a despot. For this city is not ruled by one man, but is free. The people rule in succession year by year, allowing no preference to wealth, but the poor man shares equally with the rich.

HERALD Thou givest me here an advantage, as it might be in a game of draughts; for the city, whence I come, is ruled by one man only, not by the mob; none there puffs up the citizens with specious words, and for his own advantage twists them this way or that,—one moment dear to them and lavish of his favours, the next a bane to all; and yet by fresh calumnies of others he hides his former failures and escapes punishment. Besides, how shall the people, if it cannot form true judgments, be able rightly to direct the state? Nay, ’tis time, not haste, that affords a better understanding. A poor hind, granted he be not all unschooled, would still be unable from his toil to give his mind to politics. Verily the better sort count it no healthy sign when the worthless man obtains a reputation by beguiling with words the populace, though aforetime he was naught.

THESEUS This herald is a clever fellow, a dabbler in the art of talk. But since thou hast thus entered the lists with me, listen awhile, for ’twas thou didst challenge a discussion. Naught is more hostile to a city than a despot; where he is, there are in the first place no laws common to all, but one man is tyrant, in whose keeping and in his alone the law resides, and in that case equality is at an end. But when the laws are written down, rich and poor alike have equal justice, and it is open to the weaker to use the same language to the prosperous when he is reviled by him, and the weaker prevails over the stronger if he have justice on his side. Freedom’s mark is also seen in this: Who hath wholesome counsel to declare unto the state? And he who chooses to do so gains renown, while he, who hath no wish, remains silent. What greater equality can there be in a city? Again, where the people are absolute rulers of the land, they rejoice in having a reserve of youthful citizens, while a king counts this a hostile element, and strives to slay the leading men, all such as he deems discreet, for he feareth for his power. How then can a city remain stable, where one cuts short all enterprise and mows down the young like meadow-flowers in spring-time? What boots it to acquire wealth and livelihood for children, merely to add to the tyrant’s substance by one’s toil? Why train up virgin daughters virtuously in our homes to gratify a tyrant’s whim, whenso he will, and cause tears to those who rear them? May my life end if ever my children are to be wedded by violence! This bolt I launch in answer to thy words. Now say, why art thou come? what needest thou of this land? Had not thy city sent thee, to thy cost hadst thou come with thy outrageous utterances; for it is the herald’s duty to tell the message he is bidden and hie him back in haste. Henceforth forth let Creon send to my city some other messenger less talkative than thee.

CHORUS Look you! how insolent the villains are, when Fortune is kind to them, just as if it would be well with them for ever.

HERALD Now will I speak. On these disputed points hold thou this view, but I the contrary. So I and all the people of Cadmus forbid thee to admit Adrastus to this land, but if he is here, drive him forth in disregard of the holy suppliant bough he bears, ere sinks yon blazing sun, and attempt not violently to take up the dead, seeing thou hast naught to do with the city of Argos. And if thou wilt hearken to me, thou shalt bring thy barque of state into port unharmed by the billows; but if not, fierce shall the surge of battle be, that we and our allies shall raise. Take good thought, nor, angered at my words, because forsooth thou rulest thy city with freedom, return a vaunting answer from thy feebler means. Hope is man’s curse; many a state hath it involved in strife, by leading them into excessive rage. For whenso the city has to vote on the question of war, no man ever takes his own death into account, but shifts this misfortune on to his neighbour; but if death had been before their eyes when they were giving their votes, Hellas would ne’er have rushed to her doom in mad desire for battle. And yet each man amongst us knows which of the two to prefer, the good or ill, and how much better peace is for mankind than war,—peace, the Muses’ chiefest friend, the foe of sorrow, whose joy is in glad throngs of children, and its delight in prosperity. These are the blessings we cast away and wickedly embark on war, man enslaving his weaker brother, and cities following suit. Now thou art helping our foes even after death, trying to rescue and bury those whom their own acts of insolence haye ruined. Verily then it would seem Capaneus was unjustly blasted by the thunderbolt and charred upon the ladder he had raised against our gates, swearing he would sack our town, whether the god would or no; nor should the yawning earth have snatched away the seer, opening wide her mouth to take his chariot and its horses in, nor should the other chieftains be stretched at our gates, their skeletons to atoms crushed ’neath boulders. Either boast thy wit transcendeth that of Zeus, or else allow that gods are right to slay the ungodly. The wise should love their children first, next their parents and country, whose fortunes it behoves them to increase rather than break down. Rashness in a leader, as in a pilot, causeth shipwreck; who knoweth when to be quiet is a wise man. Yea and this too is bravery, even forethought.

CHORUS The punishment Zeus hath inflicted was surely enough; there was no need to heap this wanton insult on us.

ADRASTUS Abandoned wretch!

THESEUS Peace, Adrastus! say no more; set not thy words before mine, for ’tis not to thee this fellow is come with his message, but to me, and I must answer him. Thy first assertion will I answer first: I am not aware that Creon is my lord and master, or that his power outweigheth mine, that so he should compel Athens to act on this wise; nay! for then would the tide of time have to flow backward, if we are to be ordered about, as he thinks. ’Tis not I who choose this war, seeing that I did not even join these warriors to go unto the land of Cadmus; but still I claim to bury the fallen dead, not injuring any state nor yet introducing murderous strife, but preserving the law of all Hellas. What is not well in this? If ye suffered aught from the Argives—lo! they are dead; ye took a splendid vengeance on your foes and covered them with shame, and now your right is at an end. Let the dead now be buried in the earth, and each element return to the place from whence it came to the body, the breath to the air, the body to the ground; for in no wise did we get it for our own, but to live our life in, and after that its mother earth must take it back again. Dost think ’tis Argos thou art injuring in refusing burial to the dead? Nay! all Hellas shares herein, if a man rob the dead of their due and keep them from the tomb; for, if this law be enacted, it will strike dismay into the stoutest hearts. And art thou come to cast dire threats at me, while thy own folk are afraid of giving burial to the dead? What is your fear? Think you they will undermine your land in their graves, or that they will beget children in the womb of earth, from whom shall rise an avenger? A silly waste of words, in truth it was, to show your fear of paltry groundless terrors. Go, triflers, learn the lesson of human misery; our life is made up of struggles; some men there be that find their fortune soon, others have to wait, while some at once are blest. Fortune lives a dainty life; to her the wretched pays his court and homage to win her smile; her likewise doth the prosperous man extol, for fear the favouring gale may leave him. These lessons should we take to heart, to bear with moderation, free from wrath, our wrongs, and do naught to hurt a whole city. What then? Let us, who will the pious deed perform, bury the corpses of the slain. Else is the issue clear; I will go and bury them by force. For never shall it be proclaimed through Hellas that heaven’s ancient law was set at naught, when it devolved on me and the city of Pandion.

CHORUS Be of good cheer; for if thou preserve the light of justice, thou shalt escape many a charge that men might urge.

HERALD Wilt thou that I sum up in brief all thou wouldst say?

THESEUS Say what thou wilt; for thou art not silent as it is.

HERALD Thou shalt never take the sons of Argos from our land.

THESEUS Hear, then, my answer too to that, if so thou wilt.

HERALD I will hear thee; not that I wish it, but I must give thee thy turn.

THESEUS I will bury the dead, when from Asopus’ land I have removed them.

HERALD First must thou adventure somewhat in the front of war.

THESEUS Many an enterprise and of a different kind have I ere this endured.

HERALD Wert thou then begotten of thy sire to cope with every foe?

THESEUS Ay, with all wanton villains; virtue I punish not.

HERALD To meddle is aye thy wont and thy city’s too.

THESEUS Hence her enterprise on many a held hath won her frequent success.

HERALD Come then, that the warriors of the dragon-crop may catch thee in our city.

THESEUS What furious warrior-host could spring from dragon’s seed?

HERALD Thou shalt learn that to thy cost. As yet thou art young and rash.

THESEUS Thy boastful speech stirs not my heart at all to rage. Yet get thee gone from my land, taking with thee the idle words thou broughtest; for we are making no advance. [Exit Herald.] ’Tis time for all to start, each stout footman, and whoso mounts the car; ’tis time the bit, dripping with foam, should urge the charger on toward the land of Cadmus. For I will march in person to the seven gates thereof with the sharp sword in my hand, and be myself my herald. But thee, Adrastus, I bid stay, nor blend with mine thy fortunes, for I will take my own good star to lead my host, a chieftain famed in famous deeds of arms. One thing alone I need, the favour of all gods that reverence right, for the presence of these things insures victory. For their valour availeth men naught, unless they have the god’s goodwill. [Exit Theseus.

[The following lines between the Semi-Choruses are chanted responsively.]

1ST HALF-CHORUS Unhappy mothers of those hapless chiefs! How wildly in my heart pale fear stirs up alarm!

2ND HALF-CHORUS What is this new cry thou utterest?

1ST HALF-CHORUS I fear the issue of the strife, whereto the hosts of Pallas march.

2ND HALF-CHORUS Dost speak of issues of the sword, or interchange of words?

1ST HALF-CHORUS That last were gain indeed; but if the carnage of battle, fighting, and the noise of beaten breasts again be heard in the land, what, alas! will be said of me, who am the cause thereof?

2ND HALF-CHORUS Yet may fate again bring low the brilliant victor; ’tis this brave thought that twines about my heart.

1ST HALF-CHORUS Thou speak’st of the gods as if they were just.

2ND HALF-CHORUS For who but they allot whate’er betides?

1ST HALF-CHORUS I see many a contradiction in their dealings with men.

2ND HALF-CHORUS The former fear hath warped thy judgment. Vengeance calls vengeance forth; slaughter calls for slaughter, but the gods give respite from affliction, holding in their own hands each thing’s allotted end.

1ST HALF-CHORUS Would I could reach yon plains with turrets crowned, leaving Callichorus, fountain of the goddess!

2ND HALF-CHORUS O that some god would give me wings to fly to the city of rivers twain!

1ST HALF-CHORUS So might’st thou see and know the fortunes of thy friends.

2ND HALF-CHORUS What fate, what issue there awaits the valiant monarch of this land?

1ST HALF-CHORUS Once more do we invoke the gods we called upon before; yea, in our fear this is our first and chiefest trust.

2ND HALF-CHORUS O Zeus, father to the child the heifer-mother bore in days long past, that daughter of Inachus!

1ST HALF-CHORUS O be gracious, I pray, and champion this city!

2ND HALF-CHORUS ’Tis thy own darling, thy own settler in the city of Argos that I am striving to rescue for the funeral pyre from outrageous insult.

MESSENGER Ladies, I bring you tidings of great joy, myself escaped—for I was taken prisoner in the battle which cost those chieftains seven their lives near Dirce’s fount—to bear the news of Theseus’ victory. But I will save thee tedious questioning; I was the servant of Capaneus, whom Zeus with scorching bolt to ashes burnt.

CHORUS Friend of friends, fair thy news of thy own return, nor less the news about Theseus; and if the host of Athens, too, is safe, welcome will all thy message be.

MESSENGER ’Tis safe, and all hath happened as I would it had befallen Adrastus and his Argives, whom from Inachus he led, to march against the city of the Cadmeans.

CHORUS How did the son of Aegeus and his fellow-warriors raise their trophy to Zeus? Tell us, for thou wert there and canst gladden us who were not.

MESSENGER Bright shone the sun, one levelled line of light, upon the world, as by Electra’s gate I stood to watch, from a turret with a far outlook. And lo! I saw the host in three divisions, deploying its mail-clad warriors on the high ground by the banks of Ismenus; this last I heard; and with them was the king himself, famous son of Aegeus; his own men, natives of old Cecropia, were ranged upon the right; while on the left, hard by the fountain of Ares, were the dwellers by the sea, harnessed spearmen they; on either wing were posted cavalry, in equal numbers, and chariots were stationed in the shelter of Amphion’s holy tomb. Meantime, the folk of Cadmus set themselves before the walls, placing in the rear the bodies for which they fought. Horse to horse, and car to car stood ranged. Then did the herald of Theseus cry aloud to all: Be still, ye folk! hush, ye ranks of Cadmus, hearken! we are come to fetch the bodies of the slain, wishing to bury them in observance of the universal law of Hellas; no wish have we to lengthen out the slaughter. Not a word would Creon let his herald answer back, but there he stood in silence under arms. Then did the drivers of the four-horse cars begin the fray; on, past each other they drave their chariots, bringing the warriors at their sides up into line. Some fought with swords, some wheeled the horses back to the fray again for those they drove. Now when Phorbas, who captained the cavalry of the Erechthidae, saw the thronging chariots, he and they who had the charge of the Theban horse met hand to hand, and by turns were victors and vanquished. The many horrors happening there I saw, not merely heard about, for I was at the spot where the chariots and their riders met and fought, but which to tell of first I know not,—the clouds of dust that mounted to the sky, the warriors tangled in the reins and dragged this way and that, the streams of crimson gore, when men fell dead, or when, from shattered chariot-seats, they tumble headlong to the ground, and, mid the splinters of their cars, gave up the ghost. But Creon, when he marked our cavalry’s success on one wing, caught up a shield and rushed into the fray, ere that despondency should seize his men; but not for that did Theseus recoil in fear; no! snatching up at once his glittering harness he hied him on. And the twain, clashing their shields together as they met in the midst of the assembled host, were dealing death and courting it, shouting loudly each to his fellow the battle-cry: Slay, and with thy spear strike home against the sons of Erechtheus. Fierce foes to cope with were the warriors whom the dragon’s teeth to manhood reared; so fierce, they broke our left wing, albeit theirs was routed by our right and put to flight, so that the struggle was evenly balanced. Here again our chief deserved all praise, for this success was not the only advantage he gained; no! next he sought that part of his army which was wavering; and loud he called to them, that the earth rang again, My sons, if ye cannot restrain the earth-born warriors’ stubborn spear, the cause of Pallas is lost. His word inspired new courage in all the Danaid host. Therewith himself did seize a fearsome mace, weapon of Epidaurian warfare, and swung it to and fro, and with that club, as with a sickle, he shore off necks and heads and helmets thereupon. Scarce even then they turned them- selves to fly. For joy cried I, and danced and clapped my hands; while to the gates they ran. Throughout the town echoed the shrieks of young and old, as they crowded the temples in terror. But Theseus, when he might have come inside the walls, held back his men, for he had not come, said he, to sack the town, but to ask for the bodies of the dead. Such the general men should choose, one who shows his bravery in danger, yet hates the pride of those that in their hour of fortune lose the bliss they might have enjoyed, through seeking to scale the ladder’s topmost step.

CHORUS Now do I believe in the gods after seeing this unexpected day, and I feel my woes are lighter now that these have paid their penalty.

ADRASTUS O Zeus, why do men assert the wisdom of the wretched human race? On thee we all depend, and all we do is only what thou listest. We thought our Argos irresistible, ourselves a young and lusty host, and so when Eteocles was for making terms, in spite of his fair offer we would not accept them, and so we perished. Then in their turn those foolish folk of Cadmus, to fortune raised, like some beggar with his newly-gotten wealth, waxed wanton, and, waxing so, were ruined in their turn. Ye foolish sons of men! who strain your bow like men who shoot beyond their mark, and only by suffering many evils as ye deserve, though deaf to friends, yet yield to circumstances; ye cities likewise, though ye might by parley end your mischief, yet ye choose the sword instead of reason to settle all disputes. But wherefore these reflections? This I fain would learn, the way thou didst escape; and after that I will ask thee of the rest.

MESSENGER During the uproar which prevailed in the city owing to the battle, I passed the gates, just as the host had entered them.

ADRASTUS Are ye bringing the bodies, for the which the strife arose?

MESSENGER Ay, each of the seven chiefs who led their famous hosts.

ADRASTUS What sayest thou? the rest who fell—say, where are they?

MESSENGER They have found burial in the dells of Cithseron.

ADRASTUS On this or that side of the mount? And who did bury them?

MESSENGER Theseus buried them ’neath the shadow of Eleutherae’s cliff.

ADRASTUS Where didst thou leave the dead he hath not buried?

MESSENGER Not far away; earnest haste makes every goal look close.

ADRASTUS No doubt in sorrow slaves would gather them from the carnage.

MESSENGER Slaves! not one of them was set to do this toil.

ADRASTUS

MESSENGER Thou wouldst say so, hadst thou been there to see his loving tendance of the dead.

ADRASTUS Did he himself wash the bloody wounds of the hapless youths?

MESSENGER Ay, and strewed their biers and wrapped them in their shrouds.

ADRASTUS An awful burden this, involving some disgrace.

MESSENGER Why, what disgrace to men are their fellows’ sorrows?

ADRASTUS Ah me! how much rather had I died with them!

MESSENGER ’Tis vain to weep and move to tears these women.

ADRASTUS Methinks ’tis they who give the lesson. Enough of that! My hands I lift at meeting of the dead, and pour forth a tearful dirge to Hades, calling on my friends, whose loss I mourn in wretched solitude; for this one thing, when once ’tis spent, man cannot recover, the breath of life, though he knoweth ways to get his wealth again.

CHORUS Joy is here and sorrow too,— for the state fair fame, and for our captains double meed of honour. Bitter for me it is to see the limbs of my dead sons, and yet a welcome sight withal, because I shall behold the unexpected day after sorrow’s cup was full.

CHORUS Would that Father Time had kept me unwed from my youth up e’en till now when I am old! What need had I of children? Methinks I should not have suffered excessively, had I never borne the marriage-yoke; but now I have my sorrow full in view, the loss of children dear.

CHORUS Lo! I see the bodies of the fallen youths. Woe is me! would I could join these children in their death and descend to Hades with them!

ADRASTUS Mothers, raise the wail for the dead departed; cry in answer when ye hear my note of woe.

CHORUS My sons, my sons! O bitter words for loving mothers to address to you! To thee, my lifeless child, I call.

ADRASTUS Woe! woe!

CHORUS Ah me, my sufferings!

ADRASTUS Alas!

CHORUS

ADRASTUS We have endured, alas!—

CHORUS Sorrows most grievous.

ADRASTUS O citizens of Argos! do ye not behold my fate?

CHORUS They see thee, and me the hapless mother, reft of her children.

ADRASTUS Bring near the blood-boltered corpses of those hapless chiefs, foully slain by foes unworthy, with whom lay the decision of the contest.

CHORUS Let me embrace and hold my children to my bosom in my enfolding arms.

ADRASTUS There, there! thou hast—

CHORUS Sorrows heavy enough to bear.

ADRASTUS Ah me!

CHORUS Thy groans mingle with those of their parents.

ADRASTUS Hear me.

CHORUS O’er both of us thou dost lament.

ADRASTUS Would God the Theban ranks had laid me dead in the dust!

CHORUS Oh that I had ne’er been wedded to a husband!

ADRASTUS Behold this sea of troubles! Ah! hapless mothers.

CHORUS Our nails have ploughed our cheeks in furrows, and o’er our heads have we strewn ashes.

ADRASTUS Ah me! ah me! Oh that earth’s floor would swallow me, or the whirlwind snatch me away, or Zeus’s flaming bolt descend upon my head!

CHORUS Bitter the marriages thou didst witness, bitter the oracle of Phoebus! The curse of Oedipus, fraught with sorrow, after desolating his house, is come on thee.

THESEUS I meant to question thee when thou wert venting thy lamentations to the host, but I will let it pass; yet, though I dropped the matter then and left it alone, I now do ask Adrastus, Of what lineage sprang those youths, to shine so bright in chivalry? Tell it to our younger citizens of thy fuller wisdom, for thou art skilled to know. Myself beheld their daring deeds, too high for words to tell, whereby they thought to capture Thebes. One question will I spare thee, lest I provoke thy laughter; the foe that each of them encountered in the fray, the spear from which each received his death-wound. These be idle tales alike for those who hear or him who speaks, that any man amid the fray, when clouds of darts are hurtling before his eyes, should declare for certain who each champion is. I could not ask such questions, nor yet believe those who dare assert the like; for when a man is face to face with the foe, he scarce can see even that which ’tis his bounden duty to observe.

ADRASTUS Hearken then. For in giving this task to me thou findest a willing eulogist of friends, whose praise I would declare in all truth and sincerity. Dost see yon corpse by Zeus’s bolt transfixed? That is Capaneus; though he had ample wealth, yet was he the last to boast of his prosperity; nor would he ever vaunt himself above a poorer neighbour, but shunned the man whose sumptuous board had puffed him up too high and made him scorn mere competence, for he held that virtue lies not in greedy gluttony, but that moderate means suffice. True friend was he, alike to present or to absent friends the same; of such the number is not great. His was a guileless character, a courteous address, that left no promise unperformed either towards his own household or his fellow-citizens. The next I name is Eteocles; a master he of other kinds of excellence; young, nor richly dowered with store, yet high in honour in the Argive land. And though his friends oft offered gifts of gold, he would not have it in his house, to make his character its slave by taking wealth’s yoke upon him. Not his city, but those that sinned against her did he hate, for a city is no wise to be blamed if it get an evil name by reason of an evil governor. Such another was Hippomedon, third of all this band; from his very boyhood he refrained from turning towards the allurements of the Muses, to lead a life of ease; his home was in the fields, and gladly would he school his nature to hardships with a view to manliness, aye hasting to the chase, rejoicing in his steeds or straining of his bow, because he would make himself of use unto his state. Next behold the huntress Atalanta’s son, Parthenopaeus, a youth of peerless beauty; from Arcady he came even to the streams of Inachus, and in Argos spent his boyhood. There, when he grew to man’s estate, first, as is the duty of strangers settled in another land, he showed no pique or jealousy against the state, became no quibbler, chiefest source of annoyance citizen or stranger can give, but took his stand amid the host, and fought for Argos as he were her own son, glad at heart whenso the city prospered, deeply grieved if e’er reverses came; many a lover though he had midst men and maids, yet was he careful to avoid offence. Of Tydeus next the lofty praise I will express in brief; no brilliant spokesman he, but a clever craftsman in the art of war, with many a shrewd device; inferior in judgment to his brother Meleager, yet through his warrior skill lending his name to equal praise, for he had found in arms a perfect science; his was an ambitious nature, a spirit rich in store of deeds, with words less fully dowered. From this account then wonder not, Theseus, that they dared to die before the towers; for noble nurture carries honour with it, and every man, when once he hath practised virtue, scorns the name of villain. Courage may be learnt, for even a babe doth learn to speak and hear things it cannot comprehend; and whatso’er a child hath learnt, this it is his wont to treasure up till he is old. So train up your children in a virtuous way.

CHORUS Alas! my son, to sorrow I bare thee and carried thee within my womb, enduring the pangs of travail; but now Hades takes the fruit of all my hapless toil, and I that; had a son am left, ah me! with none to nurse my age.

THESEUS As for the noble son of Oecleus, him, while yet he lived, the gods snatched hence to the bowels of the earth, and. his chariot too, manifestly blessing him; while I myself may truthfully tell the praises of the son of Oedipus, that is, Polynices, for he was my guest-friend ere he left the town of Cadmus and crossed to Argos in voluntary exile. But dost thou know what I would have thee do in this matter?

ADRASTUS I know naught save this,—to yield obedience to thy hests.

THESEUS As for yon Capaneus, stricken by the bolt of Zeus—

ADRASTUS Wilt bury him apart as a consecrated corpse?

THESEUS Even so; but all the rest on one funeral pyre.

ADRASTUS Where wilt thou set the tomb apart for him?

THESEUS Here near this temple have I builded him a sepulchre.

ADRASTUS Thy thralls forthwith must undertake this toil.

THESEUS Myself will look to those others; let the biers advance.

ADRASTUS Approach your sons, unhappy mothers.

THESEUS This thy proposal, Adrastus, is anything but good.

ADRASTUS Must not the mothers touch their sons?

THESEUS It would kill them to see how they are altered.

ADRASTUS ’Tis bitter, truly, to see the dead even at the moment of death.

THESEUS Why then wilt thou add fresh grief to them?

ADRASTUS Thou art right. Ye needs must patiently abide, for the words of Theseus are good. But when we have committed them unto the flames, ye shall collect their bones. O wretched sons of men! Why do ye get you weapons and bring slaughter on one another? Cease therefrom, give o’er your toiling, and in mutual peace keep safe your cities. Short is the span of life, so ’twere best to run its course as lightly as we may, from trouble free.

CHORUS No more a happy mother I, with children blest; no more I share, among Argive women, who have sons, their happy lot; nor any more will Artemis in the hour of travail kindly greet these childless mothers. Most dreary is my life, and like some wandering cloud I drift before the howling blast.

CHORUS The seven noblest sons in Argos once we had, we seven hapless mothers; but now my sons are dead, I have no child, and on me steals old age in piteous wise, nor ’mongst the dead nor ’mongst the living do I count myself, having as it were a lot apart from these.

CHORUS Tears alone are left me; in my house sad memories of my son are stored; mournful tresses shorn from his head, chaplets that he wore, libations for the dead departed, and songs, but not such as golden-haired Apollo welcometh; and when I wake to weep, my tears will ever drench the folds of my robe upon my bosom.

CHORUS Ah! there I see the sepulchre ready e’en now for Capaneus, his consecrated tomb, and the votive offerings Theseus gives unto the dead outside the shrine, and nigh yon lightning-smitten chief I see his noble bride, Evadne, daughter of King Iphis. Wherefore stands she on the towering rock, which o’ertops this temple, advancing along yon path?

EVADNE What light, what radiancy did the sun-god’s car dart forth, and the moon athwart the firmament, while round her in the gloom swift stars careered, in the day that the city of Argos raised the stately chant of joy at my wedding, in honour of my marriage with mail-clad Capaneus? Now from my home in frantic haste with frenzied mind I rush to join thee, seeking to share with thee the fire’s bright flame and the self-same tomb, to rid me of my weary life in Hades’ halls, and of the pains of existence; yea, for ’tis the sweetest end to share the death of those we love, if only fate will sanction it.

CHORUS Behold yon pyre, which thou art overlooking, nigh thereto, set apart for Zeus! There is thy husband’s body, vanquished by the blazing bolt.

EVADNE Life’s goal I now behold from my station here; may fortune aid me in my headlong leap from this rock in honour’s cause, down into the fire below, to mix my ashes in the ruddy blaze with my husband’s, to lay me side by side with him, there in the couch of Persephone; for ne’er will I, to save my life, prove untrue to thee where thou liest in thy grave. Away with life and marriage too! Oh! may my children live to see the dawn of a fairer, happier wedding-day in Argos! May loyalty inspire the husband’s heart, his nature fusing with his wife’s!

CHORUS Lo! the aged Iphis, thy father, draweth nigh to hear thy startling scheme, which yet he knows not and will grieve to learn.

IPHIS Unhappy child! lo! I am come, a poor old man, with twofold sorrow in my house to mourn, that I may carry to his native land the corpse of my son Eteocles, slain by the Theban spear, and further in quest of my daughter who rushed headlong from the house, for she was the wife of Capaneus and longed with him to die. Ere this she was well guarded in my house, but, when I took the watch away in the present troubles, she escaped. But I feel sure that she is here; tell me if ye have seen her.

EVADNE Why question them? Lo, here upon the rock, father, o’er the pyre of Capaneus, like some bird I hover lightly, in my wretchedness.

IPHIS What wind hath blown thee hither, child? Whither away? Why didst thou pass the threshold of my house and seek this land?

EVADNE It would but anger thee to hear what I intend, and so I fain would keep thee ignorant, my father.

IPHIS What! hath not thy own father a right to know?

EVADNE Thou wouldst not wisely judge my intention.

IPHIS Why dost thou deck thyself in that apparel?

EVADNE A purport strange this robe conveys, father.

IPHIS Thou hast no look of mourning for thy lord.

EVADNE No, the reason why I thus am decked is strange, maybe.

IPHIS Dost thou in such garb appear before a funeral-pyre?

EVADNE Yea, for hither it is I come to take the meed of victory.

IPHIS Victory! what victory? This would I learn of thee.

EVADNE A victory o’er all women on whom the sun looks down.

IPHIS In Athena’s handiwork or in prudent counsel?

EVADNE In bravery; for I will lay me down and die with my lord.

IPHIS What dost thou say? What is this silly riddle thou propoundest?

EVADNE To yonder pyre where lies dead Capaneus, I will leap down.

IPHIS My daughter, speak not thus before the multitude!

EVADNE The very thing I wish, that every Argive should learn it.

IPHIS Nay, I will ne’er consent to let thee do this deed.

EVADNE (as she is throwing herself). ’Tis all one; thou shalt never catch me in thy grasp. Lo! I cast me down, no joy to thee, but to myself and to my husband blazing on the pyre with me.

CHORUS O lady, what a fearful deed!

IPHIS Ah me! I am undone, ye dames of Argos!

CHORUS [chanting] Alack, alack! a cruel blow is this to thee, but thou must yet witness, poor wretch, the full horror of this deed.

IPHIS A more unhappy wretch than me ye could not find.

CHORUS Woe for thee, unhappy man! Thou, old sir, hast been made partaker in the fortune of Oedipus, thou and my poor city too.

IPHIS Ah, why are mortal men denied this boon, to live their youth twice o’er, and twice in turn to reach old age? If aught goes wrong within our homes, we set it right by judgment more maturely formed, but our life we may not so correct. Now if we had a second spell of youth and age, this double term of life would let us then correct each previous slip. I, for instance, seeing others blest with children, longed to have them too, and found my ruin in that wish. Whereas if I had had my present experience, and by a father’s light had learnt how cruel a thing it is to be bereft of children, never should I have fallen on such evil days as these,—I who did beget a brave young son, proud parent that I was, and after all am now bereft of him. Enough of this. What remains for such a hapless wretch as me? Shall I to my home, there to see its utter desolation and the blank within my life? or shall I to the halls of that dead Capaneus?—halls I smiled to see in days gone by, when yet my daughter was alive. But she is lost and gone, she that would ever draw down my cheek to her lips, and take my head between her hands; for naught is there more sweet unto an aged sire than a daughter’s love; our sons are made of sterner stuff, but less winning are their caresses. Oh! take me to my house at once, in darkness hide me there, to waste and fret this aged frame with fasting! What shall it avail me to touch my daughter’s bones? Old age, resistless foe, how do I loathe thy presence! Them too I hate, whoso desire to lengthen out the span of life, seeking to turn the tide of death aside by philtres, drugs, and magic spells,—folk that death should take away to leave the young their place, when they no more can benefit the world.

CHORUS Woe, woe! Behold your dead sons’ bones are brought hither; take them, servants of your weak old mistress, for in me is no strength left by reason of my mourning for my sons; time’s comrade long have I been, and many a tear for many a sorrow have I shed. For what sharper pang wilt thou ever find for mortals than the sight of children dead?

CHILDREN Poor mother mine, behold I bring my father’s bones gathered from the fire, a burden grief has rendered heavy, though this tiny urn contains my all.

CHORUS Ah me! ah me! Why bear thy tearful load to the fond mother of the dead, a handful of ashes in the stead of those who erst were men of mark in Mycenae?

CHILDREN Woe worth the hour! woe worth the day! Reft of my hapless sire, a wretched orphan shall I inherit a desolate house, torn from my father’s arms.

CHORUS Woe is thee! Where is now the toil I spent upon my sons? what thank have I for nightly watch? Where the mother’s nursing care? the sleepless vigils mine eyes have kept? the loving kiss upon my children’s brow?

CHILDREN Thy sons are dead and gone. Poor mother! dead and gone; the boundless air now wraps them round.

CHORUS Turned to ashes by the flame, they have winged their flight to Hades.

CHILDREN Father, thou hearest thy children’s lamentation; say, shall I e’er, as warrior dight, avenge thy slaughter?

CHORUS God grant it, O my child!

CHILDREN Some day, if god so will, shall the avenging of my father be my task; not yet this sorrow sleeps.

CHORUS Alas! Fortune’s sorrows are enough for me, I have troubles and to spare already.

CHILDREN Shall Asopus’ laughing tide ever reflect my brazen arms as I lead on my Argive troops?

CHORUS To avenge thy fallen sire.

CHILDREN Methinks I see thee still before my eyes, my father—

CHORUS Printing a loving kiss upon thy cheek.

CHILDREN But thy words of exhortation are borne on the winds away.

CHORUS Two mourners hath he left behind, thy mother and thee, bequeathing to thee an endless legacy of grief for thy father.

CHILDREN The weight of grief I have to bear hath crushed me utterly.

CHORUS Come, let me clasp the ashes of my son to my bosom.

CHILDREN I weep to hear that piteous word; it stabs me to the heart.

CHORUS My child, thou art undone; no more shall I behold thee, thy own fond mother’s treasure.

THESEUS Adrastus, and ye dames from Argos sprung, ye see these children bearing in their hands the bodies of their valiant sires whom I redeemed; to thee I give these gifts, I and Athens. And ye must bear in mind the memory of this favour, marking well the treatment ye have had of me. And to these children I repeat the self-same words, that they may honour this city, to children’s children ever handing on the kindness ye received from us. Be Zeus the witness, with the gods in heaven, of the treatment we vouchsafed you ere you left us.

ADRASTUS Theseus, well we know all the kindness thou hast conferred upon the land of Argos in her need, and ours shall be a gratitude that never waxeth old, for your generous treatment makes us debtors for a like return.

THESEUS What yet remains, wherein I can serve you?

ADRASTUS Fare thee well, for such is thy desert and such thy city’s too.

THESEUS Fare thee well, for such is thy desert and such thy city’s too.

ATHENA Hearken, Theseus, to the words that I Athena utter, telling thee thy duty, which, if thou perform it, will serve thy city. Give not these bones to the children to carry to the land of Argos, letting them go so lightly; nay, take first an oath of them that they will requite thee and thy city for your efforts. This oath must Adrastus swear, for as their king it is his right to take the oath for the whole realm of Argos. And this shall be the form thereof: We Argives swear we never will against this land lead on our mail-clad troops to war, and, if others come, we will repel them. But if they violate their oath and come against the city, pray that the land of Argos may be miserably destroyed. Now hearken while I tell thee where thou must slay the victims. Thou hast within thy halls a tripod with brazen feet, which Heracles, in days gone by, after he had o’erthrown the foundations of Ilium and was starting on another enterprise, enjoined thee to set up at the Pythian shrine. O’er it cut the throats of three sheep; then grave within the tripod’s hollow belly the oath; this done, deliver it to the god who watches over Delphi to keep, a witness and memorial unto Hellas of the oath. And bury the sharp-edged knife, wherewith thou shalt have laid the victims open and shed their blood, deep in the bowels of the earth, hard by the pyres where the seven chieftains burn; for its appearance shall strike them with dismay, if e’er against thy town they come, and shall cause them to return with sorrow. When thou hast done all this, dismiss the dead from thy land. And to the god resign as sacred land the spot where their bodies were purified by fire, there by the meeting of the triple roads that lead unto the Isthmus. Thus much to thee, Theseus, I address; next to the sons of Argos I speak; when ye are grown to men’s estate, the town beside Ismenus shall ye sack, avenging the slaughter of your dead sires; thou too, Aegialeus, shalt take thy father’s place and in thy youth command the host, and with thee Tydeus’ son marching from Aetolia,—him whom his father named Diomedes. Soon as the beards your cheeks o’ershadow must ye lead an armed Danaid host against the battlements of Thebes with sevenfold gates. For to their sorrow shall ye come like lion’s whelps in full-grown might to sack their city. No otherwise is it to be; and ye shall be a theme for minstrels’ songs in days to come, known through Hellas as the After-born so famous shall your expedition be, thanks to Heaven.

THESEUS Queen Athena, I will hearken to thy bidding; for thou it is dost set me up, so that I go not astray. And I will bind this monarch by an oath; do thou but guide my steps aright. For if thou art friendly to our state, we shall henceforth live secure.

CHORUS Let us go, Adrastus, and take the oath to this monarch and his state; for the service they have already done us claims our warm regard.

HERACLES (Translated by E. P. Coleridge, 1891)

[At the entrance of Heracles’ house in Thebes, before the altar of Zeus.]

AMPHITRYON What mortal has not heard of the one who shared a wife with Zeus, Amphitryon of Argos, whom once Alcaeus, son of Perseus, begot, Amphitryon the father of Heracles? Who lived here in Thebes, where from the sowing of the dragon’s teeth grew up a crop of earth-born giants; and of these Ares saved a scanty band, and their children’s children people the city of Cadmus. Hence sprung Creon, son of Menoeceus, king of this land; and Creon became the father of this lady Megara, whom once all Cadmus’ race escorted with the glad music of lutes at her wedding, when the famous Heracles led her to my halls. Now he, my son, left Thebes where I was settled, left his wife Megara and her kin, eager to make his home in Argolis, in that walled town which the Cyclopes built, from which I am exiled for the slaying of Electryon; so he, wishing to lighten my affliction and to find a home in his own land, offered Eurystheus a mighty price for my recall: to free the world of savage monsters, whether it was that Hera goaded him to submit to this, or that fate was leagued against him. Other toils he has accomplished, and last of all has he passed through the mouth of Taenarus into the halls of Hades to drag to the light that hound with three bodies, and from there he has never returned. Now there is an ancient legend among the race of Cadmus that a certain Lycus in days gone by was husband to Dirce, and he was king of this city with its seven towers, before Amphion and Zethus, sons of Zeus, lords of the milk-white steeds, became rulers in the land. His son, called by the same name as his father, although no Theban but a stranger from Euboea, slew Creon, and after that seized the government, having fallen on this city when weakened by dissension. So this family connection with Creon is likely to prove to us a serious evil; for now that my son is in the bowels of the earth, this new monarch Lycus is bent on extirpating the children of Heracles, to quench one bloody feud with another, likewise his wife and me, if useless age like mine is to rank among men, that the boys may never grow up to exact a blood-penalty of their uncle’s family. So I, left here by my son, while he is gone into the pitchy darkness of the earth, to tend and guard his children in his house, am taking my place with their mother, that the race of Heracles may not perish, here at the altar of Zeus the Savior, which my own gallant child set up to commemorate his glorious victory over the Minyae. And here we are careful to keep our station, though in need of everything, of food, drink and clothes, huddled together on the hard bare ground; for we are barred out from our house and sit here for want of any other safety. As for friends, some I see are unreliable; while others, who are staunch, have no power to help us further. This is what misfortune means to man; may it never fall to the lot of any who bears the least goodwill to me, to apply this never-failing test of friendship!

MEGARA Old warrior, who once razed the citadel of the Taphians leading on the troops of Thebes to glory, how uncertain are the gods’ dealings with man! I, for instance, as far as concerned my father, was never an outcast of fortune, for he was once accounted a man of might by reason of his wealth, possessed as he was of royal power, for which long spears are launched at the lives of the fortunate through love of it; children too he had; and he gave me to your son, matching me in glorious marriage with Heracles. And now all that is dead and gone from us; and I and you, old friend, are doomed to die, and these children of Heracles, whom I am guarding beneath my wing as a bird keeps her tender chicks under her. And they one after another keep asking me: Mother, tell us, where is our father gone from the land? what is he doing? when will he return? Thus they inquire for their father, in childish perplexity; while I put them off with excuses, inventing stories; but still I wonder if it is he whenever a door creaks on its hinges, and up they all start, thinking to embrace their father’s knees. What hope or way of salvation are you now devising, old friend? for I look to you. We can never steal beyond the boundaries of the land unseen, for there is too strict a watch set on us at every outlet, nor have we any longer hopes of safety in our friends. Whatever your scheme is, declare it, lest our death be made ready.

AMPHITRYON It is by no means easy, my daughter, to give one’s earnest advice on such matters off hand, without weary thought; but let us prolong the time, since we are powerless to escape.

MEGARA Do you need a further taste of grief, or do you cling so fast to life?

AMPHITRYON Yes, I love this life, and cling to its hopes.

MEGARA So do I; but you should not expect the unexpected, old friend.

AMPHITRYON In these delays the only cure for our evils is left.

MEGARA It is the biting pain of that interval I feel so.

AMPHITRYON Daughter, there may yet be a happy escape from present troubles for me and you; my son, your husband, may yet arrive. So calm yourself, and wipe those tears from your children’s eyes, and soothe them with soft words, inventing a tale to delude then, piteous though such fraud be. Yes, for even men’s misfortunes often flag, and the stormy wind does not always blow so strong, nor are the prosperous ever so; for all things change, making way for each other. The bravest man is he who relies ever on his hopes, but despair is the mark of a coward.

CHORUS To the sheltering roof, to the old man’s couch, leaning on my staff have I set forth, chanting a plaintive dirge like some bird grown grey, I that am only a voice and a fancy bred of the visions of sleep by night, palsied with age, yet meaning kindly. All hail! you orphaned children! all hail, old friend! you too, unhappy mother, wailing for your husband in the halls of Hades!

CHORUS Do not faint too soon upon your way, or let your limbs grow weary, as a colt beneath the yoke grows weary as he mounts some stony hill, dragging the weight of a wheeled chariot. Take hold of hand or robe, who ever feels his footsteps falter. Old friend, escort another like yourself, who once amid his toiling peers in the days of our youth would take his place beside you, no blot upon his country’s glorious record.

CHORUS See, how like their father’s sternly flash these children’s eyes! Misfortune has not failed his children, nor yet has his comeliness been denied them. O Hellas! if you lose these, of what allies will you rob yourself!

CHORUS But I see Lycus, the ruler of this land, drawing near the house.

LYCUS One question, if I may, to this father of Heracles and his wife; and certainly as your lord and master I have a right to put what questions I choose. How long do you seek to prolong your lives? What hope, what aid do you see to save you from death? Do you trust that these children’s father, who lies dead in the halls of Hades, will return? How unworthily you show your sorrow at having to die, you to Amphitryon after your idle boasts, scattered broadcast through Hellas, that Zeus was partner in your marriage-bed and was your partner in children; and you, to Megara after calling yourself the wife of so peerless a lord. After all, what was the fine exploit your husband achieved, if he did kill a water-snake in a marsh or that monster of Nemea? which he caught in a snare, for all he says he strangled it to death in his arms. Are these your weapons for the hard struggle? Is it for this then that Heracles’ children should be spared? A man who has won a reputation for valor in his contests with beasts, in all else a weakling; who never buckled shield to arm nor faced the spear, but with a bow, that coward’s weapon, was ever ready to run away. Archery is no test of manly bravery; no! he is a man who keeps his post in the ranks and steadily faces the swift wound the spear may plough. My policy, again, old man, shows no reckless cruelty, but caution; for I am well aware I slew Creon, the father of this woman, and am in possession of his throne. So I have no wish that these children should grow up and be left to take vengeance on me in requital for what I have done.

AMPHITRYON Let Zeus defend his his own share in his son; but as for me, Heracles, it is my concern on your behalf to prove by what I say this tyrant’s ignorance; for I cannot allow you to be ill spoken of. First then for that which should never have been said—for to speak of you, Heracles, as a coward is, I think, outside the pale of speech—of that must I clear you with heaven to witness. I appeal then to the thunder of Zeus, and the chariot in which he rode, when he pierced the Giants, earth’s brood, to the heart with his winged shafts, and with gods uplifted the glorious triumph song; or go to Pholoe and ask the insolent tribe of four-legged Centaurs, you craven king, ask them who they would judge the bravest of men; will they not say my son, who according to you is but a pretender? Were you to ask Euboean Dirphys, your native place, it would not sing your praise, for you have never done a single gallant deed to which your country can witness. Next you disparage that clever invention, an archer’s weapon; come, listen to me and learn wisdom. A man who fights in line is a slave to his weapons, and if his fellow-comrades want for courage he is slain himself through the cowardice of his neighbors, or, if he breaks his spear, he cannot defend his body from death, having only one means of defence; whereas all who are armed with the trusty bow, though they have but one weapon, yet is it the best; for a man, after discharging countless arrows, still has others with which to defend himself from death, and standing at a distance keeps off the enemy, wounding them for all their watchfulness with invisible shafts, and never exposing himself to the foe, but keeping under cover; and this is by far the wisest course in battle, to harm the enemy and keep safe oneself, independent of chance. These arguments completely contradict yours with regard to the matter at issue. Next, why are you desirous of slaying these children? What have they done to you? One piece of wisdom I credit you with, your coward terror of a brave man’s descendants. Still it is hard on us, if for your cowardice we must die; a fate that ought to have overtaken you at our braver hands, if Zeus had been fairly disposed towards us. But, if you are so anxious to make yourself supreme in the land, let us go into exile; abstain from all violence, else you will suffer by it whenever the god causes fortune’s breeze to veer round. Ah! you land of Cadmus—for to you too will I turn, distributing my words of reproach—is this your defense of Heracles and his children? the man who faced alone all the Minyans in battle and allowed Thebes to see the light with free eyes. I cannot praise Hellas, nor will I ever keep silence, finding her so craven as regards my son; she should have come with fire and sword and warrior’s arms to help these tender chicks, to requite him for all his labors in purging land and sea. Such help, my children, neither Hellas nor the city of Thebes affords you; to me a feeble friend you look, and I am empty sound and nothing more. For the vigor which once I had, has gone from me; my limbs are palsied with age, and my strength is decayed. If I were young and still powerful in body, I would have seized my spear and dabbled those flaxen locks of his with blood, so that the coward would now be flying from my spear beyond the bounds of Atlas.

CHORUS LEADER Have not the brave among mankind a fair occasion for speech, although slow to begin?

LYCUS Say what you will of me in your exalted phrase, but I by deeds will make you rue those words. Calling to his servants Go, some to Helicon, others to the glens of Parnassus, and bid woodmen to cut me logs of oak, and when they are brought to the town, pile up a stack of wood all round the altar on either side, and set fire to it and burn them all alive, that they may learn that the dead no longer rules this land, but that for the present I am king. Angrily to the Chorus As for you, old men, since you thwart my views, not for the children of Heracles alone shall you lament, but likewise for your own misfortunes, and you shall never forget you are slaves and I your prince.

Full Text (part 4)

CHORUS —You sons of Earth, whom Ares once sowed, when from the dragon’s ravening jaw he had torn the teeth, up with your staves, on which you lean your hands, and dash out this villain’s brains! a fellow who, without even being a Theban, but a foreigner, lords it shamefully over the younger men; but my master shall you never be to your joy. —Nor shall you reap the harvest of all my toil; Go back to where you came from, in your insolence. For never while I live, shall you slay these sons of Heracles; not so deep beneath the earth has their father disappeared from his children’s ken. —You are in possession of this land which you have ruined, while he, its benefactor, has missed his just reward. —And yet do I take too much upon myself because I help those I love after their death, when most they need a friend? —Ah! right hand, how you desire to wield the spear, but your weakness is a death-blow to your desire. For then I would have stopped you calling me slave, and I would have governed Thebes with credit. In which you now rejoice; for a city sick with dissension and evil counsels does not think aright; otherwise it would never have accepted you as its master.

MEGARA Old men, I thank you; it is right that friends should feel virtuous indignation on behalf of those they love; but do not on our account vent your anger on the tyrant to your own undoing. Hear my advice, Amphitryon, if there appears to you to be anything in what I say. I love my children; strange if I did not love those whom I bore, whom I labored for! Death I count a dreadful fate; but the man who strives against necessity I esteem a fool. Since we must die, let us do so without being burnt alive, a source of mockery to our enemies, which to my mind is an evil worse than death; for much good do we owe our family. You have always had a warrior’s fair fame, so it is not to be endured that you should die a coward’s death; and my husband’s reputation needs no one to witness that he would never consent to save these children’s lives by letting them incur the stain of cowardice; for the noble are afflicted by disgrace on account of their children, nor must I shrink from following my lord’s example. As to your hopes consider how I weigh them. Do you think your son will return from beneath the earth? And who ever has come back from the dead out of the halls of Hades? But would you soften this man by entreaty? Oh no! better to fly from one’s enemy when he is so brutish, but yield to men of breeding and culture; for you would more easily conclude a friendly truce by accepting regard. True, a thought has already occurred to me that we might by entreaty obtain a sentence of exile for the children; yet this too is misery, to compass their deliverance with dire penury as the result; for it is a saying that hosts look sweetly on banished friends for a day and no more. Endure to die with us, for that awaits you after all. By your brave soul I challenge you, old friend; for whoever struggles hard to escape destiny sent by the gods shows zeal no doubt, but it is zeal with a taint of folly; for what must be, no one will ever avail to alter.

CHORUS LEADER If a man had insulted you, while yet my arms were strong, there would have been an easy way to stop him; but now am I am nothing ; and so you henceforth, Amphitryon, must scheme how to avert misfortune.

AMPHITRYON It is not cowardice or any longing for life that hinders my dying, but my wish to save my son’s children, though no doubt I am longing for the impossible. See! here is my neck ready for the sword to pierce, to hack, to hurl from the rock; only one favor I crave for both of us, king; slay me and this hapless mother before you slay the children, that we may not see the hideous sight, as they gasp out their lives, calling on their mother and their father’s father; for the rest work your will if so you are inclined; for we have no defense against death.

MEGARA I too implore you add a second favor, that by your single act you may put us both under a double obligation; allow me to deck my children in the robes of death, first opening the palace gates, for now we are shut out, so that this at least they may obtain from their father’s halls.

LYCUS I grant it, and bid my servants undo the bolts. Go in and deck yourselves; robes do not grudge. But as soon as you have clothed yourselves, I will return to you to consign you to the nether world. Exit Lycus.

MEGARA Children, follow the footsteps of your hapless mother to your father’s house, where others possess his substance, though his name is still ours. Exit Megara with her children.

AMPHITRYON O Zeus, in vain, it seems, did I get you to share my bride with me; in vain used we to call you partner in my son. After all you are less our friend than you pretended. Great god as you are, I, a mortal, surpass you in true worth. For I did not betray the children of Heracles; but you by stealth found your way to my bed, taking another’s wife without leave given, while to save your own friends you have no skill. Either you are a god of little sense, or else naturally unjust. Exit Amphitryon.

CHORUS Phoebus is singing a dirge, after his happier strains, for Linus dead in his beauty, striking his lyre with key of gold; but I wish to sing a song of praise, a crown to all his toil, on the one who has gone to the gloom beneath the nether world, whether I am to call him son of Zeus or of Amphitryon. For the virtue of noble toils is a glory to the dead.

CHORUS First he cleared the grove of Zeus of a lion, and put its skin upon his back, hiding his yellow auburn hair in its fearful gaping jaws.

CHORUS And then one day with murderous bow he wounded the race of wild Centaurs, that range the hills, slaying them with winged shafts. Peneus, the river of fair eddies, knows him well, and those far fields unharvested, and the steadings on Pelion and neighboring caves of Homole, from where the Centaurs rode forth to conquer Thessaly, arming themselves with pines.

CHORUS And he slew that dappled deer with horns of gold, that preyed upon the country-folk, glorifying Artemis, huntress queen of Oenoe.

CHORUS Next he mounted on a chariot and tamed with the bit the horses of Diomedes, that greedily champed their bloody food at gory mangers with unbridled jaws, devouring with hideous joy the flesh of men; then crossing the heights of Hebrus that flow with silver, he still toiled on for the tyrant of Mycenae.

CHORUS And at the strand of the Pelian gulf by the streams of Anaurus, he slew with his arrows Cycnus, murderer of his guests, the savage wretch who dwelt in Amphanae.

CHORUS And he came to those minstrel maids, to their orchard in the west, to pluck from the leafy apple-tree its golden fruit, when he had slain the tawny dragon, whose terrible coils were twined all round to guard it; and he made his way into ocean’s lairs, bringing calm to men that use the oar.

CHORUS And he stretched out his hands to uphold the firmament, seeking the home of Atlas, and on his manly shoulders took the starry mansions of the gods.

CHORUS Then he went through the waves of heaving Euxine against the mounted host of Amazons dwelling round Maeotis, the lake that is fed by many a stream, having gathered to his standard all his friends from Hellas, to fetch the gold-embroidered raiment of the warrior queen, a deadly quest for a girdle. Hellas won those glorious spoils of the barbarian maid, and they are safe in Mycenae.

CHORUS He burned to ashes Lerna’s murderous hound, the many-headed water-snake, and smeared its venom on his darts, with which he slew the shepherd of Erytheia, a monster with three bodies.

CHORUS And many another glorious achievement he brought to a happy issue; to Hades’ house of tears has he now sailed, the goal of his labors, where he is ending his career of toil, nor does he come back again. Now your house is left without a friend, and Charon’s boat awaits your children to bear them on that journey out of life, without return, contrary to the gods’ law and man’s justice; and it is to your prowess that your house is looking although you are not here.

CHORUS Had I been strong and lusty, able to brandish the spear in battle’s onset, and my Theban companions too, I would have stood by your children to champion them; but now my happy youth is gone and I am left.

CHORUS LEADER But look! I see the children of Heracles who was once so great, wearing the clothes of the dead, and his loving wife dragging her babes along at her side, and Heracles’ aged father. Ah! woe is me! no longer can I stem the flood of tears that spring to my old eyes.

MEGARA Come now, who is to sacrifice or butcher these poor children? or rob me of my wretched life? These victims are ready to be led to Hades’ halls. O my children! an ill-matched company are we hurried off to die, old men and young ones and mothers, all together. Alas! for my sad fate and my children’s, whom these eyes now for the last time behold. So I gave you birth and reared you only for our foes to mock, to jeer at, and slay. Ah me! how bitterly my hopes have disappointed me in the expectation I once formed from the words of your father. Addressing each of her three sons in turn. To you your dead father was for giving Argos; and you were to dwell in the halls of Eurystheus, lording it over the fair fruitful land of Argolis; and over your head would he throw that lion’s skin with which he himself was armed. And you were to be king of Thebes, famed for its chariots, receiving as your heritage my broad lands, for so you coaxed your dear father; and to your hand he used to resign the carved club, his sure defence, pretending to give it to you. And to you he promised to give Oechalia, which once his archery had wasted. Thus with three principalities would your father exalt you, his three sons, proud of your manliness; while I was choosing the best brides for you, scheming to link you by marriage to Athens, Thebes, and Sparta, that you might live a happy life with a fast sheet-anchor to hold by. And now that is all vanished; fortune’s breeze has veered and given to you for brides the maidens of death in their stead, and my tears will be the marriage bath; woe is me for my foolish thoughts! and your grandfather here is celebrating your marriage-feast, the cares of a father, accepting Hades as the father of your brides. Ah me! which of you shall I first press to my bosom, which last? on which bestow my kiss, or clasp close to me? Oh! would that like the bee with russet wing, I could collect from every source my sighs in one, and, blending them together, shed them in one copious flood! O my dearest Heracles, to you I call, if perhaps mortal voice can make itself heard in Hades’ halls; your father and children are dying, and I am doomed, I who once because of you was counted blessed as men count bliss. Come to our rescue; appear, I pray, if only as a phantom, since your arrival, even as a dream, would be enough, for they are cowards who are slaying your children.

AMPHITRYON Lady, prepare the funeral rites; but I, O Zeus, stretching out my hand to heaven, call on you to help these children, if such is your intention; for soon any aid of yours will be unavailing; and yet you have been often invoked; my toil is in vain; death seems inevitable. You aged friends, the joys of life are few; so take heed that you pass through it as gladly as you may, without a thought of sorrow from morning until night; for time takes little heed of preserving our hopes; and, when he has busied himself on his own business, away he flies. Look at me, a man who had made a mark among his fellows by deeds of note; yet fortune in a single day has robbed me of it as of a feather that floats away toward the sky. I know not any whose plenteous wealth and high reputation is fixed and sure; fare you well, for now you have seen the last of your old friend, my comrades.

MEGARA Ah! Old friend, is it my own, my dearest I see? or what am I to say?

AMPHITRYON I do not know, my daughter; I too am struck dumb.

MEGARA Is this he who they told us was beneath the earth?It is, unless some day-dream mocks our sight. What am I saying? What visions do these anxious eyes behold? Old man, this is no one other than your own son. Come here, my children, cling to your father’s robe, hurry, never loose your hold, for here is one to help you, not at all behind our savior Zeus.

HERACLES All hail! my house and gates of my home, how glad I am to emerge to the light and see you. Ah! what is this? I see my children before the house in the robes of death, with chaplets on their heads and my wife amid a throng of men, and my father weeping—what misfortune? Let me draw near to them and inquire; lady, what strange stroke of fate has fallen on the house?

MEGARA Dearest of all mankind to me!

AMPHITRYON O ray of light appearing to your father!

MEGARA Are you safe and is your coming just in time to help your dear ones?

HERACLES What do you mean? What is this confusion I find on my arrival, father?

MEGARA We are being ruined; forgive me, old friend, if I have anticipated that to which you had a right to tell him; for women’s nature is perhaps more prone to grief than men’s and they are my children that were being led to death, which was my own lot too.

HERACLES Apollo! what a prelude to your story!

MEGARA My brothers are dead, and my old father.

HERACLES How so? what did he do? whose spear did he meet?

MEGARA Lycus, our new monarch, slew him.

HERACLES Did he meet him in fair fight, or was the land sick and weak?

MEGARA Yes, from faction; now he is master of the city of Cadmus with its seven gates.

HERACLES Why has panic fallen on you and my aged father?

MEGARA He meant to kill your father, me, and my children.

HERACLES What are you saying? What did he have to fear from my orphan babes?

MEGARA He was afraid they might some day avenge Creon’s death.

HERACLES What is this dress they wear, suited to the dead?

MEGARA It is the garb of death we have already put on.

HERACLES And were you being forced to die? O woe is me!

MEGARA Yes, deserted by every friend, and informed that you were dead.

HERACLES What put such desperate thoughts into your heads?

MEGARA That was what the heralds of Eurystheus kept proclaiming.

HERACLES Why did you leave my hearth and home?

MEGARA He forced us; your father was dragged from his bed.

HERACLES Had he no shame, to ill-use the old man so?

MEGARA Shame indeed! that goddess and he dwell far enough apart.

HERACLES Was I so poor in friends in my absence?

MEGARA Who are the friends of a man in misfortune?

HERACLES Do they make so light of my hard warring with the Minyans?

MEGARA Misfortune, to repeat it to you, has no friends.

HERACLES Cast from your heads these chaplets of death, look up to the light, for instead of the darkness below your eyes behold the welcome sun. I, meanwhile, since here is work for my hand, will first go raze this upstart tyrant’s halls, and when I have beheaded the villain, I will throw him to dogs to tear; and every Theban who I find has played the traitor after my kindness, will I destroy with this victorious club; the rest will I tear apart with my feathered shafts and fill Ismenus full of bloody corpses, and Dirce’s clear stream shall run red with gore. For whom ought I to help rather than wife and children and aged father? Farewell my labors! for it was in vain I accomplished them rather than helping these. And yet I ought to die in their defence, since they for their father were doomed; or what shall we find so noble in having fought a hydra and a lion at the commands of Eurystheus, if I make no effort to save my own children from death? No longer then, as before, shall I be called Heracles the victor.

CHORUS LEADER It is only right that parents should help their children, their aged fathers, and the partners of their marriage.

AMPHITRYON My son, it is like you to show your love for your dear ones and your hate for your enemies; only curb excessive hastiness.

HERACLES How, father, am I now showing more than fitting haste?

AMPHITRYON The king has a host of allies, needy villains though pretending to be rich, who sowed dissension and overthrew the state with a view to plundering their neighbors; for the wealth they had in their houses was all spent, dissipated by their sloth. You were seen entering the city; and, that being so, beware that you do not bring your enemies together and be slain unawares.

HERACLES Little I care if the whole city saw me; but happening to see a bird perched in an unlucky position, from it I learned that some trouble had befallen my house; so on purpose I made my entry to the land by stealth.

AMPHITRYON Well done; now, on your arrival, go salute your household altar, and let your father’s halls behold your face. For soon the king will be here in person to drag away your wife and children and murder them, and to add me to the bloody list. But if you remain on the spot all will go well, and you will profit by this security; but do not rouse your city before you have these matters well in train, my son.

HERACLES I will do so; your advice is good; I will enter my house. After my return at length from the sunless den of Hades and the maiden queen of hell, I will not neglect to greet first of all the gods beneath my roof.

AMPHITRYON Did you really go to the house of Hades, my son?

HERACLES Yes, and brought to the light that three-headed monster.

AMPHITRYON Did you conquer him in fight, or receive him from the goddess?

HERACLES In fight; for I had been lucky enough to witness the rites of the initiated.

AMPHITRYON Is the monster really lodged in the house of Eurystheus?

HERACLES The grove of Demeter and the city of Hermione have him now.

AMPHITRYON Eurystheus does not know that you have returned to the upper world?

HERACLES He does not; I came here first to learn your news.

AMPHITRYON How is it you were so long beneath the earth?

HERACLES I stayed awhile attempting to bring back Theseus from Hades, father.

AMPHITRYON Where is he? gone to his native land?

HERACLES He set out for Athens, glad to have escaped from the lower world. Come now, children, attend your father to the house. My entering in is fairer in your eyes, I think, than my going out. Oh, take heart, and no more let the tears stream from your eyes; you too, my wife, collect your courage, cease from fear; leave go my robe; for I cannot fly away, nor have I any wish to flee from those I love. Ah! they do not loose their hold, but cling to my garments all the more; were you on the razor’s edge of danger? Well, I must lead them, taking them by the hand to draw them after me, my little boats, like a ship when towing; for I too do not reject the care of my children; here all mankind are equal; all love their children, both those of high estate and those who are nothing; it is wealth that makes distinctions among them; some have, others want; but all the human race loves its offspring. [Exeunt Heracles and Megara, with their children.]

CHORUS Dear to me is youth always, but old age is hanging over my head, a burden heavier than Aetna’s crags, casting its pall of gloom upon my eyes. Oh! never may the wealth of Asia’s kings tempt me to barter for houses stored with gold my happy youth, which is in wealth and poverty alike most fair! But old age is gloomy and deadly; I hate it; let it sink beneath the waves! Would it had never found its way to the homes and towns of mortal men, but were still drifting on for ever down the wind.

CHORUS Had the gods shown discernment and wisdom, as mortals count these things, men would have won youth twice over, a visible mark of worth among whomever found, and after death these would have run a double course once more to the sun-light, while the low born would have had a single portion of life; and thus would it have been possible to distinguish the good and the bad, just as sailors know the number of the stars amid the clouds. But, as it is, the gods have set no certain boundary between good and bad, but time’s onward roll brings increase only to man’s wealth.

CHORUS Never will I cease to link in one the Graces and the Muses, sweetest union. Never may I live among uneducated boors, but ever may I find a place among the crowned! Yes, still the aged singer lifts up his voice of bygone memories: still is my song of the triumphs of Heracles, whether Bromius the giver of wine is near, or the strains of the seven-stringed lyre and the Libyan pipe are rising; not yet will I cease to sing the Muses’ praise, my patrons in the dance.

CHORUS The maids of Delos raise their song of joy, circling round the temple gates in honor of Leto’s fair son, the graceful dancer; so I with my old lips will cry aloud songs of joy at your palace-doors, like the swan, aged singer; for there is a good theme for minstrelsy; he is the son of Zeus; yet high above his noble birth tower his deeds of prowess, for his toil secured this life of calm for man, having destroyed all fearsome beasts.

LYCUS Amphitryon, it is high time you came forth from the palace; you have been too long arraying yourselves in the robes and trappings of the dead. Come, bid the wife and children of Heracles show themselves outside the house, to die on the conditions you yourselves offered.

AMPHITRYON Lord, you persecute me in my misery and heap insult upon me over and above the loss of my son; you should have been more moderate in your zeal, though you are my lord and master. But since you impose death’s necessity on me, I must acquiesce; what you wish must be done.

LYCUS Now, where is Megara? where are the children of Alcmena’s son?

AMPHITRYON She, I believe, so far as I can guess from outside—

LYCUS What grounds do you have to base your fancy on?

AMPHITRYON Is sitting as a suppliant on the altar’s hallowed steps—

LYCUS Imploring them quite uselessly to save her life.

AMPHITRYON And calling on her dead husband, in vain.

LYCUS He is nowhere near, and he certainly will never come.

AMPHITRYON No, unless perhaps a god should raise him from the dead.

LYCUS Go to her and bring her from the palace.

AMPHITRYON By doing so I should become an accomplice in her murder.

LYCUS Since you have this scruple, I, who have left fear behind, will myself bring out the mother and her children. Follow me, servants, that we may joyfully put an end to this delay of our work.

[Exit Lycus.]

AMPHITRYON Then go your way along the path of fate; for what remains, maybe another will provide. Expect for your evil deeds to find some trouble yourself. Ah! my aged friends, he is marching fairly to his doom; soon will he lie entangled in the snare of the sword, thinking to slay his neighbors, the villain! I will go, to see him fall dead; for the sight of a foe being slain and paying the penalty of his misdeeds affords pleasurable feelings. [Exit Amphitryon.]

CHORUS Evil has changed sides; he who was once a mighty king is now turning his life backward into the road to Hades. Hail to you! Justice and heavenly retribution. At last have you reached the goal where your death will pay the penalty, for your insults against your betters. Joy makes my tears burst forth. He has come back— which I never once thought in my heart would happen—the prince of the land. Come, old friends, let us look within to see if someone has met the fate I hope.

LYCUS [(within)] Ah me! ah me!

CHORUS Ha! how sweet to hear that opening note of his within the house; death is not far off him now. The prince cries out, wailing a prelude of death.

LYCUS [(within)] O kingdom of Cadmus, I am perishing by treachery!

CHORUS You were yourself for making others perish; endure your retribution; it is only the penalty of your own deeds you are paying. Who was he, only a mortal, that aimed his silly saying at the blessed gods of heaven with impious blasphemy, maintaining that they are weaklings after all? Old friends, our godless foe is now no more. The house is still; let us turn to the dance. Yes, for fortune smiles upon my friends as I desire.

CHORUS Dances, dances and banquets now prevail throughout the holy town of Thebes. For change from tears, change from sorrow give birth to song. The new king is gone; our former monarch rules, having made his way even from the harbor of Acheron. Hope beyond all expectation is fulfilled.

CHORUS The gods, the gods take care to heed the right and wrong. It is their gold and their good luck that lead men’s hearts astray, bringing in their train unjust power. For no man ever had the courage to reflect what reverses Time might bring; but, disregarding law to gratify lawlessness, he shatters the black chariot of prosperity.

CHORUS O Ismenus, deck yourself with garlands! Break forth into dancing, you paved streets of our seven-gated city! come Dirce, fount of waters fair; and joined with her you nymphs of Asopus, come from your father’s waves to add your voices to our hymn, the victor’s prize that Heracles has won. O Pythian rock with forests crowned, and haunts of the Muses on Helicon! you will come to my city and her walls with cries of joy; where the earth-born crop sprang to view, a warrior-host with shields of brass, who are handing on their realm to children’s children, a divine light to Thebes.

CHORUS All hail the marriage! in which two bridegrooms shared; the one, a mortal; the other, Zeus, who came to wed the bride sprung from Perseus; for that marriage of yours, O Zeus, in days gone by has been proved to me a true story beyond all expectation; and time has shown the brightness of Heracles’ strength; for he emerged from caverns beneath the earth after leaving Pluto’s halls below. To me you are a worthier lord than that base-born king, who now lets it be plainly seen in this struggle between armed warriors, whether justice still finds favor in heaven.

[Catching sight of the spectre of Madness.]

CHORUS —Ha! see there, my old comrades! is the same wild panic fallen on us all; what phantom is this I see hovering over the house? —Fly, fly, bestir your tardy steps! begone! away! —O savior prince, avert calamity from me!

IRIS Courage, old men! she, whom you see, is Madness, daughter of Night, and I am Iris, the handmaid of the gods. We have not come to do your city any hurt, but our warfare is against the house of one man only, against him whom they call the son of Zeus and Alcmena. For until he had finished all his grievous labors, Destiny was preserving him, nor would father Zeus ever suffer me or Hera to harm him. But now that he has accomplished the labors of Eurystheus, Hera wishes to brand him with the guilt of shedding kindred blood by slaying his own children, and I wish it also. Come then, unwed maid, child of black Night, harden your heart relentlessly, send forth frenzy upon this man, confound his mind even to the slaying of his children, drive him, goad him wildly on his mad career, shake out the sails of death, that when he has conveyed over Acheron’s ferry that fair group of children by his own murderous hand, he may learn to know how fiercely against him the wrath of Hera burns and may also experience mine; otherwise, if he should escape punishment, the gods will become as nothing, while man’s power will grow.

MADNESS Of noble parents was I born, the daughter of Night, sprung from the blood of Ouranos; and these prerogatives I hold, not to use them in anger against friends, nor do I have any joy in visiting the homes of men; and I wish to counsel Hera, before I see her make a mistake, and you too, if you will hearken to my words. This man, against whose house you are sending me, has made himself a name alike in heaven and earth; for, after taming pathless wilds and raging sea, he by his single might raised up again the honors of the gods when sinking before man’s impiety; . . . wherefore I counsel you, do not wish him dire mishaps.

IRIS Spare us your advice on Hera’s and my schemes.

MADNESS I seek to turn your steps into the best path instead of into this one of evil.

IRIS It was not to practice self-control that the wife of Zeus sent you here.

MADNESS I call the sun-god to witness that here I am acting against my will; but if indeed I must at once serve you and Hera and follow you in full cry as hounds follow the huntsman, then I will go; neither ocean with its fiercely groaning waves, nor the earthquake, nor the thunderbolt with blast of agony shall be like the headlong rush I will make into the breast of Heracles; through his roof will I burst my way and swoop upon his house, after first slaying his children; nor shall their murderer know that he is killing the children he begot, till he is released from my madness. Behold him! see how even now he is wildly tossing his head at the outset, and rolling his eyes fiercely from side to side without a word; nor can he control his panting breath, like a fearful bull in act to charge; he bellows, calling on the goddesses of nether hell. Soon will I rouse you to yet wilder dancing and pipe a note of terror in your ear. Soar away, O Iris, to Olympus on your honored course; while I unseen will steal into the halls of Heracles.

CHORUS Alas alas! lament; the son of Zeus, flower of your city, is being cut down. Woe to you, Hellas! that will cast from you your benefactor, and destroy him as he dances in the shrill frenzy of Madness. She is mounted on her chariot, the queen of sorrow and sighing, and is goading on her steeds, as if for outrage, the Gorgon child of Night, with a hundred hissing serpent-heads, Madness of the flashing eyes. Soon has the god changed his good fortune; soon will his children breathe their last, slain by a father’s hand.

AMPHITRYON Ah me! alas!

CHORUS O Zeus, unjust Vengeance, mad, relentless, will soon give your childless son up to misery.

AMPHITRYON Alas, O house!

CHORUS The dance begins without the cymbals’ crash, with no glad waving of the wine-god’s staff—

AMPHITRYON Woe to these halls!

CHORUS Toward bloodshed, and not to pour libations of Dionysus’ grape.

AMPHITRYON O children, make haste to fly!

CHORUS That is the chant of death, of death, to the music of pipes. Ah, yes! he is hunting the children down. Never will Madness lead her revel rout in vain.

AMPHITRYON Ah misery!

CHORUS Ah me! how I lament that aged father, that mother too that bore his children in vain. Look! look! A tempest rocks the house; the roof is falling with it.

HERACLES Oh, oh! what are you doing, Pallas, child of Zeus, to the house? You are sending hell’s confusion against the halls, as once you did on Enceladus.

MESSENGER O white-haired old men!

CHORUS Why this loud address to me?

MESSENGER It is dreadful within!

CHORUS No need for me to call another prophet for that.

MESSENGER The children are dead.

CHORUS Alas!

MESSENGER Ah weep! for here is cause for weeping.

CHORUS A cruel murder, cruel parents’ hands!

MESSENGER No words can utter more than we have suffered.

CHORUS How came the ruin you reveal, the ruin that must be lamented, from a father to his children? Tell me how these heaven-sent woes came rushing on the house; say how the children met their sad mischance.

MESSENGER Victims to purify the house were stationed before the altar of Zeus, for Heracles had slain and cast from his halls the king of the land. There stood his group of lovely children, with his father and Megara; and already the basket was being passed round the altar, and we were keeping holy silence. But just as Alcmena’s son was bringing the torch in his right hand to dip it in the holy water, he stopped without a word. And as their father lingered, his children looked at him; he was no longer himself; his eyes were rolling; he was quite distraught; his eyeballs were bloodshot, and foam was oozing down his bearded cheek. He spoke with a madman’s laugh: Father, why should I offer the purifying flame before I have slain Eurystheus, and have the toil twice over? It is the work of my unaided arm to settle these things well; as soon as I have brought the head of Eurystheus here, I will cleanse my hands for those already slain. Spill the water, cast the baskets from your hands. Ho! give me now my bow and club! To Mycenae will I go; I must take crow-bars and pick-axes, for I will shatter again with iron levers those city-walls which the Cyclopes squared with red plumb-line and mason’s tools. Then he set out, and though he had no chariot there, he thought he had, and was for mounting to its seat, and using a goad as though his fingers really held one. A twofold feeling filled his servants’ breasts, amusement and fear at once; and one looking to his neighbor said: Is our master making sport for us, or is he mad? But he was pacing to and fro in his house; and, rushing into the men’s chamber, he said he had reached the city of Nisus; and going into the house, he threw himself upon the floor, as he was, and made ready to feast. But after waiting a brief space he began saying he was on his way to the plains amid the valleys of the Isthmus; and then stripping himself of his mantle, he fell to competing with no one, and he proclaimed himself victor with his own voice, calling on no one to listen. Next, fancy carrying him to Mycenae, he was uttering fearful threats against Eurystheus. Meantime his father caught him by his stalwart arm, and thus addressed him: My son, what do you mean by this? What strange doings are these? Can it be that the blood of your late victims has driven you frantic? But he, supposing it was the father of Eurystheus striving in abject supplication to touch his hand: thrust him aside, and then against his own children aimed his bow and made ready his quiver, thinking to slay the sons of Eurystheus. And they in wild fright darted here and there, one to his hapless mother’s skirts, another to the shadow of a pillar, while a third cowered beneath the altar like a bird. Then cried their mother: O you who begot them, what are you doing? do you mean to slay your children? Likewise his aged father and all the gathered servants cried aloud. But he, hunting the child round and round the column, in dreadful circles, and coming face to face with him shot him to the heart; and he fell upon his back, sprinkling the stone pillars with blood as he gasped out his life. Then Heracles shouted in triumph and boasted loud: Here lies one of Eurystheus’ brood dead at my feet, atoning for his father’s hatred. Then he aimed his bow against a second, who had crouched at the altar’s foot thinking to escape unseen. But before he fired, the poor child threw himself at his father’s knees, and, flinging his hand to reach his beard or neck, cried: Oh! hear me, dearest father, do not kill me! I am your child, your own; it is no son of Eurystheus you will slay. But that other, with savage Gorgon-scowl, as the child now stood in range of his baleful archery, smote him on the head, as a smith strikes his molten iron, bringing down his club upon the fair-haired boy, and crushed the bones. The second caught, away he goes to add a third victim to the other two. But before he could, the poor mother caught up her child and carried him within the house and shut the doors. But he, as though he really were at the Cyclopean walls, prized open the doors with levers, and, hurling down their posts, with one shaft laid low his wife and child. Then in wild gallop he starts to slay his aged father; but there came a phantom, as it seemed to us on-lookers, of Pallas, with plumed helm, brandishing a spear; and she hurled a rock against the breast of Heracles, which held him from his frenzied thirst for blood and plunged him into sleep; to the ground he fell, striking his back against a column that had fallen on the floor shattered in two when the roof fell in. Then we rallied from our flight, and with the old man’s aid bound him fast with knotted cords to the pillar, so that on his awakening he might do no further mischief. So there he sleeps, poor wretch! a sleep that is not blessed, having murdered wife and children; no, for my part I do not know any mortal more miserable than he. Exit messenger.

CHORUS That murder wrought by the daughters of Danaus, which the rock of Argos keeps, was once the most famous and notorious in Hellas; but this has surpassed, has outrun those former horrors . . . for the unhappy son of Zeus. I could tell of the murder done by Procne, mother of an only child, offered to the Muses; but you had three children, wretched parent, and all of them have you in your frenzy slain. Alas! What groans or wails, what funeral dirge, or dance of death am I to raise? Ah, ah! see, the bolted doors of the lofty palace are being rolled apart. Ah me! see the wretched children lying before their unhappy father, who is sunk in dreadful slumber after shedding their blood. Round him are bonds and cords, made fast with many knots about the body of Heracles, and lashed to the stone columns of his house.

CHORUS LEADER But he, the aged father, like mother-bird wailing her unfledged brood, comes hastening here with halting steps on his bitter journey.

[The palace doors opening disclose Heracles lying asleep, bound to a shattered column.]

AMPHITRYON Softly, softly! you aged sons of Thebes, let him sleep on and forget his sorrows.

CHORUS For you, old friend, I weep and mourn, for the children too and that victorious chief.

AMPHITRYON Stand further off, make no noise nor outcry, do not rouse him from his calm deep slumber.

CHORUS O horrible! all this blood—

AMPHITRYON Hush, hush! you will be my ruin.

CHORUS That he has spilled is rising up against him.

AMPHITRYON Gently raise your dirge of woe, old friends; or he will wake, and, bursting his bonds, destroy the city, rend his father, and dash his house to pieces.

CHORUS I cannot, cannot—

AMPHITRYON Hush! let me note his breathing; come, let me put my ear close.

CHORUS Is he sleeping?

AMPHITRYON Yes, he is sleeping, a deadly sleepless sleep, having slain wife and children with the arrows of his twanging bow.

CHORUS Ah! mourn—

AMPHITRYON Indeed I do.

CHORUS The children’s death—

AMPHITRYON Ah me!

CHORUS And your own son’s doom.

AMPHITRYON Alas!

CHORUS Old friend—

AMPHITRYON Hush! hush! he is turning over, he is waking! Oh! let me hide myself, concealed beneath the roof.

CHORUS Courage! darkness still holds your son’s eye.

AMPHITRYON Oh beware! it is not that I shrink from leaving the light after my miseries, poor wretch! but if should he slay me, his father, then he will be devising mischief on mischief, and to the avenging curse will add a parent’s blood.

CHORUS Well for you if you had died in that day, when, for your wife, you went forth to exact vengeance for her slain brothers by sacking the Taphians’ sea-beat town.

AMPHITRYON Fly, fly, my aged friends, from before the palace, escape his waking fury. Or soon he will heap up fresh slaughter on the old, ranging wildly once more through the streets of Thebes.

CHORUS LEADER O Zeus, why have you shown such savage hate against your own son and plunged him in this sea of troubles?

HERACLES [waking] Aha! I am alive and breathing; and my eyes resume their function, opening on the sky and earth and the sun’s darting beam; but how my senses reel! in what strange turmoil am I plunged! my fevered breath in quick spasmodic gasps escapes my lungs. How now? why am I lying here, my brawny chest and arms made fast with cables like a ship, beside a half-shattered piece of masonry, with corpses for my neighbors; while over the floor my bow and arrows are scattered, that once like trusty squires to my arm both kept me safe and were kept safe by me? Surely I have not come a second time to Hades’ halls, having just returned from there for Eurystheus? To Hades? From where? No, I do not see Sisyphus with his stone, or Pluto, or his queen, Demeter’s child. Surely I am distraught; where am I, so helpless? Ho, there! which of my friends is near or far to cure me in my perplexity? For I have no clear knowledge of things once familiar.

AMPHITRYON My aged friends, shall I approach the scene of my sorrow?

CHORUS LEADER Yes, and let me go with you, not desert you in your trouble.

HERACLES Father, why do you weep and veil your eyes, standing far from your beloved son?

AMPHITRYON My child! mine still, for all your misery.

HERACLES Why, what is there so sad in my case that you weep?

AMPHITRYON That which might make any of the gods weep, if he were to learn it.

HERACLES A bold assertion that, but you are not yet explaining what has happened.

AMPHITRYON Your own eyes see that, if by this time you are restored to your senses.

HERACLES Fill in your sketch if any change awaits my life.

AMPHITRYON I will explain, if you are no longer mad as a fiend of hell.

HERACLES Oh! what suspicions these dark hints of yours again excite!

AMPHITRYON I am still doubtful whether you are in your sober senses.

HERACLES I have no recollection of being mad.

AMPHITRYON Am I to loose my son, old friends, or what shall I do?

HERACLES Loose me, yes, and say who bound me; for I feel shame at this.

AMPHITRYON Rest content with what you know of your woes; the rest forego.

HERACLES No. for is silence sufficient to learn what I wish?

AMPHITRYON O Zeus, do you behold these deeds proceeding from the throne of Hera?

HERACLES What! have I suffered something from her enmity?

AMPHITRYON A truce to the goddess! attend to your own troubles.

HERACLES I am undone; you will tell me some mischance.

AMPHITRYON See here the corpses of your children.

HERACLES O horror! what sight is here? ah me!

AMPHITRYON My son, against your children you have waged unnatural war.

HERACLES War! what do you mean? who killed these?

AMPHITRYON You and your bow and some god, whoever is to blame.

HERACLES What are you saying? what have I done? Speak, father, you messenger of evil!

AMPHITRYON You were insane; it is a sad explanation you are asking.

HERACLES Was it I that slew my wife also?

AMPHITRYON Your own unaided arm has done all this.

HERACLES Alas! a cloud of mourning wraps me round.

AMPHITRYON For this reason I lament your fate.

HERACLES Did I dash my house to pieces in my frenzy?

AMPHITRYON I know nothing but this, that you are utterly undone.

HERACLES Where did the madness seize me? where did it destroy me?

AMPHITRYON When you were purifying yourself with fire at the altar.

HERACLES Ah me! why do I spare my own life when I have become the murderer of my dear children? Shall I not hasten to leap from some sheer rock, or aim the sword against my heart and avenge my children’s blood, or burn my body, which she drove mad, in the fire and so avert from my life the infamy which now awaits me? But here I see Theseus coming to check my deadly counsels, my kinsman and friend. Now shall I stand revealed, and the dearest of my friends will see the pollution I have incurred by my children’s murder. Ah, woe is me! what am I to do? Where can I find freedom from my sorrows? shall I take wings or plunge beneath the earth? Come, let me veil my head in darkness; for I am ashamed of the evil I have done, and, since for these I have incurred fresh blood-guiltiness, I do not want to harm the innocent.

THESEUS I have come, and others with me, young warriors from the land of Athens, encamped at present by the streams of Asopus, to bring an allied army to your son, old friend. For a rumour reached the city of the Erechtheidae, that Lycus had usurped the scepter of this land and had become your enemy even to battle. Wherefore I came making recompense for the former kindness of Heracles in saving me from the world below, if you have any need of such aid as I or my allies can give, old man. Ha! why this heap of dead upon the floor? Surely I have not delayed too long and come too late to check a revolution? Who slew these children? whose wife is this I see? Boys do not go to battle; no, it must be some other strange mischance I here discover.

AMPHITRYON O king, whose home is that olive-clad hill!

THESEUS Why this piteous prelude in addressing me?

AMPHITRYON The gods have afflicted us with grievous suffering.

THESEUS Whose are these children, over whom you weep?

AMPHITRYON My own son’s children, woe is him! he was their father and butcher both, hardening his heart to the bloody deed.

THESEUS Hush! good words only!

AMPHITRYON I would I could obey!

THESEUS What dreadful words!

AMPHITRYON Fortune has spread her wings, and we are ruined, ruined.

THESEUS What do you mean? what has he done?

AMPHITRYON Slain them in a wild fit of frenzy with arrows dipped in the venom of the hundred-headed hydra.

THESEUS This is Hera’s work; but who lies there among the dead, old man?

AMPHITRYON My son, my own enduring son, that marched with gods to Phlegra’s plain, there to battle with giants and slay them, warrior that he was.

THESEUS Ah, ah! whose fortune was ever so cursed as his?

AMPHITRYON Never will you find another mortal that has suffered more or been driven harder.

THESEUS Why does he veil his head, poor wretch, in his robe?

AMPHITRYON He is ashamed to meet your eye; his kinsman’s kind intent and his children’s blood make him abashed.

THESEUS But I come to sympathize; uncover him.

AMPHITRYON My son, remove that mantle from your eyes, throw it from you, show your face to the sun. As a counterweight, fighting along with my tears, I entreat you as a suppliant, as I grasp your beard, your knees, your hands, and let fall the tear from my old eyes. O my child! restrain your savage lion-like temper, for you are rushing forth on an unholy course of bloodshed, eager to join mischief to mischief, child.

THESEUS What! Enough! To you I call who are huddled there in your misery, show to your friends your face; for no darkness is black enough to hide your sad mischance. Why do you wave your hand at me, signifying murder? is it that I may not be polluted by speaking with you? If I share your misfortune, what is that to me? For once I had good fortune with you. I must refer to the time when you brought me safe from the dead to the light of life. I hate a friend whose gratitude grows old; one who is ready to enjoy his friends’ prosperity but unwilling to sail in the same ship with them when they are unfortunate. Arise, unveil your head, poor wretch! and look on me. The gallant soul endures such blows as heaven deals and does not refuse them.

HERACLES O Theseus, did you see this struggle with my children?

THESEUS I heard of it, and now I see the horrors you mean.

HERACLES Why then have you unveiled my head to the sun?

THESEUS Why have I? you, a mortal, can not pollute what is of the gods.

HERACLES Try to escape, luckless wretch, from my unholy taint.

THESEUS The avenging fiend does not go forth from friend to friend.

HERACLES For this I thank you; I do not regret the service I did you.

THESEUS While I, for kindness then received, now show my pity for you.

HERACLES Ah yes! I am piteous object, a murderer of my sons.

THESEUS I weep for you in your changed fortunes.

HERACLES Did you ever find another more afflicted?

THESEUS Your misfortunes reach from earth to heaven.

HERACLES Therefore I am resolved on death.

THESEUS Do you suppose the gods attend to your threats?

HERACLES The god has been remorseless to me; so I will be the same to the gods.

THESEUS Hush! lest your presumption add to your sufferings.

HERACLES My ship is freighted full with sorrow; there is no room to stow anything further.

THESEUS What will you do? Where is your fury drifting you?

HERACLES I will die and return to that world below from which I have just come.

THESEUS Such language is fit for any common fellow.

HERACLES Ah! yours is the advice of one outside sorrow.

THESEUS Are these indeed the words of Heracles, the much-enduring?

HERACLES Though never so much as this. Endurance must have a limit.

THESEUS Is this the benefactor and great friend to mortals?

HERACLES Mortals bring no help to me; no! Hera has her way.

THESEUS Never would Hellas allow you to die through sheer perversity.

HERACLES Hear me a moment, that I may enter the contest with arguments in answer to your admonitions; and I will unfold to you why life now as well as formerly has been unbearable to me. First I am the son of a man who incurred the guilt of blood, before he married my mother Alcmena, by slaying her aged father. Now when the foundation is badly laid at birth, it is necessary for the race to be cursed with woe; and Zeus, whoever this Zeus may be, begot me as an enemy to Hera; yet do not be vexed, old man; for you rather than Zeus I regard as my father. Then while I was being suckled, that bedfellow of Zeus foisted into my cradle fearsome snakes to cause my death. After I took on a cloak of youthful flesh, of all the toils I then endured what need to tell? what did I not destroy, whether lions, or triple-bodied Typhons, or giants or the battle against the hosts of four-legged Centaurs? or how when I had killed the hydra, that monster with a ring of heads with power to grow again, I passed through a herd of countless other toils besides and came to the dead to fetch to the light at the bidding of Eurystheus the three-headed hound, hell’s porter. Last, ah, woe is me! I have dared this labor, to crown the sorrows of my house with my children’s murder. I have come to this point of necessity; no longer may I dwell in Thebes, the city that I love; for suppose I stay, to what temple or gathering of friends shall I go? For mine is no curse that invites greetings. Shall I go to Argos? how can I, when I am an exile from my country? Well, is there a single other city I can rush to? Am I then to be looked at askance as a marked man, held by cruel stabbing tongues: Is not this the son of Zeus that once murdered children and wife? Plague take him from the land! Now to one who was once called happy, such changes are a grievous thing; though he who is always unfortunate feels no such pain, for sorrow is his birthright. This, I think, is the piteous pass I shall one day come to; for earth will cry out forbidding me to touch her, the sea and the river-springs will refuse me a crossing, and I shall become like Ixion who revolves in chains upon that wheel. And so this is best, that I should be seen by no one of the Hellenes, among whom in happier days I lived in bliss. What right have I to live? what profit can I have in the possession of a useless, impious life? So let that noble wife of Zeus dance, beating her foot in its shoe; for now has she worked her heart’s desire in utterly confounding the first of Hellas’ sons. Who would pray to such a goddess? Her jealousy of Zeus for his love of a woman has destroyed the benefactors of Hellas, guiltless though they were.

CHORUS LEADER This is the work of none other of the gods than the wife of Zeus; you are right in that surmise.

THESEUS I cannot counsel you . . . rather than to go on suffering. There is not a man alive that has wholly escaped misfortune’s taint, nor any god either, if what poets sing is true. Have they not intermarried in ways that law forbids? Have they not thrown fathers into ignominious chains to gain the sovereign power? Still they inhabit Olympus and brave the issue of their crimes. And yet what shall you say in your defence, if you, a child of man, take your fate excessively hard, while they, as gods, do not? No, then, leave Thebes in compliance with the law, and come with me to the city of Pallas. There, when I have purified you of your pollution, I will give you homes and the half of all I have. Yes, I will give you all those presents I received from the citizens for saving their fourteen children, when I slew the bull of Crete; for I have plots of land assigned me throughout the country; these shall henceforth be called after you by men, while you live; and at your death, when you have gone to Hades’ halls, the whole city of Athens shall exalt your honor with sacrifices and a monument of stone. For it is a noble crown of a good reputation for citizens to win from Hellas, by helping a man of worth. This is the return that I will make you for saving me, for now you are in need of friends. But when the gods honor a man, he has no need of friends; for the god’s aid, when he chooses to give it, is enough.

HERACLES No! this is quite beside the question of my troubles. For my part, I do not believe that the gods indulge in unholy unions; and as for putting bonds on hands, I have never thought that worthy of credit nor will I now be so persuaded, nor again that one god is naturally lord and master of another. For the deity, if he be really such, has no wants; these are miserable tales of the poets. But I, for all my piteous plight, reflected whether I should let myself be branded as a coward for giving up my life. For whoever does not withstand disasters will never be able to withstand even a man’s weapon. I will be steadfast in living; I will go to your city, with grateful thanks for all you offer me. But I have tasted of countless troubles, as is well known; never yet did I faint at any or shed a single tear; no, nor did I ever think that I should come to this, to let the tear-drop fall. But now, it seems, I must be fortune’s slave. Well, let it pass; my old father, you see me go forth to exile, and in me you see my own children’s murderer. Give them burial, and lay them out in death with the tribute of a tear, for the law forbids my doing so. Rest their heads upon their mother’s bosom and fold them in her arms, sad fellowship, which I, alas! unwittingly did slay. And when you have buried these dead, live on here still, in bitterness maybe, but still constrain your soul to share my sorrows. O children! he who begot you, your own father, has been your destroyer, and you have had no profit of my triumphs, all my restless toil to win for you by force a fair name, a glorious advantage from a father. You too, unhappy wife, this hand has slain, a poor return to make you for preserving the honor of my bed so safely, for all the weary watch you long have kept within my house. Alas for you, my wife, my sons! alas for me, how sad my lot, cut off from wife and child! Ah! these kisses, bitter-sweet! these weapons which it is pain to own! I am not sure whether to keep or let them go; dangling at my side they thus will say, With us you destroyed children and wife; we are your children’s slayers, and you keep us. Shall I carry them after that? what answer can I make? Yet, am I to strip myself of these weapons, the comrades of my glorious career in Hellas, and put myself in the power of my foes, to die a death of shame? No! I must not let them go, but keep them, though it grieves me. In one thing, Theseus, help my misery; come to Argos and help me to manage the conveyance of the wretched dog; lest, if I go all alone, my sorrow for my sons may do me some hurt. O land of Cadmus, and all you people of Thebes! cut off your hair, and mourn with me; go to my children’s burial, and with one dirge lament us all, the dead and me; for on all of us has Hera inflicted the same cruel blow of destruction.

THESEUS Rise, unhappy man! you have had your fill of tears.

HERACLES I cannot rise; my limbs are rooted here.

THESEUS Yes, even the strong are overthrown by misfortunes.

HERACLES Ah! Would I could become a stone upon this spot, oblivious of trouble.

THESEUS Peace! give your hand to a friend and helper.

HERACLES No, let me not wipe off the blood upon your robe.

THESEUS Wipe it off and spare not; I will not refuse you.

HERACLES Bereft of my own sons, I find you as a son to me.

THESEUS Throw your arm about my neck; I will be your guide.

HERACLES A pair of friends indeed, but one a man of sorrows. Ah! aged father, this is the kind of man to make a friend.

AMPHITRYON Blessed in her sons, the country that gave him birth!

HERACLES Theseus, turn me back again to see my children.

THESEUS What for? Do you think to find a drug in this to soothe your soul?

HERACLES I long to do so, and would embrace my father.

AMPHITRYON Here am I, my son; your wish is no less dear to me.

THESEUS Have you so short a memory for your troubles?

HERACLES All that I endured before was easier to bear than this.

THESEUS If anyone sees you play the woman, they will scoff.

HERACLES Have I by living grown so abject in your sight? It was not so once, I think.

THESEUS Yes, too much so; in your sickness you are not the glorious Heracles.

HERACLES What about you? What kind of hero were you when in trouble in the world below?

THESEUS I was worse than anyone as far as courage went.

HERACLES How then can you say of me, that I am abased by my troubles?

THESEUS Forward!

HERACLES Farewell, my aged father!

AMPHITRYON Farewell to you, my son!

HERACLES Bury my children as I said.

AMPHITRYON But who will bury me, my son?

HERACLES I will.

AMPHITRYON When wil you come?

HERACLES After you have buried my children.

AMPHITRYON How?

HERACLES I will fetch you from Thebes to Athens. But carry my children within, a grievous burden to the earth. And I, after ruining my house by deeds of shame, will follow as a little boat in the wake of Theseus, a total wreck. Whoever prefers wealth or might to the possession of good friends, thinks wrongly.

CHORUS With grief and many a bitter tear we go our way, robbed of all we prized most dearly.

ION (Translated by E. P. Coleridge, 1891)

[Scene.—Before Apollo’s temple at Delphi.]

HERMES Atlas, who bears upon his brazen back the pressure of the sky, ancient dwelling of the gods, begat Maia from a daughter of one of those gods, and she bare me Hermes to mighty Zeus, to be the servant of the powers divine. Lo! I am come to this land of Delphi where sits Phoebus on the centre of the world and giveth oracles to men, ever chanting lays prophetic of things that are to be. Now there is a city in Hellas of no small note, called after Pallas, goddess of the golden lance; there did Phoebus force his love on Creusa, daughter of Erechtheus, beneath the rock of Pallas, northward of Athens’ steep realm, called Macrae by the kings of Attica. And she without her father’s knowledge—for such was the god’s good pleasure,— bore the burden in her womb unto the end, and when her time came, she brought forth a child in the house and carried him away to the selfsame cave wherein the god declared his love to her, and she cradled him in the hollow of a rounded ark and cast him forth to die, observant of the custom of her ancestors and of earth-born Erichthonius, whom the daughter of Zeus gave into the charge of the daughters of Agraulus, after setting on either side, to keep him safe, a guard of serpents twain. Hence in that land among the Erechthidae ’tis a custom to protect their babes with charms of golden snakes. But ere she left the babe to die, the young mother tied about him her own broidered robe. And this is the request that Phoebus craves of me, for he is my brother, Go, brother, to those children of the soil that dwell in glorious Athens, for well thou knowest Athena’s city, and take a new-born babe from out the hollow rock, his cradle and his swaddling-clothes as well, and bear him to my prophetic shrine at Delphi, and set him at the entering-in of my temple. What else remains shall be my care, for that child is mine, that thou mayst know it. So I, to do my brother Loxias a service, took up the woven ark and bore it off, and at the threshold of the shrine I have laid the babe, after opening the lid of the wicker cradle that the child might be seen. But just as the sun-god was starting forth to run his course, a priestess chanced to enter the god’s shrine; and when her eyes lit upon the tender babe she thought it strange that any Delphian maid should dare to cast her child of shame down at the temple of the god; wherefore her purpose was to remove him beyond the altar, but from pity she renounced her cruel thought, and the god to help his child did second her pity to save the babe from being cast out. So she took and brought him up, but she knew not that Phoebus was his sire nor of the mother that bare him, nor yet did the child know his parents. While yet he was a child, around the altar that fed him he would ramble at his play, but when he came to man’s estate, the Delphians made him treasurer of the god and steward of all his store, and found him true, and so until the present day he leads a holy life in the god’s temple. Meantime Creusa, mother of this youth, is wedded to Xuthus; and thus it came to pass; a war broke out ’twixt Athens and the folk of Chalcodon who dwell in the land of Euboea; and Xuthus took part therein and helped to end it, for which he received the hand of Creusa as his guerdon, albeit he was no native, but an Achaean, sprung from Aeolus, the son of Zeus; and after many years of wedded life he and Creusa still are childless; wherefore they are come to this oracle of Apollo in their desire for offspring. To this end is Loxias guiding their destiny nor hath it escaped his ken, as some suppose. For when Xuthus enters this shrine, the god will give him his own son and declare that Xuthus is the sire, that so the boy may come to his mother’s home and be acknowledged by Creusa, while the marriage of Loxias remains a secret and the child obtains his rights; and he shall cause him to be called Ion, founder of a realm in Asia, through all the breadth of Hellas. But now will I get me to yon grotto ’neath the laurel’s shade that I may learn what is decreed about the child. For I see the son of Loxias now coming forth to cleanse the gateway in front of the temple with boughs of laurel. I greet him first of all the gods by his name Ion which he soon shall bear.

ION Lo! the sun-god is e’en now turning towards the earth his chariot-car resplendent; before yon fire the stars retire to night’s mysterious gloom from forth the firmament; the peaks of Parnassus, where no man may set foot, are all ablaze and hail the car of day for mortal’s service. Up mounts the smoke of myrrh, offering of the desert; to Phoebus’ roof; there on the holy tripod sits the Delphian priestess, chanting to the ears of Hellas in numbers loud, whate’er Apollo doth proclaim. Ye Delphians, votaries of Phoebus, away! to Castalia’s gushing fount as silver clear, and, when ye have bathed you in its waters pure, enter the shrine; and keep your lips in holy silence that it may be well, careful to utter words of good omen amongst yourselves to those who wish to consult the oracle; while I with laurel-sprays and sacred wreaths and drops of water sprinkled o’er the floor will purify the entrance to the shrine of Phoebus, my task each day from childhood’s hour; and with my bow will I put to flight the flocks of feathered fowls that harm his sacred offerings; for here in Phoebus’ shrine, which nurtured me, I minister, an orphan, fatherless and motherless.

ION Come, thou tender laurel-shoot, gathered from gardens divine to wait upon the glorious god, thou that sweepest clean the altar of Phoebus hard by his shrine, where holy founts, that ever gush with ceaseless flow, bedew the myrtle’s hallowed spray wherewith I cleanse the temple-floor the livelong day, so soon as the swift sun-god wings his flight on high, in my daily ministration. Hail Paean, prince of healing! blest, ah! doubly blest be thou, child of Latona!

ION Fair the service that I render to thee, Phoebus, before thy house, honouring thy seat of prophecy; a glorious task I count it, to serve not mortal man but deathless gods; wherefore I never weary of performing holy services. Phoebus is to me as the father that begot me, for as such I praise the god that gives me food. Whom I call by that helpful name of father, Tis Phoebus, who dwelleth in the temple, Hail Paean, healing god, good luck to thee and blessing, child of Latona!

ION My task is nearly done of sweeping with the laurel broom, so now from a golden ewer will I sprinkle o’er the ground water from Castalia’s gushing spring, scattering the liquid dew with hands from all defilement free. Oh may I never cease thus to serve Phoebus, or, if I do, may fortune smile upon me! Ha! they come, the feathered tribes, leaving their nests on Parnassus. I forbid ye to settle on the coping or enter the gilded dome. Thou herald of Zeus, that masterest the might of other birds with those talons of thine, once more shall my arrow o’ertake thee. Lo! another comes sailing towards the altar, a swan this time; take thy bright plumes elsewhere; the lyre that Phoebus tuneth to thy song shall never save thee from the bow; so fly away, and settle at the Delian mere, for if thou wilt not hearken, thy blood shall choke the utterance of thy fair melody. Ha! what new bird comes now? Does it mean to lodge a nest of dry straw for its brood beneath the gables? Soon shall my twanging bow drive thee away. Dost not hear me? Away and rear thy young amid the streams of swirling Alpheus, or get thee to the woody Isthmian glen, that Phoebus’ offerings and his shrine may take no hurt. I am loth to slay ye, ye messengers to mortal man of messages from heaven; still must I serve Phoebus, to whose tasks I am devoted, nor will I cease to minister to those that give me food.

(FIRST) CHORUS It is not in holy Athens only that there are courts of the gods with fine colonnades, and the worship of Apollo, guardian of highways; but here, too, at the shrine of Loxias, son of Latona, shines the lovely eye of day on faces twain.

(SECOND) CHORUS Just look at this! here is the son of Zeus killing with his scimitar of gold the watersnake of Lerna. Do look at him, my friend!

(FIRST) CHORUS Yes, I see. And close to him stands another with a blazing torch uplifted; who is he? Can this be the warrior Iolaus whose story is told on my broidery, who shares with the son of Zeus his labours and helps him in the moil?

(THIRD) CHORUS Oh! but look at this! a man mounted on a winged horse, killing a fire-breathing monster with three bodies.

(FIRST) CHORUS I am turning my eyes in every direction. Behold the rout of the giants carved on these walls of stone.

(FOURTH) CHORUS Yes, yes, good friends, I am looking.

(FIFTH) CHORUS Dost see her standing over Enceladus brandishing her shield with the Gorgon’s head?

(SIXTH) CHORUS I see Pallas, my own goddess.

(SEVENTH) CHORUS Again, dost see the massy thunderbolt all aflame in the far-darting hands of Zeus?

(EIGHTH) CHORUS I do; ’tis blasting with its flame Mimas, that deadly foe.

(NINTH) CHORUS Bromius too, the god of revelry, is slaying another of the sons of Earth with his thyrsus of ivy, never meant for battle.

(FIRST) CHORUS Thou that art stationed by this fane, to thee I do address me, may we pass the threshold of these vaults, with our fair white feet?

ION Nay, ye must not, stranger ladies.

(TENTH) CHORUS May I ask thee about something I have heard?

ION What wouldst thou ask?

(ELEVENTH) CHORUS Is it really true that the temple of Phoebus stands upon the centre of the world?

ION Aye, there it stands with garlands decked and gorgeous all around.

(TWELFTH) CHORUS E'en so the legend saith.

ION If ye have offered a sacrificial cake before the shrine and have aught ye wish to ask Phoebus, approach the altar; but enter not the inmost sanctuary, save ye have sacrificed sheep.

(THIRTEENTH) CHORUS I understand; but we have ho mind to trespass against the god’s law; the pictures here without will amuse us.

ION Feast your eyes on all ye may.

(FOURTEENTH) CHORUS My mistress gave me leave to see these vaulted chambers.

ION Whose handmaids do ye avow yourselves?

(FIFTEENTH) CHORUS The temple, where Pallas dwells, is the nursing-home of my lords. But lo! here is she of whom thou askest.

ION Lady, whosoe’er thou art, I see thou art of noble birth, and thy bearing proves thy gentle breeding. For from his bearing one may mostly judge whether a man is nobly born. Yet am I much amazed to see thee close thine eyes in grief and with tears bedew thy noble face, when thou standest face to face with the holy oracle of Loxias. Why, lady, art thou thus disquieted? Here, where all others show their joy at sight of Phoebus’ sanctuary, thine eye is wet with tears.

CREUSA Most courteously, sir stranger, dost thou express surprise at these my tears; the sight of this temple of Apollo recalled to me a memory of long ago, and somehow my thoughts went wandering home, though I am here myself. Ah, hapless race of women! ah, ye reckless gods! What shall I say? to what standard shall we refer justice if through the injustice of our lords and masters we are brought to ruin?

ION Why, lady, art thou thus cast down, past all finding out?

CREUSA ’Tis naught; I have shot my bolt; for what remains, I say no more, nor seek thou further to inquire.

ION Who art thou and whence? who is the father that begat thee? by what name are we to call thee?

CREUSA Creusa is my name, the daughter of Erechtheus I; my native land is Athens.

ION A glorious city thine, lady, a noble line of ancestry! with what reverence I behold thee!

CREUSA Thus far, no further goes my luck, good sir.

ION Pray, is the current legend true—

CREUSA What is thy question? I fain would learn.

ION Was thy father’s grandsire really sprung from Earth?

CREUSA Yes, Erichthonius was; but my high birth avails me not

ION Is it true Athena reared him from the ground?

CREUSA Aye, and into maidens’ hands, though not his mother’s—

ION Consigned him, did she? as ’tis wont to be set forth in painting.

CREUSA Yes, to the daughters of Cecrops, to keep him safe unseen.

ION I have heard the maidens opened the ark wherein the goddess laid him.

CREUSA And so they died, dabbling with their blood the rocky cliff.

ION Even so. But what of this next story? Is it true or groundless?

CREUSA What is thy question? Ask on, I have no calls upon my leisure.

ION Did thy sire Erechtheus offer thy sisters as a sacrifice?

CREUSA For his country’s sake he did endure to slay the maids as victims.

ION And how didst thou, alone of al thy sisters, escape?

CREUSA I was still a tender babe in my mother’s arms.

ION Did the earth really open its mouth and swallow thy father?

CREUSA The sea-god smote and slew him with his trident.

ION Is there a spot there called Macrae?

CREUSA Why ask that? what memories thou recallest!

ION Doth the Pythian god with his flashing fire do honour to the place?

CREUSA Honour, yes! Honour, indeed! would I had never seen the spot!

ION How now? dost thou abhor that which the god holds dear?

CREUSA No, no; but I and that cave are witnesses of a deed of shame.

ION Lady, who is the Athenian lord that calls thee wife?

CREUSA No citizen of Athens, but a stranger from another land.

ION Who is he? he must have been one of noble birth.

CREUSA Xuthus, son of Aeolus, sprung from Zeus.

ION And how did he, a stranger, win thee a native born?

CREUSA Hard by Athens lies a neighbouring township, Euboea.

ION With a bounding line of waters in between, so I have heard.

CREUSA This did he sack, making common cause with Cecrops’ sons.

ION Coming as an ally, maybe; he won thy hand for this?

CREUSA Yes, this was his dower of battle, the prize of his prowess.

ION Art thou come to the oracle alone, or with thy lord?

CREUSA With him. But he is now visiting the cavern of Trophonius.

ION As a spectator merely, or to consult the oracle?

CREUSA ’Tis his wish to hear the self-same answer from Trophonius and Phoebus too.

ION Is it to seek earth’s produce or fruit of offspring that ye come?

CREUSA We are childless, though wedded these many years.

ION Hast thou never been a mother? art thou wholly childless?

CREUSA Phoebus knows whether I am childless.

ION Unhappy wife! how this doth mar thy fortune else so happy!

CREUSA But who art thou? how blest I count thy mother!

ION Lady, I am called the servant of Apollo, and so I am.

CREUSA An offering of thy city, or sold to him by some master?

ION Naught know I but this, that I am called the slave of Loxias.

CREUSA Then do i in my turn pity thee, sir stranger.

ION Because I know not her that bare me, or him that begat me.

CREUSA Is thy home here in the temple, or hast thou a house to dwell in?

ION The god’s whole temple is my house, wherever sleep o’ertakes me.

CREUSA Was it as a child or young man that thou earnest to the temple?

ION Those who seem to know the truth, say I was but a babe.

CREUSA What Delphian maid, then, weaned thee?

ION I never knew a mother’s breast. But she who brought me up—

CREUSA Who was she, unhappy youth? I see thy sufferings in my own.

ION The priestess of Phoebus; I look oh her as my mother.

CREUSA Until thou earnest unto man’s estate, what nurture hadst thou?

ION The altar fed me, and the bounty of each casual guest.

CREUSA Woe is thy mother, then, whoe’er she was!

ION Maybe my birth was some poor woman’s wrong.

CREUSA Hast thou any store, for thy dress is costly enough?

ION The god I serve gives me these robes to wear.

CREUSA Wert thou never eager to inquire into thy birth?

ION Ah! yes, lady! but I have no clue at all to guide me.

CREUSA Alas! I know another woman who hath suffered as thy mother did.

ION Who is she? If she would but help me in the task, how happy should I be!

CREUSA ’Tis she on whose account I have preceded my husband hither.

ION What are thy wishes? be sure I will serve thee, lady.

CREUSA I would fain obtain a secret answer from Apollo’s oracle.

ION Name it, then; the rest will I undertake for thee.

CREUSA Hear, then, this story. Yet am I ashamed.

ION Thus wilt thou accomplish naught, for shame is a goddess slow to act.

CREUSA A friend of mine asserts that Phoebus lay with her.

ION Phoebus with a mortal woman? Stranger lady, say not so.

CREUSA Yea, and she bare the god a child without her father’s knowledge.

ION It cannot be; some man did wrong her, and she is ashamed of it.

CREUSA This she denieis herself; and she hath suffered further woe.

ION How so, if she was wedded to a god?

CREUSA The babe she bare she did expose.

ION Where is the child who was thus cast forth? is he yet alive?

CREUSA No man knoweth. That is the very thing I would ask the oracle.

ION But if he be no more, how did he perish?

CREUSA She supposes that beasts devoured the hapless babe.

ION What proof led her to form this opinion?

CREUSA She came to the place where she exposed him, but found him no longer there.

ION Were any drops of blood upon the path?

CREUSA None, she says; and yet she ranged the ground to and fro.

ION How long is it since the babe was destroyed?

CREUSA Thy age and his would measure out the self-same span, were he alive.

ION Hath she given birth to no other child since then?

CREUSA The god doth wrong her, and wretched is she in having no child.

ION But what if Phoebus privily removed her child, and is rearing it?

CREUSA Then is he acting unfairly in keeping to himself alone a joy he ought to share.

ION Ah me! this misfortune sounds so like my own.

CREUSA Thee too, fair sir, thy poor mother misses, I am sure.

ION Oh! call me not back to piteous thoughts I had forgotten.

CREUSA I am dumb; proceed with that which touches my inquiry.

ION Dost know the one weak point in this thy story?

CREUSA ’Tis all weak in that poor lady’s case.

ION How should the god declare that which he wishes hidden?

CREUSA He must, if here upon the tripod he sits for all Hellas to seek to.

ION He is ashamed of the deed; do not question him.

CREUSA Aye, but his victim has her sorrows too.

ION There is none who will act as thy medium in this. For were Phoebus in his own temple proved a villain, he would justly wreak his vengeance on the man who expounded to thee his oracles; desist then, lady; we must not prophesy against the god’s will, for it would be the height of folly in us, were we to try and make the gods against their will declare reluctant truths either by sacrifice of sheep at their altars, or by omens from birds. For those answers we strive to extort from heaven, lady, are goods that bring no blessing on our getting; but what they freely offer, thereby we profit.

CHORUS Many are the chances that befall the many tribes of men, and diverse are their forms. But scarce one happy scene canst thou find in all the life of man.

CREUSA Ah! Phoebus, here as there, art thou unjust to that absent sufferer, whose cause I now am pleading. Thou didst not preserve thy child, as in duty bound, nor wilt thou, for all thy prophetic skill, answer his mother’s questioning, that, if he be no more, a mound may be raised o’er him, or, if he live, he may some day be restored to his mother’s eyes. In vain is this the home of oracles if the god prevents me from learning what I wish to ask. But lo! I see my noble lord, Xuthus, nigh at hand, returning 278 from the lair of Trophonius; say nothing, sir, to my husband of what I have told thee, lest I incur reproach for troubling about secrets, and the matter take a different turn to that which I sought to give it. For women stand towards men in a difficult position, and the virtuous from being mingled with the wicked amongst us are hated; such is our unhappy destiny.

XUTHUS First to the god all hail! for he must receive the first-fruits of my salutation, and next all hail to thee, my wife! Has my delay in arriving caused thee alarm?

CREUSA By no means; but thou art come at an anxious time. Tell me what response thou bringest from Trophonius, touching our future hopes of mutual offspring.

XUTHUS He deigned not to forestal the prophecies of Phoebus. This only did he say, that neither thou nor I should return unto our house childless from the shrine.

CREUSA Majestic mother of Phoebus, to our journey grant success, and may our previous dealings with thy son now find a better issue!

XUTHUS It will be so; but who acts as the god’s spokesman here?

ION I serve outside the shrine, others within, who stand near the tripod, even the noblest of the Delphians chosen by lot, sir stranger.

XUTHUS ’Tis well; I have attained the utmost of my wishes. I will go within; for I am told that a victim has been slain in public before the temple for strangers, and to-day,—for it is a lucky day,—I would fain receive the god’s oracle. Do thou, my wife, take branches of laurel, and seated at the altars pray to the gods that I may carry home from Apollo’s shrine an answer that bodeth well for offspring.

CREUSA All this shall be. Now, at any rate, if Loxias would retrieve his former sins, e’en though he cannot be my friend entirely, yet will I accept whate’er he deigns to give, because he is a god. [[Exeunt Xuthus and Creusa.]

ION Why doth this stranger lady hint dark reproaches against the god unceasingly, either out of affection for her on whose behalf she seeks the oracle, or maybe because she is hiding something needing secrecy? Yet what have I to do with the daughter of Erectheus? She is naught to me. No, I will go to the laver, and from golden ewers sprinkle the holy water. Yet must I warn Phoebus of what is happening to him; he ravishes a maid and proves unfaithful to her, and after secretly begetting a son leaves him to die. O! Phoebus, do not so, but as thou art supreme, follow in virtue’s track; for whosoever of mortal men transgresses, him the gods punish. How, then, can it be just that you should enact your laws for men, and yourselves incur the charge of breaking them? Now I will put this case, though it will never happen. Wert thou, wert Poseidon, and Zeus, the lord of heaven, to make atonement to mankind for every act of lawless love, ye would empty your temples in paying the fines for your misdeeds. For when ye pursue pleasure in preference to the claims of prudence, ye act unjustly; no longer is it fair to call men wicked, if we are imitating the evil deeds of gods, but rather those who give us such examples. [Exit Ion

CHORUS On thee I call, Athena mine, at whose birth-throes no kindly goddess lent her aid, delivered as thou wert by Titan Prometheus from the forehead of Zeus. Come, O lady Victory, come to the Pythian shrine, winging thy way from the gilded chambers of Olympus to the city’s streets, where Phoebus at his altar on the centre of the world brings his oracles to pass beside the dance-encircled tripod; come, too, thou daughter of Latona, together come, ye virgin goddesses, fair sisters of Phoebus! And be this your prayer, fair maidens, that the ancient house of Erechtheus may obtain by clear oracles the blessing of children, though late it come.

CHORUS For this brings to man a settled source of all-surpassing bliss, even to such as see in their ancestral halls a splendid race of strong young parents blest with offspring, to inherit from their sires their wealth in due succession after other children; yea, for they are a defence in time of trouble, and add a charm to weal, affording to their fatherland a saving help in battle. Give me before the pomp of wealth or royal marriages the careful nurture of noble children. The childless life I do abhor, and him who thinks it good I blame; to a happy life amongst my children, blest with moderate wealth, may I hold fast.

CHORUS Ye haunts of Pan, and rocks hard by the grots of Macrae, where Agraulos’ daughters three trip it lightly o’er the green grass-lawns before the shrine of Pallas, to the music of the piper’s varied note, what time thou, Pan, art piping in those caves of thine, where a maiden once that had a child by Phoebus, unhappy mother! exposed her babe, forced issue of her woful wooing, for birds to tear and beasts to rend, a bloody banquet! Never have I seen it told in woven tale or legend that children born to gods by daughters of earth have any share in bliss.

ION Attendant maids, that watch and wait your mistress here at the steps of the temple fragrant with incense, say, hath Xuthus already left the holy tripod and the sanctuary, or doth he still abide within to ask yet further of his childlessness?

CHORUS He is still in the temple, sir, nor hath he passed this threshold yet. But hark! I hear a footstep at the outlet of the door, and lo! thou mayst see my master this moment coming out.

XUTHUS All hail! my son; that word suits well as my first greeting to thee.

ION ’Tis well with me; do but restrain thyself, and then both of us will be happy.

XUTHUS Give me thy hand to grasp, thy body to embrace.

ION Art thou in thy senses, sir, or hath some spiteful god reft thee of them?

XUTHUS I am in my senses, for I have found what I hold most dear, and am eager to show my love.

ION Cease! touch me not, nor tear these garlands of the god!

XUTHUS I will embrace thee, for I am not seizing what is not my own, but only finding my own that I love full well.

ION Hands off! or thou shalt feel an arrow pierce thy ribs.

XUTHUS Why dost thou shun me, now that thou findest in me thy nearest and dearest?

ION I am not fond of schooling boors and crazy strangers.

XUTHUS Kill me, burn me, if thou wilt; for, if thou dost, thou wilt be thy father’s murderer.

ION Thou my father, indeed i Oh! is not news like this enough to make me laugh?

XUTHUS Not so; my tale, as it proceeds, will prove to thee what I assert.

ION Pray, what hast thou to tell me?

XUTHUS That I am thy own father, and thou my very child.

ION Who says so?

XUTHUS Loxias, who gave thee nurture, though thou wert my son.

ION Thou art thy own witness.

XUTHUS Nay, I have learnt the answer of the god.

ION Thou art mistaken in the dark riddle thou hast heard.

XUTHUS It seems then I do not hear aright.

ION What said Phoebus?

XUTHUS That the man who met me—

ION When and where?

XUTHUS As I came forth from the god’s temple—

ION Well! what should happen to him?

XUTHUS Should be my own true son.

ION Thy own true son, or a gift from others?

XUTHUS A gift, but mine for all that.

ION Am I the first that thou didst meet?

XUTHUS I have met no other, my son.

ION Whence came this piece of luck?

XUTHUS To both of us alike it causes surprise.

ION Ah I but who was my mother?

XUTHUS I cannot tell.

ION Did not Phoebus tell thee that?

XUTHUS I was so pleased with this, I did not ask him that.

ION I must have sprung from mother earth.

XUTHUS The ground brings forth no children.

ION How can I be thine?

XUTHUS I know not; I refer it to the god.

ION Come, let us try another theme.

XUTHUS Better hold to this, my son.

ION Didst thou e’er indulge in illicit amours?

XUTHUS Yes, in the folly of youth.

ION Ere thou didst win Erechtheus’ daughter?

XUTHUS Never since.

ION Could it be, then, thou didst beget me?

XUTHUS The time coincides therewith.

ION In that case, how came I hither?

XUTHUS That puzzles me.

ION After that long journey too?

XUTHUS That, too, perplexes me.

ION Didst thou in days gone by come to the Pythian rock?

XUTHUS Yes, to join in the mystic rites of Bacchus.

ION Didst thou lodge with one of the public hosts?

XUTHUS With one who at Delphi—

ION Initiated thee? or what is it thou sayest?

XUTHUS Among the frantic votaries of Bacchus.

ION Wert thou sober, or in thy cups?

XUTHUS I had indulged in the pleasures of the wine-cup.

ION That is just the history of my birth.

XUTHUS Fate hath discovered thee, my son.

ION How came I to the temple?

XUTHUS Maybe the maid exposed thee.

ION I have escaped the shame of slavish birth.

XUTHUS Acknowledge then thy father, my son.

ION It is not right that I should mistrust the god.

XUTHUS Thou art right there.

ION What more can I desire—

XUTHUS Thine eyes now open to the sights they should.

ION Than from a son of Zeus to spring?

XUTHUS Which is indeed thy lot.

ION May I embrace the author of my being?

XUTHUS Aye, put thy trust in the god.

ION Hail to thee, father mine.

XUTHUS With joy that title I accept.

ION This day—

XUTHUS Hath made me blest.

ION Ah, mother dear! shall I ever see thee too? Now more than ever do I long to gaze upon thee, whoe’er thou art. But thou perhaps art dead, and I shall never have the chance.

CHORUS We share the good luck of thy house; but still I could have wished my mistress too, and Erechtheus’ line, had been blest with children.

XUTHUS My son, albeit the god hath for thy discovery brought his oracle to a true issue, and united thee to me, while thou, too, hast found what most thou dost desire, till now unconscious of it; still, as touching this anxiety so proper in thee, I feel an equal yearning that thou, my child, mayst find thy mother, and I the wife that bare thee unto me. Maybe we shall discover this, if we leave it to time. But now leave the courts of the god, and this homeless life of thine, and come to Athens, in accordance with thy fathers wishes, for there his happy realm and bounteous wealth await thee; nor shalt thou be taunted with base origin and poverty to boot, because in one of these respects thou something lackest, but thou shalt be renowned alike for birth and wealth. Art silent? why dost fix thy eyes upon the ground? Thou art lost in thought, and by this sudden change from thy former cheerfulness, thou strikest thy father with dismay.

ION Things assume a different form according as we see them before us, or far off. I am glad at what has happened, since I have found in thee a father; but hear me on some points which I am now deciding. Athens, I am told,—that glorious city of a native race,—owns no aliens; in which case I shall force my entrance there under a twofold disadvantage, as an alien’s son and base-born as I am. Branded with this reproach, while as yet I am unsupported, I shall get the name of a mere nobody, a son of nobodies; and if I win my way to the highest place in the state, and seek to be some one, I shall be hated by those who have no influence, for superiority is galling; while ’mongst men of worth who could show their wisdom, but are silent, and take no interest in politics, I shall incur ridicule and be thought a fool for not keeping quiet in such a fault-finding city. Again, if I win a name amongst the men of mark who are engaged in politics, still more will jealous votes bar my progress; for thus, father, is it ever wont to be; they who have the city’s ear, and have already made their mark, are most bitter against all rivals. Again, if I, a stranger, come to a home that knows me not, and to that childless wife who before had thee as partner in her sorrow, but now will feel the bitterness of having to bear her fortune all alone,—how, I ask, shall I not fairly earn her hatred, when I take my stand beside thee; while she, still childless, sees thy dear pledge with bitter eyes; and then thou have to choose between deserting me and regarding her, or honouring me and utterly confounding thy home? How many a murder, and death by deadly drugs have wives devised for husbands! Besides, I pity that wife of thine, father, with her childless old age beginning; she little deserves to pine in barrenness, a daughter of a noble race. That princely state we fondly praise is pleasant to the eye; but yet in its mansions sorrow lurks; for who is happy, or by fortune blest, that has to live his life in fear of violence with many a sidelong glance? Rather would I live among the common folk, and taste their bliss, than be a tyrant who delights in making evil men his friends, and hates the good, in terror of his life. Perchance thou wilt tell me, Gold outweighs all these evils, and wealth is sweet. I have no wish to be abused for holding tightly to my pelf, nor yet to have the trouble of it. Be mine a moderate fortune free from annoyance! Now hear the blessings, father, that here were mine; first, leisure, man’s chiefest joy, with but moderate trouble; no villain ever drove me from my path, and that is a grievance hard to bear, to make room and give way to sorry knaves. My duty was to pray unto the gods, or with mortal men converse, a minister to their joys, not to their Sorrows. And I was ever dismissing one batch of guests, while another took their place, so that I was always welcome from the charm of novelty. That honesty which men must pray for, even against their will, custom and nature did conspire to plant in me in the sight of Phoebus. Now when I think on this, I deem that I am better here than there, father. So let me live on here, for ’tis an equal charm to joy in high estate, or in a humble fortune find a pleasure.

Full Text (part 5)

CHORUS Well said! if only those I love find their happiness in thy statement of the case.

XUTHUS Cease such idle talk, and learn to be happy; for on that spot where I discovered thee, my son, will I begin the rites, since I have chanced on the general banquet, open to all comers, and I will offer thy birth sacrifice which aforetime I left undone. And now will I bring thee to the banquet as my guest and rejoice thy heart, and take thee to the Athenian land as a visitor forsooth, not as my own son. For I will not grieve my wife in her childless sorrow by my good fortune. But in time will I seize a happy moment and prevail on her to let thee wield my sceptre o’er the realm. Thy name shall be Ion, in accordance with what happened, for that thou wert the first to cross my path as I came forth from Apollo’s sanctuary. Go, gather every friend thou hast, and with them make merry o’er the flesh of sacrifice, on the eve of thy departure from the town of Delphi. On you, ye handmaids, silence I enjoin, for, if ye say one word to my wife, death awaits you. [[Exit Xuthus.]

ION Well, I will go; one thing my fortune lacks, for if I find not her that gave me birth, life is no life to me, my father; and, if I may make the prayer, Oh may that mother be a daughter of Athens! that from-her I may inherit freedom of speech. For if a stranger settle in a city free from aliens, e’en though in name he be a citizen, yet doth he find him-setf tongue-tied and debarred from open utterance. [[Exit Ion.]

CHORUS Weeping and lamentation and the beginning of mourning I foresee, when my mistress shall see her lord blest with a son, while she is childless and forlorn. What was this oracle thou didst vouchsafe, prophetic son of Latona? Whence came this boy, thy foster-child who lingers in thy temple? who was his mother? I like not thy oracle; I fear there is some treachery. In terror I await the issue of this chance; for strange are these tidings and strange it is that the god declares them to me. There is guile connected with this waif’s fortune. All must allow that.

CHORUS Shall we, good friends, throw off disguise and tell our mistress this story about her husband in whom her all was centred and whose hopes, poor lady, she once shared? But now in misery is she plunged, while he enjoys the smiles of fortune; to hoary eld she drifteth fast, while he, her lord, pays no regard to his loved ones,—the wretch, who came an alien to her house to share great wealth and failed to guard her fortunes! Perdition catch this traitor to my lady! never may he succeed in offering to the gods upon their blazing altar a hallowed cake with flames that augur well! He shall know to his cost my regard for my mistress. Now are sire and new-found son bent on the approaching feast.

CHORUS Ho! ye peaks of Parnassus that rear your rocky heads to heaven, where Bacchus with uplifted torch of blazing pine bounds nimbly amid his bacchanals, that range by night! Never to my city come this boy! let him die and leave his young life as it dawns! For should our city fall on evil days, this bringing-in of strangers would supply it with a reason. Enough, enough for us Erechtheus’ line that erst held sway!

CREUSA Aged retainer of my father Erechtheus while yet he lived and saw the light of day, mount to the god’s prophetic shrine that thou mayst share my gladness, if haply Loxias, great king, vouchsafe an answer touching my hopes of offspring; for sweet it is to share with friends prosperity, and sweet likewise to see a friendly face if any ill betide,—which God forbid! As thou of yore didst tend my sire, so now, thy mistress though I am, I take his place in tending thee.

OLD SERVANT Daughter, thy manners bear good witness still to thy noble lineage; thou hast never brought shame upon those ancestors of thine, the children of the soil. A hand, I prithee, to the shrine! a hand to lean upon!’Tis a steep path thither, truly; but lend thy aid to guide my steps and make me young again.

CREUSA Come follow then, and look where thou art treading.

OLD SERVANT Behold! though my steps loiter, my thoughts take wings.

CREUSA Lean on thy staff as thou climbest this winding path.

OLD SERVANT Even this staff is a blind guide when I myself can scarcely see.

CREUSA True, but do not yield through fatigue.

OLD SERVANT Never willingly, but I am not master of that which is mine no more.

CREUSA Maidens mine, my trusty servants at the loom and web, declare to me how my lord hath fared as touching the question of offspring which brought us hither: for if ye give me good news, ye will cause joy to a mistress who will not prove faithless to her word.

CHORUS O fortune!

OLD SERVANT This prelude to your speech is unlucky.

CHORUS Woe is me!

OLD SERVANT Can it be that the oracles delivered to my master wound me at all?

CHORUS Enough! why have aught to do with that which brings down death?

CREUSA What means this piteous strain? wherefore this alarm?

CHORUS Are we to speak or keep silence? What shall we do?

CREUSA Speak; for thou hast somewhat to tell that touches me.

CHORUS Then speak I will, though twice to die were mine. O mistress mine! never shalt thou hold a babe within thy arms or clasp him to thy breast.

CREUSA Ah me! would I were dead!

OLD SERVANT My daughter!

CREUSA O woe is me for my calamity! Mine is a heritage of suffering and woe that poisons life, good friends.

OLD SERVANT Ah, my child, ’tis death to us!

CREUSA Ah me! ah me! grief drives its weapon through this heart of mine.

OLD SERVANT Stay thy lamentations.

CREUSA Nay, but sorrow lodges here.

OLD SERVANT Till we learn—

CREUSA Ah, what further news is there for me?

OLD SERVANT Whether our master is in the same plight and shares thy misfortune, or thou art alone in thy misery.

CHORUS On him, old sir, Loxias hath bestowed a son, and he is enjoying his good fortune apart from her.

CREUSA Herein hast thou declared a further evil crowning all, a grief for me to mourn.

OLD SERVANT The child of whom thou speakest—is he some woman’s destined babe, or did the god declare the fate of one already born?

CHORUS A youth already born and grown to man’s estate doth Phoebus give to him; for I was there myself.

CREUSA What sayest thou? nor tongue nor lip should speak the word thou tellest me.

OLD SERVANT And me. But declare more clearly how this oracle is finding its fulfilment, and say who is the child.

CHORUS Whomso thy husband first should meet as he issued from the shrine, him the god gave him for his son.

CREUSA Ah me! my fate, it seems, has doomed me to a childless life, and all forlorn am I to dwell in ray halls, without an heir.

OLD SERVANT To whom did the oracle refer? whom did our poor lady’s husband meet? how and where did he see him?

CHORUS Dear mistress mine, dost know that youth that was sweeping yonder shrine? He is that son.

CREUSA Oh! for wings to cleave the liquid air beyond the land of Hellas, away to the western stars, so keen the anguish of my soul, my friends!

OLD SERVANT Dost know the name his father gave to him, or is that left as yet unsettled and unsaid?

CHORUS He called him Ion, because he was the first to cross his path.

OLD SERVANT Who is his mother?

CHORUS That I cannot say. But,—to tell thee all I know, old sir,— her lord is gone, with furtive step, into the hallowed tent, there to offer on this child’s behalf such gifts and victims as are offered for a birth, and with his new-found son to celebrate the feast.

OLD SERVANT Mistress mine, we are betrayed by thy husband, fellow-sufferers thou and I; ’tis a deep-laid plot to outrage us and drive us from Erechtheus’ halls. And this I say not from any hatred of thy lord but because I bear thee more love than him; for he, after coming as a stranger to thy city and thy home, and wedding thee, and of thy heritage taking full possession, has been detected in a secret marriage with another woman, by whom he hath children. His secret will I now disclose; when he found thee barren, he was not content to share with thee thy hard lot, but took to himself a slave to be his stealthy paramour and thus begat a son, whom he sent abroad, giving him to some Delphian maid to nurse; and, to escape detection, the child was dedicated to the god and reared in his temple. But when he heard his boy was grown to manhood, he persuaded thee to come hither to inquire about thy childless state. And after this, ’twas not the god that lied, but thy husband, who long had been rearing the child, and he it was that wove this tissue of falsehood, intending, if he were detected, to refer it to the god, whereas if he escaped exposure, to repel all odium, he meant to vest the sovereignty in this son of his. Likewise he devised anew his name, coined to suit the circumstances, Ion, because, as he asserts, he met him on his way.

CHORUS Ah! how I ever hate the wicked who plot unrighteousness and then cunningly trick it out. Far rather would I have a virtuous friend of no great intellect than a knave of subtler wit.

OLD SERVANT Of all thy wretched fate this will be the crowning sorrow, the bringing to thy house to be its lord some slave-girl’s child, whose mother is unknown, himself of no account. For this evil had been to itself confined, had he persuaded thee, pleading thy childlessness, to let him establish in the house some high-born mother’s son; or if this had displeased thee, he ought to have sought a daughter of Aeolus in marriage. Wherefore must thou now put thy woman’s wit to work; either take the dagger, or by guile or poison slay thy husband and his son, ere they deal out death to thee; since if thou spare him, thou wilt lose thy own life; for when two foes meet beneath one roof, one or the other must rue it. Myself too am ready to share this labour with thee, and to help destroy the child when I have made my way into the chamber where he is furnishing the feast, and so repaying my masters for my maintenance I am willing either to die or still behold the light of life. ’Tis but a single thing that brands the slave with shame— his name; in all else no upright slave is a whit worse than freeborn men.

CHORUS I too, beloved mistress, am ready to share thy fate, be it death or victory.

CREUSA Ah! my suffering soul! how am I to keep silence? Am I to disclose the secrets of my love and lose all claim to modesty? What is there to keep me back any longer? With whom have I to pit myself in virtue’s lists? Hath not my husband proved untrue? Home and children, both are torn from me; all hope is dead; I have not realized my wish to set the matter straight, by hushing up my former union and saying naught about my son of sorrow. No! by the starry seat of Zeus, by her whose home is on my rocks, and by the hallowed strand of Triton’s mere with brimming flood, I will no more conceal my love; for if I can lift that burden from my breast I shall rest easier. With tears my eyes are streaming and my heart is wrung with anguish for the treacherous counsels both of men and gods,—traitors they! as I will show, ungrateful traitors to their loves! O! thou who dost awake that tuneful lyre with seven strings till to its sweet note of music the lifeless pegs of wild ox-hom resound again, thou child of Latona, to yon 293 bright orb of thine will I publish thy reproach. Yes, I saw thee come, the glint of gold upon thy locks, as I was gathering in my folded robe the saffron blooms that blazed like flowers of gold; and by my lily wrist didst thou catch me and ledst me to the cavern’s bed, what time I cried aloud upon my mother’s name,—thou a god to mate with me in shameless wise to pleasure lady Cypris! Then to my sorrow I bore thee a son, whom, though anguish thrilled my mother’s breast, I cast upon that bed of thine, where thou didst join in woful wedlock this unhappy maid. Ah! woe is me! that poor babe I bare thee is now no more; winged fowls have tom and devoured him, but thou art gaily carolling unto thy lyre some song of joy. Hark! thou son of Latona, to thee I call, for that thou dispensest warnings; there at thy golden throne on earth’s centre planted will I proclaim a word into thy ear. O! thou wicked bridegroom who art bringing to my husband’s house an heir, though from him thou hast received no boon; while that child of thine and mine hath died unrecognized, a prey to carrion birds, his mother’s swaddling-clothes all lost. Delos hates thee now, thy bay-tree loves thee not, whose branches sprout beside the tufted palm, where in holy throes Latona, big with child by Zeus, gave birth to thee.

CHORUS Ah me! what store of sorrows is here disclosed, enough to draw a tear from every eye!

OLD SERVANT Daughter, with pity am I filled as a gaze upon thy face; my reason leaves me; for just as I am striving to lighten my spirit of its sea of troubles, comes another wave astern and catches me by reason of thy words; for no sooner hadst thou uttered this tale of present troubles than thou didst turn aside into a fresh a track of other woes. What is it thou sayest? What charge against Apollo dost thou bring? What child is this thou dost assert that thou didst bear? Where was it in the city that thou didst expose him, for beasts to rejoice o’er his burial? Tell me once again.

CREUSA Old friend, although to meet thine eye, I am ashamed, yet will I tell thee.

OLD SERVANT Full well I know how to lend my friends a generous sympathy.

CREUSA Then hearken; dost know a cave toward the north of Cecrops’ rock, that we call Macrae?

OLD SERVANT I know it; there is the shrine of Pan, and his altar hard by.

CREUSA That was the scene of my dire conflict.

OLD SERVANT What conflict? see how my tears start forth to meet thy words.

CREUSA Phoebus forced me to a woful marriage.

OLD SERVANT Was it then this, my daughter, that I noticed myself?

CREUSA I know not; but I will tell thee if thou speak the truth.

OLD SERVANT At the time thou wert mourning in secret some hidden complaint?

CREUSA Yes, ’twas then this trouble happened, which now I am declaring to thee.

OLD SERVANT How then didst conceal thy union with Apollo?

CREUSA I bore a child; hear me patiently, old friend.

OLD SERVANT Where? and who helped thy travail? or didst thou labour all alone?

CREUSA All alone, in the cave where I became a wife.

OLD SERVANT Where is the child? that thou mayst cease thy childless state.

CREUSA Dead, old friend, to beasts exposed.

OLD SERVANT Dead? did Apollo, evil god, no help afford?

CREUSA None; my boy is in the halls of Hades.

OLD SERVANT Who then exposed him? surely not thyself.

CREUSA Myself, when ’neath the gloom of night I had wrapped him in my robe.

OLD SERVANT Did no one share thy secret of the babe’s exposure?

CREUSA Ill-fortune and secrecy alone.

OLD SERVANT How couldst thou in the cavern leave thy babe?

CREUSA Ah! how? but still I did, with many a word of pity uttered o’er him.

OLD SERVANT Oh for thy hard heart! Oh for the god’s, more hard than thine!

CREUSA Hadst thou but seen the babe stretch forth his hands to me!

OLD SERVANT To find thy mother’s breast, to nestle in thy arms?

CREUSA By being kept therefrom he suffered grievous wrong from me.

OLD SERVANT How earnest thou to think of casting forth thy babe?

CREUSA Methought the god would save his own begotten child.

OLD SERVANT Ah me! what storms assail thy family’s prosperity!

CREUSA Why weepest thou, old man, with head close-veiled?

OLD SERVANT To see the sorrows of thy sire and thee.

CREUSA Such is our mortal life; naught abideth in one stay.

OLD SERVANT Daughter, let us cease to dwell on themes of woe.

CREUSA What must I do? Misfortune leaves us helpless.

OLD SERVANT Avenge thee on the god who first did injure thee.

CREUSA How can I, weak mortal as I am, outrun those mightier powers?

OLD SERVANT Set fire to Apollo’s awful sanctuary.

CREUSA I am afraid; my present sorrows are enough for me.

OLD SERVANT Then what thou canst, that dare—thy husband’s death.

CREUSA Nay, I do respect his former love in the days when he was good and true.

OLD SERVANT At least, then, slay the boy who hath appeared to supplant thee.

CREUSA How can I? would it were possible! how I wish it were!

OLD SERVANT Arm thy followers with daggers.

CREUSA I will about it; but where is the deed to be done?

OLD SERVANT In the sacred tent, where he is feasting his friends.

CREUSA The murder will be too public, and slaves are poor support.

OLD SERVANT Ah! thou art turning coward. Devise some scheme thyself.

CREUSA Well, I too have subtle plans that cannot fail.

OLD SERVANT If both conditions they fulfil, I will assist thee.

CREUSA Hearken then; knowest thou the battle of the earth-born men?

OLD SERVANT Surely; the fight at Phlegra waged by giants against the gods.

CREUSA There Earth brought Gorgon forth, dreadful prodigy.

OLD SERVANT To aid her sons maybe, and cause the gods hard toil?

CREUSA Yea, and Pallas, daughter of Zeus, slew the monster.

OLD SERVANT What savage form had it assumed?

CREUSA A breast-plate of vipers fenced its body.

OLD SERVANT Is this the tale I heard in days of yore?

CREUSA That Athena wears its skin upon her corslet.

OLD SERVANT Is it this that Pallas wears, called by men her aegis?

CREUSA This was the name it received, that day she came to do battle for the gods.

OLD SERVANT How, daughter, can this harm thy enemies?

CREUSA Hast heard of Erichthonius, or no? of course thou hast.

OLD SERVANT Him whom Earth produced, the founder of thy race?

CREUSA To him whilst yet a babe did Pallas give—

OLD SERVANT Ha! what? thou hast something yet to add?

CREUSA Two drops of Gorgon’s blood.

OLD SERVANT What power could they exert on the nature of a human creature?

CREUSA The one with death is fraught, the other cures disease.

OLD SERVANT What held them when she tied them to the child’s body?

CREUSA With links of gold she fastened them; this to my sire did Erichthonius give.

OLD SERVANT And at his death it came to thee?

CREUSA Yea, and here at my wrist I wear it.

OLD SERVANT How works the spell of this double gift of Pallas?

CREUSA Each drop of gore which trickled from the hollow vein—

OLD SERVANT What purpose does it serve? what virtue does it carry?

CREUSA Wards off disease, and nourishes man’s life.

OLD SERVANT What doth that second drop effect, of which thou madest mention?

CREUSA It kills, for it is venom from the Gorgon’s snakes.

OLD SERVANT Dost thou carry this charm mixed in one phial, or separate?

CREUSA Separate; for good is no companion for evil.

OLD SERVANT Daughter dear, thou art fully armed with all thou needest.

CREUSA By this must the boy die, and thou must do the deadly deed.

OLD SERVANT How and where? thine it is to speak, and mine to dare and do.

CREUSA In Athens, when to my house he comes.

OLD SERVANT That is not wisely said; I may object to thy plan as thou to mine.

CREUSA How so? Hast thou the same mistrust that I experience?

OLD SERVANT Thou wilt get the credit of his death, although thou slay him not.

CREUSA True; men say stepdames are jealous of their husband’s children.

OLD SERVANT Kill him here then, that so thou mayst deny the murder.

CREUSA Well, thus I do anticipate the pleasure.

OLD SERVANT Yea, and thou wilt from thy husband keep the very secret he would keep from thee.

CREUSA Dost know then what to do? Take from my arm this golden bracelet, Athena’s gift, some ancient craftsman’s work, and seek the spot where my lord is offering secret sacrifice; then when their feasting is o’er and they are about to pour drink-offering to the gods, take this phial in thy robe and pour it into the young man’s goblet; not for all, but for him alone, providing a separate draught, who thinks to lord it o’er my house. And if once it pass his lips, never shall he come to glorious Athens, but here abide, of life bereft.

OLD SERVANT Go thou within the house of our public hosts; I the while will set about my appointed task. On! aged foot, grow young again in action, for all that time saith no to thee. Go, aid thy mistress against her enemy, help slay and drag him from her house. ’Tis well to honour piety in the hour of fortune, but when thou wouldst harm thy foe, no law doth block thy path.

CHORUS Daughter of Demeter, goddess of highways, queen as thou art of haunting powers of darkness, oh! guide as well the hand that fills by day a cup of death, against those to whom my revered mistress is sending a philtre of the gore that dripped from hellish Gorgon’s severed head, yea, ’gainst him who would obtrude upon the halls of the Erechthidae. Never may alien, from alien stock, lord it o’er my city, no! none save noble Erechtheus’ sons!

CHORUS For if this deadly deed and my lady’s aims pass unfulfilled, and the right moment for her daring go by, and with it the hope which now sustains her, either will she seize the whetted knife or fasten the noose about her neck, and by ending one sorrow by another will go down to other phases of existence. For never will that daughter of a noble line, while life is hers, endure within the sunshine of her eyes the sight of alien rulers in her halls.

CHORUS I blush for that god of song, if this stranger is to witness the torch-dance, that heralds in the twentieth dawn, around Callichorus’ fair springs, a sleepless votary in midnight revels, what time the star-lit firmament of Zeus, the moon, and Nereus’ fifty daughters, that trip it lightly o’er the sea and the eternal rivers’ tides, join the dance in honour of the maiden with the crown of gold and her majestic mother; where this vagabond, by Phoebus favoured, thinks to reign, entering into other men’s hard toil.

CHORUS Look to it, all ye bards, who, in malicious strains, expose our amours and unholy bonds of lawless love; see how far our virtue surpasses man’s disloyalty. Change the burden of your song and keep your spiteful verse to brand man’s faithlessness. For this scion of the stock of Zeus shows himself a heedless wight, denying to the mistress of his halls the lot of mutual offspring, and, paying all his court to some strange love, hath gotten him a bastard son.

SERVANT Ladies of another land, where may I find your mistress, daughter of Erechtheus? For I have searched each nook and corner of this town, and cannot find her.

CHORUS What news, my fellow-thrall? why that hurried gait? what tidings bringest thou?

SERVANT I am pursued; the rulers of this land are seeking her to stone her to death.

CHORUS Alas, what is thy tale? say not we are detected in our secret plot for murdering the boy?

SERVANT Thou hast guessed aright; nor wilt thou be the last to share the trouble.

CHORUS How was the hidden scheme laid bare?

SERVANT The god found means to master wrong with right, unwilling to see his shrine polluted.

CHORUS How so? I do conjure thee, tell us all. For if to die or yet to live be ours, ’twere sweeter so, when we know all.

SERVANT Soon as Xuthus, husband of Creusa, had left the god’s prophetic shrine, taking with him his new-found son, to hold the feast and sacrifice that he designed to offer to the gods, himself departed to the place where leaps the Bacchic flame, with blood of sacrifice to dew the double peaks of Dionysus for the son now offered to his gaze, and thus he spake, My son, abide thou here, and raise a spacious tent by craftsmen’s toiling skill; and if I remain long time away after I have sacrificed to the gods of thy birth, let the feast be spread for all friends present. Therewith he took the heifers and went his way. Meantime his stripling son in solemn form set up with upright stays the tent, inclosed but not with walls, taking good heed to guard it ’gainst the blazing midday sun, nor less against his westering beams, the limit of his course; an oblong space of five score feet he meted out so that it contained ten thousand feet within that measure’s square, as science phrases it, intending to invite all Delphi to the feast. Then from the temple-treasury tapestry he took and therewith made a shelter, wondrous sight to see. First o’er the roof-tree he threw a canopy of robes, an offering Heracles, the son of Zeus, had brought unto the god from his Amazonian spoils. On them was broidered many a pictured scene, to wit, Heaven marshalling his host of stars upon the vaulted sky; there was the sun-god urging on his steeds toward his fiery goal, the bright star of evening at his heels. Night too in sable robes went hurrying by, drawn by a single pair, and the stars did bear her company. Across the zenith a Pleiad sailed, and Orion too with falchion dight was there; above was the bear making his tail to turn upon the golden pole. Up shot the moon’s full face, that parts the months in twain; there too the Hyades showed their unerring light to mariners; arid Dawn, that brings the morning back, was chasing the stars before her. Next on the sides he hung yet other tapestry; barbarian ships bearing down on the fleet of Hellas; and monsters half-man, half-beast; the capture of the Thracian steeds; the hunting of savage stags and lions fierce; while at the entry Cecrops close to his daughters was wreathing his coils, an offering of some Athenian votary; and in the midst of the banquet-hall he set goblets of gold, while a herald hasted and invited to the feast all citizens who would come. Then, when the tent was full, they decked themselves with garlands and took their fill of the rich viands. Anon after they had put from them the pleasure of eating came an old man and stood in the midst, where his officious zeal provoked loud laughter among the guests; for he would draw from the drinking-pitchers water to wash the hands withal and was wasting as incense the liquid myrrh, and in his charge he took the golden beakers, setting himself unasked to this office. Now when they were come to the time for the flute-players and the general libation, cried out that aged servitor, Hence with these tiny cups! bring larger goblets, that our guests may find a quicker route to joyousness. Thereon came servants bending ’neath the weight of goblets chased with silver and golden chalices; and that old man, as if to do his youthful lord a special service, chose out and offered to him a brimming bumper, when he had cast into the wine that potent philtre which, men say, his mistress gave to him to end the young man’s days on earth; and no man knew of this; but just as he so lately found held in his hand the drink-offering, the others following suit, some servant there uttered a word of evil import; whereat the stripling, as one who had been reared within the shrine amid reputed seers, deemed this an omen and bade them fill a fresh goblet, but that first drink-offering to the god he poured upon the ground and bade all others do the like. And silence stole upon them; while we with water and Phoenician wine were filling high the sacred bowls. While thus we were busied, comes a flight of doves and settles in the tent, for these dwell fearlessly in the courts of Loxias. Soon as the guests had poured away the luscious juice, those thirsty birds did dip their beaks therein, drawing it up into their feathered throats. Now all the rest received no hurt from the god’s libation, but one that settled on the spot where the son newfound had poured his wine, no sooner had tasted thereof, than convulsions seized her feathered form and she went triad, and screaming aloud uttered strange unwonted cries; and all the feasters gathered there marvelled to see the bird’s cruel agony, for she lay writhing in the toils of death, and her red claws relaxed their hold. Forthwith the son, vouchsafed by oracles, bared his arm by casting off his cloak and stretched it out across the board crying Who was it strove to slay me? Proclaim it, old sirrah, for thine was the officious zeal and thine the hand from which I took the cup. With that he caught the grey-beard by the arm and set to searching him that he might take the old man red-handed in the act. So was he detected, and under strong constraint declared Creusa’s daring deed and all the trick of the poisoned draught. Forth rushed the young man, whom the oracle of Loxias to his sire assigned, taking with him the banqueters, and standing mid the Delphic nobles made harangue, O! hallowed soil, a stranger woman, daughter of Erechtheus, seeks to poison me. And the lords of Delphi decreed by general vote that my mistress should be hurled from the rock to die, because she strove to slay the priest and compass his death in the temple. So now is the whole city seeking her, who hath to her sorrow sped a hapless journey; for, coming to crave the boon of offspring from Phoebus, she hath lost her life and children too.

CHORUS Ah me! I see no way at all to turn death’s hand aside; all, all, ere this, is brought to light owing to that fatal draught of the wine-god’s juice mixed for death with drops of viper’s gore, quick to slay; detected is our offering to the dead; for me my life must end in woe, while death by stoning waits my mistress. How can I escape? Shall I take wings and fly away, or creep beneath the darksome caverns of the earth, striving to shun the doom of death by stoning? or shall I mount the car drawn by swiftest steeds, or embark upon a ship?

CHORUS No man may hide his guilt, save when some god of his own will steals him away. Ah! my poor mistress! what suffering now awaits thy soul? Must then our wish to work another harm end in our own discomfiture, as justice doth decree?

CREUSA My trusty maids, the men of death are on my track; the vote of Delphi goes against me; they give me up to die.

CHORUS Unhappy one! we know thy sad mischance, how thou art placed.

CREUSA Oh! whither can I fly? for scarce had I the start of my pursuers from the house in my race for life; ’tis by stealth alone that I have thus far escaped my foes.

CHORUS Where shouldst thou fly except to the altar?

CREUSA What good is that to me?

CHORUS To slay a suppliant is forbidden.

CREUSA Aye, but the law has given me over to death.

CHORUS Only if thou fall into their hands.

CREUSA Look! here they come, cruel champions of vengeance, eagerly brandishing their swords.

CHORUS Sit thee down upon the altar of burnt-offering! for if thou art slain there, thou wilt fix upon thy murderers the stain of bloodguiltiness; but we must bear our fortune.

ION O father Cephissus, with the bull-shaped head, what a viper is this thy child, or dragon with fiery eyes that dart a murderous gleam, in whose heart is throned incarnate daring, noxious as those Gorgon drops of venom wherewith she sought to compass my death. Seize her, that the peaks of Parnassus may card the flowing tresses of her hair, for thence shall she be hurled headlong amid the rocks. My lucky star hath kept me from going to Athens, there to fall beneath the power of a step-mother. For I have gauged thy feelings towards me—the full extent of thy bitter hostility—whilst yet amongst my friends; for hadst thou once shut me tip within thy house, my road to Hades’ halls had led direct from thence. This altar shall not save thee, nor yet Apollo’s courts, for that pity thou implorest cries out more loudly for me and my mother, who, though absent in the flesh, is never in name far from me. Behold this cursed woman, see the web of trickery she hath woven! yet comes she cowering to Apollo’s altar, thinking to escape the punishment of her misdeeds.

CREUSA I warn thee not to slay me, both in my own name and in his at whose altar I am stationed.

ION What hast thou to do with Phoebus?

CREUSA This body I devote unto that god to keep.

ION And yet thou wert for poisoning his minister?

CREUSA But thou wert not Apollo’s any longer, but thy father’s.

ION Nay, I was his son, that is, in absence of a real father.

CREUSA Thou wert so then; now ’tis I, not thou, who am Apollo’s.

ION Well, thou art not guiltless now, whereas I was then.

CREUSA I sought to slay thee as an enemy to my house.

ION And yet I never invaded thy country, sword in hand.

CREUSA Thou didst; and thou it was that wert casting a firebrand into the halls of Erechtheus.

ION What sort of brand or flaming fire was it?

CREUSA Thou didst design to seize my home against my will, and make it thine.

ION What! when my father offered me a kingdom of his getting.

CREUSA How had the sons of Aeolus any share in the realm of Pallas?

ION Arms, not words, he brought to champion it.

CREUSA No mere ally could enter into an inheritance in my land.

ION And was it then from fear of consequences that thou didst try to slay me?

CREUSA Yes, lest I should myself perish if thou wert spared.

ION Doth thy childlessness make thee envious that my father found me?

CREUSA And thou, wilt thou rob the childless of her home?

ION Had I then no share at all in my father’s heritage?

CREUSA All that his sword and shield had won was thine, and thine alone.

ION Quit the altar and sanctuary built for gods.

CREUSA Go bid thy own mother, wherever she is, do that.

ION Shalt thou escape all punishment, after trying to kill me?

CREUSA Not if thou choose to butcher me within this shrine.

ION What joy can it give thee to be slain amid the sacred wreaths?

CREUSA There is one whom I shall grieve of those who have grieved me.

ION Oh! ’tis passing strange how badly the deity hath enacted laws for mortal men, contrary to all sound judgment; for instance, they should ne’er have suffered impious men to sit at their altars, but should have driven them away; for it was nowise right that hands unclean should touch the altars of the gods, though the righteous deserved to find a refuge there from their oppressors, instead of good and bad alike having recourse to the same divine protection with equal success.

PYTHIAN PRIESTESS Refrain thyself, my son; for I, the priestess of Phoebus, chosen from all the maids of Delphi in accordance with the tripod’s ancient rite, have left that prophetic seat, and am passing o’er this threshold.

ION Hail to thee, dear mother mine,—mother, though thou didst not give me birth.

PYTHIAN PRIESTESS Yes, so have I ever been called, and the title causes me no regret.

ION Hast heard how this woman plotted my death?

PYTHIAN PRIESTESS I have; thou, too, art wrong because of thy harshness.

ION Am I not to pay back murderers in their coin?

PYTHIAN PRIESTESS Wives ever hate the children of a former marriage.

ION As I hate step-dames for their evil treatment of me.

PYTHIAN PRIESTESS Do not so; but leaving, as thou art, the shrine, and setting forth for thy country—

ION What then wouldst thou advise me do?

PYTHIAN PRIESTESS With clean hands seek Athens, attended by good omens.

ION Surely any man hath clean hands who slays his enemies.

PYTHIAN PRIESTESS Do not thou do this; but take the counsel that I have for thee.

ION Say on; whate’er thou say’st will be prompted by thy good will.

PYTHIAN PRIESTESS Dost see this basket that I carry in my arms?

ION An ancient ark with chaplets crowned.

PYTHIAN PRIESTESS Herein I found thee long ago, a newborn babe.

ION What sayest thou? there is novelty in the story thou art introducing.

PYTHIAN PRIESTESS Yea, for I was keeping these relics a secret, but now I show them.

ION How earnest thou to hide them on that day, now long ago, when thou didst find me?

PYTHIAN PRIESTESS The god wished to have thee as his servant in his courts.

ION Does he no longer wish it? How am I to know this?

PYTHIAN PRIESTESS By declaring to thee thy sire, he dismisses thee from this land.

ION Is it by his command thou keepest these relics, or why?

PYTHIAN PRIESTESS Loxias put in my heart that day—

ION What purpose? Oh! speak, finish thy story.

PYTHIAN PRIESTESS To preserve what I had found until the present time.

ION What weal or woe doth this import to me?

PYTHIAN PRIESTESS Herein were laid the swaddling-clothes in which thou wert enwrapped.

ION These relics thou art producing may help me to find my mother.

PYTHIAN PRIESTESS Yes, for now the deity so wills it, though not before.

ION Hail! thou day of visions blest to me!

PYTHIAN PRIESTESS Take then the relics and seek thy mother diligently. And when thou hast traversed Asia and the bounds of Europe, thou wilt learn this for thyself; for the god’s sake I reared thee, my child, and now to thee do I entrust these relics, which he willed that I should take into my safe keeping, without being bidden; why he willed it I cannot tell thee. For no living soul wist that I had them in my possession, nor yet their hiding-place. And now farewell! as a mother might her child, so I greet thee. The starting-point of thy inquiry for thy mother must be this; first, was it a Delphian maid that gave birth to thee, and exposed thee in this temple; next, was it a daughter of Hellas at all? That is all that I and Phoebus, who shares in thy lot, can do for thee. [Exit Pythian Priestess.

ION Ah me! the tears stream from my eyes when I think of the day my mother bore me, as the fruit of her secret love, only to smuggle her babe away privily, without suckling it; nameless I led a servant’s life in the courts of the god. His service truly was kindly, yet was my fortune heavy; for just when I ought to have lain softly in a mother’s arms, tasting somewhat of the joys of life, was I deprived of a fond mother’s fostering care. Nor less is she a prey to sorrow that bare me, seeing she hath suffered the self-same pang in losing all the joy a son might bring. Now will I take and bear this ark unto the god as an offering, that herein I may discover naught that I would rather not. For if haply my mother proves to be some slave-girl, ’twere worse to find her out than let her rest in silence. O! Phoebus, to thy temple do I dedicate this ark. Yet why? this is to war against the god’s intention, who saved these tokens of my mother for my sake. I must undo the lid and bear the worst. For that which fate ordains, I may ne’er o’erstep. O! hallowed wreaths and fastenings, that have kept so safe these relics dear to me; why, ah! why were ye hidden from me? Behold the covering of this rounded ark! No signs of age are here, owing to some miracle; decay hath not touched these chaplets; and yet ’tis long enough since these were stored away.

CREUSA Ha! what unlooked-for sight is here?

ION Peace, woman! now, as erst, thou art my enemy.

CREUSA Silence is not for me. Bid me not be still; for lo! I see the ark wherein I did expose thee, my child, in days gone by, whilst yet a tender babe in the cavern of Cecrops, ’neath the rocky roof of Macrae. So now will I leave this altar, though death await me.

ION Seize her; she is mad, springing thus from the shelter of the carved altar. Bind her arms.

CREUSA Kill! spare not! for I to thee will cleave, and to this ark, and all that is within it.

ION Is not this monstrous? here am I laid claim to on a specious pretext.

CREUSA Nay, nay, but as a friend art thou by friends now found.

ION I a friend of thine! and wouldst thou, then, have slain me privily?

CREUSA Thou art my child, if that is what a parent holds most dear.

ION An end to thy web of falsehood! Right well will I convict thee.

CREUSA My child, that is my aim; God grant I reach it!

ION Is this ark empty, or hath it aught within?

CREUSA Thy raiment wherein I exposed thee long ago.

ION Wilt put a name thereto before thou see it?

CREUSA Unless I describe it, I offer to die.

ION Say on; there is something strange in this thy confidence.

CREUSA Behold the robe my childish fingers wove.

ION Describe it; maidens weave many a pattern.

CREUSA ’Tis not perfect, but a first lesson, as it were, in weaving.

ION Describe its form; thou shalt not catch me thus.

CREUSA A Gorgon figures in the centre of the warp.

ION Great Zeus! what fate is this that dogs my steps?

CREUSA ’Tis fringed with snakes like an aegis.

ION Lo! ’tis the very robe; how true we find the voice of God!

CREUSA Ah! woven work that erst my virgin shuttle wrought.

ION Is there aught beside, or stays thy lucky guessing here?

CREUSA There be serpents, too, with jaws of gold, an old-world symbol.

ION Is that Athena’s gift, bidding her race grow up under their guardianship?

CREUSA Yes, to copy our ancestor Erichthonius.

ION What is their object? what the use of these golden gauds? pray, tell.

CREUSA Necklaces for the new-born babe to wear, my child.

ION Lo! here they lie. Yet would I know the third sign.

CREUSA About thy brow I bound an olive-wreath that day, plucked from the tree Athena first made grow on her own rock. If haply that is there, it hath not lost its verdure yet, but still is fresh, for it came from the stock that grows not old.

ION Mother, dearest mother, with what rapture I behold thee, as on thy cheeks, that share my joy, I press my lips!

CREUSA My son, light that in thy mother’s eye outshinest yonder sun,— I know the god will pardon me,—in my arms I hold thee, whom I never hoped to find, for I thought thy home was in that nether world, among the ghosts with Queen Persephone.

ION Ah, dear mother mine! within thy arms I rest, the dead now brought to light, and dead no more.

CREUSA Hail, thou broad expanse of bright blue sky! What words can I find to utter my joy aloud? Whence comes to me such unexpected rapture? To what do I owe this bliss?

ION This is the last thing that ever would have occurred to me, mother, that I was thy child.

CREUSA With fear I tremble still.

ION Dost thou doubt my reality?

CREUSA Far from me had I banished these hopes. Whence, O whence, lady, didst thou take my babe into thy arms? Who carried him to the courts of Loxias?

ION ’Tis a miracle! Oh! may we for the rest of our career be happy, as we were hapless heretofore.

CREUSA In tears wert thou brought forth, my child, and with sorrow to thy mother didst thou leave her arms; but now I breathe again as I press my lips to thy cheek, in full enjoyment of happiness.

ION Thy words express our mutual feelings.

CREUSA No more am I of son and heir bereft; my house is stablished and my country hath a prince; Erechtheus groweth young again; no longer is the house of the earth-born race plunged in gloom, but lifts its eyes unto the radiant sun.

ION Mother mine, since my father too is here, let him share the joy I have brought to thee.

CREUSA My child, my child, what sayst thou? How is my sin finding me out!

ION What meanest thou?

CREUSA Thou art of a different, for different stock.

ION Alas for me! Am I a bastard, then, bom in thy maiden days?

CREUSA Nor nuptial torch nor dance, my child, ushered in my wedding and thy birth.

ION O mother, mother! whence do I draw my base origin?

CREUSA Be witness she who slew the Gorgon,

ION What meanest thou?

CREUSA She that on my native rocks makes the olive-clad hill her seat.

ION Thy words to me are but as cunning riddles. I cannot read them.

CREUSA Hard by the rock with nightingales melodious, Phoebus,

ION Why dost thou mention Phoebus?

CREUSA Forced on me his secret love.

ION Say on; for thy story will crown me with fame and fortune.

CREUSA And as the tenth month came round I bore a child to Phoebus in secret.

ION Oh! thy happy tidings, if thy story is true.

CREUSA And about thee as swaddling-clothes I fastened this my maiden work, the faulty efforts of my loom. But to my breast I never held thy lips, or suckled or washed thee with a mother’s care; but in a desert cave wert thou cast out to die, for taloned kites to rend and feast upon.

ION An awful deed! O mother!

CREUSA Fear held me captive, and I cast thy life away, my child; I would, though loth, have slain thee too.

ION Thou too wert all but slain by me most impiously.

CREUSA O the horror of all I suffered then! O the horror of what is to follow now! To and fro from bad to good we toss, though now the gale is shifting round. May it remain steady! the past brought sorrows enough; but now hath a fair breeze sprung up, my son, to waft us out of woe.

CHORUS Let no man ever deem a thing past hoping for, when he turns an eye towards what is happening now.

ION O Fortune! who ere now hast changed the lot of countless mortals first to grief, and then to joy again, to what a goal my life had come, even to staining my hands with a mother’s blood and enduring sufferings ill-deserved! Ah well! may we not learn these truths daily in all that the bright sun embraces? O mother, in thee have I made a happy discovery, and from my point of view there is no fault to find with my birth; but what remains I fain would speak to thee apart. Come hither, for I would say a word in thine ear, and o’er these matters cast the veil of silence. Bethink thee, mother, carefully; didst thou make the fatal slip, that maidens will, as touching secret amours, and then upon the god wouldst foist the blame, in thy anxiety to escape the shame of my birth asserting that Phoebus is my sire, albeit the god was not the parent.

CREUSA Nay, by our queen of Victory, Athena, that fought by Zeus, in days gone by, high on his car against the earth-born giants I swear, no mortal is thy father, my son, but King Loxias himself who brought thee up.

ION How then is it he gave his own child to another father, declaring that I was begotten of Xuthus?

CREUSA Begotten he never said, but as a gift he doth bestow thee his own son on him; for friend might give to friend even his own son to rule his house.

ION Mother mine, this thought disturbs my breast, as well it may, whether the god speaks truth or gives an idle oracle.

CREUSA Hear, then, my son, the thought that hath occurred to me; Loxias out of kindness is establishing thee in a noble family, for hadst thou been called the god’s son, thou hadst never inherited a father’s home and name. How couldst thou, when I strove to hide my marriage with him and would have slain thee privily? But he for thy interest is handing thee over to another father.

ION Not thus lightly do I pursue the inquiry; nay, I will enter Apollo’s shrine and question him whether I am the child of a mortal sire or his own son. Ha! who is that hovering o’er the incense-smoking roof, and showing to our gaze a heavenly face, bright as the sun? Let us fly, mother, that we see not sights divine, unless haply it is right we should.

ATHENA Fly not! I am no foe ye seek to shun, but alike in Athens and this place your kindly friend. ’Tis I, Pallas, after whom your land is named, that am here, by Apollo sent in headlong haste; for he thought not fit to appear before you twain, lest his coming might provoke reproaches for the past; but me he sends to proclaim to you his words, how that this is thy mother, and Apollo thy sire; while thyself he doth bestow, as seems him good, not indeed on him that begat thee, nay, but that he may bring thee to a house of high repute. For when this matter was brought to light, he devised a way of deliverance, fearing that thou wouldst be slain by thy mother’s wiles and she by thine. Now it was King Apollo’s wish to keep this matter secret awhile, and then in Athens to acknowledge this lady as thy mother and thyself as the child of her and Phoebus. But to end the business and discharge his oracles for the god, I bid you hearken; for such was my purpose in yoking my chariot-steeds. Do thou, Creusa, take this stripling and to Cecrops’ land set forth; and there upon the monarch’s throne establish him, for from Erechtheus’ stock is he sprung, and therefore hath a right to rule that land of mine. Through Hellas shall his fame extend; for his children,—four branches springing from one root,—shall give their names to the land and to the tribes of folk therein that dwell upon the rock I love. Teleona shall be the first; and next in order shall come the Hopletes and Argades; and then the Aegicores, called after my aegis, shall form one tribe. And their children again shall in the time appointed found an island home amid the Cyclades and on the sea-coast, thereby strengthening my country; for they shall dwell upon the shores of two continents, of Europe and of Asia, on either side the strait; and in honour of Ion’s name shall they be called Ionians and win them high renown. From Xuthus too and thee I see a common stock arise; Dorus, whence the famous Dorian state will spring; and after him Achaeus in the land of Pelops; he shall lord it o’er the seaboard nigh to Rhium, and his folk, that bear his name, shall win the proud distinction of their leader’s title. Thus in all hath Apollo rightly done; first did he deliver thee of thy babe without sickness, so that thy friends knew naught; and after thou didst bear this child and in swaddling-clothes hadst laid him, he bade Hermes carry him in his arms hither, and did rear him, suffering him not to die. Now therefore hold thy peace as to this thy child’s real parentage, that Xuthus may delight in his fond fancy, and thou, lady, continue to enjoy thy blessing. So fare ye well! for to you I bring tidings of a happier fate after this respite from affliction.

ION O Pallas, daughter of almighty Zeus, in full assurance will we accept thy words; for I am convinced of my parentage from Loxias and this lady; which even before was not incredible.

CREUSA To what I say give ear. My former blame of Phoebus now is turned to praise, because he now restores to me the babe whom erst he slighted. Now are these portals fair unto mine eyes and this oracle of the god, though before I hated them. With joy now I even cling to the knocker on the door and salute the gates.

ATHENA I commend thee for thy sudden change, and thy fair words about the god. ’Tis ever thus; Heaven’s justice may tarry awhile, yet comes it at the last in no wise weakened.

CREUSA My son, let us set out for home.

ATHENA Go; I will follow.

ION A guide we well may prize.

CREUSA Aye, and one that holds our city dear.

ATHENA Go, sit thee down upon the throne of thy ancestors.

ION ’Tis my heritage and I value it.

CHORUS All hail, Apollo, son of Zeus and Latona! ’Tis only right that he, whose house is sore beset with trouble, should reverence God and keep good heart; for at the last the righteous find their just reward, but the wicked, as their nature is, will never prosper.

HELEN (Translated by E. P. Coleridge, 1891)

[Scene.— Tomb of Proteus in the island of Pharos.]

HELEN These are the lovely pure streams of the Nile, which waters the plain and lands of Egypt, fed by white melting snow instead of rain from heaven. Proteus was king of this land when he was alive, living on the island of Pharos and lord of Egypt; and he married one of the daughters of the sea, Psamathe, after she left Aiakos’ bed. She bore two children in his palace here: a son Theoklymenos, because he spent his life in reverence of the gods, and a noble daughter, her mother’s pride, called Eido in her infancy. But when she came to youth, the season of marriage, she was called Theonoe; for she knew whatever the gods design, both present and to come, having received this honor from her grandfather Nereus. My own fatherland, Sparta, is not without fame, and my father is Tyndareus; but there is indeed a story that Zeus flew to my mother Leda, taking the form of a bird, a swan, which accomplished the deceitful union, fleeing the pursuit of an eagle, if this story is true. My name is Helen; I will tell the evils I have suffered. For the sake of beauty, three goddesses came to a deep valley on Mount Ida, to Paris: Hera and Kypris, and the virgin daughter of Zeus, wishing to have the judgment of their loveliness decided. Kypris offered my beauty, if misfortune is beautiful, for Paris to marry, and so she won. Paris, the shepherd of Ida, left his ox-stalls and came to Sparta, to have me in marriage. But Hera, indignant at not defeating the goddesses, made an airy nothing of my marriage with Paris; she gave to the son of king Priam not me, but an image, alive and breathing, that she fashioned out of the sky and made to look like me; and he thinks he has me—an idle fancy, for he doesn’t have me. And in turn the plans of Zeus added further troubles to these; for he brought a war upon the land of the Hellenes and the unhappy Phrygians, so that he might lighten mother earth of her crowded mass of mortals, and bring fame to the bravest man of Hellas. So I was set up as the Hellenes’ spear-prize, to test the courage of the Trojans; or rather not me, but my name. Hermes caught me up in the folds of the air and hid me in a cloud—for Zeus was not neglectful of me—and he set me down here in the house of Proteus, having selected the most self-controlled of all mankind, so that I might keep my bed pure for Menelaos. And so I am here, while my wretched husband has gathered an army and gone over to the towers of Ilion to hunt down and recover me. And many lives have been lost for my sake by the streams of Skamandros; and I who have endured all this am accursed, and have in appearance betrayed my husband and brought a great war to the Hellenes. Why then am I still alive? I heard the god Hermes declare that I would yet live in the glorious country of Sparta, with my husband—for Hermes knew I never went to Ilion—so that I would not go to bed with another man. Well, as long as Proteus saw this light of the sun, I was safe from marriage; but now that he is hidden in the dark earth, the dead man’s son hunts after a marriage with me. But I, out of regard to my husband of long ago, am throwing myself down as a suppliant before this tomb of Proteus, for him to keep my bed safe for my husband, so that, if I bear a name infamous throughout Hellas, at least my body may not incur disgrace here.

TEUCER Who holds power over this fortified house? The dwelling is worthy of comparison with Ploutos’, its royal enclosures and towering buildings. Ah! Oh gods, what sight is here? I see the hateful deadly likeness of the woman who ruined me and all the Achaeans. May the gods spurn you, so much do you look like Helen! If I were not in a foreign land, you would have died by this well-aimed arrow as a reward for your likeness to the daughter of Zeus.

HELEN What is it, poor man—who are you, that you have turned away from me and loathe me for the misfortunes of that one?

TEUCER I was wrong; I gave way to my anger more than I should, for all Hellas hates that daughter of Zeus. Forgive me for what I said, lady.

HELEN Who are you? Where have you come from, to visit this land?

TEUCER I am one of those unfortunate Achaeans, lady.

HELEN Then it is no wonder that you loathe Helen. But who are you and where do you come from? Whose son should I call you?

TEUCER My name is Teucer, my father is Telamon, and Salamis is the land that nurtured me.

HELEN Then why are you visiting these lands of the Nile?

TEUCER I am an exile, driven out of my native land.

HELEN You must be unhappy! Who banished you from your fatherland?

TEUCER My father Telamon. Could you find anyone closer to me?

HELEN But why? This matter is surely an unfortunate one.

TEUCER The death of my brother Aias at Troy was my ruin.

HELEN How so? You didn’t take his life with your sword, did you?

TEUCER He threw himself on his own sword and died.

HELEN Was he mad? For what sensible man would dare such a thing?

TEUCER Do you know a certain Achilleus, the son of Peleus?

HELEN Yes; he came to woo Helen once, so I hear.

TEUCER When he died, he left a contest for his armor to his allies.

HELEN Well, if he did, what harm is this to Aias?

TEUCER When someone else got the arms, he took his own life.

HELEN Then are you ill through his suffering?

TEUCER Yes, because I did not die together with him.

HELEN So you went to the famous city of Ilion, stranger?

TEUCER Yes, and by helping to sack it, I destroyed myself as well.

HELEN Has it already been set alight and completely consumed by fire?

TEUCER So that not even a trace of the walls is evident.

HELEN O miserable Helen! Because of you, the Phrygians have been destroyed.

TEUCER And also the Achaeans; great evils have been committed.

HELEN How long is it since the city was sacked?

TEUCER Almost seven years have gone full circle, with their harvests.

HELEN And how much longer were you waiting at Troy?

TEUCER For many months; the moon held its course through ten years.

HELEN And did you capture the Spartan woman?

TEUCER Menelaos caught her by the hair to drag her away.

HELEN Did you yourself see the wretched creature? Or do you speak from hearsay?

TEUCER I saw her with my own eyes, just as I see you, no less.

HELEN Consider whether you had some fancy, sent by the gods.

TEUCER Think of some other topic, not that woman still!

HELEN Are you so sure this fancy was reliable?

TEUCER I saw it with my own eyes; and the mind has sight.

HELEN Is Menelaos already at home with his wife?

TEUCER No; he is neither in Argos nor by the streams of the Eurotas.

HELEN Alas! This is evil news for those to whom you bring it.

TEUCER He is said to have disappeared with his wife.

HELEN Wasn’t there the same passage for all the Argives?

TEUCER Yes; but a tempest scattered them in every direction.

HELEN On which surface of the salty ocean?

TEUCER While they were crossing the Aegean in mid-channel.

HELEN And from that time does no one know of Menelaos’ arrival?

TEUCER No one; but throughout Hellas he is reported to be dead.

HELEN I am wholly lost. Is the daughter of Thestius alive?

TEUCER You speak of Leda? She is dead and gone, indeed.

HELEN It wasn’t Helen’s disgraceful fame that killed her, surely?

TEUCER Yes, they say she tied a noose around her noble neck.

HELEN Are the sons of Tyndareus still alive or not?

TEUCER They are dead, and not dead: it is a double story.

HELEN Which report is the stronger? I am so unhappy at these evils!

TEUCER Men say that they are gods in the likeness of stars.

HELEN That is good news; but what is the other story?

TEUCER That they killed themselves because of their sister. But enough of such talk! I do not need to grieve twice. As to why I came to this royal palace, wanting to see the prophetess Theonoe, you be my patron, so I might obtain an oracle: how I should steer a favorable course to the island of Cyprus, where Apollo has declared I am to live, giving it the island name of Salamis in honor of that fatherland over there.

HELEN The voyage itself will explain that, stranger; leave this land and escape, before the son of Proteus, the ruler of this land, catches sight of you; now he is away with his trusty hounds tracking his savage quarry to the death; for he kills every visitor from Hellas that he catches. Do not seek to learn his reason, and I will not say; for how could I help you?

TEUCER Lady, you have spoken well. May the gods grant you a return for your kindness! Although you have a body like Helen’s, your heart is not like hers, but very different. May she die miserably, and never reach the streams of Eurotas! But may you always have good fortune, lady.

[Exit Teucer.]

HELEN Oh, as I begin the great lament of my great distress, what mourning shall I strive to utter? or what Muse shall I approach with tears or songs of death or woe? Alas!

HELEN Winged maidens, virgin daughters of Earth, the Sirens, may you come to my mourning with Libyan flute or pipe or lyre, tears to match my plaintive woes; grief for grief and mournful chant for chant, may Persephone send choirs of death in harmony with my lamentation, so that she may receive as thanks from me, in addition to my tears, a paean for the departed dead beneath her gloomy roof.

CHORUS Beside the deep-blue water and on the tangled grass, I happened to be drying purple robes in the sun’s golden blaze near the young reed shoots; from my mistress, from where she cried aloud her misery, I heard a sound, a mournful song not fit for the lyre, because she was then shrieking, lamenting with her wails; just as a Naiad nymph, who sends a song of woe ringing over the hills, cries out, under the rocky hollows, with screams at the rape of Pan.

HELEN Oh! Oh! Maidens of Hellas, the prey of barbarian sailors! An Achaean sailor came, he came bringing tears upon tears to me. Ilion has been destroyed and is left to the enemy’s fire through me, the death-giver, through my name, full of suffering. Leda sought death by hanging, in anguish over my disgrace. My husband, after much wandering in the sea, has died and is gone; and Castor and his brother, twin glory of their native land, have vanished, vanished, leaving the plains that shook to their galloping horses, and the schools of reed-fringed Eurotas, scene of youthful labors.

CHORUS Alas, alas! for your mournful fate and destiny, lady! You were fated, fated to have a life full of pain, when Zeus begot you on your mother, shining through the air on the wings of a snow-white swan. What evil is not yours? What life have you not endured? Your mother is dead; the twin beloved sons of Zeus do not enjoy happiness; and you do not see your fatherland, while through the cities a rumor goes, mistress, which hands you over to the bed of a barbarian; your husband has lost his life in the salty waves, and never again will you bring glee to your father’s halls and Athene of the Bronze House.

HELEN Ah! Who was it, either from Phrygia or from Hellas, who cut the pine that brought tears to Ilion? From this wood the son of Priam built his deadly ship, and sailed by barbarian oars to my home, to that most ill-fated beauty, to win me as his wife; and with him sailed deceitful and murderous Kypris, bearing death for the Danaans. Oh, unhappy in my misfortune! But Hera, the holy beloved of Zeus on her golden throne, sent the swift-footed son of Maia. I was gathering fresh rose leaves in the folds of my robe, so that I might go to the goddess of the Bronze House; he carried me off through the air to this luckless land, and made me an object of miserable strife, of strife between Hellas and the sons of Priam. And my name beside the streams of Simois bears a false rumor.

CHORUS LEADER You have sorrows, I know; but it is best to bear as lightly as we can the necessary evils of life.

HELEN Dear friends, to what a fate am I yoked? Did my mother bear me as a wonder to mankind? For no other woman, Hellene or barbarian, gives birth to a white vessel of chicks, in which they say Leda bore me to Zeus. My life and all I do is a wonder, partly because of Hera, and partly my beauty is to blame. If only I could be rubbed out like a painting, and have again in turn a plainer form instead of beauty, and the Hellenes would have forgotten the evil fate that I now have, and would remember what part of my life is not evil, as they now remember what is. When someone looks to one event only, and is ill-treated by the gods, it is hard, but all the same it can be borne. But I am involved in countless troubles. First, although I never acted wrongly, my good name is gone. And this trouble is stronger than the reality, if someone incurs blame for wrongs that are not his own. Next, the gods have removed me from my native country to barbarian habits, and bereft of friends I have become a slave although I am free by birth; for among barbarians all are slaves except one. And the only anchor of my fortunes is gone, the hope that my husband would come one day and free me of my woes—he is dead, he no longer exists. My mother is dead, and I am called her murderer—unjustly, but that injustice is mine to bear; while the one who was born the glory of the house, my daughter, is growing gray as a virgin, without a husband; and those two Dioskouroi, called the sons of Zeus, are no more. But with all my misfortunes, I am as good as dead in my circumstances, though not in fact. And this is the last evil of all: if ever I should come home, I would be shut out by barred doors, for people would think I was that Helen of Troy, coming back with Menelaos. If my husband were still alive, we could have recognized each other by recourse to tokens which are evident to us alone. But now this is not so, and he can never be saved. Why then do I still live? What fortune do I have left? Shall I choose marriage in exchange for evils, and live with a barbarian man, seated at his sumptuous table? But whenever a husband she hates lives with a woman, her own body is also hateful to her. It is best to die; how could this not be well done? To hang oneself, high in the air, is unseemly, even slaves consider it undignified; but to stab oneself is noble and good, and the moment of rending life from the body is short. For I have come to such a depth of misery; other women have good fortune from their beauty, but the same thing has destroyed me.

CHORUS LEADER Helen, do not suppose that stranger who came here, whoever he was, has spoken the whole truth.

HELEN And yet he said very clearly that my husband was dead.

CHORUS LEADER Many words might be said in falsehood also.

HELEN And the opposite of falsehood is clear in its truth.

CHORUS LEADER You are carried towards misfortune instead of what is good.

HELEN Yes, for terror has embraced me and leads me to the thing I fear.

CHORUS LEADER How much goodwill is there in this house for you?

HELEN All are my friends, except the one who hunts me in marriage.

CHORUS LEADER Then do you know what you should do? Leave your seat at the monument—

HELEN What sort of word of advice are you coming to?

CHORUS LEADER Go inside and question the daughter of the sea-nymph, Theonoe, who knows all things, about your husband, whether he is still alive, or has left the light of day; and when you know for certain, rejoice or be full of mourning, according to your fortune. Before you know anything correctly, what good would it do you to grieve? But be persuaded by me; leave this tomb and join the girl; when you have someone in this house from whom you can learn the whole truth, why do you look further? And I myself want to go in and ask about the prophecies of the maiden with you; for, truly, women ought to help each other.

HELEN Dear friends, I welcome your advice. Come in, come into the house, to learn within about my struggles.

CHORUS You are calling on one who is wholly willing.

HELEN Oh, what an unhappy day! What tearful word shall I hear, unhappy as I am?

CHORUS Do not be a prophetess of sorrow, dear friend, anticipating lamentation.

HELEN What has my poor husband suffered? Does he see the light and the sun’s chariot and the paths of the stars? Or does he have a lasting fate among the dead beneath the earth?

CHORUS Take a brighter view of the future, whatever will happen.

HELEN For I call on you, I swear to you, Eurotas green with watery reeds, if this rumor of my husband’s death is true—and what was obscure in those words?—I will stretch a deadly noose about my neck, or drive inward a murderous thrust of slaughter that gushes from the throat, a contest of the blade through my flesh, as a sacrifice to the three goddesses and to the son of Priam, who once sat on the hollows of Ida, near the ox-stalls.

CHORUS May sorrow be turned aside elsewhere, and may your lot be fortunate!

HELEN Oh, unhappy Troy! Through deeds not done by yourself, you are ruined, and have suffered pitiably; for the gift that Kypris gave me has caused much blood and many tears; it has added grief to grief and tear to tear, sorrows. . . . Mothers have lost their children and virgin sisters of the slain have cut off their hair by the swollen tide of Phrygian Skamandros. And Hellas has cried aloud, aloud, and broken forth in wailing, beating her head, and drenching her soft-skinned cheek with the bloody strokes of her nails. O maiden Kallisto, blessed once in Arcadia, who climbed into the bed of Zeus on four paws, how much happier was your lot than my mother’s, you who in the form of a shaggy-limbed beast—the bearing of a lioness with your fierce eye—changed your burden of sorrow; and also the one whom Artemis once drove from her chorus, as a deer with horns of gold, the Titan girl, daughter of Merops, because of her loveliness; but the beauty of my body has destroyed the Dardanian towers, it has destroyed them and the lost Achaeans.

[Exit Helen.]

MENELAOS O Pelops, who once held that chariot-race contest with Oinomaos over Pisa, if only, when you were persuaded to make a banquet for the gods, you had left your life then, inside the gods, before you ever begot my father, Atreus, to whom were born, from his marriage with Airope, Agamemnon and myself, Menelaos, a famous pair; for I believe that I carried a mighty army—and I say this not in boast—in ships to Troy, no tyrant commanding any troops by force, but leading the young men of Hellas by voluntary consent. And some of these can be counted no longer alive, others as having a joyful escape from the sea, bringing home again names thought to be of the dead. But I wander miserably over the swelling waves of the gray ocean, ever since I sacked the towers of Ilion; and although I long to come home, I am not thought worthy by the gods to achieve this. I have sailed to Libya’s deserts and all its inhospitable landing-places; and whenever I draw near my native land, the blast drives me back again, and no favoring wind has ever entered my sails to let me come home. And now I am cast up on this shore, a miserable shipwrecked sailor who has lost his friends; and my ship is broken into many pieces against the rocks. But out of its cleverly-wrought fastenings the keel was left, on which I made my difficult escape by an unexpected chance, and also Helen with me, whom I dragged away from Troy. But I do not know the name of this country and its people; for I was embarrassed to burst into a crowd and make inquiries, and so I concealed these shabby clothes, in shame over my misfortune. For whenever a man of high degree is badly off, he falls into an unaccustomed state which is worse than that of one who has long been unfortunate. But poverty is wearing me away; for I have neither food, nor clothes around my body; one can compare what I am wearing to rags cast out of the ship. The sea snatched away all the robes I once wore, splendid clothes and ornaments. Deep in a cave I hid the woman who caused all my troubles, and have come here, after compelling those of my friends who survived to guard my wife. I have come alone, seeking help for those friends there, if I may find it somehow after careful search. When I saw this home, surrounded by walls, and the majestic gateways of some prosperous man, I came near; sailors can hope to get something from wealthy homes; but from those who have no livelihood—they could not help us, even if they wanted to. Hello! Is there some gatekeeper who might come from the house and announce my troubles within?

OLD WOMAN Who’s at the door? Get away from the house and don’t annoy my master by standing at the court-yard gate! Or else you will die because you are a Hellene, and they have no business here.

MENELAOS My good woman, you can say these same words in a different tone, for I shall be persuaded; but let go your angry speech.

OLD WOMAN Go away! Stranger, my orders are to let no Hellene come near this house.

MENELAOS Ah! Do not push me, or thrust me away by force.

OLD WOMAN You are to blame, for not heeding what I say.

MENELAOS Announce to your master inside—

OLD WOMAN I think someone would be sorry, if I announced your words.

MENELAOS I come as a shipwrecked man and a guest; such people are safe from violence.

OLD WOMAN Well, go to some other house instead of this one.

MENELAOS No; I am going inside. You listen to me.

OLD WOMAN Know that you’re only causing trouble; and soon you’ll be thrown out by force.

MENELAOS Alas! Where are those glorious armies of mine?

OLD WOMAN Perhaps you were grand somewhere, but not here.

MENELAOS O my fortune, how we have been unworthily dishonored.

OLD WOMAN Why are your eyes wet with tears? To whom are you lamenting?

MENELAOS To my fortunes, which were happy before this.

OLD WOMAN Well then, why don’t you go away and give these tears to your friends.

MENELAOS What is this land? Whose palace is this?

OLD WOMAN Proteus lives here, the land is Egypt.

MENELAOS Egypt? O wretched, that I have sailed here!

OLD WOMAN And why do you blame the bright gleam of the Nile?

MENELAOS I do not blame it; I am sighing for my fate.

OLD WOMAN Many people are doing badly; you are not the only one.

MENELAOS Is the king you name in the house?

OLD WOMAN This is his tomb; his son rules the land.

MENELAOS And where might he be? Abroad, or in the house?

OLD WOMAN He is not inside; he is most bitterly opposed to the Hellenes.

MENELAOS What cause does he have? I have felt the consequences of it!

OLD WOMAN Helen, the daughter of Zeus, is in this house.

MENELAOS What do you mean? What did you say? Tell me again.

OLD WOMAN The daughter of Tyndareus, who once lived in Sparta.

MENELAOS Where did she come from? What is the meaning of this?

OLD WOMAN She came here from the land of Lakedaimon.

MENELAOS When? Surely I have not been robbed of my wife from the cave?

OLD WOMAN Before the Achaeans went to Troy, stranger. But get away from the house; for something is happening within, by which the palace is thrown into confusion. You have not come at the right time; and if my master catches you, death will be your guest-gift. For I am well-disposed to Hellenes, for all that I spoke harshly to you in fear of my master.

[Exit Old woman.]

MENELAOS What can I say? For after my former troubles, this present event that I hear of is an unhappy one, if I have come here, bringing my wife who was taken from Troy, and she is kept safe in the cave, but some other woman who has the same name as my wife lives in this house. She said the woman was born the child of Zeus. Can there be a man with the name of Zeus by the banks of Nile? For there is only one in heaven. Where in the world is there a Sparta, except by the streams of Eurotas, with its lovely reeds? The name of Tyndareus is the name of one alone. Is there any land of the same name as Lakedaimon or Troy? I do not know what to say; for there are probably many things in the wide world that have the same names, both cities and women; there is nothing, then, to marvel at. Besides, I will not run away from a servant’s fears; for no man is so barbaric at heart as to refuse me food when he has heard my name. The fire of Troy is famous, and I, Menelaos, who lighted it, am well known in every land. I will wait for the master of the house; he gives me two things to look out for: if he is a cruel sort of person, I will keep myself hidden and go back to the shipwreck; but if he shows any softening, I will ask for help in my present state. This is the worst evil for me in my misery, to beg the means of life from other kings, when I am myself a king; but it is necessary. The saying is not mine, but it is a wise word: nothing is stronger than dreadful necessity.

CHORUS I have heard the prophetic maiden, who gave a clear answer within the palace: Menelaos is not yet dead and buried, gone to the land of shadows where darkness takes the place of light; but he is still wearing out his life on the ocean swell and has not yet reached the haven of his country, wretched in his wandering life, bereft of every friend, approaching every land in his sea-going ship from the land of Troy.

HELEN Here I am, once again coming back to the sanctuary of this tomb, after learning the welcome words of Theonoe, who knows all things truly; she says my husband is alive and sees the light of day; he is roaming here and there on countless voyages, not without practice in wandering, and he shall come here when he finds an end to his suffering. But she left one thing unsaid: if he will escape when he has come? And I refrained from asking that question clearly; I was so glad when she told me he was safe. She said that he was near this land somewhere, cast up, shipwrecked, with a few friends. Oh, when will you come? How much I long for your arrival! Ah! Who is this? I am not being ambushed by the plots of Proteus’ impious son, am I? Shall I not, like a young racehorse or a worshipper of Bacchus, reach the tomb? There is something wild about the looks of this man who is hunting me down.

MENELAOS You there! the one trying with fearful effort to reach the base of the tomb and the pillars of burnt sacrifice, stay where you are. Why do you flee? I am amazed and speechless at the sight of your body.

HELEN Women, I am being ill-treated. This man is keeping me from the tomb, and he wants to take me and give me to the king, whose wooing I was seeking to avoid.

MENELAOS I am no thief, nor a servant of evil men.

HELEN And yet the clothes you are wearing are unsightly enough.

MENELAOS Put fear aside and stop your rapid flight.

HELEN I do so, now that I have reached this spot.

MENELAOS Who are you? Whom do I see in you, lady?

HELEN But who are you? The same reason prompts us both.

MENELAOS I never saw a closer resemblance.

HELEN O gods! For the recognizing of friends is a god.

MENELAOS Are you a woman from Hellas, or a native of this land?

HELEN From Hellas; but I want to learn your story too.

MENELAOS You seem to me very much like Helen, lady.

HELEN And you seem to me like Menelaos; I don’t know what to say.

MENELAOS Well, you have correctly recognized a most unfortunate man.

HELEN Oh, at last you have come to the arms of your wife!

MENELAOS What do you mean by wife? Do not touch my robe.

HELEN The one whom Tyndareus, my father, gave to you.

MENELAOS O torch-bearing Hekate, send visions that are favorable!

HELEN You see in me no specter of the night, attendant on the queen of phantoms.

MENELAOS As one man, I am certainly not the husband of two women.

HELEN You are the master of what other wife?

MENELAOS The one hidden in the cave, whom I am bringing from Troy.

HELEN You have no other wife but me.

MENELAOS Can it be that I am in my right mind, but my sight is failing?

HELEN Don’t you think that when you look at me you see your wife?

MENELAOS Your body resembles hers, but the real truth robs me of this belief.

HELEN Look; what more do you need? Who knows better than you?

MENELAOS You are like her; I will not deny that at least.

HELEN Who then shall teach you, if not your own eyes?

MENELAOS It is there that I am ailing, because I have another wife.

HELEN I did not go to Troy; that was a phantom.

MENELAOS And who fashions living bodies?

HELEN The air, out of which you have a wife that the gods labored over.

MENELAOS What god’s handiwork? You are saying things beyond hope.

HELEN Hera’s, as a substitute, so that Paris would not have me.

MENELAOS How then could you be here and in Troy at the same time?

HELEN The name may be in many places, though not the body.

MENELAOS Let me go! I have come here with enough pain.

HELEN Will you leave me, and take that phantom bride away?

MENELAOS Yes, and fare well, for your likeness to Helen.

HELEN I am ruined! I found you, my husband, but I will not have you.

MENELAOS The greatness of my troubles over there convinces me; you do not.

HELEN Ah me! Who was ever more miserable than I am? Those whom I love best are leaving me, and I shall never reach the Hellenes or my own country.

MESSENGER (entering hurriedly.) Menelaos, I find you, after taking great trouble to look for you, wandering over the whole of this foreign land; I am sent by the comrades whom you left behind.

MENELAOS What is it? Surely you are not being plundered by the foreigners?

MESSENGER It is a miracle; what I say is of less account than what happened.

MENELAOS Tell me; for, judging by this eagerness, you are certainly bringing something new.

MESSENGER I say that you have suffered countless labors in vain.

MENELAOS You are mourning over old sorrows; what is your message?

MESSENGER Your wife has disappeared, taken up into the folds of the unseen air; she is hidden in heaven, and as she left the hallowed cave where we were keeping her, she said this: Miserable Phrygians, and all the Achaeans! On my account you were dying by the banks of Skamandros, through Hera’s contrivance, for you thought that Paris had Helen when he didn’t. But I, since I have stayed my appointed time, and kept the laws of fate, will now depart into the sky, my father; but the unhappy daughter of Tyndareus, guilty in no way, has borne an evil name without reason. [Catching sight of Helen] Welcome, daughter of Leda, were you here after all? I was just announcing your departure up to the hidden starry realms, not knowing that you had a winged body. I will not let you mock us like this again, for you gave your fill of trouble to your husband and his allies in Ilion.

MENELAOS This is the meaning of that; her words have turned out to be true. O longed-for day, that has given you to my arms!

HELEN O Menelaos, dearest of men, the time was long, but delight is just now ours. With joy I have found my husband, friends, I have embraced my dear one, after long days of blazing light.

MENELAOS And I have found you; but I have many questions about t; now I do not know what to begin with first.

HELEN I am so happy, the hair rises on my head and my tears run down. I fling my arms around your neck, dear husband, to have my delight.

MENELAOS O dearest sight! I have no fault to find: I have my wife, the daughter of Zeus and Leda; your brothers on their snow-white steeds blessed you, blessed you at an earlier time, while torches blazed, but the god who took you from my home is driving us on to another fortune, better than this. An evil that was good brought you together with me, your husband after a long time, but may I still benefit by my good luck.

CHORUS May you benefit indeed, and I join in the same prayer; for when there are two, it is not possible for one to be unhappy and the other not.

HELEN My dear friends, I no longer sigh or grieve over what is past. I have my husband, for whom I have been waiting to come from Troy for many years.

MENELAOS You have me, and I have you; although it was hard to live through so many days, I now understand the actions of the goddess. My joy is tearful; it has more delight than sorrow.

HELEN What can I say? What mortal could ever have hoped for this? I hold you to my heart, little as I ever thought to.

MENELAOS And I hold you, whom we thought to have gone to Ida’s city and the unhappy towers of Ilion. By the gods, how were you taken from my home?

HELEN Ah! ah! You are setting out on a bitter beginning. Ah! ah! You are asking about a bitter tale.

MENELAOS Speak; all gifts from the gods should be heard.

HELEN I detest the story I am now to introduce.

MENELAOS Tell it anyway. It is sweet to hear of troubles.

HELEN Not to the bed of the young barbarian, on the wings of oars, on the wings of desire for lawless marriage—

MENELAOS What god or fate tore you from your country?

HELEN Ah, my husband! The son of Zeus, of Zeus, brought me to the Nile.

MENELAOS Amazing! Who sent you there? O dreadful story!

HELEN I have wept bitterly, and my eyes are wet with tears; the wife of Zeus ruined me.

MENELAOS Hera? Why did she want to bring trouble to the two of us?

HELEN Alas for my terrible fate, the baths and springs, where the goddesses brightened the beauty from which the judgment came.

MENELAOS Regarding the judgment, Hera made it a cause of these troubles for you?

HELEN To take me away from Paris—

MENELAOS How? Tell me.

HELEN To whom Kypris had promised me.

MENELAOS O unhappy one!

HELEN Unhappy, unhappy; and so she brought me to Egypt.

MENELAOS Then she gave him a phantom instead, as I hear from you.

HELEN Sorrow, sorrow to your house, mother, alas.

MENELAOS What do you mean?

HELEN My mother is no more; through shame of my disgraceful marriage she tied a noose around her neck.

MENELAOS Alas! Is our daughter Hermione alive?

HELEN Ah, my husband! Unmarried, and without children, she mourns my fatal marriage.

MENELAOS O Paris, who utterly destroyed my whole house, these things ruined you also, and countless bronze-clad Danaans.

HELEN The god cast me out, ill-fated and accursed, from my country, from my city, and from you, when I left my home and bed—yet I did not leave them—for a shameful marriage.

CHORUS LEADER If indeed you should find happiness in the future, it would be a match for the past.

MESSENGER Menelaos, give me as well a share of that joy which I understand, but not clearly.

MENELAOS Come and take part in our talk, old man, you too.

MESSENGER This woman is not the arbitrator of all the trouble in Troy?

MENELAOS She is not; I was tricked by the gods and had in my arms the baneful image of a cloud.

MESSENGER What are you saying? We suffered in vain for the sake of a cloud?

MENELAOS It was the work of Hera, and the rivalry of the three goddesses.

MESSENGER And the one who is truly your wife is this woman here?

MENELAOS This is she; trust my word for that.

MESSENGER O daughter, how intricate and hard to trace out is the nature of the god! In some way that is good, he twists everything about, now up, now down; one man suffers, and one who has not suffered comes afterwards to a bad end, having no security in his current fortune. You and your husband have had your share of trouble, you in repute, he in the heat of battle. In his eagerness, while he was eager, he got nothing; but now that he has achieved the greatest good fortune, he has it without cause. You did not, after all, bring shame upon your old father or on the twin sons of Zeus, nor did you do such things as were spoken of. Now again I renew your wedding rites and remember the blazing torch I bore, running beside the four yoked horses; and you, in the chariot as a bride, were leaving your happy home with this man here. Whoever pays no reverence to his master’s affairs, rejoicing with him and grieving with his troubles, is worthless. Although I was born a servant, let me still be numbered among honest slaves; my mind is free, if not my name. For this is better than to suffer double misery as one man: to have a worthless heart and, being a slave, to owe obedience to any other.

MENELAOS Come, old man—often by my shield you have had your full share of trouble and hard work—now also have a share in my success, and go tell the friends I left behind the state of matters here, as you found them, and how my fortune stands; and bid them wait at the beach and watch eagerly for the struggle which I expect awaits me; and if we should be able somehow to steal this woman away from the land, tell them to keep good watch so that we may share the luck and escape, if we can, from the barbarians.

MESSENGER It shall be done, lord. Now indeed I see how worthless the seers’ doings are, and how full of falsehood; there was no health in the blaze of sacrifice after all, or in the cry of winged birds; even to think that birds can help mankind is certainly foolish. For Calchas gave no word or sign to the army, when he saw his friends dying on behalf of a cloud, nor did Helenos; but the city was taken by storm in vain. You might say: because the god did not want them to? Then why do we consult prophets? We ought to sacrifice to the gods and ask a blessing, but leave divination alone; for this was invented otherwise, as a bait for a livelihood, and no man grows rich by sacrifices if he is idle. But sound judgment and discernment are the best of seers. Exit Messenger.

CHORUS LEADER My views about seers coincide exactly with this old man’s; whoever has the gods as friends would have the best prophecy at home.

HELEN All right; so far all is well. But how you were saved, my poor husband, from Troy, there is no gain in knowing, yet friends have a desire to learn what their friends have suffered.

MENELAOS Truly you have asked a great deal all at once. Why should I tell you about our losses in the Aegean, and Nauplios’ beacons on Euboia, and my visits to Crete and the cities of Libya, and the mountain-peaks of Perseus? For I would not satisfy you with the tale, and by telling you these evils I would suffer still, as I did when I experienced them; and so my grief would be doubled.

HELEN Your answer is better than my question. Leave out the rest, and tell me only this: how long were you a weary wanderer over the surface of the sea?

MENELAOS Besides those ten years in Troy, I went through seven cycles of years on board ship.

HELEN Alas, poor man, you have spoken of a long time; and, saved from there, you have come here to the slaughter.

MENELAOS What do you mean? What will you say? Ah, my wife, you have ruined me.

HELEN Escape from this land and flee as quickly as possible. The man who lives in this house will kill you.

MENELAOS What have I done to deserve such a fate?

HELEN You have come unexpectedly to hinder my marriage.

MENELAOS What! Does someone plan to marry my wife?

HELEN And to act in violence against me, which I have endured.

MENELAOS Does he have private power, or is he the ruler of the country?

HELEN He is the lord of this land, the son of Proteus.

MENELAOS This is that riddle I heard from the servant.

HELEN Which one of the barbarian’s gates were you standing beside?

MENELAOS This one, from which I was being driven away like a beggar.

HELEN You were surely not begging for food, were you? How unhappy I am!

MENELAOS That was the deed, though it did not have that name.

HELEN Then you know everything, it seems, about my marriage.

MENELAOS I do. But if you have escaped his bed—that I do not know.

HELEN Know that I have saved myself untouched for you.

MENELAOS What could persuade me of this? If true, your words are sweet.

HELEN Do you see my wretched sanctuary at this tomb?

MENELAOS I see a miserable bed of straw, but what do you have to do with it?

HELEN Here, as a suppliant, I am asking for an escape from his bed.

MENELAOS For want of an altar, or because it is the barbarians’ way?

HELEN This was as good a protection to me as the temples of the gods.

MENELAOS Then it’s not possible for me to take you home by ship?

HELEN A sword is waiting for you, rather than my bed.

MENELAOS So I would be the most wretched of mortals.

Full Text (part 6)

HELEN Do not feel shame now, but escape from this land.

MENELAOS Leaving you behind? I ravaged Troy for your sake.

HELEN Yes, for that is better than that our union should cause your death.

MENELAOS Oh! these are coward’s words, unworthy of those days at Troy.

HELEN You could not kill the tyrant, your possible intention.

MENELAOS Does he then have a body that cannot be wounded by a sword?

HELEN You will hear. But to undertake impossibilities is no mark of wisdom.

MENELAOS And so I am to offer my hands to be bound, in silence?

HELEN You are in a dilemma; we need some contrivance.

MENELAOS Yes, for it is sweeter to die in action than by not acting.

HELEN There is one hope, and only one, for our safety.

MENELAOS Are we to buy it, or dare it, or win it with words?

HELEN If the tyrant were not to learn of your arrival.

MENELAOS Will any one tell him about me? He will certainly not know who I am.

HELEN He has within an ally equal to the gods.

MENELAOS A voice that has settled in the inmost parts of his house?

HELEN No, but his sister; she is called Theonoe.

MENELAOS The name is prophetic; tell me what she does.

HELEN She knows everything, and she will tell her brother that you are here.

MENELAOS We must die; for I cannot escape her notice.

HELEN Perhaps we might persuade her by supplication—

MENELAOS To do what? What hope are you leading me to?

HELEN Not to tell her brother that you are here in this land.

MENELAOS If we persuade her, could we get away from this country?

HELEN Easily, in common with her; but secretly we could not.

MENELAOS The task is yours; it is suitable for women to deal with women.

HELEN Be sure that I will clasp her knees.

MENELAOS Well, then, what if she rejects our proposals?

HELEN You will die. And I, the unhappy one, will be married by force.

MENELAOS You would be a traitor; that force of yours is all an excuse.

HELEN But I have sworn a sacred oath by your life—

MENELAOS What do you mean? To die? And never to take his bed in exchange for mine?

HELEN Yes, by the same sword; I will lie at your side.

MENELAOS Then on these conditions touch my right hand.

HELEN I touch it, swearing that I will leave the light of day if you die.

MENELAOS And I will end my life if I lose you.

HELEN How then shall we die so as to insure our reputation for this?

MENELAOS I will kill you on the tomb’s surface, and then kill myself. But first I will fight a great contest for your bed. Let anyone who wishes come near! For I will not disgrace my Trojan fame, nor, on my return to Hellas, will I receive great blame—I who robbed Thetis of Achilleus, and saw the slaughter of Aias, son of Telamon, and the son of Neleus made childless; shall I not resolve to die for my wife? Most certainly; for if the gods are wise, they lightly bury in the earth a brave man who has been killed by his enemies, while cowards they cast up out of the earth onto a harsh rock.

CHORUS LEADER O gods, may the race of Tantalos be fortunate at last, and may it be set free from evils!

HELEN Ah, I am unhappy, for so is my fate! Menelaos, we are destroyed. The prophetess Theonoe is coming out of the house; it resounds as the bolts are unfastened. Try to escape! But what is the use of trying? For whether she is absent or present she knows of your arrival here. Oh, I am lost, unfortunate! Saved from Troy and from a barbarian land, you have come only to fall upon barbarian swords.

THEONOE Please lead the way with blazing torches, and purify, according to the sacred law, the inmost corners of the air, so I may receive the pure breath of heaven; and you in turn, if someone has harmed the path by treading with unholy foot, submit it to the cleansing fire, and strike the torch in front of me, so that I may pass through. And when you have paid back to the gods my customary observance, take the household flame within. Helen, what about my prophecy—how is it? This man, your husband Menelaos, has openly arrived, robbed of his ships and of your counterfeit. O unhappy man! What troubles you have escaped to come here; nor do you know whether you are to return home or to stay here. For there will be strife among the gods, and a solemn assembly held by Zeus on your account this very day. Hera, who was hostile to you before, is now friendly and wants to bring you safely home, with this woman, so that Hellas may learn that the marriage of Paris, Kypris’ gift, was false; but Kypris wishes to ruin your journey home, so that she may not be convicted, or seem to have bought the prize of beauty by a marriage that was profitless as regards Helen. Now the decision rests with me, whether to ruin you, as Kypris wishes, by telling my brother of your presence here, or to save your life by taking Hera’s side, keeping my brother in the dark, for his orders are for me to tell him, whenever you happen to come to this land. One of you, go show my brother this man is here, so that I may secure my position.

HELEN Maiden, I fall at your knees as a suppliant, and seat myself in this sad posture on behalf of myself and of this man; I am on the point of seeing him slain, after I have found him with such difficulty. Please do not tell your brother that my husband has returned to my loving arms, but save us, I beseech you; do not forsake the piety that was once yours for your brother’s sake, buying favors that are wicked and unjust. For the god hates violence, and commands everyone to have their possessions without robbery. Wealth that is unjust, though it may bring some power, ought to be avoided. Heaven is common to all mortals, and so is the earth, where people ought to fill up their homes without having another’s property, or taking it away by force. At a critical time, but unhappily for me, Hermes gave me to your father to keep safe for my husband, this man who is here and wishes to have me back. But how could he recover me if he is dead? How could your father ever restore the living to the dead? Now examine the will of the god and of your father; would the deity and your dead father be willing to give back again their neighbor’s goods, or would they not? I think they would. It is not, therefore, right that you should attach more importance to a thoughtless brother more than a good father. If you, who are a prophet and believe in divine affairs, ruin the lawful intention of your father and gratify your lawless brother, it is disgraceful that you should have full knowledge of divine matters, both what is and what will be, and yet not know what is right. Save me, the unhappy one, enveloped in these troubles, and give me this addition to my fate; for there is no mortal who does not hate Helen; I am famous throughout Hellas as the one who betrayed my husband and lived in Phrygia’s golden halls. If I come to Hellas and set foot once more in Sparta, they will hear and see how they were ruined by the wiles of gods, while I was no traitor to my friends after all; and so they will lead me back to virtue again, and I shall betroth my daughter, whom no man now will marry; and, leaving this bitter beggar’s life here, shall enjoy the goods that are in my home. And if this man were dead and slaughtered on a funeral pyre, I would be cherishing his memory with tears far away; but shall I be robbed of him when he is now alive and safe? Ah! not that, maiden, I beseech you: grant me this favor, and imitate the character of a just father; for this is the fairest glory for children, when the child of a good father resembles its parents in character.

CHORUS LEADER The arguments here proposed are worthy of pity, and so are you. But I am anxious to hear what Menelaos will say to save his life.

MENELAOS I could not endure to fall at your knees, or wet my eyes with tears; for if I were cowardly, I would greatly dishonor Troy. And yet they say that it is fitting for a noble man to let tears fall from his eyes in misfortune. But I will not choose this honorable course, if it is honorable, in preference to bravery. But, if you think it right to save a stranger seeking justly to recover his wife, then restore her and save us in addition; if not, I would be wretched, not now for the first time but as often before, and you will seem to be an evil woman. What I consider honest and worthy of me, and what will touch your heart most closely, these things I will say at the tomb of your father, with regret for his loss. Old man, dwelling in this tomb of stone, give her back, I demand of you my wife, whom Zeus sent here for you to keep for me. I know you will never restore her to me yourself, for you are dead; but this woman here will not think it right that her father, invoked from below, once so glorious, should bear a tarnished name; for she is the one in authority now. You, too, Hades of the world below, I call as an ally; you who have received so many bodies slain by my sword for Helen’s sake, you have your payment; either restore them to life again now, or compel this woman to show herself better than her pious father, and give me back my wife. But if you will rob me of her, I will tell you what she omitted in her speech. So that you may know, maiden, I am bound by an oath, first to go into battle with your brother; he or I must die; the matter is simple. If he refuses to meet me face to face, but hunts us down, two suppliants at the tomb, by starvation, I am resolved to kill this woman, and then to plunge this two-edged sword through my heart, on the surface of the tomb, so that streams of blood may run down the grave; we will lie, two corpses side by side upon this polished slab, a deathless grief to you, and a reproach to your father. Your brother will never marry this woman, nor will any other; but I will carry her off, if not to my house, at any rate to death. Why do I say this? If I turned to women’s ways with tears, rather than being active, I would be pitied more. Kill me, if it seems good to you; you will not kill those who are without fame; but it is better to yield to what I say, so that you may act with justice, and I recover my wife.

CHORUS LEADER You must judge these arguments, maiden. Decide in such a way as to please all.

THEONOE My nature and my inclination lean towards piety; and I respect myself, and I would not defile my father’s fame, or gratify my brother at the cost of seeming infamous. There is a great temple of justice in my nature; and having this heritage from Nereus, I will try to keep it, Menelaos. Since Hera wishes to serve you, I will cast my vote on her side. May Kypris be gracious to me; but she has had nothing to do with me, and I will try to remain a virgin always. As for your reproaches against my father at this tomb, I have the same words to say. I would be doing wrong if I do not give her back; for that man, if he were alive, would have given her back for you to have, and you to her. For truly there is retribution for these things, both among the dead and among all men living. The mind of the dead does not live, yet it has eternal thought as it falls into eternal ether. So as not to give advice at length, I will be silent as to what you have entreated, and I will never aid my brother’s folly with my counsel. For I am doing him a service, though he does not think it, if I turn him from his godless life to holiness. You yourselves devise some course of action; I will stand out of your way by my silence. Begin with the gods, and beg Kypris to allow you to return to your country, and Hera that her intention to save you and your husband may remain the same. And you, my own dead father, never, as far as I have strength, shall you be called impious instead of pious. Exit Theonoe.

CHORUS LEADER No one born lawless ever prospered, but in a lawful cause there is hope of safety.

HELEN Menelaos, as far as the maiden is concerned, we are safe. For the rest, you must contribute your advice and frame a device to save ourselves.

MENELAOS Then listen; you have been in the house for a long time and are intimate with the king’s servants.

HELEN What do you mean by that? You are offering hope, as if you were really about to do something useful for both of us.

MENELAOS Could you persuade someone in charge of the wagons and horses to give us a chariot?

HELEN I might; but how will we escape, in our ignorance of the country and the barbarian land?

MENELAOS You are right; a dilemma. Well, what if I were to hide in the house and kill the king with this two-edged sword?

HELEN His sister would never be silent or allow you to intend her own brother’s death.

MENELAOS Nor indeed is there a ship in which we might safely escape; for the sea holds the one we had.

HELEN Listen to me, if even a woman can say something wise. Are you willing to be called dead in word, though you are not dead?

MENELAOS It is a bad omen; but if I profit by it, I am ready to be called dead in word, though I am not dead.

HELEN And truly I would mourn you, as women do, with hair cut short and laments before this impious man.

MENELAOS What saving remedy does this have for us two? There is a flavor of deception in your scheme.

HELEN I will beg the tyrant of this country for permission to bury you in an empty tomb, as if you had really died at sea.

MENELAOS Soppose he allows it; then how shall we escape with no ship, when we have buried my body in the empty tomb?

HELEN I will urge him to give me a vessel, from which I shall have the offerings from your tomb let down into the sea’s embrace.

MENELAOS You have spoken well, except for one thing: if he commands you to set up a tomb on the dry land, your pretext comes to nothing.

HELEN But I will say it is not the custom in Hellas to bury those who have died at sea on the dry land.

MENELAOS You are setting this right, too; then I will sail with you, and help let down the funeral offerings, in the same ship.

HELEN You must above all be at hand, with your sailors who escaped from the wreck.

MENELAOS Be sure that if I have a ship at anchor, they will be posted, man beside man, each with his sword.

HELEN You must direct everything; only let there be winds in our sails to guide us, and a speedy ship.

MENELAOS It will be so; for the deities will bring my troubles to an end. But from whom will you say that you heard I was dead?

HELEN From you; allege that you were the only one to escape death, when you were sailing with the son of Atreus, and that you saw him dead.

MENELAOS It is true that these rags thrown around my body will bear witness with me as to the shipwreck.

HELEN They have come at the right time, although then they seemed an ill-timed loss. Perhaps that misery may turn to good fortune.

MENELAOS Should I to enter the house with you, or am I to sit quietly here at this tomb?

HELEN Stay here; for if he does something harsh to you, this tomb and your sword would protect you. But I will go into the house, cut off my hair, exchange my white robe for a dark one, and tear my cheek with nails that make the flesh bloody. For the contest is a great one, and I see two turns of the scale: either I must die if I am detected in my plot, or else come home and save you as well. Lady Hera, you who lie in the bed of Zeus, grant relief from their labors to two pitiable creatures; we beg you, casting our arms straight towards heaven, where you have your home in an embroidery of stars. And you, who won the prize of beauty at the price of my marriage, Kypris, daughter of Dione, do not destroy me utterly. You have maltreated me enough before now, handing over my name, though not my body, to barbarians. Let me die, if you want to kill me, in my native land. Why are you so insatiable for mischief, practising arts of love, deceits, and treacherous schemes, and magic spells that bring bloodshed on families? If you were only moderate, in other ways you are by nature the sweetest of gods for men; I don’t deny it. Exeunt Helen and Menelaos.

CHORUS Let me call on you, beneath leafy haunts, sitting in your place of song, you, the most sweetly singing bird, tearful nightingale, oh, come, trilling through your tawny throat, to aid me in my lament, as I sing the piteous woes of Helen and the tearful fate of Trojan women under the Achaeans’ spears; when he sped over the surging plains with foreign oar, when he came, came bringing to Priam’s race from Lacedaemon you, Helen, his unhappy bride—Paris, fatally wedded, under the guidance of Aphrodite.

CHORUS Many of the Achaeans have breathed out their last amid the spears and hurling stones and have gone to unhappy Hades; their wives have cut off their hair in sorrow, and their homes are left without a bride; an Achaean man, who had only a single ship, lit a blazing beacon on sea-girt Euboia, and destroyed many of them, casting them onto the rocks of Kaphareus and the sea-shores of the Aegean, by the treacherous flame he kindled. The mountains of Malea provided no harbor, in the gusts of the storm, when Menelaos sped far away from his country, bearing on his ships a prize of the barbarian expedition, no prize but strife with the Danaans, Hera’s holy phantom.

CHORUS What is god, or what is not god, or what is in between— what mortal says he has found it by searching the farthest limit, when he sees divine affairs leaping here and there again and back, in contradictory and unexpected chances? You, Helen, are the daughter of Zeus; for a winged father begot you in Leda’s womb; and then you were proclaimed throughout Hellas, betrayer, faithless, lawless, godless. I do not know whatever certainty is among mortals, but the word of the gods I have found true.

CHORUS You are fools, who try to win a reputation for virtue through war and marshalled lines of spears, senselessly putting an end to mortal troubles; for if a bloody quarrel is to decide it, strife will never leave off in the towns of men; by it they won as their lot bed-chambers of Priam’s earth, when they could have set right by discussion the strife over you, O Helen. And now they are below in Hades’ keeping, and fire has darted onto the walls like the bolt of Zeus, and you are bringing woe on woe . . . .

THEOKLYMENOS Greetings, tomb of my father! For I buried you, Proteus, in the passageway so that I could address you; and always as I leave and enter the house, I, your son Theoklymenos, call on you, father. You servants, take the hounds and hunting nets into the palace. I have rebuked myself many times; for do we not punish evil men with death? And now I have heard that some Hellene has come openly to the land, without the guards’ notice, either as a spy or thievishly hunting after Helen; he will die if only I can catch him. Ah! But it seems I have found everything in ruins; for the daughter of Tyndareus has deserted her seat at the tomb and has been carried away from the land. Ho there! undo the bars; loose the horses from their stalls, servants, and bring out my chariot, so that the wife whom I long for may not be carried away from this land without my notice, for want of effort. Wait! for I see that the one I am pursuing is still in the house, and has not fled. You there, why have you put black robes instead of white on your body, and cut the hair from your noble head with a sword, and why do you drench your cheeks with pale tears, lamenting? Do you mourn, persuaded by dreams in the night, or have you broken your heart with grief because you heard some voice within?

HELEN My lord—for now I give you that name—I am destroyed; everything of mine is gone and I am nothing.

THEOKYLMENOS In what misfortune are you plunged? What has happened?

HELEN Menelaos—alas, how shall I say it?—is dead, my husband.

THEOKLYMENOS I do not rejoice at your words, but it is good fortune for me. How do you know? Did Theonoe tell you this?

HELEN Both she, and one who was there when he perished.

THEOKLYMENOS Someone has come who announces this for certain?

HELEN Someone has come; and may he go where I want him to go!

THEOKLYMENOS Who is it? Where is he? so that I may learn this more clearly.

HELEN That one, who is sitting crouched at this tomb.

THEOKLYMENOS Apollo! He certainly has unattractive clothing.

HELEN Alas! I think my husband is in the same situation also.

THEOKLYMENOS What is this man’s country, and where did he come from, to land here?

HELEN He is a Hellene, one of the Achaeans who saiIed with my husband.

THEOKLYMENOS What kind of death does he say Menelaos died?

HELEN The most piteous, in the watery waves at sea.

THEOKLYMENOS On what part of the barbarous ocean was he sailing?

HELEN He was cast up on the harborless rocks of Libya.

THEOKLYMENOS How did this man not perish if he was sailing with him?

HELEN There are times when common men have more luck than their betters.

THEOKLYMENOS Where did he leave the wreckage of his ship before coming here?

HELEN Where ruin may come upon it— but not on Menelaos!

THEOKLYMENOS He is already ruined. In what ship did this man come?

HELEN Sailors happened to meet him and took him up, as he says.

THEOKLYMENOS Where then is that mischievous creature that was sent to Troy in your place?

HELEN You mean the cloud image? It has gone into the air.

THEOKLYMENOS O Priam, and Trojan lands, how you have perished in vain!

HELEN I too have shared misfortunes with Priam’s race.

THEOKLYMENOS Did he leave your husband unburied, or did he hide him in the earth?

HELEN He is unburied; I am so unhappy in my troubles!

THEOKLYMENOS It is for this that you have cut your locks of golden hair?

HELEN Yes, for he is dear to me, whoever he is, being here.

THEOKLYMENOS She rightly weeps for this misfortune. . .

HELEN It is certainly easy to escape your sister’s notice!

THEOKLYMENOS No, indeed. Well, what now? Will you continue to live at this tomb?

HELEN Why do you jeer at me? Won’t you let the dead man be?

THEOKLYMENOS No, for you are loyal to your husband and avoid me.

HELEN No longer; begin my wedding now.

THEOKLYMENOS It has come after a long time, but still I commend you for it.

HELEN Do you know what you should do? Let us forget what is past.

THEOKLYMENOS On what terms? One good turn deserves another.

HELEN Let us make a truce; be reconciled to me.

THEOKLYMENOS I relinquish my quarrel with you; may it go away on wings.

HELEN Now by your knees, since you are indeed a friend—

THEOKLYMENOS What thing do you hunt after, that you stretch out a suppliant hand to me?

HELEN I wish to bury my dead husband.

THEOKLYMENOS What? Is there a tomb for the absent? Or will you bury a shadow?

HELEN It is customary among the Hellenes, whenever someone dies at sea—

THEOKLYMENOS To do what? The race of Pelops is certainly clever in such matters.

HELEN To carry out the funeral rites in empty woven robes.

THEOKLYMENOS Hold the funeral; set up the tomb wherever you wish.

HELEN We do not give burial like this to sailors who have perished.

THEOKLYMENOS How then? I know nothing of the customs in Hellas.

HELEN We take out of harbor to the sea all that is the dead man’s due.

THEOKLYMENOS Then what am I to give you for the dead man?

HELEN This man knows, but I have no experience, as I was fortunate before.

THEOKLYMENOS Stranger, you have brought welcome news.

MENELAOS Not for me, certainly, nor for the dead man.

THEOKLYMENOS How do you bury those who have died at sea?

MENELAOS Each according to his means.

THEOKLYMENOS As far as wealth goes, say what you want, for her sake.

MENELAOS There must be a blood-offering first to the dead.

THEOKLYMENOS Blood of what? Explain it to me, and I will obey.

MENELAOS You decide that yourself; whatever you give will suffice.

THEOKLYMENOS Among barbarians it is customary to sacrifice a horse or a bull.

MENELAOS If you make a gift, take care to give nothing mean.

THEOKYLEMNOS I have no lack of such in my rich herds.

MENELAOS Next, a couch empty of the body is decked and carried in procession.

THEOKLYMENOS It wall be done; what else is it customary to add?

MENELAOS Bronze arms; for war was his delight.

THEOKLYMENOS These will be worthy of the race of Pelops, and these we will give.

MENELAOS And for the rest, all the lovely offspring that the earth bears.

THEOKLYMENOS How then? In what way do you let them fall into the waves?

MENELAOS A ship must be ready, and rowers.

THEOKLYMENOS How far from the shore does the ship put out?

MENELAOS So far that the foam in her wake can scarcely be seen from the land.

THEOKLYMENOS But why? Why does Hellas observe this custom.

MENELAOS So that the waves may not wash pollution back ashore.

THEOKLYMENOS A swift Phoenician ship will be there.

MENELAOS That would be well done, and pleasing to Menelaos, too.

THEOKLYMENOS Can you not perform these rites well enough without Helen?

MENELAOS This task belongs to mother, or wife, or children.

THEOKLYMENOS According to you, the work of burying her husband belongs to her.

MENELAOS Yes indeed; piety demands that the dead be not robbed of their due.

THEOKLYMENOS Let her go; it is in my interest to foster piety in a wife. Go inside and choose adornment for the dead; I will not send you away from the land empty-handed either, since you have done her a favor. As you have brought me good news, you will receive clothing instead of going in rags, and food, so that you may reach your country, since now I see you doing very badly indeed. As for you, poor lady, do not wear yourself out in a hopeless case; Menelaos has met his doom, and your dead husband could not return to life.

MENELAOS This is your duty, young woman; you must be content with the husband at your side, and let go the one that no longer exists; for this is best for you, according to what has happened. And if I come to Hellas and find safety, I will put to an end your former bad reputation, if you are such a wife as you ought to be to your husband.

HELEN I will; my husband will never find fault with me; you yourself will be at hand to know it. Now go inside, unhappy man, and find the bath, and change your clothes. I will show my kindness to you without delay. For you will perform the due services with more kindly feeling for my dearest Menelaos, if you get from me what you ought to have. Exeunt Theoklymenos, Helen, Menelaos.

CHORUS Once with swift foot the mountain mother of the gods rushed through the wooded glen, and the river’s streams and the deep-thundering sea wave, yearning for her lost daughter, whose name may not be spoken. The loudly rattling castanets cried out a shrill sound, when they, swift-footed as whirlwinds, followed the goddess on her chariot yoked to wild creatures, after the girl that was snatched away from the circling chorus of maidens— here Artemis with her bow, and there the grim-eyed goddess, in full armor, with her spear. But Zeus, who sees clearly from his throne in heaven, brought to pass another destiny.

CHORUS When the mother ceased from her wild wandering toil, searching for the treacherous rape of her daughter, she crossed the snow-capped heights of the nymphs of Mount Ida; and in sorrow cast herself down in the rocky woods deep in snow; and, by not making fruitful with crops the barren fields of the earth for mortals, she destroyed the human race. She would not send forth the rich nourishment of leafy tendrils for the herds, and life was leaving the cities. No sacrifice was offered to the gods, and on the altars were no cakes to burn; she made the dew-fed springs of clear water cease flowing, the avenger in sorrow for her child.

CHORUS When she made an end to banquets for gods and the race of men, Zeus spoke out, appeasing the Mother’s gloomy wrath: Go, holy Graces, go and with a loud cry take from Demeter’s angry heart her grief for the maiden; and you, Muses, with song and dance. Then Kypris, fairest of the blessed gods, first took up the rumbling voice of bronze and the drum with tight-stretched skin; and the goddess smiled, and received in her hand the deep-toned flute, pleased with its loud note.

CHORUS You made burnt offerings that were neither right nor holy, in the chambers of the gods, and you have incurred the wrath of the great mother, child, by not honoring her sacrifices. Oh! Great is the power of dappled fawn-skin robes, and green ivy that crowns a sacred thyrsos, the whirling beat of the tambourine circling in the air, hair streaming wildly for the revelry of Bromios, and the night-long festivals of the goddess. . . . You gloried in your beauty alone.

HELEN My friends, all goes well for us inside; for the daughter of Proteus, who aids us in our theft, has told her brother nothing when questioned as to my husband’s coming; for my sake she said that he was not alive, but dead and buried. . . . My husband has snatched up by chance fine things indeed; for he is carrying away the armor he was intending to let fall into the sea, putting his noble arm through the shield-strap and holding a spear in his right hand, on pretence of joining in the service to the dead. He has equipped his body with weapons conveniently for the battle, in order to to set up the trophies of countless barbarians, whenever we embark on the oared ship. I adorned him with robes in place of his shipwrecked garments, and I washed him, a long-delayed bath in water from the stream. But I must be silent, for the man is coming from the house who thinks he holds my marriage ready in his hands; and I claim your goodwill and strict silence, so that, when we have saved ourselves, we may be able some day to save you also.

THEOKLYMENOS Advance in order, servants, as the stranger directed, bearing the funeral gifts for the sea. But you, Helen, if you will agree with my words, be persuaded and stay here; for you will do your husband equal service whether you are present or not. For I am afraid that some sudden passion should persuade you to throw your body into the swelling waves, stricken by love for your former husband; you are grieving for him too much, although he is lost.

HELEN O my new husband, I must honor my first marriage-bed and the one whose company I shared as a bride; for I could even die with my husband, I loved him so much. But how could he thank me, if I were to share death with him? Let me go and pay funeral rites to the dead in person. May the gods give to you the things I wish and also to this stranger here, for his assistance! And you will have in me such a wife at home as you ought to have, since you are doing a good service to Menelaos and to me; for surely these events are leading to some good fortune. But now appoint someone to give us a ship in which to carry these gifts, so that I may have your kindness in full.

THEOKLYMENOS (to an attendant.) You, go and give them a Sidonian ship of fifty oars, and rowers also.

HELEN This man who is ordering the funeral will be in command of the ship, won’t he?

THEOKLYMENOS Most certainly; my sailors must obey him.

HELEN Repeat the order, so that they may clearly understand you.

THEOKLYMENOS I repeat the order, and a third time too, if you wish it.

HELEN May you have benefit from it—and I from my plans!

THOEKLYMENOS Do not ruin your skin with too much weeping now.

HELEN This day will show my gratitude to you.

THEOKLYMENOS The state of the dead is nothingness; toil for them is vain.

HELEN There is something of what I say both there and here.

THEOKLYMENOS You will not find in me a husband at all inferior to Menelaos.

HELEN You are not at fault in any way; good luck is all I need.

THEOKLYMENOS That is in your power, if you show kindness to me.

HELEN This is not a lesson I shall have to learn now, to love my friends.

THEOKLYMENOS Would you like me to send out the equipment in person, working together with you?

HELEN Not at all! Do not become a slave to your slaves, lord.

THEOKLYMENOS Come then! I have no concern with the customs of the race of Pelops. My house is pure; for Menelaos did not die here. Let someone go and tell my chieftans to bring marriage-offerings to my house; the whole earth must ring with joyful wedding-songs in celebration of my wedding with Helen, so that it may be envied. You, stranger, go and give to the sea’s embrace these offerings to this woman’s husband, who was once alive; and then hurry back home with my wife, so that after sharing with me her marriage-feast, you may set out for home or remain here in happiness. Exit Theoklymenos.

MENELAOS O Zeus, called father and god of wisdom, look on us and alter our woes! As we drag our fortunes to the rocky hill, make haste to join with us; if you touch us with your finger-tip only, we shall reach our longed-for goal. There has been enough distress in what we have suffered before. I have invoked you, gods, with many names, good and painful; I am not bound to be unfortunate forever, but to advance in a straight course. If you grant me one favor, you will make me fortunate hereafter. Exeunt Menelaos and Helen.

CHORUS O swift Phoenician ship of Sidon, dear to the surging waves, mother of the oar, leader of the lovely dancing of dolphins, when the sea is clear of breezes and Ocean’s gray-green daughter, spirit of calm, says these words: Spread your sails to the sea-breezes, as you go on your way, grasp your oars of pine, oh! sailors, sailors, speeding Helen on her way to the shore with good harbor, where once Perseus lived..

CHORUS Perhaps you may find the daughters of Leukippos beside the swell of the river or before the temple of Pallas, when at last you join in the dances or the revels of Hyakinthos in night-long joy—Hyakinthos, whom Phoebus killed with the round discus, contesting for the farthest throw—a day of the sacrifice of oxen in the Lakonian land; the son of Zeus declared that his race would be honored; and you may find the girl whom you left at home, Hermione, for as yet no torch has lit the way to her marriage.

CHORUS Oh, that we had wings to cleave the air, where the birds of Libya go in their ranks, leaving the winter rain, obedient to the piping of their veteran leader, who raises his exultant cry as he wings his way over unmoistened and crop-bearing plains of the earth. O you winged long-necked comrades of the racing clouds, go on beneath the Pleiades in their central station and Orion of the night; deliver the message, as you settle on Eurotas’ banks, that Menelaos has sacked the city of Dardanos, and will come home.

CHORUS May you come at last, speeding over your horses’ path through the sky, sons of Tyndareus, under the whirling of the radiant stars; you who dwell in heaven, Helen’s rescuers, go over the gray-green swell and the dark gray surge of sea-waves, sending the sailors favoring breezes from Zeus; and cast away from your sister her ill-fame from marriage with a barbarian, the punishment she received from the contest on Ida; but she never went to the land of Ilion, to the towers of Phoebus.

SECOND MESSENGER (entering hurriedly.) O king, at last have I found thee in the palace; for new. . . troubles are you soon to hear from me.

THEOKLYMENOS What is it?

MESSENGER Go to work on the courtship of another woman; for Helen has left the country.

THEOKLYMENOS Carried up on wings, or treading on the earth?

MESSENGER Menelaos has taken her off as plunder, out of the land; he was the one that came with the news of his own death.

THEOKLYMENOS O dreadful story! What ship carried her off from this land? Your story is unbelievable.

MESSENGER The very one that you gave to the stranger; and he has gone with your sailors, so that you may know everything in brief.

THEOKLYMENOS How? I am eager to know; for I never expected that a single hand could excel over so many sailors, with whom you were sent.

MESSENGER When the daughter of Zeus had left this royal house and started for the sea, delicately picking her way, she most cleverly began to mourn her husband, though he was close at hand and not dead. When we reached the enclosure of your dockyards, we began to launch the Sidonian ship on her first voyage, with her fifty benches and full measure of rowers. Task gave way to task: one set up the mast, another set up the oars . . . and the rudders were lowered by their cross-bars. And during this labor, men of Hellas who had been fellow-voyagers with Menelaos were watching us, it seems, and they drew near to the beach, clad in the rags of shipwrecked men, handsome, but rough to look upon. And the son of Atreus, when he saw them approach, spoke to them, craftily introducing the reason for his mourning: Unhappy sailors, how have you arrived? From the wreckage of what Achaean ship? Are you here to help bury the dead son of Atreus, whose missing body this lady, daughter of Tyndareus, is honoring with an empty grave? They wept in a feigned manner, and went to the ship, carrying aboard the offerings to be thrown into the sea for Menelaos. We were suspicious at this, and said to each other that there would be a crowd of those additional passengers; but still we remained silent, out of respect for your orders; for by bidding the stranger command the vessel, you threw everything into confusion. Well, we easily put the other victims on the ship, for they were light; but the bull did not want to go forward along the plank, but kept bellowing loudly, rolling his eyes around; and, arching his back and peering along his horns, he prevented us from touching him. But Helen’s husband called out: O you who sacked the town of Ilion, come pick up this bull on young shoulders, as is the way in Hellas, and cast him into the prow . . . the sacrifice to the dead man. Then they came at his summons, and caught up the bull and carried him on to the deck. And Menelaos stroked the horse on neck and brow, coaxing it to go aboard. Finally, when the ship was fully loaded, Helen climbed up the ladder with elegant step, and took her seat in the middle of the rowers’ benches, and he was near by, Menelaos who was called dead. The rest, equally divided on the right and left sides of the ship, sat down, each beside his man, with swords concealed beneath their cloaks, and the waves were filled with shouting as we heard the voice of the boatswain. Now when we had put out from land, neither very far nor very near, the helmsman asked, Shall we sail yet further, stranger, or is this far enough? For the command of this ship is yours. And he answered, Far enough for me. Holding a sword in his right hand, he stepped into the prow; and, standing over the bull to slay it, with no mention of any dead man, he cut its throat and prayed: O Poseidon of the sea, who lives in the deep, and you holy daughters of Nereus, bring me and my wife safe and sound from here to Nauplia’s shore! Streams of blood, a good omen for the stranger, darted into the waves. And someone said, There is treachery in this voyage; let us sail back again! You, give an order for the right oar, you, turn your rudder. But the son of Atreus, standing where he slew the bull, cried out to his comrades, Why do you, the pick of Hellas, delay to slaughter and kill the barbarians and hurl them from the ship into the waves? And the boatswain cried the opposite command to your rowers: Some of you catch up planks at the end, break up the benches, or snatch the oars from the locks, and make the heads of these foreign enemies bloody!. They all leapt upright, some with oars in their hands, others with swords; and the ship ran with blood. Helen cheered them on from the stern: Where is the fame you won in Troy? Show it against the barbarians! In their eagerness, some would fall, some stood upright, you would have seen others lying dead. But Menelaos, in full armor, wherever he spied that his comrades were suffering, would go there, sword in hand; and so we dived from the ship, and he cleared the benches of your rowers. Then going to the helmsman he told him to sail a straight course to Hellas. So they set up the mast, and favoring breezes blew. They are gone from here. But I escaped death and let myself down by the anchor into the sea; and just as I was worn out, some fisherman took me up, and put me out on land, to bring you this report. Nothing is more useful to mankind than a prudent distrust.

CHORUS LEADER I never would have believed that Menelaos could have eluded both us and you, O king, the way he did on his arrival.

THEOKLYMENOS Caught by a woman’s tricks, unhappy that I am! My bride has escaped me. If the ship could have been pursued and overtaken, I would have made an effort to catch the strangers at once; but now I will avenge myself upon my treacherous sister, for she saw Menelaos in my house and did not tell me. Therefore she will never deceive another man by her oracles.

SERVANT You, there! Where are you rushing off to, my lord? to what bloody deed?

THEOKLYMENOS Where justice calls me. Get out of my way!

SERVANT I will not let go of your robe, for you are striving after great wickedness.

THEOKLYMENOS Will you rule over your master, although you are a slave?

SERVANT Yes, for I am in my right mind.

THEOKLYMENOS Not in my opinion, if you will not let me—

SERVANT No, I will not let you!

THEOKLYMENOS Let me kill my most wicked sister—

SERVANT No, she is most pious.

THEOKLYMENOS Who betrayed me—

SERVANT It was a noble betrayal, correctly done.

THEOKLYMENOS When she gave my bride to another.

SERVANT To the one who had a better right.

THEOKLYMENOS Who has rights over my property?

SERVANT The one who received her from her father.

THEOKLYMENOS But fortune gave her to me.

SERVANT And necessity took her away.

THEOKLYMENOS It is not for you to judge my affairs.

SERVANT Yes, if my counsel is better.

THEOKLYMENOS So I am your subject, not your ruler.

SERVANT Subject to do right, not wrong.

THEOKLYMENOS It seems you desire to be killed.

SERVANT Kill me; you will not kill your sister with my consent, but me instead; to die for their masters is the most glorious act for noble slaves.

DIOSKOUROI Restrain the anger that is wrongly carrying you away, Theoklymenos, king of this land. We, the twin sons of Zeus, are calling you; Leda once gave birth to us, with Helen, who has fled from your home. For you are angry about a marriage that is not destined for you; and your sister Theonoe, daughter of a Nereid goddess, does not wrong you when she honors the word of the gods and her father’s just commands. For it was ordained that Helen should live in your house up to the present time; but no longer, since Troy is wholly destroyed and she has provided her name to the gods; she must be united in her own marriage, and come home and live with her husband. But hold your black sword away from your sister, and believe that she is acting with discretion in this matter. Long ago, before this, we would have saved our sister, seeing that Zeus has made us gods; but we are weaker than fate and also than the gods, who decreed these things to happen in this way. This is my bidding to you, while I say to my sister: Sail on with your husband; and you shall have a favorable breeze; for we, your two savior brothers, riding over the sea, will send you to your fatherland. And when you make the last turn of the race-course and end your life, you will be named as a goddess, and share libations with the Dioskouroi, and receive gifts from men with us; for such is the will of Zeus. And the place where the son of Maia first set the boundary to your course through the air, when he took you away from Sparta, stealing your body so that Paris would not marry you—I mean the island stretched like a sentinel along the coast of Attica—shall be called by your name among men for the future, since it welcomed you when you were stolen from your home. And it is destined by the gods that the wanderer Menelaos will dwell in the islands of the blessed; for deities do not hate the well-born, but the sufferings of the multitude are greater.

THEOKLYMENOS You sons of Leda and Zeus, I will let go my former quarrel over your sister; and mine I shall no longer try to kill. Let Helen go home, if the gods think it right. Know that you are born from the same blood as a sister who is the best and also most self-controlled; may you fare well, for the sake of Helen’s most noble mind, a quality not to be found in many women.

CHORUS Many are the forms of divinities, and many things the gods bring to pass unhoped for. And what was expected has not been fulfilled; for what was not expected, a god finds a way. Such was the result of this action.

THE PHOENICIAN MAIDENS (Translated by E. P. Coleridge, 1891)

[Before the royal palace of Thebes.]

JOCASTA O Sun-god, you who cut your path in heaven’s stars, mounted on a chariot inlaid with gold and whirling out your flame with swift horses, what an unfortunate beam you shed on Thebes, the day that Cadmus left Phoenicia’s realm beside the sea and reached this land! He married at that time Harmonia, the daughter of Cypris, and begot Polydorus from whom they say Labdacus was born, and Laius from him. I am known as the daughter of Menoeceus, and Creon is my brother by the same mother. They call me Jocasta, for so my father named me, and I am married to Laius. Now when he was still childless after being married to me a long time in the palace, he went and questioned Phoebus, and asked for us both to have sons for the house. But the god said: Lord of Thebes famous for horses, do not sow a furrow of children against the will of the gods; for if you beget a son, that child will kill you, and all your house shall wade through blood. But he, yielding to pleasure in a drunken fit, begot a child on me; and afterwards, conscious of his sin and of the god’s warning, he gave the child to shepherds to expose in Hera’s meadow and the crag of Cithaeron, after piercing his ankles with iron spikes; from which Hellas named him Oedipus. But Polybus’ horsemen found him and took him home and laid him in the arms of their mistress. So she suckled the child that I had borne and persuaded her husband she was its mother. When my son had become a man, with tawny beard, either because he had guessed or learned it from another, he set out for the shrine of Phoebus, wanting to know for certain who his parents were; and so did Laius, my husband, seeking to learn if the child he had exposed was dead. And the two of them met at the branching road of Phocis. And Laius’ charioteer ordered him: Stranger, make way for the king! But he walked on without a word, in his pride. The horses with their hoofs drew blood from the tendons of his feet. Then—why need I speak of matters outside these evils?—son slew father, and taking his chariot gave it to Polybus, his foster-father. Now when the Sphinx was oppressing and ravaging our city, after my husband’s death, my brother Creon proclaimed my marriage: that he would marry me to anyone who should guess the riddle of the crafty maiden. It happened somehow that my son, Oedipus, guessed the Sphinx’s song; and so he became king of this land and received the scepter of this land as his prize. He married his mother in ignorance, luckless wretch! nor did his mother know that she was sleeping with her son. I bore my son two sons, Eteocles and the hero Polyneices, and two daughters; the one her father called Ismene; the other, which was the elder, I named Antigone. Now when Oedipus, who endured so much, learned that he was married to his mother, he inflicted a dreadful slaughter upon his eyes, making the pupils bloody with a golden brooch. But when my sons grew to bearded men, they hid their father behind bars, so that his misfortune, needing as it did much skill to hide it, might be forgotten. He is still living in the house. Afflicted by his fate, he makes the most unholy curses against his sons, praying that they may divide this house with a sharp sword. So they were afraid that the gods might fulfil his prayers if they dwell together; and they made an agreement, that Polyneices, the younger, should first leave the land in voluntary exile, while Eteocles should stay and hold the scepter, and then change places yearly. But as soon as Eteocles was seated on the bench of power, he did not leave the throne, but drove Polyneices into exile from this land. So Polyneices went to Argos and married into the family of Adrastus, and having collected a numerous force of Argives is leading them here; and he has come against these very walls of seven gates, demanding the scepter of his father and his share of the land. Now I, to end their strife, have persuaded one son to meet the other under truce, before seizing arms; and the messenger I sent tells me that he will come. O Zeus, dwelling in the bright folds of heaven, save us, and reconcile my sons! For you, if you are really wise, must not allow the same mortal to be forever wretched. Exit Jocasta.

OLD SERVANT From the roof. Antigone, famous child in your father’s house, although your mother allowed you at your entreaty to leave your maiden chamber for the topmost story of the house, to see the Argive army, wait, so that I may first investigate the path, whether there be any of the citizens visible on the road, and reproach, a slight matter to a slave like me, should come to you, my royal mistress; and when I have examined everything, I will tell you what I saw and heard from the Argives, when I carried the terms of the truce from here to Polyneices and back from him again. [After a slight pause.] No, there is no citizen near the house, so mount the ancient cedar steps, and view the plains; beside Ismenus’ streams and the fountain of Dirce see the great army of the enemy.

ANTIGONE Stretch out your hand to me from the stairs now, stretch it out, the hand of age to youth, helping me to rise.

OLD SERVANT There! clasp it, maiden; you have come at the right time; for Pelasgia’s army is just upon the move, and they are separating the companies.

ANTIGONE O Lady Hecate, child of Leto! The plain is one lightning-flash of bronze.

OLD SERVANT Ah! this is no ordinary home-coming of Polyneices, with the clash of many horses, many arms.

ANTIGONE Are the gates barred, and the brazen bolts fitted into Amphion’s walls of stone?

OLD SERVANT Never fear! All is safe within the town. But see the first one, if you want to know him.

ANTIGONE Who is that one with the white crest, who marches before the army, lightly bearing on his arm a shield all of bronze?

OLD SERVANT A captain, mistress.

ANTIGONE Who is he? Who is his family? Tell me his name, old man.

OLD SERVANT He claims to be Mycenaean; by Lerna’s streams he dwells, the lord Hippomedon.

ANTIGONE Ah, ah! How proud, how fearful to see, like an earth-born giant, with stars engraved on his shield, not resembling mortal race.

OLD SERVANT Do you see the one crossing Dirce’s stream?

ANTIGONE His armor is quite different. Who is that?

OLD SERVANT Tydeus, the son of Oeneus, Aetolian battle-spirit in his breast.

ANTIGONE Is this the one, old man, who married a sister of Polyneices’ wife? What a foreign look his armor has, half-barbarian!

OLD SERVANT Yes, my child; all Aetolians carry shields, and are most unerring marksmen with their darts.

ANTIGONE How do you know them so clearly, old man?

OLD SERVANT I saw and learned the devices on their shields before, when I went with the terms of the truce to your brother, since I looked closely at them, I know the armed men.

ANTIGONE Who is that youth passing by the tomb of Zethus, with long flowing hair, fierce to see? Is he a captain? For an armed crowd follows at his heels.

OLD SERVANT That is Parthenopaeus, Atalanta’s son.

ANTIGONE May Artemis, who rushes over the hills with his mother, lay him low with an arrow, for coming against my city to sack it!

OLD SERVANT May it be so, my child; but they have come here with justice, and my fear is that the gods will take the rightful view.

ANTIGONE Where is the one who was born of the same mother as I was, by a painful destiny? Oh! tell me, old friend, where Polyneices is.

OLD SERVANT He is standing by Adrastus, near the tomb of Niobe’s seven unwed daughters. Do you see him?

ANTIGONE I see him, yes! but not clearly; I see the outline of his form, the likeness of his breast. Would I could speed through the sky, swift as a cloud before the wind, towards my own dear brother, and throw my arms about my darling’s neck, so long, poor boy! an exile. How distinguished he is with his golden weapons, old man, flashing like the morning rays!

OLD SERVANT He will come to this house, under truce, to fill your heart with joy.

ANTIGONE Who is that, old man, on his chariot, driving white horses?

OLD SERVANT That, lady, is the prophet Amphiaraus; with him are the victims, earth’s bloodthirsty streams.

ANTIGONE Daughter of the sun with dazzling zone, O moon, you circle of golden light, how quietly, with what restraint he drives, goading first one horse, then the other! But where is the one who utters those dreadful insults against this city?

OLD SERVANT Capaneus? There he is, calculating how he may scale the towers, taking the measure of our walls up and down.

ANTIGONE O Nemesis, and roaring thunder-peals of Zeus and blazing lightning-bolts, oh! put to sleep his presumptuous boasting! This is the man who says he will give the Theban girls as captives of his spear to the women of Mycenae, to Lerna’s trident, and the waters of Amymone, dear to Poseidon, when he has them enslaved. Never, never, Lady Artemis, golden-haired child of Zeus, may I endure that slavery.

OLD SERVANT My child, go inside, and stay beneath the shelter of your maiden chamber, now that you have had your wish and seen all that you wanted; for a crowd of women is coming toward the royal palace, as confusion enters the city. Now women by nature love scandal; and if they get some slight handle for their gossip they exaggerate it, for women seem to have pleasure in saying nothing wholesome about each other. Exeunt Antigone and the old servant.

CHORUS From the Tyrian swell of the sea I came, a choice offering for Loxias from the island of Phoenicia, to be a slave to Phoebus in his halls, where he dwells under the snow-swept peaks of Parnassus; through the Ionian sea I sailed in the waves, over the unharvested plains, in the gusts of Zephyrus that ride from Sicily, sweetest music in the sky.

CHORUS Chosen from my city as beauty’s gift for Loxias, to the land of Cadmus I came, sent here to the towers of Laius, the home of my kin, the famous sons of Agenor. And I became the handmaid of Phoebus, dedicated like his statues of wrought gold. But the water of Castalia is still waiting for me to drench the maiden glory of my hair for the service of Phoebus.

CHORUS Hail, rock that lights up a double-crested flash of fire above the frenzied heights of Dionysus; and the vine, that every day lets fall the lush cluster of grapes; and the holy cavern of the serpent and the gods’ watchtower on the hills, and the sacred snow-swept mountain! Would I were free of fear and circling in the dance of the deathless god, having left Dirce for the valleys of Phoebus at the center of the world.

CHORUS But now I find the impetuous god of war has come to battle before the walls, and is kindling a murderous blaze—may he not succeed!—for this city. For a friend’s pain is shared, and if this land with its seven towers suffers any mischance, Phoenicia’s realm will share it. Ah me! our blood is one; we are all children of Io, the horned maid; these sorrows I claim as mine.

CHORUS Around the city a thick cloud of shields is kindling a shape of bloody battle, which Ares will soon learn, if he brings upon the sons of Oedipus the curse of the Furies. O Argos, city of Pelasgia! I dread your might, and also what comes from the gods; for the one who approaches his home in armor is setting out to a contest that is not without justice.

POLYNEICES The doorkeeper’s bolts admitted me readily within the walls, and so I fear that now they have caught me in their nets, they will not let me out unscathed; so I must turn my eye in every direction, here and there, to guard against treachery. Armed with this sword, I shall inspire myself with the confidence that is born of boldness. Starting. Oh! Who is that? Or is it a sound I fear? Everything seems a danger to the daring, when their feet begin to tread an enemy’s country. Still I trust my mother, and at the same time mistrust her, the one who persuaded me to come here under truce. Well, there is help at hand, for the altar’s hearth is close and the house is not deserted. Come, let me sheath my sword in its dark scabbard and ask these women standing near the house, who they are. Ladies of another land, tell me from what country do you come to the halls of Hellas?

CHORUS LEADER Phoenicia is my native land where I was born and bred; and the grandsons of Agenor sent me here as first-fruits of the spoil of war for Phoebus. But when the noble son of Oedipus was about to send me to the hallowed oracle and the altars of Loxias, the Argive army came against his city. Now tell me in return who you are, who have come to this fortress of the Theban land with its seven gates.

POLYNEICES My father was Oedipus, the son of Laius; my mother Jocasta, daughter of Menoeceus; and I am called Polyneices by the people of Thebes.

CHORUS O kinsman of Agenor’s race, my royal masters who sent me here! I fall to my knees before you, lord, honoring the custom of my home. At last you have come to your native land. Hail to you! all hail! Lady, come from the house, open wide the gates! Do you hear, you who gave birth to this man? Why do you delay to leave the sheltered hall and hold your son in your embrace?

JOCASTA Maidens, I hear your Phoenician voice, and my old feet drag their tottering steps. O my son, at last after countless days I see your face; throw your arms about your mother’s breast, stretch out to me your cheeks and the dark, curly locks of your hair, overshadowing my neck. Hail to you! all hail! scarcely here in your mother’s arms, beyond hope and expectation. What can I say to you? How in every way, by hands, by words, in the mazy delight of the dance, shall I find the pleasure of my former joy? Ah! my son, you left your father’s house desolate, when your brother’s outrage drove you away in exile. Truly you were missed alike by your friends and Thebes. And so I cut my white hair and let it fall for grief, in tears, not clad in robes of white, my son, but taking instead these dark rags. While in the house the old blind man, always possessed by his tearful longing for the pair of brothers estranged from the home, rushed to kill himself with the sword or by the noose suspended over his chamber-roof, moaning his curses on his sons; and now he hides himself in darkness, always weeping and lamenting. And you, my child, I hear you have married and are begetting children to your joy in a foreign home, and are courting a foreign alliance, a ceaseless regret to me your mother and to Laius your ancestor, ruin brought by your marriage. I was not the one who lit for you the marriage-torch, the custom in marriage for a happy mother; Ismenus had no part at your wedding in supplying the luxurious bath, and there was silence through the streets of Thebes, at the entrance of your bride. Curses on them! whether the sword or strife or your father that is to blame, or heaven’s visitation that has burst riotously upon the house of Oedipus; for on me has come all the anguish of these evils.

CHORUS LEADER Their offspring are a wonderful thing to women; all of them have some love for their children.

POLYNEICES Mother, I have come among enemies wisely or foolishly; but all men must love their native land; whoever says otherwise is pleased to say so, but his thoughts are turned elsewhere. I was so fearful and in such terror, lest my brother should kill me by treachery, that I came through the city sword in hand, looking all round. I had one advantage, the truce and your word, which brought me to to the paternal walls; and I arrived here weeping, to see after a long time my home and the altars of the gods, the training ground, scene of my childhood, and the water of Dirce, from which I was unjustly driven to live in a foreign city, a stream of tears flowing from my eyes. Now, grief upon grief, I see you with hair cut short and in black robes, alas for my sorrows! What a terrible thing, mother, is hatred between dear friends. and how hard it makes reconciliation What is my old father doing within the house, looking on darkness? What of my two sisters? Surely the unhappy ones lament my exile?

JOCASTA Some god with evil intent is destroying the race of Oedipus. So it began, my childbearing was unholy, and in an evil hour I married your father and you were born. But why repeat these horrors? What the gods send we have to bear. I am afraid to ask you what I would, for fear of stinging your heart; yet I long to.

POLYNEICES No, question me, leave out nothing; for your will, mother, is my pleasure too.

JOCASTA Well then, first I ask you what I long to have answered. What is it, to be deprived of one’s country? Is it a great evil?

POLYNEICES The greatest; harder to bear than tell.

JOCASTA What is it like? What annoys the exile?

POLYNEICES One thing most of all; he cannot speak his mind.

JOCASTA This is a slave’s lot you speak of, not to say what one thinks.

POLYNEICES The follies of the rulers must be borne.

JOCASTA That too is painful, to join in the folly of fools.

POLYNEICES Yet to gain our ends we must serve against our nature.

JOCASTA Hope, they say, is the exile’s food.

POLYNEICES Yes, hope that looks so fair; but always in the future.

JOCASTA But doesn’t time expose its emptiness?

POLYNEICES It has a certain winsome charm in misfortune.

JOCASTA Where did you get your living, before your marriage found it for you?

POLYNEICES Sometimes I would have enough for the day, and sometimes not.

JOCASTA Didn’t your father’s friends and guests assist you?

POLYNEICES Seek to be prosperous; friends are nothing in misfortune.

JOCASTA Didn’t your noble breeding lead you to the heights?

POLYNEICES Poverty is a curse; breeding did not find me food.

JOCASTA Man’s dearest treasure, it seems, is his country.

POLYNEICES You could not name how dear it is!

JOCASTA How did you come to Argos? What was your scheme?

POLYNEICES Loxias gave Adrastus an oracle.

JOCASTA What was it? What are you saying? I cannot guess.

POLYNEICES That he should marry his daughters to a boar and a lion.

JOCASTA What did you, my son, have to do with the name of beasts?

POLYNEICES I don’t know; the deity summoned me there to my destiny.

JOCASTA Yes, for the god is wise; but how did you win your wife?

POLYNEICES It was night when I reached the porch of Adrastus.

JOCASTA In search of a resting-place, because you were in exile?

POLYNEICES Yes; and then another exile came there.

JOCASTA Who was he? He too was in trouble, surely.

POLYNEICES Tydeus; they say that Oineus is his father.

JOCASTA But why did Adrastus compare you to wild beasts?

POLYNEICES Because we came to blows about our bed.

JOCASTA Was it then that the son of Talaus understood the oracle?

POLYNEICES Yes, and he gave the two of us his two daughters.

JOCASTA Are you blessed or cursed in your marriage?

POLYNEICES As yet I have no fault to find with it.

JOCASTA How did you persuade an army to follow you here?

POLYNEICES Adrastus swore an oath to his two sons-in-law, Tydeus and myself; for he is my relative by marriage that he would restore us both to our country, me first. So many Danaan and Mycenaean chiefs have joined me, doing me a bitter though needful service, for it is against my own city I am marching. Now I call the gods to witness, that it is not willingly I have raised the spear against my willing friends. But it belongs to you, mother, to dissolve this unhappy feud, and, by reconciling loving brothers, to end the trouble for me and you and the whole city. It has been said for a long time, but I will say it anyway: wealth is most valued by men, and of all things in the world it has the greatest power. This I have come to secure at the head of my great army; for a man well-born but poor is worth nothing.

CHORUS LEADER And see, Eteocles comes here to discuss the truce. It is your task, mother Jocasta, to speak such words as may reconcile your sons.

ETEOCLES Mother, I am here; I have come to do you a favor. What am I to do? Let some one begin the conference; for I stopped marshalling the citizens in pairs of companies around the walls, so that I might hear your arbitration between us, by which you persuaded me to admit this man under truce within the walls.

JOCASTA Wait; haste does not carry justice with it; but slow deliberation often attains a wise result. Restrain the fierceness of your look and panting rage; for this is not the Gorgon’s severed head but your own brother whom you see has come. You too, Polyneices, turn and face your brother; for if you look at him, you will speak and listen to him the better. I want to give you both one piece of good counsel; when a man that is angry with his friend confronts him face to face, he ought only to keep in view the object of his coming, forgetting all previous quarrels. My son Polyneices, speak first, for you have come at the head of a Danaid army, alleging wrongful treatment; may some god be the judge and reconciler of the troubles.

POLYNEICES The words of truth are naturally simple, and justice needs no subtle interpretations, for it has a fitness in itself; but the words of injustice, being sick in themselves, require clever treatment. I provided for his interests and mine in our father’s house, being anxious to escape the curse which Oedipus once uttered against us; of my own free-will I left this land, allowing him to rule the country for one full year, on condition that I should then take up the rule in turn, instead of plunging into deadly enmity with this man, doing others harm and suffering it myself, as is now the case. But he, after consenting to this and calling the gods to witness his oath, has performed none of his promises, but is still keeping the sovereignty in his own hands together with my share of our heritage. And now I am ready to take my own and dismiss the army from this land, receiving my house in turn to dwell in, and once more restore it to him for an equal period, instead of ravaging our country and bringing scaling-ladders against the towers, as I shall attempt to do if I do not get my rights. I call the gods to witness that spite of my just dealing in everything I am being unjustly robbed of my country, a most unholy act. I have made my points, mother, without stringing together words to entangle you, but urging a fair case, I think, in the judgment of the wise and the simple.

CHORUS LEADER To me, although I was not born and bred in Hellas, your words seem full of sense.

ETEOCLES If all were unanimous in their ideas of honor and wisdom, there would be no strife to make men disagree; but, as it is, fairness and equality have no existence in this world beyond the name; there is really no such thing. I will tell you this, mother, without any concealment: I would go to the rising of the stars and the sun, or beneath the earth, if I were able so to do, to win Tyranny, the greatest of the gods. Therefore, mother, I will not yield this blessing to another rather than keep it for myself; for it is cowardly to lose the greater and to win the less. Besides, I am ashamed to think that he should gain his object by coming with arms and ravaging the land; for this would be a disgrace to Thebes, if I should yield my scepter up to him for fear of Mycenaean might. He ought not to have attempted reconcilement by armed force, mother, for words accomplish everything that even the sword of an enemy might effect. Still, if on any other terms he cares to dwell here, he may; but that I shall never willingly let go. Shall I become his slave, when I can rule? Therefore come fire, come sword! Harness your horses, fill the plains with chariots, for I will not give up my tyranny to him. For if we must do wrong, to do so for tyranny is the fairest cause, but in all else piety should be our aim.

CHORUS LEADER One should not speak well on deeds that are not good; for that is not good, but bitter to justice.

JOCASTA Eteocles, my child, it is not all evil that attends old age; but experience has something to say wiser than youth. Why, my son, do you so long for Ambition, that worst of deities? Oh, do not; the goddess is unjust; many are the homes and cities once prosperous that she has entered and left, to the ruin of her worshippers; and she is the one you are mad for. It is better, my son, to honor Equality, who always joins friend to friend, city to city, allies to allies; for Equality is naturally lasting among men; but the less is always in opposition to the greater, and begins the dawn of hatred. For it is Equality that has set up for man measures and divisions of weights, and has determined numbers; night’s sightless eye, and radiant sun proceed upon their yearly course on equal terms, and neither of them is envious when it has to yield. Though both sun and night are servants for mortals, you will not be content with your fair share of your heritage and give the same to him? Then where is justice? Why do you honor to excess tyranny, a prosperous injustice, why do you think so much of it? Admiring glances are to be prized? No, that is an empty pleasure. Or do you want to have many troubles from the many riches in your house? What advantage is it? The name only; for the wise find what suffices to be enough. Mortals indeed have no possessions of their own; we hold the management of the gods’ property; and when they will, they take it back again. Prosperity is not secure, but as transient as the day. Come, suppose I put before you two alternatives, and ask you whether you wish to rule or save your city? Will you say you wish to rule? Again, if this man conquers you and his Argive warriors take the army of Cadmus, you will see this city of Thebes conquered, and you will see many captured maidens brutally dishonored by men of the enemy. Then that wealth you seek to have will become grievous to Thebes; but still ambition fills you. That I say to you; and this to you, Polyneices; Adrastus has conferred a foolish favor on you; and you too have shown little sense in coming to lay your city waste. Suppose you conquer this land—may it not happen!—tell me, by the gods, how will you set up a trophy to Zeus? How will you begin the sacrifice after your country’s conquest or inscribe the spoils at the streams of Inachus: Polyneices after giving Thebes to the flames dedicated these shields to the gods? O my son, may you never win such fame from Hellas! If, on the other hand, you are beaten and your brother’s cause prevails, how will you return to Argos, leaving countless dead behind? Some one will be sure to say: Adrastus, you made an evil betrothal; we are ruined by the marriage of one bride. You are eager for two evils, my son, the loss of those there and ruin in the midst of your efforts here. Lay aside your violence, my sons, lay it aside; two men’s follies, once they meet, result in very deadly mischief.

CHORUS LEADER O gods, avert these troubles and reconcile the sons of Oedipus!

ETEOCLES Mother, it is no longer a contest of words; the time we still delay is idle waste; your good wishes accomplish nothing; for we can never be reconciled except upon the terms already named, that I should keep the scepter and be king of this land. Cease these tedious warnings and let me be. Turning to Polyneices And as for you, get outside the walls, or die!

POLYNEICES Who will kill me? Who is so invulnerable as to plunge a murderous sword in my body without getting for himself the same fate?

ETEOCLES He is near, not far away. Do you see my hands?

POLYNEICES I see them; but wealth is cowardly, a craven too fond of life.

ETEOCLES Then did you come to battle with so many against a man worth nothing?

POLYNEICES Yes, for a steadfast general is better than a bold one.

ETEOCLES Relying on the truce, which saves your life, you turn boaster.

POLYNEICES And so do you; once more I demand back my scepter and share of the land.

ETEOCLES I admit no demand; I will live in my own house.

POLYNEICES And keep more than your share?

ETEOCLES Yes. Leave the country!

POLYNEICES O altars of my fathers’ gods—

ETEOCLES Which you are here to destroy.

POLYNEICES Hear me—

ETEOCLES Who would hear you after you have marched against your fatherland?

POLYNEICES And temples of the gods who ride on white horses—

ETEOCLES And who hate you.

POLYNEICES I am being driven from my country—

ETEOCLES Yes, for you came to destroy it.

POLYNEICES Unjustly, O gods!

ETEOCLES Call on the gods at Mycenae, not here.

POLYNEICES You have become unholy—

ETEOCLES But I have not, like you, become my country’s enemy.

POLYNEICES By driving me out without my portion.

ETEOCLES I will kill you in addition.

POLYNEICES O father, do you you hear what I am suffering?

ETEOCLES Yes, and he hears what you are doing.

POLYNEICES And you, mother?

ETEOCLES It is not lawful for you to mention your mother.

POLYNEICES O my city!

ETEOCLES Go to Argos, and invoke the waters of Lerna.

POLYNEICES I will; do not be troubled; but I thank you, mother.

ETEOCLES Go forth from the land!

POLYNEICES I will go; but let me see my father.

ETEOCLES You will not have your wish.

POLYNEICES At least then my maiden sisters.

ETEOCLES You will not ever see them either.

POLYNEICES Ah, my sisters!

ETEOCLES Why do you, their bitterest enemy, call on them?

POLYNEICES To you at least farewell, mother!

JOCASTA Indeed I am faring well, my son!

POLYNEICES I am no longer your son.

JOCASTA I was born to great sorrow.

POLYNEICES Because my brother treats me outrageously.

ETEOCLES I am treated just the same.

POLYNEICES Where will you be stationed before the towers?

ETEOCLES Why do you ask me this?

POLYNEICES I will set myself against you for your death.

ETEOCLES I too have the same desire.

JOCASTA Woe is me! what will you do, my sons?

POLYNEICES The event will show.

JOCASTA Oh, try to escape your father’s curse! Exit Jocasta.

ETEOCLES May destruction seize our whole house!

POLYNEICES Soon my sword will be busy, plunged in gore. But I call my native land and the gods to witness, with what dishonor and bitter treatment I am being driven forth, as though I were a slave, not a son of Oedipus as much as he. If anything happens to you, my city, blame him, not me; for I did not come willingly, and unwillingly I am driven from the land. And you, Phoebus, lord of highways, and my home, farewell, and my comrades, and statues of the gods, where sheep are sacrificed. For I do not know if I can ever again address you; though hope is not yet asleep, which makes me confident that with the gods’ help I shall slay him and rule this land of Thebes. Exit Polyneices.

ETEOCLES Get out of the country! It was a true name our father gave you, when, prompted by some god, he called you Polyneices, man of many quarrels. Exit Eteocles.

CHORUS Cadmus of Tyre came to this land, and at his feet a four-footed, untamed heifer threw itself down, fulfilling an oracle, where the god’s prophecy told him to make his home in the plains rich with wheat, and where the lovely waters of Dirce pour over the fields, the green and deep-seeded fields; here Bromius’ mother gave birth from her union with Zeus; Bromius, round whom the ivy twined its wreaths while he was still a baby, covering him and blessing him in the shades of its green foliage, a Bacchic dance for the maids and wives inspired in Thebes.

CHORUS There was Ares’ murderous dragon, a savage guard, watching with wandering eye the watery rivers and fresh streams. Cadmus destroyed it with a jagged stone, when he came there to draw lustral water; smiting the deadly head with a blow of his beast-slaying arm; and by the counsel of PalIas, the motherless goddess, he cast the teeth upon the deep fields to fall to the earth, from which the earth brought forth a sight fully-armed, above the surface of the soil; but grim slaughter once again united them to the earth they loved, bedewing with blood the ground that had shown them to the sunlit breath of heaven.

CHORUS And you, Epaphus, born from Io, our first mother, and child of Zeus: you I summon in foreign cry, oh! in foreign prayers: come, come to this land; your descendants settled here; and the goddesses of twofold name, Persephone and the kindly goddess Demeter the queen of all, Earth the nurse of all, won it for themselves; send to the help of this land those torch-bearing goddesses; for to gods all things are easy.

ETEOCLES [to an attendant] Go, bring Creon, son of Menoeceus, the brother of Jocasta my mother; tell him I want to consult with him on matters public and private, before we set out to battle and the arrangement of the army. But he is here, saving you the trouble; I see him on his way to my house.

CREON I have been everywhere, lord Eteocles, in my desire to see you, and have gone all round the gates and sentinels of Thebes hunting for you.

ETEOCLES And I wanted to see you, Creon; for I found the terms of peace far from satisfactory, when I came to confer with Polyneices.

CREON I hear that he has wider aims than Thebes, relying on his alliance with Adrastus and his army. But we must leave this dependent on the gods; I have come to tell you our chief obstacle.

ETEOCLES What is that? I do not understand what you say.

CREON Someone has come who was captured from the Argives.

ETEOCLES What news does he bring from there?

CREON He says the Argive army intend at once to wind about the city of Thebes and its towers, with their army.

ETEOCLES In that case the city of Cadmus must lead out its army.

CREON Where? Are you so young that your eyes do not see what they should?

ETEOCLES Across those trenches, to fight at once.

CREON Our forces are small, while theirs are plentiful.

ETEOCLES I know well they are brave in argument.

CREON Argos has some weight among the Hellenes.

ETEOCLES Never fear! I will soon fill the plain with their dead.

CREON I could wish it so; but I see great difficulties in this.

ETEOCLES I will not keep my army within the walls.

CREON And yet victory is entirely a matter of good counsel.

ETEOCLES Do you then want me to turn to some other way?

CREON Yes, to every one, before running the risk once for all.

ETEOCLES Suppose we fall on them by night from ambush?

CREON Yes, if in the event of defeat you can return safely here.

ETEOCLES Night equalizes risks, though it rather favors daring.

CREON The darkness of night is a terrible time to suffer disaster.

ETEOCLES Well, shall I attack them as they sit at dinner?

CREON That might cause them fright, but victory is what we need.

ETEOCLES Dirce’s ford is certainly deep enough to prevent their retreat.

CREON No plan so good as to keep well guarded.

ETEOCLES What if we ride out against the army of Argos?

CREON Their troops too are fenced all round with chariots.

ETEOCLES What shall I do, then? Am I to surrender the city to the enemy?

CREON No indeed! But out of your wisdom form some plan.

ETEOCLES What forethought is wiser than mine?

CREON They have seven men, I hear—

ETEOCLES What is their appointed task? their might is small.

CREON . . . To attack the seven gates.

ETEOCLES What are we to do then? I will not wait till every chance is gone.

CREON You also choose seven men to set against them at the gates.

ETEOCLES To lead our companies, or to fight single-handed?

CREON To lead; choose the very bravest ones.

ETEOCLES I understand; to repel attempts at scaling our walls.

CREON With others to share the command, for one man doesn’t see everything.

ETEOCLES Selecting them for courage or thoughtful prudence?

CREON Both; for one is nothing without the other.

ETEOCLES It shall be done; I will go to our seven towers and post captains at the gates, as you say, pitting them man for man against the enemy. To tell each one’s name is a great waste of time, when the enemy are camped beneath our very walls. But I will go, that my hands may no longer hang idle. And may I find my brother face to face, meet him in battle and kill him with my spear and kill him, for coming to waste my country! But if I suffer any misfortune, you must see to the marriage between Antigone, my sister and Haemon, your son; and now, as I take my leave, I ratify their previous betrothal. You are my mother’s brother, no need to speak at length. Take care of her as she deserves, both for your own sake and mine. As for my father, he has been guilty of folly against himself in putting out his eyes; I have small praise for him; by his curses it may be that he will slay us too. One thing we still have to do: ask Teiresias, the seer, if he has anything to say of heaven’s will. I will send your son Menoeceus, who bears your father’s name, to fetch Teiresias here, Creon; for he will readily converse with you, but I have before now so scorned his prophetic art to his face, that he has reasons to reproach me. This commandment, Creon, I lay upon the city and you: if my cause should prevail, never give Polyneices’ corpse a grave in Theban soil, and let the one who buries him die, even if it is a friend. This I say to you; and this to my servants Bring out my weapons and armor, so that I may start at once for the appointed combat, with justice to lead to victory. We will pray to Caution, the most useful goddess, to save our city. Exit Eteocles.

CHORUS O Ares, god of much suffering! Why, why are you possessed by a love of blood and death, out of harmony with the festivals of Bromius? Not for young girls crowned in the lovely dance do you toss your curls, singing to the flute’s breath a song to charm the dancers’ feet; no, with warriors clad in armor you inspire the Argive army with a lust for Theban blood, leading your revels that are held without music. Nor do you rush with wild waving of the thyrsus, clad in fawnskin, but with chariots and horses you go to the waters of Ismenus, inspiring the Argives with hatred for the Spartans, arraying in bronze armor against these stone-built walls a band of warriors and their shields. Truly Strife is a goddess to fear, who devised these troubles for the princes of this land, for the much-suffering sons of Labdacus.

CHORUS O snow-capped Cithaeron, dear to Artemis, holy vale of leaves, crowded with wild animals, would that you had never reared the one exposed to die, Oedipus, Jocasta’s child, when as a baby he was cast forth from his home, marked with a golden brooch; and would that the Sphinx, that winged maid, monster from the hills, had never come as a grief to our land with her inharmonious songs, she that once drew near our walls and snatched the sons of Cadmus away in her taloned feet to the untrodden light of heaven, sent by Hades from hell to plague the men of Thebes; once more unhappy strife is coming into bloom between the sons of Oedipus in home and city. For never can wrong be right, nor can there be good in unlawful children, their mother’s birth pangs, their father’s pollution; she came to the bed of her son. . . .

CHORUS O Earth, you once bore—as I heard, I heard the story told by foreigners once in my own home—you bore a race which sprang of the teeth of a snake with blood-red crest, that fed on beasts, to be the glory and reproach of Thebes. In days gone by the sons of heaven came to the wedding of Harmonia, and the walls and towers of Thebes rose to the sound of Amphion’s lyre, in the midst between the double streams where Dirce waters the grass-green field before Ismenus; and Io, our horned ancestress, was mother of the kings of Thebes; thus our city, through an endless succession of various blessings, has set herself upon the heights, crowned with the glory of war.

TEIRESIAS led in by his daughter. Lead on, my daughter; for you are an eye to my blind feet, as a star is to sailors; lead my steps on to level ground; then go before, so that I do not stumble, for your father has no strength; keep safe for me in your maiden hand the auguries I took when I observed omens from birds, seated in my holy prophet’s chair. Tell me, Menoeceus, son of Creon, how much further toward the city is it, to your father? For my knees grow weary, I have come a long way and can scarcely go on.

CREON Take heart, Teiresias, for you have reached your harbor and are near your friends; take him by the hand, my child; for just as every chariot has to wait for outside help to lighten it, so does the step of old age.

TEIRESIAS Enough; I have arrived; why, Creon, do you summon me so urgently?

CREON I have not forgotten that; but first collect your strength and regain your breath, shaking off the fatigue of your journey.

TEIRESIAS I am indeed worn out, for I arrived here only yesterday from the court of the Erechtheidae; they too were at war, fighting with Eumolpus. I gave the victory to Cecrops’ sons, and I received this golden crown, as you see, the first-fruits of the enemy’s spoils.

CREON I take your crown of victory as an omen. We, as you know, are exposed to the waves of war with the Danaids, and great is the struggle for Thebes. Eteocles, our king, is already gone in full armor to meet Mycenae’s champions; and he has bidden me inquire of you our best course to save the city.

TEIRESIAS For Eteocles I would have closed my lips and refrained from all response, but to you I will speak, since it is your wish to learn. This country, Creon, has been long afflicted, ever since Laius became a father against the will of the gods, begetting hapless Oedipus to be his own mother’s husband. That bloody destruction of his eyes was planned by the gods as an example to Hellas; and the sons of Oedipus went foolishly astray in wishing to throw over it the veil of time—as if they could outrun the gods! For by robbing their father of his due honor and allowing him no freedom, they exasperated the poor sufferer; so he, suffering and disgraced as well, breathed dreadful curses against them. And I, because I left nothing undone or unsaid, incurred the hatred of the sons of Oedipus. But death inflicted by each other’s hands awaits them, Creon; and the many heaps of the slain, some from Argive, some from Theban spears, shall cause bitter lamentation in the land of Thebes. Alas for you, poor city, you are being involved in their ruin, unless I can persuade one man. The best course was to prevent any child of Oedipus becoming either citizen or king in this land, on the ground that they were under a ban and would overthrow the city. But since evil has the mastery of good, there is one other means of safety; but—for it is unsafe for me to tell, and painful too for those whose fortune it is to supply their city with the saving cure—I will go away. Farewell; among the rest I will endure what is to come, if I must; for what else can I do?

CREON Stay here, old man.

TEIRESIAS Do not catch hold of me.

CREON Wait; why do you try to escape?

TEIRESIAS It is your fortune that tries to escape you, not I.

CREON Tell me what can save Thebes and her citizens.

TEIRESIAS Though you want this now, you will not want it soon.

CREON Not wish to save my country? how can that be?

TEIRESIAS Do you really wish to hear it, eagerly?

CREON Yes; for where should I show greater zeal?

TEIRESIAS Then you will presently hear my prophetic words. But first I would know for certain where Menoeceus is, who led me here.

CREON Here, not far away, but at your side.

TEIRESIAS Let him go far from my prophecies.

CREON He is my own son and will be silent as he ought.

TEIRESIAS Do you want me to tell you in his presence?

CREON Yes, for he will rejoice to hear the means of safety.

TEIRESIAS Then hear the intent of my oracle; if you observe it, you will save the city of Cadmus you must sacrifice Menoeceus, your son here, for your country, since you yourself are calling on fate.

CREON What do you mean? What is this you have said, old man?

TEIRESIAS I have said what is, and you must do it.

CREON O great evil, spoken so briefly!

TEIRESIAS Evil to you, but to your country great salvation.

CREON I did not hear; I never listened; I renounce my city!

TEIRESIAS The man is no longer himself; he is drawing back.

CREON Go in peace; it is not your prophecy I need.

TEIRESIAS Is truth dead, because you are unfortunate?

CREON By your knees and gray hair—

TEIRESIAS Why implore me? You are demanding evils that are hard to prevent.

CREON Be silent; do not tell the city your news.

TEIRESIAS You bid me to act unjustly; I cannot be silent.

CREON What will you do to me? Kill my child?

TEIRESIAS That is for others to decide; it is for me to speak.

CREON How did this curse come on me and my son?

TEIRESIAS You do right to ask me and to test what I have said. In the chamber where the earth-born dragon kept watch over Dirce’s springs, he must be offered as a sacrifice and shed his blood on the ground, a libation of Cadmus, because of the ancient wrath of Ares, who now avenges the slaughter of his earth-born snake. If you do this, you shall win Ares as an ally. If the earth receives fruit for fruit and human blood for blood, you shall find her kind to you again, who once sent up to us a crop of Sown-men with golden helmets; for one of those born from the dragon’s teeth must die. Now you are our only survivor of the Sown race, pure-blooded both on your mother’s and your father’s side, you and your sons. Haemon’s marriage holds him back from the slaughter, for he is no longer single; even if he has not consummated his marriage, yet he is betrothed. But this tender youth, consecrated to his city, might by dying rescue his country; and bitter will he make the return of Adrastus and his Argives, flinging over their eyes a black spirit of death, and he will glorify Thebes. Choose one of these two destinies: either save the city or your son. Now you have all that I had to say. Daughter, lead me home. The man who practices the prophet’s art is a fool; for if he happens to give an adverse answer, he makes himself disliked by those for whom he takes the omens; while if he pities and deceives those who are consulting him, he wrongs the gods. Phoebus should have been man’s only prophet, for he fears no one. Exit Teiresias.

Full Text (part 7)

CHORUS LEADER Creon, why are you so silent, without a word? I too am no less amazed.

CREON What can one say? It is clear what my words must be. For I will never come to such misfortune as to devote my son to death for the city; for all men love their children, and no one would give his own son to die. Let no man praise me, and kill my child at the same time. I myself, for I am in the prime of life, am ready to die to save my country. But come, my son, before the whole city learns this, fly with all haste away from this land, regardless of these prophets’ reckless warnings; for he will tell all this to our rulers and generals going to the seven gates and the captains; now if we can forestall him, you are saved, but if you are too late, we are ruined and you will die.

MENOECEUS Where can I escape? To what city? To which of our guest-friends?

CREON Where you will be furthest removed from this land.

MENOECEUS It is for you to name a place, for me to carry out your bidding.

CREON After passing Delphi—

MENOECEUS Where must I go, father?

CREON To Aetolia.

MENOECEUS And where must I go from there?

CREON To the land of Thesprotia.

MENOECEUS To Dodona’s holy threshold?

CREON You understand.

MENOECEUS What protection will I find there?

CREON The god will send you on your way.

MENOECEUS How shall I find the means?

CREON I will supply you with money.

MENOECEUS A good plan of yours, father. Go now; for I will come to your sister, Jocasta, at whose breast I was suckled when bereft of my mother, a lonely orphan, to give her greeting and then I will save my life. Come, come! be going; it isn’t your part to hinder me. Exit Creon. How cleverly, ladies, I banished my father’s fears by crafty words to gain my end; for he is trying to get me away, depriving the city of its chance and surrendering me to cowardice. Though an old man may be pardoned, yet in my case there is no pardon for betraying the country that gave me birth. Know this, I will go and save the city, and give my life up for this land. For it is shameful: those whom no oracles bind and who have not come under divine necessity, stand there, shoulder to shoulder, with no fear of death, and fight for their country before her towers; while I leave the land like a coward, a traitor to my father and brother and city; wherever I live, I shall seem base. No, by Zeus and all his stars, by Ares, god of blood, who established the Sown-men that sprung one day from earth as lords of this land! I will go, and standing on the topmost battlements, will sacrifice myself over the dragon’s deep, dark den, the spot the seer described, and will set my country free. I have spoken. Now I go to make the city a present of my life, no mean offering, to rid this kingdom of its affliction. For if each were to take and expend all the good within his power, contributing it to the common good of his country, our states would experience fewer troubles and would prosper for the future. Exit Menoeceus.

CHORUS You came, you came, O winged creature, born of earth and hellish viper, to prey upon the sons of Cadmus, full of death, full of sorrow, half a maiden, a murderous monster, with roving wings and ravening claws; you once caught up youths from the haunts of Dirce, with discordant song, and you brought, you brought a murderous grief, a deadly curse to our native land. A deadly god he was who brought all this to pass. Mourning of mothers, mourning of maidens, filled the houses with groans; a lamenting cry, a lamenting song, one after another wailed out, in turn throughout the city. The roar of the groaning was like thunder, whenever the winged maiden bore a man out of sight from the city.

CHORUS At last came Oedipus, the man of sorrow, sent from Delphi to this land of Thebes, a joy to us then, but afterwards a cause of grief; for, when he guessed the riddle triumphantly, he formed with his mother an unhallowed union, woe to him! polluting the city; and striking down his sons by his curses, he handed them over to loathsome strife, through blood, the wretched man. We admire him, we admire him, who has gone to his death in his country’s cause, leaving tears to Creon, but bringing a crown of victory to our seven fenced towers. May we be mothers in this way, may we have such fair children, dear PalIas, you who with well-aimed stone spilled the serpent’s blood, rousing Cadmus to brood upon the task, from which a demon’s curse swooped upon this land and ravaged it.

MESSENGER Ho there! Who is at the palace-gates? Open the door, summon Jocasta forth. Ho there! once again I call; in spite of this long delay, come forth; listen, noble wife of Oedipus, cease your lamentation and your tears of woe.

JOCASTA Surely you have not come, dear friend, with the sad news of Eteocles’ death, beside whose shield you have always marched, warding off from him the enemy’s darts? What tidings are you here to bring me? Is my son alive or dead? Tell me.

MESSENGER He is alive, do not fear that, so that I may rid you of your terror.

JOCASTA Well? How is it with the seven towers that wall us in?

MESSENGER They stand unshattered; the city is not plundered.

JOCASTA Have they been in jeopardy of the Argive spear?

MESSENGER Yes, on the very brink; but our Theban warriors proved stronger than Mycenae’s might.

JOCASTA One thing tell me, by the gods, if you know anything of Polyneices; for this too is my concern, if he is alive.

MESSENGER As yet your sons are living, the pair of them.

JOCASTA God bless you! How did you succeed in beating off from our gates the Argive army, when beleaguered? Tell me, so that I may go within and cheer the old blind man, since our city is still safe.

MESSENGER After Creon’s son, who gave up his life for his country, had taken his stand on the turret’s top and plunged a dark-hilted sword through his throat to save this land, your son told off seven companies with their captains to the seven gates to keep watch on the Argive warriors, and stationed cavalry to cover cavalry, and infantry to support infantry, so that assistance might be close at hand for any weak point in the walls. Then from our lofty towers we saw the Argive army with their white shields leaving Teumesus, and, when near the trench, they charged up to our Theban city at a run. In one loud burst from their ranks and from our walls rang out the battle-cry and trumpet-call. First to the Neitian gate, Parthenopaeus, son of the huntress, led a company bristling with thick rows of shields, and he had his own device in the centre of his shield: Atalanta slaying the Aetolian boar with an arrow shot from far. To the gates of Proetus came the prophet Amphiaraus, bringing the victims on a chariot; he had no boastful sign, but weapons chastely plain. Next lord Hippomedon came marching to the Ogygian gates with this device in the middle of his shield: Argus the all-seeing dappled with eyes on the watch, some open with the rising stars, others hiding when they set, as could be seen after he was slain. At the Homoloian gates Tydeus had his post, a lion’s skin with shaggy mane upon his shield, while the Titan Prometheus bore a torch in his right hand, to fire the town. Your own Polyneices led the battle against the Fountain gate; upon his shield for a device were the colts of Potniae galloping at frantic speed, revolving by some clever contrivance on pivots by the handle, so as to appear distraught. At Electra’s gate Capaneus brought up his company, bold as Ares for the battle; this device his shield bore upon its iron back: an earth-born giant carrying on his shoulders a whole city which he had wrenched from its base, a hint to us of the fate in store for Thebes. Adrastus was at the seventh gate; a hundred vipers engraved on his shield, as he bore on his left arm the hydra the boast of Argos, and serpents were carrying off in their jaws the sons of Thebes from within our very walls. Now I was able to see each of them, as I carried the watch-word along to the leaders of our companies. To begin with, we fought with bows and thonged javelins, with slings that shoot from far and crashing stones; and as we were conquering, Tydeus and your son suddenly cried aloud: You sons of Danaus, before you are torn to pieces by their attack, why delay to fall upon the gates with all your might, light-armed and cavalry and charioteers? No loitering then, soon as they heard that call; and many fell with bloody head, and many of us you could have seen thrown to the earth like tumblers before the walls, breathing their last, bedewing the dry ground with streams of blood. Then Atalanta’s son, who was not an Argive but an Arcadian, hurling himself like a hurricane at the gates, called for fire and picks to raze the town; but Periclymenus, son of the ocean-god, stayed his wild career, heaving on his head a wagon-load of stone, the coping from the battlements; and it shattered his head with yellow hair and crashed through the seams of the skull, dabbling with blood his fresh cheek; and he will never go back alive to his mother with her lovely bow, the maid of Maenalus. Your son then, seeing these gates secure, went on to the next, and I followed him. I saw Tydeus and his thick rows of targeteers hurling their Aetolian spears into the opening at the top of the turrets, so that our men fled and left the battlements; but your son rallied them once more, as a huntsman cheers his hounds, and stationed them at the towers again. And then we hastened to other gates, after stopping the affliction there. As for the madness of Capaneus, how can I describe it? He was going about with a long scaling-ladder, and boasting that even the holy fire of Zeus would not hold him back from giving the city to utter destruction. And even as he spoke, he climbed up beneath the hail of stones, crouched under the shelter of his shield, rung by smooth rung going up the ladder. But, just as he was scaling the parapet of the wall, Zeus smote him with a thunderbolt; the earth re-echoed, and fear seized everyone; for from the ladder his limbs were slung far apart, his head toward Olympus, his blood toward earth, while his legs and arms went spinning round like Ixion’s wheel he was hurled, spinnning; his burning corpse fell to the ground. But when Adrastus saw that Zeus was hostile to his army, he drew the Argive troops outside the trench. Meanwhile our armed cavalry, seeing the lucky omen of Zeus before us, were driving forth their chariots, and the armed men charged with spears into the middle of the Argives, and all troubles happened at once: men were dying, hurled headlong from chariots, wheels flew off, axles crashed together, while the dead were heaped up on the dead. So for to-day we have prevented destruction of the towers of our land; but if this land will be fortunate for the future, that rests with the gods; for even now it owes its safety to some deity.

CHORUS LEADER Victory is fair; and if the gods are growing kinder, it would be well with me.

JOCASTA The gods and fortune have treated us well; for my sons are alive and my land has escaped ruin. But Creon seems to have had bitter enjoyment from my marriage with Oedipus, by losing his son to his sorrow, a public success, a private grief. But please, come back to your tale again and say what my two sons intend to do next.

MESSENGER Let the rest be; all is well with you so far.

JOCASTA Your words rouse my suspicions; I cannot let it be.

MESSENGER Have you any further wish than your sons’ safety?

JOCASTA Yes, to hear if I shall fare well in the future.

MESSENGER Let me go; your son is left without his squire.

JOCASTA There is some evil you are hiding, veiling it in darkness.

MESSENGER I would not add ill news to the good you have heard.

JOCASTA You must, unless you take wings and fly away.

MESSENGER Ah! Why did you not let me go after my good news, instead of forcing me to disclose evil? Those two sons of yours are resolved on deeds of shameful recklessness, a single combat apart from the army; they addressed to Argives and Thebans alike words I would they had never uttered. Eteocles, taking his stand on a lofty tower, after ordering silence to be proclaimed to the army, began: and said: O captains of Hellas, chieftains of Argos here assembled, and you people of Cadmus, do not barter your lives for Polyneices or for me! For I myself excuse you from this risk, and will engage my brother in single combat; and if I slay him, I will possess my house alone, but if I am conquered I will hand down the city to him alone. You men of Argos, give up the struggle and return to your land, do not lose your lives here; there are enough of the Sown-men who lie dead. So he spoke; then your son Polyneices rushed from the battle-line and assented to his proposal. And all the Argives and the people of Cadmus shouted their approval, as though they thought it just. On these terms the armies made a truce, and in the space between them the generals took an oath to abide by. At once, the two sons of the old Oedipus were hiding themselves in bronze armor; and lords of Thebes with friendly care equipped the captain of this land, while Argive chieftains armed the other. There they stood dazzling, nor were they pale, all eagerness to hurl their lances at each other. Then their friends came to their sides first one, then another, with words of encouragement, saying: Polyneices, it rests with you to set up an image of Zeus as a trophy and crown Argos with fair renown. Others to Eteocles: Now you are fighting for your city; now, if victorious, you have the scepter in your power. So they spoke, cheering them to the battle. The seers were sacrificing sheep and noting the tongues and forks of fire, the damp reek which is a bad omen, and the tapering flame which gives decisions on two points, being both a sign of victory and defeat. But, if you have any power or subtle speech or charmed spell, go, restrain your children from this terrible combat, for great is the risk they run. The prize of the contest will be grievous sorrow for you, if to-day you are deprived of both your sons. Exit Messenger.

JOCASTA Antigone, my daughter, come out of the house; this heaven-sent crisis is no time for dances or girlish pursuits. But you and your mother must prevent two brave men, your own brothers, from plunging into death and falling by each other’s hand.

ANTIGONE Mother, what new terror are you proclaiming to your friends before the palace?

JOCASTA Daughter, your brothers’ lives are going to ruin.

ANTIGONE What do you mean?

JOCASTA They have resolved on single combat.

ANTIGONE Oh no! what do you have to say, mother?

JOCASTA No welcome news; follow me.

ANTIGONE Where, away from my maiden’s chamber?

JOCASTA To the army.

ANTIGONE I cannot face the crowd.

JOCASTA Coyness is not for you now.

ANTIGONE But what shall I do?

JOCASTA You will put an end to your brothers’ strife.

ANTIGONE How so, mother?

JOCASTA By falling at their knees with me.

ANTIGONE Lead on till we are between the armies; we must not delay.

JOCASTA Haste, my daughter, haste! For, if I can forestall the onset of my sons, I may yet live; but if they are dead, I will lie down in death with them. Exeunt Jocasta and Antigone.

CHORUS Alas, alas! My mind is trembling with fear, trembling; and through my flesh goes a throb of pity, of pity for the hapless mother. Which of her two sons will stain the other with blood— ah, for the suffering! O Zeus, O earth, alas!—a brother’s throat, a brother’s life, through his shield, through his blood? Ah me! ah me! which of them will I lament as dead?

CHORUS Ah, the earth! Ah, the earth! Twin savage beasts, two murderous souls with brandished spears will soon be draining the fallen, fallen enemy’s blood. Unhappy, that they ever thought of single combat! In foreign voice I will chant a dirge of tears and wailing, in mourning for the dead. Close to murder stands their fortune; the coming day will decide it. Fatal this slaughter, fatal, because of the Furies.

CHORUS LEADER But hark! I see Creon on his way here to the house with clouded brow, and so I will cease my present lamentations.

CREON Ah me! what shall I do? Am I to mourn with tears myself or my city, which has a cloud around it as if it went through Acheron? My son has died for his country, bringing glory to his name, but grievous woe to me. His body I have just now taken from the dragon’s rocky lair and sadly carried the self-slain victim here in my arms; and the house is filled with weeping; but now I have come for my sister Jocasta, age seeking age, that she may bathe my child’s corpse and lay it out. For those who are not dead must reverence the god below by paying honor to the dead.

CHORUS LEADER Your sister, Creon, has gone out, and her daughter Antigone went with her.

CREON Where did she go? What happened? Tell me.

CHORUS LEADER She heard that her sons were about to engage in single combat for the royal house.

CREON What do you mean? In my tenderness to my dead son, I was not able to learn this.

CHORUS LEADER It is some time, Creon, since your sister’s departure, and I expect the struggle for life and death is already decided by the sons of Oedipus.

CREON Alas! I see a sign there, the gloomy look and face of the messenger coming to tell us the whole matter.

MESSENGER Ah, woe is me! What story can I tell, what lament can I make?

CREON We are lost; your opening words have no fair appearance.

MESSENGER Ah, woe is me! I say again; for I am bringing great horrors.

CREON In addition to the other sorrowful deeds. What is your tale?

MESSENGER Your sister’s sons are now no more, Creon.

CREON [sung] Alas! you have a great tale of woe for me and the city. [spoken] O house of Oedipus, have you heard these tidings of sons slain by the same fate?

CHORUS LEADER A tale to make it weep, if it were endowed with sense.

CREON [sung] Oh! most grievous stroke of fate! :Alas for my sorrows! Oh, alas!

MESSENGER If you only know the sorrows other than those!

CREON How can they be more hard to bear than these?

MESSENGER Your sister has died, with her two sons.

CHORUS [sung] Loudly, loudly raise the wail, and with white hands strike upon your heads!

CREON Oh, wretched Jocasta! what an end to life and marriage you have found the riddling of the Sphinx! Tell me how her two sons accomplished the bloody deed, the struggle caused by the curse of Oedipus.

MESSENGER Of our successes before the towers you know, for the walls are not far away so as to prevent your learning each event as it occurred. Now when they, the young sons of the old Oedipus, had adorned themselves in their bronze armor, they went and took their stand between the armies, chieftains both and two generals for the contest and the single combat. Then Polyneices, turning his eyes towards Argos, lifted up a prayer: O Lady Hera, for I am yours, since I have married the daughter of Adrastus and dwell in your land, grant that I may slay my brother, and give my right hand, which is set against him, the victory, stained with his blood. Asking for a shameful crown, to kill his brother. And tears came to the eyes of many at their sad fate, and men looked at one another, casting their glances round. But Eteocles, looking towards the temple of Pallas with the golden shield, prayed: Daughter of Zeus, grant that this arm may launch the spear of victory against my brother’s breast and slay him who has come to sack my country. When the Tuscan trumpet, like a torch, blew the signal for the bloody battle, they darted wildly against one another; like boars whetting their savage tusks, they joined battle, their beards wet with foam. They kept shooting out their spears, but crouched beneath their shields to let the steel glance off in vain; but if either saw the other’s eye above the rim, he would aim his lance there, eager to outwit him with the point. But both kept such careful outlook through the spy-holes in their shields, that their weapons found nothing to do; while from the onlookers far more than the combatants trickled the sweat caused by terror for their friends. Eteocles, in kicking aside a stone that rolled beneath his tread, exposed a limb outside his shield, and Polyneices, seeing a chance of dealing him a blow, aimed at it, and the Argive shaft passed through his leg; the Danaid army, one and all, cried out for joy. And the wounded man, seeing Polyneices’ shoulder bare in this effort, plunged his spear with all his might into his breast, restoring gladness to the citizens of Thebes, though he broke off the spear-head. And so, at a loss for a weapon, he retreated step by step, till catching up a splintered rock he let it fly and broke the other’s spear in the middle; and now the combat was equal, for each had lost his lance. Then clutching their sword-hilts they closed, and round and round, with shields clashing, they fought a wild battle. And Eteocles introduced the crafty Thessalian trick, having some knowledge of it from his association with that country. Disengaging himself from the immediate contest, he drew back his left foot but kept his eye closely on the pit of the other’s stomach from a distance; then advancing his right foot he plunged the weapon through his navel and fixed it in his spine. Down fell Polyneices, dripping with blood, ribs and belly contracting in his agony. But the other, thinking his victory now complete, threw down his sword and began to despoil him, wholly intent on that, without a thought for himself. And this indeed tripped him up; for Polyneices, who had fallen first, was still faintly breathing, and having in his grievous fall kept his sword, he made a last effort and drove it through the heart of Eteocles. They both lie there, fallen side by side, biting the dust with their teeth, and they have not decided the mastery.

CHORUS LEADER Ah, ah, how I mourn for your sorrows, Oedipus! The god, it seems, has fulfilled those curses of yours.

MESSENGER Now hear what further woes succeeded. Just as her two sons had fallen and lay dying, their wretched mother came on the scene, her daughter with her, in great haste. When she saw their mortal wounds, she wailed: O my sons, the help I bring is too late. And throwing herself on each in turn she wept and mourned, sorrowing over all her toil in nursing them, and their sister, by her side, mourned also: Supporters of your mother’ s age, dearest brothers, leaving me forlorn, unwed! Then lord Eteocles with one deep dying gasp, hearing his mother, laid on her his clammy hand, and though he could not say a word, his moistened eye was eloquent to prove his love. And Polyneices was still breathing, and seeing his sister and his old mother he said: Mother, our end has come; I pity you and my sister Antigone and my dead brother. For I loved him though he became my enemy, I loved him in spite of all. Bury me, mother, and you, my sister, in my native land; pacify the city’s wrath that l may get at least that much of my own fatherland, although I lost my home. With your hand, mother, close my eyes—he himself places her fingers on the lids—and farewell; for already the darkness wraps me round. So both at once breathed out their life of sorrow. But when their mother saw this sad event, in her overmastering grief she snatched a sword from the dead, and did a fearful deed; for she drove the steel right through her throat, and there she lies, dead with those she loved so well, her arms thrown round them both. The army sprang to their feet and fell to wrangling, we maintaining that victory rested with my master, they with theirs; and there was strife among the generals, some holding that Polyneices gave the first wound with his spear, others that, as both were dead, victory rested with neither. Meanwhile Antigone crept away from the army. They rushed to their weapons, but by some lucky forethought the people of Cadmus had sat down under arms; and by a sudden attack we surprised the Argive army before it was fully equipped. Not one withstood our onset, and they filled the plain with fugitives, while blood was streaming from the countless dead our spears had slain. When victory had crowned our warfare, some set up an image of Zeus as a trophy, others were stripping the Argive dead of their shields and sending their spoils inside the battlements; and others with Antigone are bringing the dead here for their friends to mourn. So for the city, the result of this struggle hovers between the two extremes of good and evil fortune. Exit Messenger.

CHORUS No longer do the misfortunes of this house extend to hearsay only; three corpses of the slain lie here at the palace for all to see; by one common death they have drawn their lot, a life of darkness.

ANTIGONE I do not veil my tender cheek shaded with curls, nor do I feel shame, from maiden modesty, at the dark red beneath my eyes, the blush upon my face, as I hurry on, in bacchic revelry for the dead, casting from my hair its mantle and letting my delicate saffron robe fly loose, a tearful escort to the dead. Ah me! Oh, Polyneices! you were rightly named, after all; woe to you, Thebes! Your strife—not strife, but murder on murder— has brought the house of Oedipus to ruin with dire and grim bloodshed. What harmonious or tuneful wailing can I summon, for my tears, my tears, oh, my home! oh, my home! as I bear these three kindred bodies, my mother and her sons, a welcome sight to the Fury? She destroyed the house of Oedipus, root and branch, when his shrewdness solved the Sphinx’s unsolvable song and killed that savage singer. Alas for you, father! What other Hellene or barbarian, what mortal from a noble line ever endured the anguish of such visible afflictions? Ah! poor girl, how piteous is your cry! What bird, perched on the high-leaved branches of oak or pine, will come to mourn with me, left motherless? With cries of woe, I lament before it comes the piteous lonely life, that I shall live for the rest of time, in streaming tears. On which of these shall I throw my offerings first, plucking the hair from my head? on the breast of the mother that suckled me, or beside the ghastly death-wounds of my brothers’ corpses? Oh, oh! Oedipus, my old father with sightless eyes, leave your house, reveal the misery of your life, you who have cast a mist of darkness over your eyes and draw out a weary existence within the house. Do you hear, you who are wandering with old step across the court, or sleeping on your wretched pallet couch?

OEDIPUS Why, daughter, have you dragged me to the light by your piteous tears, supporting my blind footsteps, from the gloom of my bed-chamber, gray-haired, invisible as a phantom of the air, or as a spirit from the world below, or as a dream that flies?

ANTIGONE Father, there are tidings of sorrow for you to bear; no longer do your sons see the light, or your wife, who would always labor to tend your blind footsteps as with a staff. Alas for you, my father!

OEDIPUS Alas for my sorrows! I may well groan and cry. Three lives! Tell me, child, by what fate they left the light.

ANTIGONE I do not say this to reproach or mock you, but in sadness: your own avenging curse, with all its load of swords and fire and ruthless war, came on your sons. Alas for you, my father!

OEDIPUS Ah me!

ANTIGONE Why that groan?

OEDIPUS My sons!

ANTIGONE You are in pain; but if you could look towards the sun-god’s four-horse chariot and turn the light of your eyes on these corpses—

OEDIPUS The evil fate of my sons is clear; but she, my poor wife, tell me, daughter, by what fate did she die?

ANTIGONE All saw her weep and heard her moan, as she rushed forth to carry to her sons her last appeal, a mother’s breast. But the mother found her sons at the Electran gate, in a meadow where the lotus blooms, fighting out their duel with spears, like lions in their lair, eager to wound each other, a murderous libation of blood already cold, owed to Hades, poured out by Ares. Then, taking from the dead a sword of hammered bronze, she plunged it in her flesh, and in sorrow for her sons fell with her arms around them. So the god who fulfills these sorrows has brought them all together on this day, father, for our house.

CHORUS LEADER Today is the beginning of many troubles to the house of Oedipus; may he live to be more fortunate!

CREON Cease now your lamentations; it is time we thought of their burial. Hear what I have to say, Oedipus. Eteocles, your son, left me to rule this land, by giving it as a dowry to Haemon with his marriage to your daughter Antigone. Therefore I will no longer allow you to dwell in this land; for Teiresias clearly said that the city would never prosper as long as you made your home here. So begone! And I say this not in insult, nor because I am your enemy, but from fear that some calamity will come upon the land, through those avenging fiends of yours.

OEDIPUS O destiny! From the beginning, how you have created me wretched and unhappy, if any mortal ever was; for before I had left my mother’s womb and seen the light, Apollo foretold to Laius that I, then unborn, should become my father’s murderer; alas for me! So, as soon as I was born, the father who begot me tried to kill me, thinking me his enemy, for it was fated he should die at my hand; so he sent me unweaned to make a pitiful meal for beasts; I escaped from that— would that Cithaeron had sunk into hell’s yawning abyss, because it did not destroy me, but . . . Fate made me a slave in the service of Polybus. And I, poor wretch, after slaying my own father came to my mother’s bed, to her sorrow, and begot sons that were my brothers, whom I have destroyed, by bequeathing to them the legacy of curses I received from Laius. For I was not born so foolish, that I should have contrived these things against my own eyes and my children’s life, without some god. Let that pass. What am I, poor wretch, to do? Who now will be my guide and tend the blind man’s step? The one who is dead? If she were alive, I know well that she would. My pair of noble sons? But they are gone from me. But am I still so young myself that I can find a livelihood? Where? O Creon, why do you seek in this way to kill me utterly? For you will kill me, if you banish me from the land. Yet I will never twine my arms about your knees and seem a coward, for I would not betray my former nobility, no! not for all my ills.

CREON You have spoken well, in refusing to touch my knees, but I could not allow you to dwell in the land. Of these dead, bear one at once to the palace; but the other, who came with strangers to sack his native town, the dead Polyneices, cast forth unburied beyond the borders of this land. To all the race of Cadmus shall this be proclaimed: Whoever is caught decking his corpse with wreaths or giving it burial, shall be requited with death. let him be unwept, unburied, a meal for birds. As for you, Antigone, leave your mourning for these lifeless three and go indoors, to lead your maiden life until to-morrow, when Haemon waits to marry you.

ANTIGONE O father, in what cruel misery are we plunged! For you I mourn more than for the dead; for in your woes you do not have something that is grievous and something not; but you were born wholly unfortunate, father. As for you, new-made king, I ask you, who do you insult my father with banishment? Why do you make laws over a helpless corpse?

CREON This was Eteocles’ purpose, not mine.

ANTIGONE It is senseless, and you are a fool to obey it!

CREON How so? Isn’t it right to carry out his commands?

ANTIGONE No; not if they are wrong and ill-advised.

CREON What? Isn’t it right for that other to be given to the dogs?

ANTIGONE No, for the vengeance you are exacting is not a lawful one.

CREON Yes, if he was his country’s enemy, when not born an enemy.

ANTIGONE Well, he rendered up his destiny to fate.

CREON Let him now pay the penalty in his burial too.

ANTIGONE What crime did he commit, in coming to claim his portion of the land?

CREON Be very sure of this, he shall have no burial.

ANTIGONE I will bury him, although the state forbids.

CREON Do so, and you will be making your own grave by his.

ANTIGONE A noble end, for two so near and dear to lie side by side!

CREON Seize and take her inside.

ANTIGONE Oh, no! For I will not let go of this corpse.

CREON These are the god’s decrees, my girl, not what seems good to you.

ANTIGONE And this has been decreed, not to insult the dead.

CREON Be sure that no one will sprinkle over the corpse the moistened dust.

ANTIGONE O Creon, by my mother Jocasta, I implore you!

CREON Your labor is in vain; you will not gain your prayer.

ANTIGONE Let me only bathe the dead body.

CREON That would be part of what is forbidden by the city.

ANTIGONE At least let me bandage the cruel wounds.

CREON No; you will never pay honor to this corpse.

ANTIGONE O my dearest! At least I will kiss your mouth.

CREON Do not let this mourning bring disaster on your marriage.

ANTIGONE Marriage! Do you think I will marry your son while I am alive?

CREON Indeed you must; how will you escape the match?

ANTIGONE Then that night will find in me another Danaid bride!

CREON [turning to Oedipus] Do you see how boldly she reproaches me?

ANTIGONE Let the steel know, the sword be my witness!

CREON Why are you so eager to be released from this marriage?

ANTIGONE I mean to share my hapless father’s exile.

CREON A noble spirit yours but there is some folly in it.

ANTIGONE And I will share his death, I tell you further.

CREON Go, leave the land; you will not murder my son. Exit Creon.

OEDIPUS Daughter, for this loyal spirit I thank you.

ANTIGONE How could I marry, while you went into exile alone, father?

OEDIPUS Stay here and be happy; I will bear my own load of sorrow.

ANTIGONE And who will tend you in your blindness, father?

OEDIPUS Where fate appoints, there I will fall and lie down upon the ground.

ANTIGONE Where is Oedipus, and that famous riddle?

OEDIPUS Lost! One day blessed me, one destroyed me.

ANTIGONE May I not also share your sorrows?

OEDIPUS To wander with her blinded father would be shameful for his daughter.

ANTIGONE Not so, father, but glory, if she is discreet.

OEDIPUS Lead me near, so that I may touch your mother’s corpse.

ANTIGONE There, embrace the aged form so dear to you.

OEDIPUS O mother, o most wretched wife!

ANTIGONE Pitiably she lies, who suffered every evil at once.

OEDIPUS Where are the corpses of Eteocles, and of Polyneices?

ANTIGONE Here they both lie, stretched out side by side.

OEDIPUS Lay my blind hand upon their poor faces.

ANTIGONE There, touch the dead, your children.

OEDIPUS O dear fallen sons, sad offspring of a sad father!

ANTIGONE O my brother Polyneices, name most dear to me!

OEDIPUS Now the oracle of Loxias is being fulfilled, my child.

ANTIGONE What oracle? Do you have further woes to tell?

OEDIPUS That I should die in Athens after a life of wandering.

ANTIGONE Where? What fenced town in Attica will take you in?

OEDIPUS Hallowed Colonus, home of the god of horses. Come then, attend on your blind father, since you are eager to share his exile.

ANTIGONE Go to unhappy exile; stretch forth your dear hand, my old father, taking me to guide you, like a breeze that guides the ships.

OEDIPUS See, I am advancing; be my guide, my poor child.

ANTIGONE I am, I am! The saddest maiden of all in Thebes.

OEDIPUS Where am I placing my aged step? Bring my staff, child.

ANTIGONE This way, this way, come to me, place your steps here, like a dream in your strength.

OEDIPUS Oh, oh, driving the old man in most wretched flight from the country! Oh, oh! the terrible sorrows I have endured!

ANTIGONE Why do you speak of enduring? Justice does not see the wicked, and does not requite follies.

OEDIPUS I am the one who came into high songs of victory, because I guessed the baffling riddle of the girl, half-maiden.

ANTIGONE You are bringing up again the reproach of the Sphinx. Talk no more of past success. This misery was in store for you all the while, to become an exile from your country and die anywhere. Leaving to my girlhood friends sad tears, I go forth from my native land, to roam as no maiden should. Ah! This dutiful resolve towards my father’s suffering will make me famous. Alas for the insults heaped on you and on my brother, whose dead body goes from the house unburied, poor boy! I will bury him secretly, though I have to die for it, father.

OEDIPUS Show yourself to your companions.

ANTIGONE My own laments suffice.

OEDIPUS Go pray at the altars.

ANTIGONE They have enough of my piteous tale.

OEDIPUS At least go seek the Bromian god in his untrodden sanctuary among the Maenads’ hills.

ANTIGONE Bromius, for whom I once dressed in the Theban fawn-skin and danced upon the hills in the holy choir of Semele—shall I now offer the gods homage that is not homage?

OEDIPUS O citizens of a famous country, look at me; I am Oedipus, who solved the famous riddle, and was the greatest of men, I, who alone controlled the murderous Sphinx’s power, am now myself driven from the land in dishonor and misery. But why do I make this moan and useless lamentation? As a mortal, I must bear the constraint that the gods decree.

CHORUS Greatly revered Victory, may you occupy my life and never cease to crown me!

ORESTES (Translated by E. P. Coleridge, 1891)

[Before the royal palace at Argos. Orestes lies sleeping on a couch in the background.]

ELECTRA There is nothing so terrible to describe, or suffering, or heaven-sent affliction, that human nature may not have to bear the burden of it. The blessed Tantalus—and I am not now taunting him with his misfortunes— Tantalus, the reputed son of Zeus, flies in the air, quailing at the rock which looms above his head; paying this penalty, they say, for the shameful weakness he displayed in failing to keep a bridle on his lips, when admitted by gods, though he was a man, to share the honors of their feasts like one of them. He begot Pelops, the father of Atreus, for whom the goddess, when she had carded her wool, spun a web of strife—to make war with his own brother Thyestes. But why need I retrace that hideous tale? Well, Atreus slew Thyestes’ children and feasted him on them. Atreus, now; I pass over intermediate events; from Atreus and Aerope of Crete were born the famous Agamemnon, if he really was famous, and Menelaus. Now Menelaus married Helen, the gods’ abhorrence; while lord Agamemnon married Clytemnestra, notorious in Hellas; and we three daughters were born: Chrysothemis, Iphigenia, and myself, Electra; also a son Orestes; all from that one accursed mother, who slew her husband, after snaring him in an inextricable robe. Her reason a maiden’s lips may not declare, and so I leave it unclear for the world to guess at. What need for me to charge Phoebus with wrong-doing? Though he persuaded Orestes to slay his own mother, a deed that few approved. Still it was his obedience to the god that made him kill her; I had a share in the murder, in so far as a woman could, and Pylades, who helped us to bring it about. After this my poor Orestes, wasting away in a cruel disease, lies fallen on his couch, and it is his mother’s blood that drives him round and round in frenzied fits; I am ashamed to name the goddesses, whose terrors are chasing him—the Eumenides. It is now the sixth day since the body of his murdered mother was committed to the cleansing fire; since then no food has gone down his throat, nor has he washed his skin; but wrapped in his cloak he weeps in his lucid moments, whenever the fever leaves him; at other times he bounds headlong from his couch, as a colt when it is loosed from the yoke. This city of Argos has decreed that no man give us shelter in home or hearth, or speak to matricides like us; and this is the fateful day on which the Argives will take a vote, whether we are both to die by stoning. or to whet the steel and plunge it in our necks. There is, it is true, one hope of escape from death: Menelaus has landed from Troy; his fleet now crowds the haven of Nauplia where he has come to anchor on the shore, returned at last from Troy after ceaseless wanderings; but Helen, that so-called lady of sorrows, he has sent on to our palace, waiting for the night, lest any of those parents whose sons died at Troy might see her if she went by day, and set to stoning her. Within she sits, weeping for her sister and the calamities of her family, and yet she has still some solace in her woe; for Hermione, the child she left at home when she sailed for Troy, the maid whom Menelaus brought from Sparta and entrusted to my mother’s keeping, is still a cause of joy to her and a reason to forget her sorrows. I am watching each approach, until I see Menelaus arriving; for unless we find some safety from him, we have only a feeble anchor to ride on otherwise. A helpless thing, an unlucky house!

HELEN Daughter of Clytemnestra and Agamemnon, unhappy Electra, a maiden for so long, how is it with you and your brother, this ill-starred Orestes who slew his mother? For referring the sin as I do to Phoebus, I incur no pollution by addressing you; and yet I am truly sorry for the death of my sister Clytemnestra, whom I never saw after I was driven by heaven-sent frenzy to sail as I did to Ilium; but now that I am parted from her, I bewail our misfortunes.

ELECTRA Helen, why should I speak of that which your own eyes can see? Agamemnon’s house in misfortune? Beside his wretched corpse I sit, sleepless—for corpse he is, so faint his breath— not that I reproach him with his sufferings; but you are highly blessed and your husband too. you have come upon us in the hour of adversity

HELEN How long has he lain in this way on the couch?

ELECTRA Ever since he spilt his mother’s blood.

HELEN Unhappy wretch! unhappy mother! what a death she died.

ELECTRA Unhappy enough to succumb to his misery.

HELEN By the gods, would you hear me a moment, maiden?

ELECTRA Yes, with such leisure as this watching over a brother leaves.

HELEN Will you go for me to my sister’s tomb?

ELECTRA Would you have me seek my mother’s tomb? Why?

HELEN To carry an offering of hair and a libation from me.

ELECTRA Isn’t it right for you to go to the tomb of one you love?

HELEN No, for I am ashamed to show myself in Argos.

ELECTRA A late repentance surely for one who left her home so shamefully then.

HELEN You have told the truth, but your telling is not kind to me.

ELECTRA What is this supposed shame before the eyes of Mycenae that possesses you?

HELEN I am afraid of the fathers of those who lie dead at Ilium.

ELECTRA Good cause for fear; your name is on every tongue in Argos.

HELEN Then free me of my fear and grant me this favor.

ELECTRA I could not bear to look upon my mother’s grave.

HELEN And yet it would be shame indeed for servants to bear these offerings.

ELECTRA Then why not send your daughter Hermione?

HELEN It is not good for maidens to go into a crowd.

ELECTRA And yet she would be repaying her dead foster-mother’s care.

HELEN You have told the truth and have convinced me, maiden. Yes, I will send my daughter for you are right. Calling. Hermione, my child, come out, before the palace. Take these libations and these tresses of mine in your hands, and go pour round Clytemnestra’s tomb a mingled cup of honey, milk, and frothing wine; then stand upon the heaped-up grave, and say this: Helen, your sister, sends you these libations as her gift, fearing herself to approach your tomb from terror of the Argive mob and bid her harbor kindly thoughts towards me and you and my husband; towards these two wretched sufferers, too, whom the gods have destroyed. And promise that I will pay in full whatever funeral gifts are due from me to a sister. Now go, my child, and hurry; and soon as you have made the libations at the tomb, think of your return. Exit Helen.

ELECTRA O human nature, how great an evil you are in men! and what salvation, too, to those who have a goodly heritage there. Did you see how she cut off her hair only at the ends, to preserve its beauty? She is the same woman as of old. May the gods hate you! for you have proved the ruin of me and my brother and all Hellas. Alas! here are my friends once more, coming to unite their plaintive dirge with mine; they will soon put an end to my brother’s peaceful sleep, and cause my tears to flow when I see him in frenzy. Dearest friends, step softly; not a sound; not a whisper! For though this kindness of yours is well-meant, rouse him and I shall rue it.

[The Chorus of Argive Maidens enters quietly. The following lines between Electra and the Chorus are chanted responsively.]

CHORUS Hush, hush! let your footsteps fall lightly! not a sound!

ELECTRA Go further from his couch, further, I beseech you!

CHORUS There, I obey.

ELECTRA Ah, ah! Speak like the breath of a slender reed-pipe, my dear, I pray.

CHORUS See, how soft and low I drop my voice.

ELECTRA Yes, do so; approach now, softly, softly! Give me an account of why you have come here. For at last he has lain down, and sleeps.

CHORUS How is he? You give us an account, my dear; what has happened, what misfortune?

ELECTRA He is still breathing, but his moans grow feeble.

CHORUS What are you saying? turning to Orestes. Unhappy Orestes!

ELECTRA You will kill him, if you disturb him from the sweet sleep he now enjoys.

CHORUS Poor sufferer, for his hateful deeds, inspired by a god!

ELECTRA Ah, misery! Injustice it was, after all, from an unjust mouth, when Loxias on the tripod of Themis decreed my mother’s most unnatural murder.

CHORUS Do you see? He stirs beneath his robe!

ELECTRA Alas! Your noisy chatter has roused him from his sleep.

CHORUS No, I think he is asleep.

ELECTRA Leave us, go away from the house! circle back again! cease this noise!

CHORUS He is asleep.

ELECTRA You are right. O Lady Night, giver of sleep to hard-working mortals, come from Erebus, come, wing your way to the palace of Agamemnon. For with misery and woe we are lost, we are gone. There! To the Chorus. that noise again! Do be still and keep the sound of your voice away from his couch; let him enjoy his sleep in peace, my dear!

CHORUS Tell me, what end of troubles awaits him.

ELECTRA Death, death; what else? For he has no desire for food.

CHORUS Then his destiny is already clear.

ELECTRA Phoebus offered us up for sacrifice, when he ordered the pitiable, unnatural murder of our mother, who killed our father.

CHORUS It was just.

ELECTRA But it was not well done. You killed and were killed, my mother! and you have slain a father and your own children; for we are dead or as good as dead. You are in your grave, and the greater part of my life is spent in weeping and wailing, and tears at night; unmarried, childless, I drag out forever a joyless existence.

CHORUS LEADER Electra, you are nearby; see whether your brother has not died without your knowing it; for I do not like his utter prostration.

ORESTES [awaking refreshed] Sweet charm of sleep, savior in sickness, how sweetly you came to me, how needed! Revered forgetfulness of troubles, how wise a goddess you are, and invoked by every suffering soul! Addressing Electra. Where have I come from? How am I here? For I have lost all previous recollection and remember nothing.

ELECTRA My dearest, how glad I was to see you fall asleep! Do you want me take you in my arms and lift your body?

ORESTES Take, oh! take me in your arms, and from this sufferer’s mouth and eyes wipe off the flakes of foam.

ELECTRA There! The service is sweet, and I do not refuse to tend a brother’s limbs with a sister’s hand.

ORESTES Prop me up, your side to mine; brush the matted hair from my face, for I see dimly.

ELECTRA Ah, poor head, how dirty your hair! How savage you look, remaining so long unwashed!

ORESTES Put me once more upon the couch; whenever the madness leaves me, I am unnerved and weak.

ELECTRA As she lays him down. There! His couch is welcome to the sick man, a painful possession, but a necessary one.

ORESTES Set me upright once again, turn my body round; it is their helplessness that makes the sick so hard to please.

ELECTRA Will you set your feet upon the ground and take a step at last? Change is always pleasant.

ORESTES Oh, yes; for that has a semblance of health; and the semblance is preferable, though it is far from the truth.

ELECTRA Hear me now, my brother, while the Furies permit you to use your senses.

ORESTES You have news to tell; if it is good, you do me a kindness; but if it tends to my hurt, I have suffered enough.

ELECTRA Menelaus, your father’s brother, has come; his ships are moored in Nauplia.

ORESTES What did you say? Has he come to be a light in our troubles, a man of our own family, who owes gratitude to our father?

ELECTRA He has come, and is bringing Helen from the walls of Troy—accept this as proof of what I say.

ORESTES If he had returned alone in safety, he would be more enviable; but if he is bringing his wife, he has come with great mischief.

ELECTRA Tyndareus begot a race of daughters notorious for blame, infamous throughout Hellas.

ORESTES Then you be different from that evil brood, for you can be; and not only in words, but also in heart.

ELECTRA Ah! brother, your eye is growing wild, and in a moment you are turning mad again, when you were just now sane.

ORESTES [starting up wildly] Mother, I implore you! Do not shake at me those maidens with their bloodshot eyes and snaky hair. Here they are, close by, to leap on me!

ELECTRA Lie still, poor sufferer, on your couch; your eye sees nothing, you only imagine that you recognize them.

ORESTES O Phoebus! they will kill me, the hounds of hell, death’s priestesses with glaring eyes, the dreadful goddesses.

ELECTRA I will not let you go; but with arms twined round you, I will prevent your piteous leaping.

ORESTES Let me go! you are one of my Furies, and are gripping me by the waist to hurl me into Tartarus!

ELECTRA Alas for me! What aid can I find, when we have Heaven’s forces set against us?

ORESTES Give me my horn-tipped bow, Apollo’s gift, with which he told me to ward off the goddesses, if ever they sought to scare me with wild transports of madness. A mortal hand will wound one of them, unless she departs from my sight. Don’t you hear me? Don’t you see the feathered arrows springing out from my far-shooting bow? What! Do you linger still? Mount the sky on your wings, and blame those oracles of Phoebus. Ah! why am I raving, gasping? Where, oh! where have I leapt, from my couch? Once more the storm is past, I see a calm. Sister, why do you weep, your head wrapped in your robe? I am ashamed that I should make you a partner in my sufferings and distress a maiden like you through my sickness. Do not waste away over my troubles; for though you consented to it, yet I was the one that spilled our mother’s blood. I blame Loxias, for urging me on to do a deed most unholy, encouraging me with words but not in deed. I believe that, if I had asked my father to his face whether I must slay my mother, he would have strongly entreated me, by this beard, never to plunge a sword into her throat, since he would not regain his life, and I, poor wretch, would accomplish such evil! And now, my sister, unveil your face and cease to weep, despite our misery. Whenever you see me give way to despair, it is for you to calm and soothe the terrors and distorted fancies of my brain. Whenever sorrow comes to you, I must be at your side and give you comforting advice; for to help our friends like this is noble. Go in the house now, my poor sister; lie down and close your sleepless eyes; take food and bathe your body. For if you leave me or fall sick from nursing me, I am lost. You are my only ally; I am deserted by all the rest, as you see.

ELECTRA I will not leave you; with you I will choose to live and die; for it is the same: if you die, what shall I, a woman, do? How shall I escape alone, with no brother, or father, or friends? Still, if you think it right, I must do your bidding. But lie down upon your couch, and do not pay too great heed to the terrors and alarm that scare you from your rest; lie still upon your pallet. For even if you are not sick, but only think you are, this brings weariness and perplexity to mortals. Exit Electra.

CHORUS Ah! ah! you goddesses swiftly careering on your wings, whose lot it is to hold a revel, not with Bacchic rites, in tears and groans; you black-skinned avenging spirits, that dart along the spacious air, exacting a penalty for blood, a penalty for murder, I beg you, I beg you! Allow the son of Agamemnon to forget his wild whirling frenzy. Alas for the toils which you, poor wretch, strove after to your ruin, when you heard the voice from the tripod, proclaimed by Phoebus, at his sanctuary, where the hollows are called the navel of the earth.

CHORUS O Zeus! What pity, what deadly struggle is here, hurrying you on, the wretch on whom some avenging fiend is heaping tears upon tears, bringing to the house your mother’s blood, which drives you raving mad? Great prosperity is not secure among mortals. I lament, I lament! But some divine power, shaking it to and fro like the sail of a swift ship, plunges it deep in the waves of grievous affliction, violent and deadly as the waves of the sea. For what other family must I still revere, rather than the one from a divine marriage, from Tantalus.

CHORUS LEADER And see, a king draws near, lord Menelaus; from his magnificence it is plain to see that he belongs to the blood of the Tantalids. All hail! you that set out with a thousand ships to Asia’s land; good fortune is your friend, for you have accomplished, with divine aid, all that you prayed for.

MENELAUS O my home, some joy I feel to see you again on my return from Troy, but I also grieve at the sight; for never have I seen another house more closely encircled by dire affliction. For I learned Agamemnon’s fate and the death he died at his wife’s hands, as I was trying to put in at Malea; when the sailors’ prophet, the truthful god Glaucus, Nereus’ seer, brought the news to me from the waves; he stationed himself in full view and told me this: Menelaus, your brother lies dead, plunged in a fatal bath, the last his wife will ever give him. My sailors and I wept greatly at his words. When I arrived at Nauplia, my wife already on the point of starting here, I was expecting to give a fond embrace to Orestes, Agamemnon’s son, and his mother, thinking that they were doing well, when I heard from a sailor the unholy murder of Tyndareus’ child. And now tell me, young ladies, where to find the son of Agamemnon, who dared such evil. For he was a baby in Clytemnestra’s arms when I left my home to go to Troy, so that I would not recognize him if I saw him.

ORESTES [Staggering towards him from the couch.] Menelaus, I am Orestes, whom you are asking about. I will of my own accord inform you of my sufferings. But as my first portion, I clasp your knees as a suppliant, giving you prayers from the mouth of one without the suppliant’s bough; save me, for you have come at the crisis of my troubles.

MENELAUS O gods, what do I see? What living corpse greets my sight?

ORESTES You are right; I am dead through misery, though I still gaze upon the light.

MENELAUS How savage the look your unkempt hair gives you, poor wretch!

ORESTES It is not my looks, but my deeds that torture me.

MENELAUS Your tearless eyes glare dreadfully!

ORESTES My body is gone, though my name has not deserted me.

MENELAUS Unsightly apparition, so different from what I expected!

ORESTES Here I am, the murderer of my wretched mother.

MENELAUS I have heard, spare your words; evils should be seldom spoken.

ORESTES I will be sparing; but the deity is lavish of woe in my case.

MENELAUS What ails you? what is your deadly sickness?

ORESTES My conscience; I know that I am guilty of a dreadful crime.

MENELAUS What do you mean? Wisdom is shown in clarity, not in obscurity.

ORESTES Grief especially has ruined me—

MENELAUS Yes, she is a dreadful goddess, yet are there cures for her.

ORESTES And fits of madness, the vengeance of a mother’s blood.

MENELAUS When did your madness begin? Which day was it?

ORESTES On the day I was heaping the mound over my poor mother’s grave.

MENELAUS When you were in the house, or watching by the pyre?

ORESTES As I was waiting by night to gather up her bones.

MENELAUS Was any one else there, to help you rise?

ORESTES Pylades who shared with me the bloody deed, my mother’s murder.

MENELAUS You are sick from phantom shapes; what sort?

ORESTES I seemed to see three maidens, black as night.

MENELAUS I know whom you mean, but I do not want to name them.

ORESTES Yes, for they are revered; you were well-informed, to avoid naming them.

MENELAUS Are these the ones that drive you to frenzy, with the curse of kindred blood?

ORESTES Oh! the torment I endure from their pursuit!

MENELAUS It is not strange, if those who have done dreadful things should suffer them.

ORESTES But I have a way to recover from these troubles.

MENELAUS Do not speak of death; that is not wise.

ORESTES It is Phoebus, who commanded me to kill my mother.

MENELAUS Showing a strange ignorance of what is fair and right.

ORESTES We are slaves to the gods, whatever those gods are.

MENELAUS And does Loxias not help your affliction?

ORESTES He will in time; this is the nature of gods.

MENELAUS How long is it since your mother breathed her last?

ORESTES This is the sixth day; her funeral pyre is still warm.

MENELAUS How soon the goddesses arrived to avenge your mother’s blood!

ORESTES I am not clever, but I am by nature a true friend to my friends.

MENELAUS Does your father give you any help at all, for your avenging him?

ORESTES Not yet; I call delay the equal of inaction.

MENELAUS How do you stand in the city after that deed of yours?

ORESTES I am so hated that no one will speak to me.

MENELAUS Have your hands not even been cleaned of blood, according to custom?

ORESTES No, for wherever I go, the door is shut against me.

MENELAUS Which citizens are driving you from the land?

ORESTES Oeax, who refers to my father his reason for hating Troy.

MENELAUS I understand; he is avenging on you the blood of Palamedes.

ORESTES That was nothing to do with me; yet I am destroyed for three reasons.

MENELAUS Who else? Some of the friends of Aegisthus, I suppose?

ORESTES They insult me, and the city listens to them now.

MENELAUS Will the city allow you to keep the scepter of Agamemnon?

ORESTES How, seeing that they will not allow me to remain alive?

MENELAUS What is their method? Can you tell me plainly?

ORESTES A vote will be taken against us today.

MENELAUS To leave the city? Or to die, or not to die?

ORESTES Death by stoning at the hands of the citizens.

MENELAUS Then why not cross the border and try to escape?

ORESTES Because we are encircled by men fully armed.

MENELAUS Private foes or Argive troops?

ORESTES All the citizens, so that I may die; it is shortly told.

MENELAUS Poor wretch! you have arrived at the extremity of woe.

ORESTES In you I have hopes of escape from my troubles. But since you have come with good fortune, share with your friends, who are wretched, your prosperity; do not hold aside that goodness for yourself alone; but partake of troubles in your turn, and so pay back my father’s kindness to those who have a claim on you. For such friends as desert us in adversity are friends in name but not in deed.

CHORUS LEADER And here is Tyndareus, the Spartan, struggling with aged step, clad in black robes, with his hair cut short in mourning for his daughter.

ORESTES Menelaus, I am ruined. See, Tyndareus approaches us, the man of all others I most shrink from facing, because of the deed I have done. For he nursed me when I was small, and lavished on me many a fond caress, carrying me about in his arms as the son of Agamemnon; and so did Leda; for they both honored me no less than the Dioscuri. Ah me! my wretched heart and soul, it was a sorry return I made them! What darkness can I find for my face? What cloud can I spread before me in my efforts to escape the old man’s eye?

TYNDAREUS Where, where may I see Menelaus, my daughter’s husband? For as I was pouring libations on Clytemnestra’s grave I heard that he had come to Nauplia with his wife, safe home again after many years. Lead me to him; for I want to approach him and clasp his hand, as a friend whom at last I see again.

MENELAUS Hail, old man, rival of Zeus for a bride!

TYNDAREUS All hail to you, Menelaus, my kinsman! Catching sight of Orestes. Ah! What an evil it is to be ignorant of the future! There is that matricide before the house, a viper darting venomous flashes from his eyes, whom I loathe. Menelaus, are you speaking to that godless wretch?

MENELAUS And why not? He is the son of one whom I loved.

TYNDAREUS This is his son, this creature here?

MENELAUS Yes, his son; if he is in misfortune, he ought to be honored.

TYNDAREUS You have been so long among barbarians that you have become one of them.

MENELAUS Always to honor one’s kin is a custom in Hellas.

TYNDAREUS And another custom is to yield a willing deference to the laws.

MENELAUS The wise hold that everything which depends on necessity is a slave.

TYNDAREUS Keep that wisdom for yourself; I will not have it.

MENELAUS Yes, for you are angry, and also old age is not wise.

TYNDAREUS What does a dispute about foolishness have to do with him? If right and wrong are clear to all, who was ever more senseless than this man, because he never weighed the justice of the case, nor appealed to the universal law of Hellas? For instance, when Agamemnon breathed his last struck on his head by my daughter a most foul deed, which I will never defend, he should have brought a charge against his mother and inflicted a holy penalty for bloodshed, banishing her from his house; thus he would have gained moderation instead of calamity, keeping strictly to the law and showing his piety as well. As it is, he has come into the same fate as his mother. for though he had just cause for thinking her a wicked woman, he has become more wicked by murdering her. I will ask you, Menelaus, just one question. If a man’s wedded wife should kill him, and his son in turn will kill his mother in revenge; next the avenger’s son to expiate this murder will commit another: where will the chain of horrors end? Our forefathers settled these matters the right way. They forbade any one with blood upon his hands to appear in their sight or cross their path; but they purified him by exile, they did not kill him in revenge. Otherwise someone, by taking the pollution last upon his hands, is always going to be liable to have his own blood shed. Now I hate wicked women, especially my daughter who killed her husband; Helen, too, your own wife, I will never commend, nor would I even speak to her; and I do not envy you a voyage to Troy for a worthless woman. But the law I will defend with all my might, to put an end to this brutal spirit of murder, which is always the ruin of countries and cities alike. Turning to Orestes Wretch! Had you no heart when your mother was baring her breast in her appeal to you? I, who did not see that awful deed, weep unhappy tears from my old eyes. One thing at least agrees with what I say: you are hated by the gods, and you pay atonement for your mother by your fits of madness and terror. Why do I need to hear from other witnesses what I can see for myself? Therefore, Menelaus, take heed; do not oppose the gods in your wish to help this man; but leave him to be stoned to death by the citizens, or do not set foot on Spartan land. My daughter is dead, and rightly; but it should not have been his hand that slew her. In all except my daughters I have been a happy man; there I am not blessed.

CHORUS LEADER He is enviable, who is fortunate in his children, and does not bring hazardous notoriety on himself.

ORESTES Old man, I am afraid to speak before you, in a matter where I am sure to grieve you to the heart. I am unholy because I killed my mother, I know it, yet holy on another count, because I avenged my father. Only let your years, which frighten me from speaking, set no barrier in the path of my words, and I will go forward; but now I fear your gray hairs. What ought I to have done? Set one thing against another. My father begot me; your daughter gave me birth, being the field that received the seed from another; for without a father no child would ever be born. So I reasoned that I ought to stand by the author of my being rather than the woman who undertook to rear me. Now your daughter—I am ashamed to call her mother—came to a man’s bed in a private and unchaste wedding; I speak against myself when I speak badly of her, yet I will speak. Aegisthus was her secret husband in the home; I killed him, and I sacrificed my mother, an unholy crime, no doubt, but done to avenge my father. Now, as regards the matters for which I deserve to be stoned as you threatened, hear the service I am conferring on all Hellas. For if women become so bold as to murder their husbands, taking refuge in their children, with the mother’s breast to catch the pity, they would think nothing of destroying their husbands on any charge whatsoever. But I, by a horrible crime, as you boast it to be, have put an end to this custom. I hated my mother and killed her justly. She was false to her husband when he was gone from his home to fight for all Hellas at the head of its armies, and she did not keep his bed undefiled; and when her sin had found her out, she did not impose punishment on herself, but, to avoid paying the penalty to her husband, punished my father by death. By the gods! it is not a good time for me to mention the gods, when defending the charge of murder; but if I consented by my silence to my mother’s conduct, what would the murdered man have done to me? Would he not now in hatred be tormenting me with the Furies? Or does my mother have goddesses as allies, but he does not, in his deeper wrong? You, yes! you, old man, have been my ruin by begetting a wicked daughter; for it was owing to her audacious deed that I lost my father and became my mother’s murderer. You see, Telemachus did not kill the wife of Odysseus, because she did not marry husband upon husband, but the marriage-bed remained untainted in her home. And you see Apollo, who makes the navel of the earth his home, dispensing to mortals unerring prophecies, whom we obey in all he says; I killed my mother in obedience to him. Find him guilty of the crime, slay him; his was the sin, not mine. What ought I to have done? or is the god not competent to expiate the pollution when I refer it to him? Where then should anyone flee, if he will not rescue me from death after giving his commands? Do not say that the deed was done badly, but unfortunately for the ones who did it. A blessed life those mortals lead who make wise marriages; but those for whom it does not fall out well are unfortunate in their public and private concerns.

CHORUS LEADER Women by nature always meddle in the doings of men, with unfortunate results.

TYNDAREUS Since you are so bold and suppress nothing, but answer me back in such a way as to vex my heart, you will lead me to go to greater lengths in procuring your execution; and I shall regard this as a fine addition to my labors in coming here to adorn my daughter’s grave. Yes, I will go to the chosen band of Argives and set the city, willing or not, on you and your sister, to pay the penalty of stoning. She deserves to die even more than you, for it was she who embittered you against your mother, always carrying tales to your ear to increase your hate the more, announcing dreams from Agamemnon, and Aegisthus’ bed, may the gods in Hades loathe it! for even here on earth it was bitter; till she set the house ablaze with fires never kindled by Hephaestus. Menelaus, I tell you this, and I will do it, too: if you then consider my hatred or our marriage connection of any account, do not ward off this man’s doom in defiance of the gods, but leave him to be stoned to death by the citizens, or do not set foot on Spartan land. Remember you have been told all this, and do not choose the ungodly as friends, pushing aside the more righteous. Servants, lead me from this house. Exit Tyndareus.

ORESTES Go, so that the remainder of my speech may come to this man without interruption, free from your old age. Menelaus, why are you pacing round and round in thought, going back and forth, in a dilemma?

MENELAUS Let me alone! When I think it over, I am perplexed to know where to turn in these events.

ORESTES Do not come to a final decision now, but after first hearing what I have to say, then make up your mind.

MENELAUS Good advice! Speak. There are times when silence would be better than speech, and the reverse also.

ORESTES I will speak now. A long statement has advantages over a short one and is more intelligible to listen to. Give me nothing of your own, Menelaus, but repay what you received from my father. As Menelaus makes a deprecating gesture. I am not speaking of possessions; if you save my life, you will save my dearest possession. I have done wrong; I ought to have a little wrong-doing from you to requite that evil, for my father Agamemnon also did wrong in gathering the Hellenes and going to Ilium, not that he had sinned himself, but he was trying to find a cure for the sin and wrong-doing of your wife. So this is one thing you are bound to pay me back. For he really gave his life, as friends should, toiling hard in battle with you, so that you might have your wife again. Pay back to me the same thing you got there. For one day exert yourself, on my behalf standing up in my defense, not ten full years. As for what Aulis took, the sacrifice of my sister, I let you have that; do not kill Hermione. For in my present plight, you must have an advantage over me and I must pardon it. But give to my miserable father my life and the life of my sister, a maiden so long; for by my death I shall leave my father’s house without an heir. You will say it is impossible. That’s the point; friends are bound to help friends in trouble. But when fortune gives of its best, what need of friends? For the god’s help is enough of itself when he is willing to give it. All Hellas believes that you love your wife, and I am not saying this to flatter or wheedle you; by her I implore you. As Menelaus turns away. Ah me, my misery! to what have I come! Well? (preparing to make a final appeal) I must suffer, for I am making this appeal on behalf of my whole family. O my uncle, my father’s own brother! Imagine that the dead man in his grave is listening, that his spirit is hovering over you and saying what I say, this much for tears and groans and misfortunes. I have spoken and I have begged for my safety, hunting what all seek, not myself alone.

CHORUS LEADER I, too, though I am only a woman, beseech you to help those who need it; for you have the power.

MENELAUS Orestes, you are a man for whom I have a deep regard, and I want to take part in your troubles; it is a duty, too, to help relatives bear their ills, by dying or killing enemies, if god gives the power to do so. I wish I had that power granted me by the gods. For I have come quite destitute of allies, after my long weary wanderings, with the small strength of my surviving friends. We should never get the better of Pelasgian Argos by fighting; if we should prevail by soothing speeches, we will come to some hope there. For how can you win a great cause by small efforts? It is foolish even to wish it. For when the people fall into a vigorous fury, they are as hard to quench as a raging fire; but if you gently slacken your hold and yield a little to their tension, cautiously watching your opportunity, they may possibly calm down; if their gusts abate, you may obtain whatever you want from them easily. They have pity, and a hot temper too, an invaluable quality if you watch it closely. So for you I will go and try to persuade Tyndareus and the city to moderation. A ship also dips if its sheet is hauled too taut, but rights itself again if it is let go. The god hates excessive eagerness, and the citizens do also; I must save you, I don’t deny it, by cleverness, not by violence against those who are stronger. I could not do it by strength, as you perhaps imagine; for it is not easy to triumph single-handed over the troubles that beset you. I would never have tried to bring the Argive land over to softness; but it is necessary. for the wise to be slaves to fortune. Exit Menelaus.

ORESTES O you that have no use, except to lead an army in a woman’s cause! O worst of men in your friends’ defense, do you turn your back on me and flee, the deeds of Agamemnon lost and gone? After all, father, you had no friends in adversity. Alas! I am betrayed; no longer do I have any hope of finding a refuge where I may escape the death-sentence of Argos; for this man was my haven of safety. But I see Pylades, the best of friends, coming at a run from Phocis—a pleasant sight! A man who can be trusted in troubles is a better sight than a calm to sailors.

PYLADES I have come through the city quickly, as I should, having heard and myself clearly seen the citizens assembling, against you and your sister, to kill you at once. What is happening? How is it with you? How are you doing, my best of comrades, friends and kin? For you are all these to me.

ORESTES I am ruined, to make plain to you my troubles in brief.

PYLADES You must destroy me also; for friends have all in common.

ORESTES Menelaus is the worst of men to me and my sister.

PYLADES It is natural for the husband of an evil woman to become evil.

ORESTES He no more repaid me by coming here, than if he had never come.

PYLADES Oh, has he really arrived in this land?

ORESTES He took a long time, but he was very soon detected as evil to his friends.

PYLADES And did he bring his wife, the worst of women, with him on his ship?

ORESTES It was not he who brought her here, but she who brought him.

PYLADES Where is she, the one woman who proved the ruin of so many Achaeans?

ORESTES In my house; if, that is, I ought to call it mine.

PYLADES And what did you say to your father’s brother?

ORESTES Not to see me and my sister killed by the citizens.

PYLADES By the gods! What did he say to that? I would like know this.

ORESTES He was cautious, the usual policy of ignoble friends.

PYLADES What excuse did he advance? When I have learned that, I know everything.

ORESTES There was a new arrival, the father who begot those noble daughters.

PYLADES You mean Tyndareus; he was angry with you, perhaps, for his daughter’s sake?

ORESTES You understand. And Menelaus preferred the family relationship with him to that with my father.

PYLADES He did not have the courage to share your troubles, when he was here?

ORESTES No, for he was not born a warrior, though strong among women!

PYLADES Your case is desperate, it seems, and you must die.

ORESTES The citizens must give their vote about us on the murder.

PYLADES And what is that to decide? Tell me, for I am alarmed.

ORESTES Our life or death; a brief speech on a large subject.

PYLADES Leave the palace with your sister now and try to escape.

ORESTES Don’t you see? We are being watched by guards on every side.

PYLADES I saw that the streets of the city were secured with armed men.

ORESTES We are as closely beleaguered as a city by its foes.

PYLADES Ask me now of my state; for I too am ruined.

ORESTES By whom? This would be a further trouble to add to mine.

PYLADES Strophius, my father, in a fit of anger, has banished me from his house.

ORESTES Bringing against you a private charge, or one in which the citizens share?

PYLADES He says it is an unholy crime to have helped you slay your mother.

ORESTES Alas! It seems my troubles will cause you grief as well.

PYLADES I am not like Menelaus in character; this must be endured.

ORESTES Are you not afraid that Argos will desire your death as well as mine?

PYLADES I am not theirs to punish; I belong to Phocis.

ORESTES A terrible thing is the mob, whenever it has villains to lead it.

PYLADES But with honest leaders its counsels are always honest.

ORESTES Very well; we must consult together.

PYLADES About what necessity?

ORESTES Suppose I go and tell the citizens—

PYLADES That your action was just?

ORESTES In avenging my father?

PYLADES I am afraid they would be glad to catch you.

ORESTES Well, am I to crouch in fear and die without a word?

PYLADES That is cowardly.

ORESTES How then should I act?

PYLADES Suppose you stay here, what means of safety do you have?

ORESTES I have none.

PYLADES And if you go, is there any hope of escaping your troubles?

ORESTES There might be, possibly.

PYLADES Then that is better than staying.

ORESTES Then I will go.

PYLADES At least you die in this way, you will die more honorably.

ORESTES You are right; in this way I escape cowardice.

PYLADES Better than by staying.

ORESTES After all, my action was just.

PYLADES Pray that this may be the only view they take.

ORESTES Some one or two might pity me—

PYLADES Yes, your noble birth is a great point.

ORESTES Resenting my father’s death.

PYLADES That is all quite clear.

ORESTES I must go, for to die ignobly is a coward’s part.

PYLADES Well said.

ORESTES Shall we tell my sister?

PYLADES God forbid!

ORESTES True, there might be tears.

PYLADES That would be a grave omen.

ORESTES Yes, silence is clearly better.

PYLADES And you will gain time.

ORESTES There is only one obstacle in my way.

PYLADES What fresh objection now?

ORESTES I am afraid the goddesses will prevent me by madness.

PYLADES But I will take care of you.

ORESTES It is annoying to have to touch a sick man.

PYLADES Not to me, when it is you.

ORESTES Beware of becoming a partner in my madness.

PYLADES Let that pass.

ORESTES You will not hesitate?

PYLADES No, for hesitation is a grave mischief among friends.

ORESTES On then, pilot of my course!

PYLADES A service I am glad to render.

ORESTES And guide me to my father’s tomb.

PYLADES For what purpose?

ORESTES That I may appeal to him to save me.

PYLADES Yes, that is the proper way.

ORESTES May I not see my mother’s grave!

PYLADES No; she was an enemy. But hasten, so that the vote of Argos may not catch you first, supporting those limbs, slow from sickness, on mine; for I will carry you through the town, thinking little of the mob and unashamed. For how shall I prove my friendship, if not by helping you in sore distress?

ORESTES Ah! the old saying again, get friends, not relations only. For a man who fuses into your ways, though he is an outsider, is better for a man to possess as a friend than a whole host of relations. Exeunt Orestes and Pylades.

CHORUS The great prosperity and the prowess, proudly boasted throughout Hellas and by the streams of Simois, went back again from good fortune for the Atreidae long ago, from an old misfortune to their house, when strife came to the sons of Tantalus over a golden ram, to end in most pitiable banqueting and the slaughter of high-born children; and this is why murder exchanges for murder, through blood, and does not leave the two Atreidae.

CHORUS What seemed good was not good, to cut a mother’s flesh with ruthless hand and show the sword stained black with blood to the sun’s bright beams; to commit a noble crime is an impious, subtle, malignant madness! The wretched daughter of Tyndareus in terror of death screamed to him: My son, this is unholy, your bold attempt upon your mother’s life; do not, while honoring your father, fasten on yourself an eternity of shame.

CHORUS What affliction on earth surpasses this? What calls for keener grief or pity, than to shed with your hand a mother’s blood? Oh! what a dreadful crime he committed, and now is raving mad, a prey to the Furies, whirling blood with racing eyes, the son of Agamemnon! O the wretch! when he saw a mother’s bosom over her robe of golden weave, and yet he made her his victim, in recompense for his father’s sufferings.

ELECTRA Women, has my poor Orestes left the house, mastered by the heaven-sent madness?

CHORUS LEADER Not at all; he has gone to the Argive people to stand the appointed trial for his life, in which he and you must live or die.

ELECTRA Oh! Why did he do it? Who persuaded him?

CHORUS LEADER Pylades; but this messenger will no doubt soon tell us what happened to your brother there.

MESSENGER Wretched, unhappy daughter of the general Agamemnon, my lady Electra, hear the sad tidings I bring you.

ELECTRA Alas! we are ruined; your words show it; you have clearly come with tidings of woe.

MESSENGER The Pelasgians have decided by vote that you, poor lady, and your brother are to die this day.

ELECTRA Alas! my expectations are realized; I have long feared this, and have been wasting away in mourning for what was sure to happen. But what was the trial, what was said by the Argives, to condemn us and ratify our death? Tell me, old friend; must I die by stoning or the sword? For I share my brother’s misfortunes.

MESSENGER I had just come from the country and was entering the gates, needing to learn what was decided about you and Orestes, for I was always well disposed to your father when he was alive, and it was your house that reared me, poor indeed, yet loyal in the service of friends. I saw a crowd going and taking their seats on the height, where they say Danaus first gathered his people for a meeting, making amends to Aegyptus. So, when I saw the throng, I asked a citizen: What news in Argos? Tidings of the enemy haven’t ruffled the city of Danaus, have they? But he said: Don’t you see Orestes there, on his way to he tried for his life? I saw an unexpected sight, which I wish I had not seen, Pylades and your brother approaching together, the one with his head down, weakened by sickness; the other sharing his friend’s sorrow like a brother, tending his illness with constant care. Now when the Argives were fully gathered, a herald rose and said: Who wishes to give his opinion whether Orestes should be slain or not for the murder of his mother? Then up stood Talthybius, who helped your father sack the Phrygians. He spoke out of both sides of his mouth, a mere tool of those in power as he always is, expressing high admiration for your father, but not praising your brother, urging his crooked sentiments in specious words, that it would establish laws as to parents that are not good; and all the while he was darting lively glances at the friends of Aegisthus. Such is that tribe; heralds always trip across to the lucky side; the one who has power in the city or a post in the government is their friend. After him lord Diomedes made a speech; he said they should not kill you and your brother, but keep clear of guilt by punishing you with exile. Some roared out that his words were good, but others disapproved. Next stood up a fellow, who cannot close his lips; one whose impudence is his strength; an Argive, but not of Argos, forced on us; confident in bluster and ignorant free speech, and plausible enough to involve them in some mischief sooner or later; for whenever a man with a pleasing trick of speech, but of unsound principles, persuades the mob, it is a serious evil to the state; but those who give sound and sensible advice on all occasions, if not immediately useful to the state, yet prove so afterwards. And this is the way in which to regard a party leader; for the position is much the same in the case of an orator and a man in office. He was for stoning you and Orestes to death, but it was Tyndareus who kept suggesting arguments of this kind to him as he urged the death of both of you. Another then stood up and said the opposite; he was not handsome in appearance, but a brave man, rarely coming in contact with the town or the circle in the market-place; a farmer—and they are the only ones who preserve our land—but clever, and eager to grapple with the arguments, his character without a blemish, his walk in life beyond reproach. He said that they should crown Orestes, the son of Agamemnon, for showing his willingness to avenge a father by the murder of a wicked and godless woman who would prevent men from taking up arms and going on foreign service, if those who remain behind, corrupt and seduce wives left at home to keep house. To the better sort, at least, his word carried conviction. No one spoke after him. Then your brother came forward and said: You dwellers in the land of Inachus! Pelasgians in ancient times, and later Danaids I helped you no less than my father when I slew my mother; for if the murder of men by women is to be sanctioned, then the sooner you die, the better, or you must become the slaves of women; and that will be doing the very reverse of what you should. As it is, she who betrayed my father’s bed has died, but if you take my life, the law becomes relaxed, and the sooner each one of you dies, the better; for it will never be daring at any rate that they will lack. Yet, for all he seemed to speak well, he did not persuade the assembly; but that villain who spoke in favor of slaying you and your brother gained his point by appealing to the mob. Poor Orestes scarcely persuaded them not to kill him by stoning, promising to die by his own hand, with you, on this day. Pylades, in tears, is now bringing him from the conclave; and his friends bear him company, with wailing and lamentation; so he comes, a bitter sight and piteous vision. Make ready the sword or prepare the noose for your neck, for you must leave the light; your noble birth availed you nothing, nor did Phoebus from his seat on the tripod at Delphi; he was your undoing. Exit Messenger.

CHORUS LEADER Ah, hapless maiden! How silent you are, your face covered and bent to the ground, as if about to dash upon a course of lamentation and wailing.

ELECTRA O Pelasgia, I take up the dirge, doing bloody outrage on my cheeks with white nail, and beating on my head; these are the portion of Persephone, fair young goddess of the nether world. Let the Cyclopian land break forth into wailing for the sorrows of our house, laying the steel upon the head to crop it close. This is the piteous, piteous strain that goes up for those who are about to die, once the battle-leaders of Hellas.

ELECTRA It has gone, it has gone, and is lost, all the race of Pelops, and the glory that crowned their happy home once; the envy of heaven seized them and that cruel murdering vote among the citizens. Oh, oh! you tribes of short-lived men, full of tears, full of suffering, see how fate runs counter to your hopes! All receive in turn their different troubles in length of time; and the whole of mortal life is uncertain.

ELECTRA Oh! to reach that rock which hangs suspended midway between earth and heaven, that fragment from Olympus, which swings on chains of gold, so that I may utter my lament to Tantalus, my forefather, who begot the ancestors of my house. They saw infatuate ruin, the chase of winged steeds, when Pelops in four-horse chariot drove over the sea, hurling the body of murdered Myrtilus into the ocean swell, after his race near Geraestus’ strand, foam-flecked from the tossing sea. From this came a woeful curse upon my house, brought to birth among the sheep by the son of Maia, when there appeared a baleful, baleful portent of a lamb with golden fleece, for Atreus, breeder of horses; from which Strife changed the course of the sun’s winged chariot, fitting the westward path of the sky towards the single horse of Dawn; and Zeus diverted the career of the seven Pleiads into a new track and exchanged . . . death for death: both the banquet to which Thyestes gave his name, and the treacherous love of Cretan Aerope, in her treacherous marriage; but the crowning woe has come on me and on my father by the bitter constraints of our house.

CHORUS LEADER Look, here comes your brother, condemned to die, and with him Pylades, most loyal of friends, true as a brother, guiding his feeble steps, his yoke-fellow, pacing carefully.

ELECTRA Alas! I weep to see you stand before the tomb, my brother, face to face with the funeral pyre. Alas, again! as I take my last look at you, my senses leave me.

ORESTES Be silent! an end to womanish lamenting! resign yourself to your fate. It is piteous, but nevertheless you must bear the present fate.

ELECTRA How can I be silent, when we poor sufferers are no longer to gaze upon the sun-god’s light?

ORESTES Oh! spare me that death! Enough that this unhappy wretch is already slain by Argives; let our present sufferings be.

ELECTRA Alas for your unhappy youth, Orestes, and for your fated untimely death! When you should have lived, you are going to die.

ORESTES By the gods, do not unman me, bringing me to tears by the recollection of my sorrows.

ELECTRA We are about to die; it is not possible for me not to grieve over our troubles; it is a piteous thing for all men to lose life, that is so sweet.

ORESTES This is the day appointed for us; we must fit the dangling noose about our necks or whet the sword for use.

ELECTRA You be the one to kill me, brother, so that no Argive may insult Agamemnon’s son by my death.

ORESTES Enough that I have a mother’s blood upon me; I will not kill you, but die by your own hand, however you wish.

ELECTRA Agreed; I will not be behind you in using the sword; only I long to throw my arms about your neck.

ORESTES Enjoy that empty satisfaction, if embraces have any joy for those who have come so near to death.

ELECTRA My dearest, you who have a name that sounds most loved and sweet to your sister, partner in one soul with her!

ORESTES Oh, you will melt my heart! I want to give you back a fond embrace. And why should such a wretch as I still feel any shame? Embracing Electra Heart to heart, my sister! how sweet to me this close embrace! In place of children and the marriage bed this greeting is all that is possible to us poor sufferers.

Full Text (part 8)

ELECTRA Ah! If only the same sword, if it is right, could kill us both, and one coffin of cedar-wood receive us!

ORESTES That would be very sweet; but surely you see we are too destitute of friends to be allowed one tomb between us.

ELECTRA Did that coward Menelaus, that traitor to my father, not even speak for you, or make an effort to save your life?

ORESTES He did not even show himself, but, with his hopes centered on the throne, he was careful not to attempt the rescue of his friends. But let us see how we may die a noble death, one most worthy of Agamemnon. I, for my part, will let the city see my noble spirit when I plunge the sword to my heart, and you in turn must imitate my daring. Pylades, be the arbitrator of our slaughter and, when we both are dead, lay out our bodies decently; carry them to our father’s grave and bury us there with him. Farewell, now; I am leaving for the deed, as you see.

PYLADES Stop! there is first one point I have to blame you for, if you thought I would care to live when you are dead.

ORESTES But why are you called on to die with me?

PYLADES Do you ask? What is life to me without your companionship?

ORESTES You did not kill your mother, as I did to my sorrow.

PYLADES At least I helped you; and so I ought to suffer the same penalty.

ORESTES Surrender to your father, do not die with me. You still have a city, while I no longer have, and your father’s home, and a great refuge of wealth. You have failed to marry my poor sister, whom I betrothed to you from a deep regard for your companionship; but find another bride and rear a family; for the marriage-tie which bound us is no more. Farewell, be happy, my beloved friend; we cannot, but you may; for we, the dead, are robbed of happiness.

PYLADES How far you are from grasping what I mean! May the fruitful earth, the radiant sky refuse to hold my blood, if ever I turn traitor and desert you when I have freed myself. For I shared in the murder, which I will not deny, and also schemed the whole plot, for which you are now paying the penalty; and so I ought to die together with you and her. For I consider her, whom you betrothed to me, as my wife. Whatever shall I say, when I reach Delphi, the citadel of Phocis, if I was your friend before your misfortunes, but ceased to be your friend, when you were unfortunate? That must not be; no, this concerns me, too. But since we are to die, let us take counsel together that Menelaus may share our misfortune.

ORESTES Best of friends! if only I could see this before I die.

PYLADES Listen to me, and delay the stroke of the sword.

ORESTES I will, if I may take vengeance on my enemy.

PYLADES Hush now! I have small confidence in women.

ORESTES Have no fear of these; for they are our friends who are here.

PYLADES Let us kill Helen, a bitter grief to Menelaus.

ORESTES How? I am ready, if there is any chance of success.

PYLADES With our swords; she is hiding in your house.

ORESTES Indeed she is; and already she is putting her seal on everything.

PYLADES No longer, after she is married to Hades.

ORESTES But how? She has her barbarian attendants.

PYLADES Barbarians indeed! I am not the man to fear any Phrygian.

ORESTES They are only fit to look after mirrors and perfumes!

PYLADES Has she brought Trojan luxury with her here?

ORESTES So much so, that Hellas is too small for her to live in.

PYLADES The race of slaves is nothing to those who are free.

ORESTES Well, if I can do this deed, I do not shrink from dying twice over.

PYLADES No, nor I either, if it is you I am avenging.

ORESTES Explain the matter, and continue describing your plan.

PYLADES We will enter the house on the pretence of going to our death.

ORESTES So far I follow you, but not beyond.

PYLADES We will lament our sufferings to her.

ORESTES So that she will shed tears, although her heart is glad.

PYLADES And our condition will be like hers.

ORESTES How shall we proceed next in our contest?

PYLADES We shall have swords concealed in our cloaks.

ORESTES Will we dispose of her attendants first?

PYLADES We will shut them up in different parts of the house.

ORESTES And whoever refuses to be quiet, we must kill.

PYLADES And then the deed itself shows us where we must exert ourselves.

ORETES To kill Helen; I understand that watchword.

PYLADES You have it; now hear how sound my scheme is. If we drew the sword upon a woman of greater chastity, the murder would be infamous; but, as it is, she will be punished for the sake of all Hellas, whose fathers she slew, whose children she destroyed, and made widows out of brides. There will be shouts of joy, and they will kindle the altars of the gods, invoking on our heads many blessings, because we shed a wicked woman’s blood. After killing her, you will not be called the matricide, but, resigning that title, you will succeed to a better, and be called the slayer of Helen the murderess. It can never, never be right that Menelaus should prosper, and your father, your sister and you should die, and your mother—but I pass that by, for it is not seemly to mention it—and for him to possess your home, though it was by Agamemnon’s prowess that he recovered his bride. May I die, if we do not draw our swords upon her! But if we do not accomplish Helen’s death, we will set fire to the house and die. For we will not fail to achieve one distinction, an honorable death or an honorable escape.

CHORUS LEADER The daughter of Tyndareus, who has brought shame on her sex, has justly earned the hatred of every woman.

ORESTES Ah! there is nothing better than a trusty friend, neither wealth nor monarchy; a crowd of people is of no account in exchange for a noble friend. You were the one who devised the vengeance against Aegisthus, and stood by me in danger, and now again you are offering me a means to punish my foes and do not stand aside—but I will cease praising you, for there is something wearisome even in being praised to excess. Now since in any case I must breathe my last, I want to do something to my enemies before my death, so that I may requite with ruin those who betrayed me, and so that those who made me suffer may grieve. Yes! I am the son of Agamemnon, who was considered worthy to rule Hellas, no tyrant but yet god-like in power; I will not disgrace him by submitting to die like a slave; my last breath shall be free and I will take vengeance on Menelaus. For if we could secure one object, we would be lucky, if a means of safety should unexpectedly come our way from somewhere, and we should be the slayers, not the slain; this is what I pray for. This wish of mine is a pleasant dream to cheer the heart, without cost, by means of the mouth’s winged words.

ELECTRA I think I have it, brother, a means of safety for you, and for him and thirdly for myself.

ORESTES You mean divine providence. But why do I say that? Since I know the natural shrewdness of your heart.

ELECTRA Listen to me now; and you (to Pylades) pay attention also.

ORESTES Speak; the prospect of good news holds a certain pleasure.

ELECTRA You know Helen’s daughter? Of course you do.

ORESTES I know her, Hermione, whom my mother reared.

ELECTRA She has gone to Clytemnestra’s tomb.

ORESTES To do what? What hope are you hinting at?

ELECTRA She was going to pour a libation over the tomb of our mother.

ORESTES Well, how does what you have said lead to our safety?

ELECTRA Seize her as a hostage on her way back.

ORESTES What good can your suggested remedy do us three friends?

ELECTRA If, after Helen’s slaughter, Menelaus tries to do anything to you or to Pylades and me—for this bond of friendship is wholly one—say that you will kill Hermione; you must draw your sword and hold it to the maiden’s throat. If Menelaus, when he sees Helen fallen in her blood, tries to save you to insure the girl’s life, allow him to take his daughter to his arms; but if he makes no effort to curb the angry outburst and leaves you to die, then cut the maiden’s throat. And I think if he puts in a mighty appearance at first, he will calm down in time; for he is not bold or brave by nature. That is my line of defense for our safety. My speech is over.

ORESTES O you that have the spirit of a man, though your body shows you to be a woman, how far more worthy you are to live than to die! Pylades, you will lose such a woman to your sorrow, or if you live, you will have a blessed marriage.

PYLADES Then may it be so, and may she come to the city of Phocis with all the honors of a happy wedding.

ORESTES How soon will Hermione return to the palace? All the rest was very well said, if we succeed in catching this impious father’s cub.

ELECTRA Well, I expect she is near the house already, for the length of time agrees exactly.

ORESTES Good; you, Electra, my sister, stay before the palace and await the maiden’s approach; keep watch in case any one, whether an ally or my father’s brother, forestalls us by his entry before the murder is complete; and then make a signal to the house, either by beating on a panel of the door or calling to us within. Let us enter now and arm ourselves with swords for the final struggle, Pylades, for you share the labor with me. O father, in your home of gloomy night, your son Orestes calls you to come to the rescue of the destitute. It is on your account I am wrongfully suffering, and it is by your brother that I have been betrayed for doing right; it is his wife I wish to take and kill; you be our accomplice for this deed.

ELECTRA Oh father, come! if within the ground you hear the cry of your children, who are dying for your sake.

PYLADES O kinsman of my father, Agamemnon, hear my prayers also; save your children.

ORESTES I killed my mother—

ELECTRA I held the sword—

PYLADES I . . . set them free from fear—

ORESTES To aid you, father.

ELECTRA Nor did I betray you.

PYLADES Will you not hear these reproaches and rescue your children?

ORESTES With tears I pour you a libation.

ELECTRA And I with laments.

PYLADES Cease, and let us set about our business. If prayers really do pierce the ground, he hears. O Zeus, god of my fathers, and holy Justice, give success to him and me and her; for there is one struggle for three friends, and one penalty, for all to live or—pay death’s account. Exeunt Orestes and Pylades.

ELECTRA My dear friends of Mycenae, of foremost rank in Argos, the home of the Pelasgians.

CHORUS What are you saying to us, mistress? For this honored name is still left for you in the Danaid town.

ELECTRA Station yourselves, some here along the high road, others there on some other path, to watch the house.

CHORUS But why do you call me to this service? Tell me, my dear.

ELECTRA I am afraid that some one, who is stationed at the house for slaughter, may find trouble upon trouble.

FIRST SEMI-CHORUS Let us make haste and go on; I will keep careful watch upon this road towards the east.

SECOND SEMI-CHORUS And I on this one, that leads westward.

ELECTRA Throw a glance sideways.

CHORUS Here and there, then we are looking back again, as you tell us.

ELECTRA Cast your eyes around, let them see everything, through your tresses.

FIRST SEMI-CHORUS Who is that on the road? Who is this country-man wandering round your house?

ELECTRA Ah! friends, we are ruined; he will at once reveal to our enemies the armed ambush.

SECOND SEMI-CHORUS (Reconnoitring. Calm your fears; the road is not occupied, as you think, my dear.

ELECTRA (Turning to the other watchers.) Well? Is your side still secure? Give me a good report, if the space before the court-yard is deserted.

FIRST SEMI-CHORUS All goes well here; look to your own watch, for no Danaid is approaching us.

SECOND SEMI-CHORUS Your report agrees with mine; there is no noise here either.

ELECTRA Well then, I will listen in the gateway.

CHORUS (Calling through the door.) You within the house, why are you delaying to spill your victim’s blood, now that all is quiet?

ELECTRA [spoken] They do not hear; alas for my troubles! Can it be that her beauty has blunted their swords? [sung] Soon some Argive in full armor, hurrying to her rescue, will attack the palace. [spoken] Keep a better look-out; it is not a contest of sitting still; turn about, some here, some there.

CHORUS [sung] I am looking everywhere in turn along the road.

HELEN [within] Oh, Pelasgian Argos! I am being foully murdered.

CHORUS Did you hear? The men have put their hand to the slaughter. It is Helen screaming, at a guess.

ELECTRA [sung] O eternal might of Zeus, of Zeus, only come to help my friends!

HELEN [within] Menelaus, I am dying, but you do not help me, though you are near.

ELECTRA [sung] Slay her, kill her, destroy her! Stab with your twin double-edged swords the woman who left her father, left her husband, and killed so many of the men of Hellas, slain beside the river-bank, where tears rained down, by the iron darts all round the eddies of Scamander.

CHORUS LEADER Hush! hush! I caught the sound of a foot-fall on the road near the house.

ELECTRA My dearest friends, it is Hermione advancing into the middle of the bloodshed; let our clamor cease. For she comes headlong into the meshes of the net. The prey will be good, if it is caught. Take up your places again with looks composed and faces not betraying what has happened; I too will have a gloomy look, as if I knew nothing of what has been done. Addressing Hermione as she approaches. Ah! maiden, have you come from wreathing Clytemnestra’s grave and pouring libations to the dead?

HERMIONE Yes, I have returned after securing her favor; but I was filled with some alarm about a cry I heard from the palace as I was still at a distance.

ELECTRA But why? Our present lot gives cause for groans.

HERMIONE Oh, don’t say so! What is your news?

ELECTRA Argos has sentenced Orestes and me to death.

HERMIONE Oh no! not my own relatives!

ELECTRA It is decreed; we have put on the yoke of necessity.

HERMIONE Was this the reason of the cry within?

ELECTRA Yes, a suppliant cried out as he fell at Helen’s knees—

HERMIONE Who is he? I know nothing more, if you do not tell me.

ELECTRA Unhappy Orestes, entreating mercy for himself and me.

HERMIONE The house then has good reason to shout.

ELECTRA What else would make someone entreat more earnestly? But come and throw yourself before your mother in her prosperity, join your friends’ supplication that Menelaus may not see us die. O you that were nursed in my mother’s arms, have pity on us and relieve our pain. Come here to the struggle, and I myself will be your guide; for you alone have power over our safety.

HERMIONE See, I am hastening to the house; as far it as rests with me, regard yourselves as safe. Exit Hermione .

ELECTRA Now, friends in the house with swords, seize the prey!

HERMIONE [calling from within] Oh no! Who are these I see?

ORESTES (within.) Silence! You are here for our safety, not yours.

ELECTRA Hold her, hold her! Point a sword at her throat, then wait in silence, that Menelaus may learn that he has found men, not Phrygian cowards, and he has been treated as cowards deserve.

CHORUS Oh, oh, friends! raise a din, a din and shouting before the house, that the murder when done may not inspire the Argives with wild alarm, to make them bring aid to the palace, before I see for certain that Helen’s corpse lies bloody in the house, or hear the news from one of her attendants; for I know a part of the tragedy, of the rest I am not sure. In justice, retribution from the gods has come to Helen; for she filled all Hellas with tears, through that accursed, accursed Paris of Ida, who drew Hellas to Troy.

CHORUS LEADER But the bolts of the palace-doors rattle; be silent; for one of the Phrygians is coming out, from whom we will inquire of the state of matters within.

PHRYGIAN (expressing the most abject terror.) I have escaped from death by Argive sword, in my Asian slippers, by clambering over the cedar-beams that roof the porch and the Doric triglyphs, away, away! O Earth, Earth! in barbaric flight! Alas! You foreign women, where can I escape, flying through the clear sky or over the sea, which bull-headed Ocean rolls about as he circles the world in his embrace?

CHORUS LEADER What is it, Helen’s slave, creature from Ida?

PHRYGIAN Ilium, Ilium, oh me! city of Phrygia, and Ida’s holy hill with fruitful soil, how I mourn for your destruction a shrill song with barbarian cry; destroyed through her beauty, born from a bird, swan-feathered, Leda’s cub, hellish Helen! to be a curse to Apollo’s tower of polished stone. Ah! Alas! woe to Dardania, its wailing, wailing, for the horsemanship of Ganymede, bedfellow of Zeus.

CHORUS LEADER Tell us clearly each event within the house. for till now I have been guessing at what I do not clearly understand.

PHRYGIAN Ah, for Linus! Ah, for Linus! That is what barbarians say, alas, in their eastern tongue as a prelude to death, whenever royal blood is spilled upon the ground by deadly iron blades. To tell you everything in turn, they came into the house, two twin lions of Hellas; one was called the general’s son; the other was the son of Strophius, a crafty plotter, like Odysseus, treacherous in silence, but true to his friends, bold for the fight, clever in war and a deadly serpent. Curse him for his quiet plotting, the villain! In they came to the throne of the wife of Paris the archer, faces wet with tears, and took their seats in all humility, one on this side, one on that, each with weapons. They threw, they threw their suppliant arms round the knees of Helen. Her Phrygian servants sprang up frantic, frantic; they called to each other in terror that there was treachery. To some there seemed no cause, but others thought that the viper who killed his mother was entangling the daughter of Tyndareus in the snare of his plot.

CHORUS LEADER And where were you? fled long before in terror?

PHRYGIAN It happened that I, in Phrygian style, Phrygian, was wafting the breeze, the breeze by the curls of Helen, Helen, with a round feathered fan, before her face, in barbarian style; and she was twisting flax on her distaff with her fingers, and letting her yarn fall on the floor, for she wanted to sew with her flax purple cloth as adornment for the tomb from the Trojan spoils, a gift to Clytemnestra. Orestes said to the Spartan girl: Daughter of Zeus, get up from your chair and come here to the old hearth of Pelops, our ancestor, to hear something I have to say. He led her, led her, and she followed, no prophet of the future. But his accomplice, the Phocian villain, was off on other business: Out of my way! Well, Phrygians always were cowards. So he shut them up in different parts of the house, some in the stables, others in the halls, one here, one there, disposing of them severally at a distance from their mistress.

CHORUS LEADER What happened next?

PHRYGIAN Mother of Ida, great, great mother! Oh! the murderous scenes and lawless wickedness that I saw, I saw, in the palace! They drew forth swords from hiding under their purple-bordered cloaks, each darting his eye a different way, lest anyone should be near. Like boar of the hills, they stood opposite the woman and said: You will die, you will die; your cowardly husband is killing you, because he betrayed his brother’s son to death in Argos. She screamed, oh, oh! she screamed, and brought down her white arm upon her breast and beat her poor head; then turned her golden-sandalled steps in flight, in flight; but Orestes got before her in his Mycenean boots and clutched his fingers in her hair, and, bending back her neck on to her left shoulder, was on the point of driving the black sword into her throat.

CHORUS LEADER Where were you Phrygians in the house to help her?

PHRYGIAN With a loud cry from the house we battered down with bars the doors and doorposts where we had been, and ran to her assistance from every direction, one with stones, another with javelins, a third with a drawn sword; but Pylades came to meet us, undaunted, like Hector of Troy or Ajax triple-plumed, as I saw him, saw him, in Priam’s gateway; and we met at sword’s point. But then it was very clear how the Phrygians were, how much less we were in battle strength to the Hellene might. There was one man gone in flight, another slain, another wounded, yet another pleading to stave off death; but we escaped under cover of the darkness; while some were falling, some were about to fall, and others were lying dead. And just as her unhappy mother sank to the ground to die, the luckless Hermione came in. Those two, like Bacchantes when they drop the thyrsus for a mountain cub, rushed and seized her; then turned again to the daughter of Zeus to slay her; but she had vanished from the room, passing right through the house, O Zeus and Earth and light and night! whether by magic spells or wizards’ arts or heavenly theft. What happened afterwards I do not know; for I stole out of the palace, a runaway. So Menelaus endured his painful, painful suffering to recover his wife Helen from Troy to no purpose.

CHORUS LEADER And look, here is a strange sight succeeding others; for I see Orestes sword in hand before the palace, advancing with excited steps.

ORESTES Where is the one who fled from the palace to escape my sword?

PHRYGIAN [falling at the feet of Orestes] Before you I prostrate myself, lord, and supplicate you in my foreign way.

ORESTES We are not in Ilium, but the land of Argos.

PHRYGIAN Everywhere, the wise find life sweeter than death.

ORESTES I suppose that shouting of yours was not for Menelaus to come to the rescue?

PHRYGIAN Oh no! it was to help you I called out, for you are more deserving.

ORESTES Did the daughter of Tyndareus die justly, then?

PHRYGIAN Most justly, even if she had three throats to die with.

ORESTES Your cowardice makes you glib; this is not what you really think.

PHRYGIAN Why, surely she deserved it, the one who destroyed Hellas and the Phrygians too?

ORESTES Swear you are not saying this to humor me, or I will kill you.

PHRYGIAN I swear by my life, an oath I would keep!

ORESTES Did every Phrygian in Troy show the same terror of steel as you do?

PHRYGIAN Take your sword away! Held so near it flashes a dreadful gleam of blood.

ORESTES Are you afraid of being turned to a stone, as if you had seen a Gorgon?

PHRYGIAN To a stone, no! but to a corpse; I don’t know this Gorgon’s head.

ORESTES A slave, and yet you fear death, which will release you from trouble?

PHRYGIAN Slave or free, every one is glad to gaze upon the light.

ORESTES Well said! Your shrewdness saves you; go inside.

PHRYGIAN You will not kill me after all?

ORESTES You are spared.

PHRYGIAN How well you said that!

ORESTES Now it’s time to change my plans.

PHRYGIAN You didn’t say that well!

ORESTES You fool! Do you think I could endure to make your throat bloody? You weren’t born a woman, nor do you belong among men. The reason I left the palace was to stop your shouting; for Argos is quickly roused, once it hears a cry to the rescue. As for Menelaus, I am not afraid of measuring swords with him; let him come, proud of the golden ringlets on his shoulders; for if, to avenge the slaying of Helen, he gathers the Argives and leads them against the palace, refusing to attempt the rescue of me, my sister, and Pylades, my fellow conspirator, he will have two corpses to behold, his daughter’s as well as his wife’s. Exeunt Orestes and The Phrygian Slave.

CHORUS Ah, fortune! Again and yet again the house comes to a fearful contest, for the race of Atreus. What are we to do? Carry tidings to the town? Or hold our peace? It is safer, friends. Look, look at that sudden rush of smoke to the sky in front of the palace, telling its tale! They are kindling torches to fire the halls of Tantalus; nor do they hold back from murder. A god determines the end where he wishes, for mortals. Great is the power; by avenging fiends, this house has fallen, fallen, through blood, by reason of the hurling Myrtilus from the chariot.

CHORUS LEADER But look! I see Menelaus approaching the palace in haste; no doubt he has heard what is happening here. Descendants of Atreus within, make haste and secure the doors with bars. A man in luck is a dangerous adversary for luckless wretches like you, Orestes. [Orestes and Pylades appear on the roof, holding Hermione.]

MENELAUS I have come at the report of strange and violent deeds perpetrated by a pair of lions, men I do not call them. What I heard was that my wife was not dead, but had vanished out of sight, an idle rumor which someone fooled by his own fear brought me. But that is a plot of the matricide’s—ridiculous! Open the doors! I tell my servants to force the gates, so that I may rescue my child at any rate from the hands of those blood-stained men and recover my poor wretched wife, while the ones who destroyed her must die at my hands.

ORESTES [from the roof.] You there! Keep your hands off those bolts; I mean you, Menelaus, towering in your audacity! Or I will tear off the ancient parapet, the work of masons, and shatter your skull with this coping-stone. The doors are bolted and barred, which will prevent your eagerness to bring aid and keep you from entering.

MENELAUS Oh! What is this? I see a blaze of torches and men standing at bay on the top of the house, with a sword guarding my daughter’s throat.

ORESTES Would you question me or hear me speak?

MENELAUS Neither; but I suppose I must hear you.

ORESTES I intend to kill your daughter, if you want to know.

MENELAUS After slaying Helen, you will add murder to murder?

ORESTES Would I had accomplished that, instead of being duped by the gods!

MENELAUS Do you deny having slain her, and say this out of wanton insult?

ORESTES Yes, I do deny it, to my sorrow. If only I had—

MENELAUS Done what? You frighten me!

ORESTES Hurled the pollution of Hellas to Hades!

MENELAUS Give back my wife’s dead body, so that I may bury her.

ORESTES Ask the gods for her; but I will kill your daughter.

MENELAUS This matricide is adding murder to murder.

ORESTES This champion of his father, betrayed by you to death.

MENELAUS Are you not content with the present stain of your mother’s blood?

ORESTES I would not grow tired if I had these wicked women to slay for ever.

MENELAUS Are you too, Pylades, a partner in this bloody work?

ORESTES His silence says he is; let it suffice for me to say it.

MENELAUS You’ll say it to your cost, unless you fly away!

ORESTES We will not try to escape; we will set fire to the palace.

MENELAUS What! will you destroy the home of your ancestors?

ORESTES Yes, so that you don’t have it, and I will offer this girl in sacrifice on the fire.

MENELAUS Kill her; and if you do, I will punish you for it.

ORESTES All right, then.

MENELAUS No, no! Don’t do it!

ORESTES Silence! Your sufferings are just; endure them.

MENELAUS Well, is it just that you should live?

ORESTES And rule a kingdom, yes.

MENELAUS A kingdom, where?

ORESTES Here in Pelasgian Argos.

MENELAUS You are so well qualified to handle holy water!

ORESTES And why not?

MENELAUS And to slay victims before battle!

ORESTES Well, are you?

MENELAUS Yes, my hands are clean.

ORESTES But not your heart.

MENELAUS Who would speak to you?

ORESTES The one who loves his father.

MENELAUS And the one who honors his mother?

ORESTES He was born fortunate.

MENELAUS Not like you!

ORESTES No, for I do not delight in these wicked women.

MENELAUS Remove that sword from my daughter!

ORESTES You are a liar.

MENELAUS Will you kill my daughter?

ORESTES Now you are not a liar!

MENELAUS Ah me! what shall I do?

ORESTES Go to the Argives and persuade them—

MENELAUS Persuade them what?

ORESTES Not to kill us; entreat the city.

MENELAUS Or you will slay my child?

ORESTES That is correct.

MENELAUS O wretched Helen—

ORESTES Am I not wretched?

MENELAUS I brought you back from Troy to be a victim—

ORESTES If only she had been!

MENELAUS After innumerable troubles.

ORESTES Except where I was concerned.

MENELAUS I have suffered dreadfully!

ORESTES Yes, for you would not help me then.

MENELAUS You have me there.

ORESTES Your own cowardice has you. Calling from the roof to Electra Fire the palace from beneath, Electra; and, Pylades, my most trusty friend, kindle the parapet of these walls. The palace is seen to be ablaze.

MENELAUS O Danaid earth! Dwellers in Argos, city of horses, put on your armor and come to help! For this fellow is forcing his life from your whole city, though he has caused pollution by shedding his mother’s blood.

APOLLO Appearing in the clouds. Menelaus, calm your anger that has been whetted; I am Phoebus, the son of Leto, drawing near to call you by name. And you also, Orestes, who are keeping guard on the girl, sword in hand, so that you may hear what I have come to say. Helen, whom all your eagerness failed to destroy, when you were seeking to anger Menelaus, is here as you see in the enfolding air, rescued from death and not slain by you. I saved her and snatched her from beneath your sword at the bidding of father Zeus, for she, his child, must be immortal, and take her seat with Castor and Polydeuces in the enfolding air, a savior to mariners. Choose another bride and take her to your home; for the gods by that one’s loveliness joined Troy and Hellas in battle, causing death so that they might draw off from the earth the outrage of unstinting numbers of mortals. So much for Helen; as for you, Orestes, you must cross the broders of this land and dwell for one whole year on Parrhasian soil, which from your flight shall be called the land of Orestes by Azanians and Arcadians. And when you return from there to the city of Athens, undergo your trial by the Avenging Three for your mother’s murder; the gods will be arbitrators of your trial, and will take a most righteous vote on you at the hill of Ares, where you are to win your case. And it is destined, Orestes, that you will marry Hermione, at whose neck you are holding your sword; Neoptolemus shall never marry her, though he thinks he will; for he is fated to die by a Delphian sword, when he claims satisfaction of me for the death of his father Achilles. Give your sister in marriage to Pylades, to whom you formerly promised her; the life awaiting him is one of happiness. Menelaus, leave Orestes to rule Argos; go and reign over the Spartan land, keeping it as the dowry of a wife who till this day never ceased causing you innumerable troubles. I will set matters straight between Orestes and the citizens, for I forced him to murder his mother.

ORESTES Hail, prophetic Loxias, for your oracles! You were not a lying prophet after all, but a true seer; and yet I was afraid that it was some fiend I had listened to, when I seemed to hear your voice; but all is ending well, and I obey your word. There! I release Hermione from slaughter and agree to make her my wife whenever her father gives her.

MENELAUS All hail, Helen, daughter of Zeus! I wish you joy of your home in heaven’s happy courts. To you, Orestes, I betroth my daughter, as Phoebus said; being noble yourself, may you have benefit from a noble wife, and may I also, in giving her to you.

APOLLO Go now each one to the place appointed by me; reconcile your quarrels.

MENELAUS I must obey.

ORESTES And so must I; I make a truce with my fate, Menelaus, and with your oracles, Loxias.

APOLLO Go your ways, and honor Peace, fairest of goddesses; I will bring Helen to the halls of Zeus, when I have come to the sky, bright with stars. There, enthroned beside Hera and Hebe, the bride of Heracles, she will be honored by men with libations as a goddess for ever; along with those Zeus-born sons of Tyndareus, she will be a guardian of the sea, for the good of sailors.

CHORUS Greatly revered Victory, may you occupy my life, and never cease to crown me!

RHESUS (Translated by E. P. Coleridge, 1891)

CHORUS Enter the Chorus of Trojan guards. Go to Hector’s couch. Which of you squires that tend the prince, or you armor-clad men, is awake? He ought to receive fresh tidings from the warriors who were set to guard the assembled army during the fourth watch of the night. Calls to Hector in the tent. Lift up your head! Prop your arm beneath it! Unseal that fierce eye from its repose; quit your lowly couch of scattered leaves, Hector! It is time to hearken.

HECTOR Who is this? Is it a friend who calls? Who are you? Your password? Speak! Who are these who come near my couch in the night? You must tell me.

CHORUS Sentinels of the army.

HECTOR Why this tumultuous haste?

CHORUS Be of good courage.

HECTOR I am. Is there some midnight ambush?

CHORUS No.

HECTOR Why do you desert your post and rouse the army, unless you have some tidings of the night? Are you not aware how near the Argive army we take our night’s repose clad in all our armor?

CHORUS To arms! Hector, seek your allies’ sleeping camp! Stir them up to wield the spear! Awake them! Despatch a friend to your own company, bridle the horses. Who will go to the son of Panthus? Who to Europa’s son, captain of the Lycian band? Where are they who should inspect the victims? Where are the leaders of the light-armed troops and the Phrygian archers? String your horn-tipped bows!

HECTOR Your tidings inspire now fear, now confidence; nothing is plainly set forth. Can it be that you are smitten with wild fear by Pan, the son of Cronion? Leaving your watch you rouse the army. What does your noisy summons mean? What tidings can I say you bring? Your words are many, but no plain statement have you made.

CHORUS The long night through, Hector, the Argive army has kindled fires, and bright with torches shines the anchored fleet. To Agamemnon’s tent the whole army move clamorously by night, eager for fresh orders; for never before has the sea-faring company been so alarmed. And so I was suspicious of what might happen and came to tell you, so that you may have no cause to blame me hereafter.

HECTOR In good season you come, although your tidings are full of terror; for those men are bent on giving me the slip and stealing away from this land in their ships by night; their midnight signalling pleases me. Ah! Fortune, to rob me in my hour of triumph, a lion of his prey, before this spear had made an end of the whole Argive army in one line! Yes, if the sun’s bright lamp had not withheld his light, I would not have stayed my victor’s spear, before I had fired their ships and made my way from tent to tent, drenching this hand in Achaean blood. I was eager to make a night attack and take advantage of the stroke of luck sent by heaven; but those wise seers of mine, who have heaven’s will so pat, persuaded me to wait for dawn, and then leave not one Achaean in the land. But those others do not await the counsels of my soothsayers; darkness turns runaways to heroes. But we must now without delay pass this word to the army to take up arms and cease from slumber, so that many an Achaean, as he leaps aboard his ship, shall be smitten through the back and sprinkle the ladders with blood, and others shall be fast bound with cords and learn to till our Phrygian fields.

CHORUS LEADER You hasten, Hector, before you know clearly what is happening; for we do not know for certain whether the men are flying.

HECTOR What other reason did the Argive army have to kindle fires?

CHORUS LEADER I do not know; I am very suspicious.

HECTOR If you fear this, be sure there’s nothing you would not fear.

CHORUS LEADER Never before did the enemy kindle such a blaze.

HECTOR No, nor ever before did they suffer such shameful defeat and rout.

CHORUS LEADER This you have achieved; look now to what remains to do.

HECTOR A simple tale, to arm against the enemy.

CHORUS LEADER Look! Here comes Aeneas, in great haste too, with news to tell his friends.

AENEAS Hector, why have the sentinels in terror made their way through the army at night to your couch to hold a midnight conclave and disturb the army?

HECTOR Encase yourself in your armor, Aeneas.

AENEAS What is it? Have tidings come of some secret stratagem set on foot during the night by the foe?

HECTOR The men are flying, and going aboard their ships.

AENEAS What sure proof can you give of this?

HECTOR The whole night they are kindling blazing torches; I think they will not wait for tomorrow, but after lighting brands upon their ships’ decks will leave this land and fly to their homes.

AENEAS And you, why do you gird on your sword?

HECTOR With my spear I will stop them even as they fly and leap aboard their ships, and my hand shall be heavy upon them; for it is shameful in us, yes, and cowardly as well as shameful, when the god gives them into our hands, to let our foes escape without battle, after all the injuries they have done us.

AENEAS Would you were as sage as you are bold! But, to be sure, among mortals the same man is not dowered by nature with universal knowledge; each has his special gift appointed him, yours is battle, another’s is sage counsel. You are excited to hear that the Achaeans are lighting blazing torches, and you would lead on our troops across the ditches in the calm still night. Now after crossing the deep yawning trench, supposing you should find the enemy are not flying from the land, but are awaiting your onset, beware lest you suffer defeat and so never reach this city again; for how will you pass the palisades in a rout? And how shall your charioteers cross the bridges without dashing the axles of their cars to pieces? And, if victorious, you have next the son of Peleus to engage; he will never allow you to cast the firebrand on the fleet or harry the Achaeans, as you believe. No, for that man is fierce as fire, a very tower of might. Let us rather then leave our men to sleep calmly under arms after the weariness of battle, while we send, as I advise, whoever will volunteer to spy upon the enemy; and if they really are preparing to fly, let us arise and fall upon the Argive army, but if this signalling is a trap to catch us, we shall discover from the spy the enemy’s designs and take counsel; such is my advice, lord.

CHORUS It pleases me well; so change your mind and adopt this counsel. I do not love hazardous commands in generals. What is better than for a swift-footed spy to approach the ships and learn why our foes are lighting fires in front of their naval station?

HECTOR Since this finds favor with you all, prevail. To Aeneas. Go and calm the allies; perhaps the army hearing of our midnight council is disturbed. Mine shall it be to send one forth to spy upon the foe. And if I discover any plot among them, you shall fully hear of it and be present to learn the report; but in case they are starting off in flight, with eager ear await the trumpet’s call, for then I will not stay, but will this very night engage the Argive army there where their ships are hauled up.

AENEAS Send out the spy at once; there’s safety in your counsels now. And you shall find me steadfast at your side, whenever occasion calls.

HECTOR What Trojan of those present in council volunteers to go and spy on the Argive fleet? Who will be that patriot? Who says yes? I myself cannot at every point serve my country and my friends in arms.

DOLON I for my country will gladly run this risk and go to spy on the Argive fleet, and when I have learned fully all that the Achaeans plot I will return. I undertake this toil on these conditions.

HECTOR True to his name indeed, his country’s friend is Dolon. Your father’s house was famed before, but now you have made it doubly so.

DOLON So must I toil, but for my pains I should receive fitting wages. For set a reward on any deed, and it breeds a double favor.

HECTOR Yes, that is fair; I cannot dispute it. Name your wage, except for my sovereignty.

DOLON I do not covet your toilsome sovereignty.

HECTOR Well then, marry a daughter of Priam and become my brother-in-law.

DOLON No, I do not wish to marry among those beyond my station.

HECTOR There’s gold, if this you’ll claim as your prize.

DOLON I have it in my home; I lack no sustenance.

HECTOR What then is your desire of all that Ilium stores within her?

DOLON Promise me my gift when you conquer the Achaeans.

HECTOR I will give it to you; ask anything except the captains of the fleet.

DOLON Slay them; I do not ask you to keep your hand off Menelaus.

HECTOR Is it the son of Oileus you would ask me for?

DOLON Hands that are well brought up are worthless at farming.

HECTOR Whom then of the Achaeans will you have alive to hold to ransom?

DOLON I told you before, my house is stored with gold.

HECTOR Why then, you shall come and with your own hands choose out some spoil.

DOLON Nail up the spoils for the gods on their temples.

HECTOR Then what greater prize than these will you ask me for?

DOLON Achilles’ horses. The prize must be worth the toil when one stakes one’s life on Fortune’s dice.

HECTOR Ah! but your desires clash with mine about those horses; for they are immortal and born from immortals, who bear the son of Peleus on his headlong course. Poseidon, lord of the ocean, broke them and gave them to Peleus, so runs the legend. Yet, for I urged you on, I will not break my word; I will give to you Achilles’ team, a fair possession for your house.

DOLON I thank you; in receiving then, I assert that I am taking a fairer gift than any other Phrygian for my bravery. Yet you should not be envious; you have other things to gladden your heart, in your kingship over this land.

CHORUS Great the enterprise, and great the reward you design to receive. Happy, yes, happy will you be, if you succeed; fair the fame your toil shall win. Yet it is a great thing to become the brother-in-law of princes. On the gods’ decrees let Justice keep her eye! what man can give you have, it seems, in full.

DOLON I will set forth; but going within my house I will clothe myself in fitting attire, and then I will hasten to the Argive fleet.

CHORUS LEADER Why, what dress in place of this will you assume?

DOLON One that fits my task and furtive steps.

CHORUS LEADER One should ever learn wisdom from the wise; tell me, what will be your equipment?

DOLON I will fasten a wolf-skin about my back, and over my head put the brute’s gaping jaws; then fitting its fore-feet to ny hands and its hind-feet to my legs, I will go on all-fours in imitation of a wolf’s gait to puzzle the enemy, when I approach their trenches and barriers round the ships. Rut whenever I come to a deserted spot, I will walk on two feet; such is the ruse I have decided on.

CHORUS LEADER May Hermes, Maia’s child, escort you safely there and back, prince of tricksters as he is! You know what you have to do; good luck is all you need now.

DOLON I shall return in safety, and bring to you the head of Odysseus when I have slain him, or the son of Tydeus, and with this clear proof before you you shall assert that Dolon went to the Argive fleet; for, before the dawn, I will come back home with bloodstained hand. Exit Dolon.

CHORUS Lord of Thymbra and of Delos, who haunt your temple in Lycia, Apollo, O divine head, come with all your archery, appear this night, and by your guidance save this man, and aid the Dardanians, O almighty god whose hands in days of old built the walls of Troy.

CHORUS May he come to the ships! May he reach the army of Hellas and spy it out, then turn again and reach the altars of his father’s home in Ilium! May he mount the chariot drawn by Phthia’s horses, when our master has sacked Achaea’s camp, those horses that the sea-god gave to Peleus, son of Aeacus.

CHORUS For he alone had heart enough for home and country to go and spy on the naval station; I admire his spirit; how few stout hearts there are, when on the sea the sunlight dies and the city labors in the surge. Phrygia yet has left a valiant few, and bold hearts in the battle’s press; it is only Mysia’s sons who scorn us as allies.

CHORUS Which of the Achaeans will the earth-treading murderer slay in their beds, as he pretends to be a four-footed beast on the ground? May he lay Menelaus low, slay Agamemnon and bring his head to Helen’s hands, causing her to lament her evil kinsman, who has come against my city, against the land of Troy with his army of a thousand ships.

MESSENGER Lord, in days to come may it be mine to bring my masters such news as I am bearing to you now.

HECTOR Often the rustic mind is afflicted with dullness; so you have probably come to this ill-suited place to tell your master, in armor, about the sheep! Do you not know my palace or my father’s throne, where you should carry your tale when you have prospered with your flocks?

MESSENGER Dull we herdsmen are; I do not dispute it. But none the less I bring joyful news to you.

HECTOR Cease your tale of how the sheep-fold fares; I have battles to fight and spears to wield.

MESSENGER The very things of which I, too, came to tell you; for a chieftain of a countless army is on his way to join you as your friend and ally of this land.

HECTOR His country? and the home that he has left?

MESSENGER Thrace; men call his father Strymon.

HECTOR Did you say that Rhesus was setting foot in Troy?

MESSENGER You have it; and lighten me of half my speech.

HECTOR How is it that he comes to Ida’s meadows, wandering from the broad wagon track across the plain?

MESSENGER I cannot say for certain, though I might guess. It is no idle task for an army to make an invasion by night, hearing that the plains are packed with foemen’s troops. But he frightened us rustic shepherds who dwell along the slopes of Ida, the earliest settlement in the land, as he came by night through the wood full of wild beasts. On surged the tide of Thracian warriors with loud shouts; at this in wild amazement we drove our flocks unto the heights, for fear that some Argives were coming to plunder and harry your steading, till we caught the sound of voices other than Greek and ceased from our alarm. Then I went and questioned in the Thracian tongue those who were reconnoitring the road for their lord, who it was that lead them, and whose son he was called, that came to the city to help the sons of Priam. And when I had heard all I wished to learn, I stood still; and I see Rhesus mounted like a god upon his Thracian chariot. Of gold was the yoke that linked the necks of his horses brighter than the snow; and on his shoulders flashed his shield with figures welded in gold; while a gorgon of bronze like that on the aegis of the goddess was bound upon the front of his horses, ringing out its note of fear with many a bell. The number of his army you could not reckon to an exact sum, for it was beyond one’s comprehension; many knights, many ranks of targeteers, many archers, a great crowd of light-armed troops, arrayed in Thracian garb, to bear them company. Such the man who comes to Troy’s assistance, whom the son of Peleus will never escape, either if he tries to escape or if he meets him spear to spear.

CHORUS LEADER Whenever the gods stand by the citizens, the tide of fortune glides with easy flow to a successful goal.

HECTOR I shall find many friends now that fortune smiles upon my warring and Zeus is on my side. But we have no need of those who did not share our toils long since, when Ares, driving all before him, was rending the sails of our ship of state with his tempestuous blast. Rhesus has shown the friendship he then bore to Troy; for he comes to the feast, although he was not with the hunters when they took the prey, nor did he join his spear with theirs.

CHORUS LEADER You are right to scorn and blame such friends; yet welcome those who wish to help the state.

HECTOR We who have long kept Ilium safe are sufficient.

CHORUS Are you so sure you have already caught the foe?

HECTOR I am sure; tomorrow’s light will make that plain.

CHORUS LEADER Beware of what may happen; often fortune veers about.

HECTOR I loath the friend who brings his help too late. But let him, since he has arrived, come to our table not as an ally but as a guest; for the gratitude of Priam’s sons is forfeit in his case.

CHORUS LEADER O prince, to turn away allies earns hatred.

MESSENGER His mere appearance would cause a panic among the foe.

HECTOR You counsel rightly; you too take the proper view. Let Rhesus in his gilded armor join the allies of this land, thanks to the messenger’s report. Exit the Messenger.

CHORUS May Nemesis, daughter of Zeus, check the word that may offend; for lo! I will utter all that it is dear to my soul to say. You have come, O son of the river god, you have come, welcome in your advent, to the halls of Friendship, since late in time your Pierian mother and Strymon, river with fair bridges, are sending you to us.

CHORUS Strymon, who begot you, his strong young son, that day his swirling waters found a refuge in the tuneful Muse’s virgin bosom. You are my Zeus, my god of light, as you come driving your dappled horses. Now, O Phrygia, O my country, now may you by God’s grace address Zeus the Deliverer!

CHORUS Shall old Troy once more at last spend the whole day in drinking toasts and singing love’s praise, while the bewildering wine-cup sends a capacious challenge round, as over the sea for Sparta the sons of Atreus quit the Ilian strand? O friend, with your arm and spear may you do me this service, then safe return.

CHORUS Come, appear, brandish that shield of gold full in Achilles’ face; raise it aslant along the chariot’s branching rail, urging on your horses, and shaking your lance with double point. For none after facing you will ever join the dance on the plains of Argive Hera; no, but he shall die, slain by Thracians, and this land shall bear the burden of his corpse and be glad.

CHORUS Hail, all hail! O mighty prince! fair the cub you have bred, 0 Thrace, a ruler in his every look. See his stalwart frame in golden corslet! Hark to the ringing bells that peal so proudly from his shield-handle. A god, O Troy, a god, a very Ares, Strymon’s colt and the tuneful Muse’s, has come to breathe courage into you.

RHESUS Brave son of father as brave, Hector, prince of this land, hail! After many a long day I greet you. I rejoice at your success, to see you camped hard on the enemy towers; I am here to help you raze their walls and fire their fleet of ships.

HECTOR Son of that tuneful mother, one of the Muses, and of Thracian Strymon’s river, I love to speak plain truth always; nature did not give me a double tongue. Long, long ago should you have come and shared the labors of this land, and not allowed Troy for any help of yours to fall overthrown by hostile Argive spears. You can not say it was any want of invitation that kept you from coming with your help to visit us. What herald or embassy from Phrygia did not come to you, urgently requiring your aid for our city? What sumptuous presents did we not send to you? But you, brother barbarian though you were, pledged away to Hellenes us your barbarian brothers, for all the help you gave. Yet it was I with this arm that raised you from your paltry princedom to high lordship over Thrace, when I fell upon the Thracian chieftains face to face around Pangaeum in Paeonia’s land and broke their serried ranks, and gave their people up to you enslaved; but you have trampled on this great favor done you, and come with laggard step to give your aid when friends are in distress. While they, whom no natural tie of kin constrains, have long been here, and some are dead and in their graves beneath the heaped-up cairn, no mean proof of loyalty to the city; and others in arms and mounted on their chariots, with steadfast soul endure the icy blast and parching heat of the sun, not pledging one another on couches, as you do, in long deep draughts. This is the charge I bring against you and utter to your face, that you may know how frank is Hector’s tongue.

RHESUS I too am just the same; straight to the point I cut my way; no shuffling nature is mine. My heart was wrung with sorer anguish than yours at my absence from this land; I fumed and chafed, but Scythian people, whose borders march with mine, made war on me on the very eve of my departure for Ilium; I had reached the strand of the Euxine sea, there to transport my Thracian army. Then my spear poured out over Scythia’s land great drops of bloody rain, and Thrace too shared in the mingled slaughter. This then was what chanced to keep me from coming to the land of Troy and joining your standard. But as soon as I had conquered these and taken their children as hostages and appointed the yearly tribute they should pay my house, I have come, sailing across the sea’s mouth, and on foot traversing the other borders of your land—not as you in your jeers at those carousals of my countrymen hint, nor sleeping soft in gilded palaces, but amid the frozen hurricanes that vex the Thracian sea and the Paeonian shores, learning as I lay awake what suffering is, this soldier’s cloak my only wrap. True my coming has tarried, but yet I am in time; ten years already have you been at the fray, and accomplished nothing yet; day in, day out, you fall, throwing the dice of war with Argives. But the light of one day will be enough for me to sack those towers and fall upon their anchored fleet and slay the Achaeans; and on the next day I will go home from Ilium , at one stroke ending all your toil. Let none of you lay hand to spear to lift it, for I, for all my late arrival, will with my lance make utter havoc of those vaunting Achaeans.

CHORUS Joy, joy! sweet champion sent by Zeus! Only may Zeus, throned on high, keep jealousy, resistless foe, from you for your words! That fleet of ships from Argos never brought, neither formerly nor now, among all its warriors a braver than you. How I wonder will Achilles, how will Aias stand the onset of your spear? Oh! that I might see that day, my prince, on which you may wreak vengeance on them, gripping your lance in your death-dealing hand!

RHESUS Such exploits am I ready to achieve to atone for my long absence; (with due submission to Nemesis I say this); then when we have cleared this city of its foes and you have chosen out first-fruits for the gods, I wish to march with you against the Argives’ country and at my coming lay Hellas waste with war, that they in turn may know the taste of ill.

HECTOR If I could rid the city of this present curse and restore it to its old security, I should indeed feel deep gratitude towards the gods. But, as for sacking Argos and the pasture-lands of Hellas with the spear, it is no such easy task as you say.

RHESUS Do they not say that here came the greatest chiefs of Hellas?

HECTOR Yes, and I do not scorn them; I have enough to do in driving them away.

RHESUS Well, when we slay these, is our task not fully done?

HECTOR Do not leave the present need to look to distant schemes.

RHESUS You are, it seems, content to suffer and make no return.

HECTOR Yes, for I rule a great empire, even though I am here. But on the left wing or the right or in the centre of the allies you may plant your shield and marshal your troops.

RHESUS Alone I will face the foe, Hector. But if you are ashamed, after all your previous toil, to have no share in firing their ships’ prows, place me face to face with Achilles and his army.

HECTOR Against that man you cannot range your eager spear.

RHESUS Why, it was surely said he sailed to Ilium.

HECTOR He sailed and he is here; but he is angry and takes no part with the other chieftains in the battle.

RHESUS Who next to him has won a name in their army?

HECTOR Aias and the son of Tydeus are, I take it, in no way his inferiors; there is Odysseus, a wheedling rascal, but bold enough indeed, and of all men he has wrought most outrage on this country. For he came by night to Athena’s shrine and stole her image and took it to the Argive ships; next he came inside our battlements, clad as a vagrant in a beggar’s garb, and loudly did he curse the Argives, sent as a spy to Ilium; and then went out again, when he had slain the sentinels and warders at the gate. He is always to be found lurking in ambush about the altar of Thymbrean Apollo near the city. In him we have a troubling pest to wrestle with.

RHESUS No brave man thinks it right to kill his foe in secret, but to meet him face to face. If I can catch this fellow alive, who, as you say, sits in stealthy ambush and plots his mischief, I will impale him at the outlet of the gates and set him up for winged vultures to make their meal upon. This is the death he ought to die, pirate and temple-robber that he is.

HECTOR To your quarters now, for it is night. For you I will myself point out a spot where your army can watch this night apart from our array. Our password is Phoebus, if perhaps there should be need of it; hear and remember it, and tell it to the Thracian army. You must advance in front of our ranks and keep a watchful guard, and receive Dolon, who went to spy on the ships, for he, if he is safe, is even now approaching the camp of Troy.

CHORUS Whose watch is it? who relieves me? night’s earlier stars are on the wane, and the seven Pleiads mount the sky; in the middle of the heavens the eagle floats. Rouse yourselves, why delay? Up from your beds to the watch! Do you not see the moonlight? Dawn is near, dawn is coming, and lo! a star that heralds it. Who was told off to the first watch? The son of Mygdon, whom they call Coroebus. Who after him? The Paeonian contingent roused the Cilicians, and the Mysians us. Is it not then high time we went and roused the Lycians for the fifth watch, as the lot decided?

CHORUS Hark! hark! a sound; sitting on her blood-stained nest by Simois, she sings with voice of many trills her piteous plaint, the nightingale that slew her child. Already on Ida they are pasturing the flocks, and over the night I catch the shrill pipe’s note. Sleep charms my eyes, for sleep is sweetest at dawn to tired eyelids. Why does not our scout draw near, whom Hector sent to spy on the fleet? He is so long away, I have my fears. Is it possible he has plunged into a hidden ambush and been slain? Perhaps. I am afraid. My counsel is we go and rouse the Lycians for the fifth watch, as the lot ordained. Exit Chorus

[Enter Diomedes and Odysseus cautiously with drawn swords.]

ODYSSEUS Did you not hear, Diomedes, the clash of arms or is it an idle noise that rings in my ears?

DIOMEDES No, it is the rattle of steel harness on the chariot rails; I, too, was afraid, till I perceived it was the clang of horses’ chains.

ODYSSEUS Beware lest you stumble upon the guard in the darkness.

DIOMEDES I will take good care how I advance even in the gloom.

ODYSSEUS If however you should rouse them, do you know their password?

DIOMEDES Yes, it is Phoebus; I heard Dolon use it.

ODYSSEUS Ah! I see the enemy have left this bivouac.

DIOMEDES Yet Dolon surely said that here was Hector’s couch, against whom this sword of mine is drawn.

ODYSSEUS What can it mean? Has his company withdrawn elsewhere?

DIOMEDES Perhaps to form some stratagem against us.

ODYSSEUS Yes, for Hector is bold now, by reason of his victory, bold.

DIOMEDES What then are we to do, Odysseus? We have not found the man asleep; our hopes are dashed.

ODYSSEUS Let us go to the fleet with what speed we may. Some god, whichever it be that gives him his good luck, is preserving him; against fate we must not strive.

DIOMEDES Then should we two not go against Aeneas or Paris, most hateful of Phrygians, and with our swords cut off their heads?

ODYSSEUS Well, how in the darkness can you find them among a hostile army, and slay them without risk?

DIOMEDES Yet it would be shameful to go to the Argive ships if we have done the enemy no harm.

ODYSSEUS What! no harm! Have we not slain Dolon who spied upon the anchored fleet, and have we not his spoils safe here? Or do you expect to sack the entire camp?

DIOMEDES I agree, let us return; and good luck go with us!

ATHENA Where are you going, away from the Trojan ranks, with sorrow gnawing at your hearts, because the god does not grant you two to slay Hector or Paris? Have you not heard that Rhesus has come to aid Troy in no mean fashion? If he survives this night until the dawn, neither Achilles nor Aias’s spear can stop him from utterly destroying the Argive fleet, razing its palisades and carrying this the onslaught of his lance far and wide within the gates. Slay him, and all is yours; let Hector’s sleep alone, no throat-cutting slaughter; for he shall find death at another hand.

ODYSSEUS Queen Athena, it is the well-known accent of your voice I hear; for you are always at my side to help me in my toil. Tell us where that man lies asleep; in what part of the barbarian army is he stationed?

ATHENA Here lies he close at hand, not marshalled with the other troops, but outside the ranks Hector has given him quarters, till night gives place to day. And near him his white horses are tethered to his Thracian chariot, easy to see in the darkness; they shine like the plumage of a river swan. Slay their master and bear them off home, glorious spoils; for nowhere else in all the world is such a team to be found.

ODYSSEUS Diomedes, either you slay the Thracian folk, or leave that to me, while your care must be the horses.

DIOMEDES I will do the killing, and you master the horses. For you are well versed in clever tricks, and have a ready wit. And it is right to station a man where he may best serve.

ATHENA Look! there I see Paris coming towards us; perhaps he has heard from the guard a vague rumor that foes are near.

DIOMEDES Are others with him or does he come alone?

ATHENA Alone; to Hector’s couch he seems to wend his way, to announce to him that spies are in the camp.

DIOMEDES Ought he not head the list of slain?

ATHENA You can not overreach destiny. It is not decreed that he should fall by your hand. But hasten on your mission of fore-ordained slaughter, while I, feigning to be Cypris, his ally, and to aid him in his efforts, will answer the foe with unsound words. I tell you this; but the fated victim does not know, nor has he heard, for all he is so near. Exeunt Odysseus and Diomedes.

PARIS To you I call, general and brother, Hector, are you asleep? Should you not awake? Some enemy draws near our army, or thieves perhaps, or spies.

ATHENA Courage! See, Cypris watches over you in gracious mood. Your warfare is my concern, for I do not forget the honor you once did me, and I thank you for your good service. And now, when the army of Troy is triumphant, I have come bringing to you a powerful friend, the Thracian child of the Muse, the heavenly singer; his father’s name is Strymon.

PARIS Always to this city and to me you are a kind friend, and I am sure that decision I then made conferred you upon this city, the highest treasure life affords. I came when I heard a vague report—for a rumor prevailed amlng the guards—that Achaean spies are here. One man, that did not see them, says so, while another, that saw them come, cannot describe them; and so I am on my way to Hector’s tent.

ATHENA Fear nothing; all is quiet in the army, and Hector has gone to assign a sleeping-place to the Thracian army.

PARIS You persuade me, and I believe your words, and will go to guard my post, free of fear.

ATHENA Go, for it is my pleasure ever to watch your interests, that so I may see my allies prosperous. Yes, and you too shall recognize my zeal. Exit Paris. In a loud voice, to Odysseus and Diomedes. Son of Laertes, I bid you sheath your whetted swords, you warriors all too keen. For the Thracian chief lies dead and his horses are captured, but the enemy know it, and are coming against you; fly with all speed to the ships’ station. Why delay saving your lives, when the enemy’s storm is just bursting on you?

[Enter the Chorus, Odysseus and Diomedes.]

CHORUS Oh, oh! At them, at them! Strike them, strike them! Who goes there? Look; I mean that man. There are the thieves who in the gloom disturbed this army. Come here, here, everyone! I have them, I have clutched them fast. What is your company? Where did you come from? Who are you?

ODYSSEUS It is not for you to know; for you will die today for your villainy.

CHORUS Will you not declare the password, before my sword finds its way to your heart?

ODYSSEUS Halt! Be of good heart.

CHORUS Come near. Strike, everyone!

ODYSSEUS What! have you slain Rhesus?

CHORUS No, but you, who came to slay us—

ODYSSEUS Stay, every man of you!

CHORUS No, no, lay on!

ODYSSEUS Ah! do not slay a friend!

CHORUS What is the password, then?

ODYSSEUS Phoebus.

CHORUS Right! every man hold back his spear! Do you know where the men have gone?

ODYSSEUS Somewhere here I caught a sight of them.

CHORUS Close on their track each man of you! Or should we shout for aid? No, it would be strange conduct to disturb our friends with wild alarms by night. Exeunt Odysseus and Diomedes.

CHORUS Who was that man who slipped away? Who was he that will loudly boast his daring in escaping me? How shall I catch him now? To whom shall I liken him, the man who came by night with fearless step passing through our ranks and the guard we set? Is he a Thessalian or a dweller in some seacoast town of Locris? Or does he make his living among the islands scattered in the sea? Who was he? Where from? What is his fatherland? What god does he avow as lord of all the rest? Whose work is this? is it the deed of Odysseus? If one may conjecture from his former acts, of course it is. Do you think so really? Why, of course. He is a bold foe for us. What strength? Whom are you praising? Odysseus. Do not praise the crafty weapons that a robber uses.

CHORUS Once before he came into this city, with swimming bleary eyes, clad in rags and tatters, his sword hidden in his cloak. And like some vagrant menial he slunk about begging his living, his head rough and dirty; and he spoke bitterly of the royal house of the Atreidae—as though he were really opposed to those chiefs! Would, oh! would he had perished, as was his due, before he set foot on Phrygia’s soil! Whether it was really Odysseus or not, I am afraid; for Hector will blame us sentinels. What can he allege? He will suspect. What have we done? Why are you afraid? They got past us— Well, who? The ones who came this night to the Phrygian army.

CHARIOTEER Oh, oh! Cruel stroke of fate. Woe, woe!

CHORUS LEADER Hush! be silent all, crouch low; for perhaps there comes someone into the snare.

CHARIOTEER Oh, oh! dire mishap to the Thracians.

CHORUS LEADER It is one of the allies who is groaning.

CHARIOTEER Oh, oh! woe to me and to you, O king of Thrace, how cursed the sight of Troy to you! what an end to your life!

CHORUS LEADER Who are you? One of the allies? Night’s gloom has dulled these eyes and I cannot clearly recognize you.

CHARIOTEER Where can I find some Trojan chief? Where does Hector take his rest under arms? To which of the captains of the army am I to tell my tale? What sufferings ours! what dark deeds someone has wrought on us and gone his way, when he had wound up a ball of sorrow manifest to every Thracian!

CHORUS LEADER From what I gather of this man’s words, some calamity, it seems, is befalling the Thracian army.

CHARIOTEER Lost is all our army, our prince is dead, slain by a treacherous blow. Oh! Oh! The cruel anguish of this bloody wound that racks my frame within! Would I were dead! Was it to die this inglorious death that Rhesus and I came bringing aid to Troy?

CHORUS LEADER He does not declare the disaster in riddles; no, he clearly asserts our allies’ destruction.

CHARIOTEER A sorry deed it was, and more than that a deed most shameful; yes, it is an evil doubly bad; to die with glory, if die one must, is bitterness enough I think to him who dies—how not?— though to the living it may add dignity and honor for their house. But we have died foolishly and without glory. No sooner had great Hector given us our quarters and told us the password than we lay down to sleep upon the ground, overcome by weariness. No guard our army set to watch by night, nor were our arms set in array, nor were the whips hung ready on the horses’ yokes, for our prince was told that you were masters now, and had encamped hard on their ships; so carelessly we threw ourselves down to sleep. Now I with thoughtful mind awoke from my slumber, and with ungrudging hand measured out the horses’ feed, expecting to harness them at dawn for the fray; through the thick gloom two men I see roaming around our army. But when I roused myself they crouched low and were gone once more; and I called out to them to keep away from the army, for I thought they might be thieves from our allies. Nothing from them, so I too said no more, but came back to my couch and slept again. And as I slept a strange fancy came over me: those horses that I had reared and used to drive, stationed at Rhesus’ side, I saw, I thought as in a dream, with wolves mounted on their backs; and these with their tails lashed the horses’ flanks and urged them on, while they snorted and breathed fury from their nostrils, striving in terror to unseat their riders. Up I sprang to defend the horses from the brutes, for the horror of the night scared me. Then as I raised my head I heard the groans of dying men, and a warm stream of new-shed blood bespattered me, beside my murdered master as he died. To my feet I start, but all unarmed; and as I peer about and grope to find my sword, a stalwart hand from somewhere near struck me with a sword beneath the ribs. I felt the sword-thrust, the deep gaping wound it gave me. Down on my face I fell, while they fled clean away with horses and chariot. Oh, oh! Tortured with pain, too weak to stand, a piteous object! I know what happened, for I saw it; but how the victims met their death I cannot say, nor at whose hand. But I can well surmise we have our friends to thank for this grief.

CHORUS LEADER Charioteer of Thrace’s hapless king, do not suspect us. Enemies did this. But Hector himself is here, having learned your mischance; he sympathizes as he should with your hard fate.

HECTOR You who have caused this great calamity, how did the enemy’s spies come without your knowledge, to your shame, and spread destruction through the army, and you did not drive them away either as they entered or left the camp? Who but you shall pay the penalty for this? You, I say, were here to guard the army. But they are gone without a wound, with many a scoff at Phrygian cowardice, and at me their leader. Now mark you this—by father Zeus I swear—either the scourge or the headsman’s axe awaits you for such conduct; or else consider Hector to be nothing, a mere coward.

CHORUS Woe, woe! It was in quest of you, yes, you, great lord of my city, that I went, when I brought news to you that the Argive army was kindling fires about the ships; for by the springs of Simois I vow my eye kept sleepless watch by night, nor did I slumber or sleep. Do not be angry with me, my lord; I am guiltless of all. Yet if hereafter you find that I in word or deed have done amiss, bury me alive beneath the earth; I ask no mercy.

CHARIOTEER Why threaten these? Why try to undermine my barbarian mind with your subtle words, you yourself a barbarian? You did this deed; neither they who have died nor we who are wounded will believe it was any other. A long and clever speech you’ll need to prove to me you did not slay your friends because you coveted the horses, and to gain them murdered your own allies, after strongly imposing on them come. They came, they are dead; Paris found more decent means to shame the rights of hospitality than you, who killed your allies. No, do not tell me some Argive came and slaughtered us. Who could have passed the Trojan lines and come against us without detection? You and your Phrygian troops were camped in front of us. Who was wounded, who was slain among your friends, when that foe you speak of came? It was we, far off, were wounded, while some have met a sterner fate and said farewell to the sunlight. Briefly, then, I blame no Achaean. For what enemy could have come and found the lowly bed of Rhesus in the dark, unless some god were guiding the murderers’ steps? They did not know so much as know of his arrival. No, this is your plot!

HECTOR For a long time now I have had to do with allies, yes, ever since Achaea’s army settled in this land, and never a harsh word have I known them say of me; but with you I am to make a beginning. Never may such longing for horses seize me that I should slay my friends! This is the work of Odysseus; for who of all the Argives but he would have devised or carried out such a deed? I fear him; and my mind is a little troubled lest he should have met and slain Dolon as well; for he has been gone a long time and does not appear.

CHARIOTEER I do not know this Odysseus of whom you speak. It was no enemy’s hand that struck us.

HECTOR If it pleases you to think that, do so.

CHARIOTEER O land of my fathers, would I might die in you!

HECTOR Die! No! Enough are those already dead.

CHARIOTEER Where am I to turn, I ask you, bereft of my master?

HECTOR My house shall shelter you and cure you of your hurt.

CHARIOTEER How shall murderers’ hands care for me?

HECTOR This fellow will never have done repeating the same story.

CHARIOTEER Curses on the doer of this deed! On you my tongue fixes no charge, as you complain; but Justice is over all.

HECTOR Take him away; carry him to my palace and tend him carefully, that he may have no fault to find. And you must go to those upon the walls, to Priam and his aged councillors, and tell them to give orders for the burial of the dead at the resting-place along the public road. The charioteer is carried off.

CHORUS Why does fate change and bring Troy once again to mourning after her great good fortune, planting what seeds? Oh, oh! What deity above our heads, O king, bears in her hands as on a bier the newly slain corpse? I shudder at this sight of woe.

MUSE Behold me,Trojans; for I, the Muse, one of the nine sisters, that have honor among the wise, I am here, having seen the piteous death his foes have dealt my darling son. Yet the crafty Odysseus, that slew him, one day hereafter shall pay a fitting penalty.

MUSE O my son, your mother’s grief, I mourn for you in my native strains of woe! What a journey you made to Troy, a very path of ill-fortune and sorrow! starting, in spite of all my warnings and your father’s earnest prayers, in defiance of us. Woe to me for you, my dear, dear son! Ah, woe!

CHORUS LEADER As far as one can who has no common tie of kin, I bewail and mourn your son.

MUSE Curses on the son of Oeneus! Curses on Laertes’ child! who has bereft me of my fair son and left me childless! and on that woman, too, that left her home in Hellas, and sailed here with her Phrygian lover, bringing death to you, my dearest, for the sake of Troy, and emptying countless cities of their brave heroes.

MUSE Many indeed are the wounds, Thamyris, son of Philammon, that you have inflicted on my heart, in your life and in your death. Yes, for it was your pride, your own undoing, and your rivalry with the Muses that made me mother of this poor son of mine. For as I crossed the river’s streams I came too near to Strymon’s fruitful couch, that day we Muses came to the brow of Mount Pangaeus with its soil of gold, furnished forth with all our music for one great trial of minstrel skill with that clever Thracian bard; and we blinded him, Thamyris, the man who often reviled our craft. And then, when I gave birth to you, because I felt shame of my sisters and my virginity, I sent you to the swirling stream of your father, the river; and Strymon did not entrust your nurture to mortal hands, but to the fountain nymphs. There you were reared most fairly by the maiden nymphs, and you ruled over Thrace, a leader among men, my child. So long as you ranged your native land in quest of bloody deeds of prowess I did not fear for your death; but I forbade you to set out for Troy, in my knowledge of your doom; but Hector’s sages and those countless embassies persuaded you to go and help your friends. This was your doing, Athena; you alone are to blame for his death —neither Odysseus nor the son of Tydeus had anything to do with it—do not think it has escaped my eye. And yet we sister Muses do special honor to your city, your land we chiefly haunt; and those dark mysteries with their torch processions were revealed by Orpheus, cousin of this dead man whom you have slain. Musaeus, too, your holy citizen, of all men most advanced in lore, was trained by Phoebus and us, the nine sisters. And here is your reward for this; in my arms I hold my child and mourn for him. I’ll bring to you no other learned man.

CHORUS LEADER Vainly it seems the Thracian charioteer reviled us with plotting this man’s murder, Hector.

HECTOR I knew it; it needed no seer to say that he had perished by the arts of Odysseus. Now I, when I saw the Hellene army camped in my land, of course would not hesitate to send heralds to my friends, bidding them come and help my country; and so I sent, and he as in duty bound came to share my toils. I do not at all rejoice to see him dead. And now I am ready to raise a tomb for him and burn at his pyre great store of fine raiment; for he came as a friend and in sorrow he is going away.

MUSE He shall not go into earth’s dark soil; so earnest a prayer will I address to the bride of the nether world, the daughter of the goddess Demeter, giver of increase, to release his soul; and, debtor as she is to me, show that she honors the friends of Orpheus. And to me for the rest of time he will be as one who is dead and does not see the light; for never again will he meet me or see his mother; but he will lie hidden in a cavern of the land with veins of silver, restored to life, a deified man, just as the prophet of Bacchus dwelt in a grotto beneath Pangaeus, a god whom his votaries honored. Lightly now shall I feel the grief of the sea-goddess, for her son too must die. First then for you we sisters must chant our dirge, and then for Achilles when Thetis mourns some day. Pallas, your slayer, shall not save him; so true the shaft Loxias keeps in his quiver for him. Oh, the sorrows that a mother feels! the troubles of mortals! whoever fairly reckons you up will live and die childless and will have no children to bury.

CHORUS LEADER His mother now must see to this man’s burial; but for you, Hector, if you will carry out any scheme, now is the time, for day is dawning.

HECTOR Go, bid our allies arm at once and yoke the horses; torch in hand you must await the blast of the Etrurian trumpet; for I hope to pass beyond their army and walls and fire the ships of the Achaeans, bringing to the Trojans this approaching beam of the sun as the day of freedom.

CHORUS Obedience to our prince! let us go to array ourselves in armor and tell these orders to our allies; perhaps the god who is on our side may grant us victory.

THE CYCLOPS (Translated by E. P. Coleridge, 1891)

[Scene. — Mount Aetna in Sicily, before the cave of the Cyclops.]

SILENUS O Bromius, unnumbered are the toils I bear because of thee, no less now than when I was young and hale; first, when thou wert driven mad by Hera and didst leave the mountain nymphs, thy nurses; next, when in battle with earth-born spearmen I stood beside thee on the right as squire, and slew Enceladus, smiting him full in the middle of his targe with my spear. Come, though, let me see; must I confess ’twas all a dream? No, by Zeus! since I really showed his spoils to the Bacchic god. And now am I enduring to the full a toil still worse than those. For when Hera sent forth a race of Tyrrhene pirates against thee, that thou mightest be smuggled far away, I, as soon as the news reached me, sailed in quest of thee with my children; and, taking the helm myself, I stood on the end of the stern and steered our trim craft; and my sons, sitting at the oars, made the grey billows froth and foam as they sought thee, my liege. But just as we had come nigh Malea in our course, an east-wind blew upon the ship and drove us hither to the rock of Aetna, where in lonely caverns dwell the one-eyed children of ocean’s god, the murdering Cyclopes. Captured by one of them we are slaves in his house; Polyphemus they call him whom we serve; and instead of Bacchic revelry we are herding a godless Cyclops’s flocks; and so it is my children, striplings as they are, tend the young thereof on the edge of the downs; while my appointed task is to stay here and fill the troughs and sweep out the cave, or wait upon the ungodly Cyclops at his impious feasts. His orders now compel obedience; I have to scrape out his house with the rake you see, so as to receive the Cyclops, my absent master, and his sheep in clean caverns. But already I see my children driving their browsing flocks towards me. What means this? is the beat of feet in the Sicinnis dance the same to you now as when ye attended the Bacchic god in his revelries and made your way with dainty steps to the mask of lyres to the halls of Althaea?

CHORUS Offspring of well-bred sires and dams, pray whither wilt thou be gone from me to the rocks? Hast thou not here a gentle breeze, and grass to browse, and water from the eddying stream set near the cave in troughs? and are not thy young ones bleating for thee?

CHORUS Pst! pst! wilt thou not browse here, here on the dewy slope? Ho? ho! ere long will I cast a stone at thee. Away, away! O horned one, to the fold-keeper of the Cyclops, the country-ranging shepherd.

CHORUS Loosen thy bursting udder; welcome to thy teats the kids, whom thou leavest in the lambkins’ pens. Those little bleating kids, asleep the livelong day, miss thee; wilt then leave at last the rich grass pastures on the peaks of Aetna and enter the fold?

CHORUS

CHORUS Here we have no Bromian god; no dances here, or Bacchantes thyrsus-bearing; no roll of drums, or drops of sparkling wine by gurgling founts; nor is it now with Nymphs in Nysa I sing a song of Bacchus, Bacchus! to the queen of love, in quest of whom I once sped on with Bacchantes, white of foot. Dear friend, dear Bacchic god, whither art roaming alone, waving thy auburn locks, while I, thy minister, do service to the one-eyed Cyclops, a slave and wanderer I, clad in this wretched goat-skin dress, severed from thy love?

SILENUS Hush, children! and bid our servants fold the flocks in the rock-roofed cavern.

CHORUS (To Servants.) Away! (To Silenus.) But prithee, why such haste, father?

SILENUS I see the hull of a ship from Hellas at the shore, and men, that wield the oar, on their way to this cave with some chieftain. About their necks they carry empty vessels and pitchers for water; they are in want of food. Luckless strangers! who can they be? They know not what manner of man our master Polyphemus is, to have set foot here in his cheerless abode and come to the jaws of the cannibal Cyclops in an evil hour. But hold ye your peace, that we may inquire whence they come to the peak of Sicilian Aetna.

ODYSSEUS Pray tell us, sirs, of some river-spring whence we might draw a draught to slake our thirst, or of someone willing to sell victuals to mariners in need. Why, what is this? We seem to have chanced upon a city of the Bromian god; here by the caves I see a group of Satyrs. To the eldest first I bid All hail!

SILENUS All hail, sir! tell me who thou art, and name thy country.

ODYSSEUS Odysseus of Ithaca, king of the Cephallenians’ land.

SILENUS I know him for a prating knave, one of Sisyphus’ shrewd offspring.

ODYSSEUS I am the man; abuse me not.

SILENUS Whence hast thou sailed hither to Sicily?

ODYSSEUS From Ilium and the toils of Troy.

SILENUS How was that? didst thou not know the passage to thy native land?

ODYSSEUS Tempestuous winds drove me hither against my will.

SILENUS God wot! thou art in the same plight as I am.

ODYSSEUS Why, wert thou too drifted hither against thy will?

SILENUS I was, as I pursued the pirates who carried Bromius off.

ODYSSEUS What land is this and who are its inhabitants?

SILENUS This is mount Aetna, the highest point in Sicily.

ODYSSEUS But where are the city-walls and ramparts?

SILENUS There are none; the headlands, sir, are void of men.

ODYSSEUS Who then possess the land? the race of wild creatures?

SILENUS The Cyclopes, who have caves, not roofed houses.

ODYSSEUS Obedient unto whom? or is the power in the people’s hands?

SILENUS They are rovers; no man obeys another in anything.

ODYSSEUS Do they sow Demeter’s grain, or on what do they live?

SILENUS On milk and cheese and flesh of sheep.

ODYSSEUS Have they the drink of Bromius, the juice of the vine?

SILENUS No indeed! and thus it is a joyless land they dwell in.

ODYSSEUS Are they hospitable and reverent towards strangers?

SILENUS Strangers, they say, supply the daintiest meat.

ODYSSEUS What, do they delight in killing men and eating them?

SILENUS No one has ever arrived here without being butchered.

ODYSSEUS Where is the Cyclops himself? inside his dwelling?

SILENUS He is gone hunting wild beasts with hounds on Aetna.

ODYSSEUS Dost know then what to do, that we may be gone from the land?

SILENUS Not I, Odysseus; but I would do anything for thee.

ODYSSEUS Sell us food, of which we are in need.

SILENUS There is nothing but flesh, as I said.

ODYSSEUS Well, even that is a pleasant preventive of hunger.

SILENUS And there is cheese curdled with fig-juice, and the milk of kine.

ODYSSEUS Bring them out; a man should see his purchases.

SILENUS But tell me, how much gold wilt thou give me in exchange?

ODYSSEUS No gold bring I, but Dionysus’ drink.

SILENUS Most welcome words! I have long been wanting that.

ODYSSEUS Yes, it was Maron, the god’s son, who gave me a draught.

SILENUS What! Maron whom once I dandled in these arms?

ODYSSEUS The son of the Bacchic god, that thou mayst learn more certainly.

SILENUS Is it inside the ship, or hast thou it with thee?

ODYSSEUS This, as thou seest, is the skin that holds it, old sir.

SILENUS Why, that would not give me so much as a mouthful.

ODYSSEUS This, and twice as much again as will run from the skin.

SILENUS Fair the rill thou speakest of, delicious to me.

ODYSSEUS Shall I let thee taste the wine unmixed, to start with?

SILENUS A reasonable offer; for of a truth a taste invites the purchase.

ODYSSEUS Well, I haul about a cup as well as the skin.

SILENUS Come, let it gurgle in, that I may revive my memory by a pull at it.

ODYSSEUS There then!

SILENUS Ye gods! what a delicious scent it has!

ODYSSEUS What! didst thou see it?

SILENUS No, i’ faith, but I smell it.

ODYSSEUS Taste it then, that thy approval may not stop at words.

SILENUS Zounds! Bacchus is inviting me to dance; ha! ha!

ODYSSEUS Did it not gurgle finely down thy throttle?

SILENUS Aye that it did, to the ends of my fingers.

ODYSSEUS Well, we will give thee money besides.

SILENUS Only undo the skin, and never mind the money.

ODYSSEUS Bring out the cheeses then and lambs.

SILENUS I will do so, with small thought of any master. For let me have a single cup of that and I would turn madman, giving in exchange for it the flocks of every Cyclops and then throwing myself into the sea from the Leucadian rock, once I have been well drunk and smoothed out my wrinkled brow. For if a man rejoice not in his drinking, he is mad; for in drinking there is love with all its frolic, and dancing withal, and oblivion of woe. Shall not I then purchase so rare a drink, bidding the senseless Cyclops and his central eye go hang? Exit Silenus.

CHORUS Hearken, Odysseus, let us hold some converse with thee.

ODYSSEUS Well, do so; ours is a meeting of friends.

CHORUS Did you take Troy and capture the famous Helen?

ODYSSEUS Aye, and we destroyed the whole family of Priam.

CHORUS After capturing your blooming prize, were all of you in turn her lovers? for she likes variety in husbands; the traitress! the sight of a man with embroidered breeches on his legs and a golden chain about his neck so fluttered her, that she left Menelaus, her excellent little husband. Would there had never been a race of women born into the world at all, unless it were for me alone!

SILENUS (reappearing with food.) Lo! I bring you fat food from the flocks, king Odysseus, the young of bleating sheep and cheeses of curdled milk without stint. Carry them away with you and be gone from the cave at once, after giving me a drink of merry grape-juice in exchange.

CHORUS Alack! yonder comes the Cyclops; what shall we do?

ODYSSEUS Then truly are we lost, old sir! whither must we fly?

SILENUS Inside this rock, for there ye may conceal yourselves.

ODYSSEUS Dangerous advice of thine, to run into the net!

SILENUS No danger; there are ways of escape in plenty in the rock.

ODYSSEUS No, never that; for surely Troy will groan and loudly too, if we flee from a single man, when I have oft withstood with my shield a countless host of Phrygians. Nay, if die we must, we will die a noble death; or, if we live, we will maintain our old renown at least with credit.

CYCLOPS A light here! hold it up! what is this? what means this idleness, your Bacchic revelry? Here have we no Dionysus, nor clash of brass, nor roll of drums. Pray, how is it with my newly-born lambs in the caves? are they at the teat, running close to the side of their dams? Is the full amount of milk for cheeses milked out in baskets of rushes? How now? what say you? One of ye will soon be shedding tears from the weight of my club; look up, not down.

CHORUS There! my head is bent back till I see Zeus himself; I behold both the stars and Orion.

CYCLOPS Is my breakfast quite ready?

CHORUS ’Tis laid; be thy throat only ready.

CYCLOPS Are the bowls too full of milk?

CHORUS Aye, so that thou canst swill off a whole hogshead, so it please thee.

Full Text (part 9)

CYCLOPS Sheeps’ milk or cows’ milk or a mixture of both?

CHORUS Whichever thou wilt; don’t swallow me, that’s all.

CYCLOPS Not I; for you would start kicking in the pit of my stomach and kill me by your antics. (Catching sight of Odysseus and his followers.) Ha! what is this crowd I see near the folds? Some pirates or robbers have put in here. Yes, I really see the lambs from my caves tied up there with twisted osiers, cheese-presses scattered about, and old Silenus with his bald pate all swollen with blows.

SILENUS Oh! oh! poor wretch that I am, pounded to a fever.

CYCLOPS By whom? who has been pounding thy head, old sirrah?

SILENUS These are the culprits, Cyclops, all because I refused to let them plunder thee.

CYCLOPS Did they not know I was a god and sprung from gods?

SILENUS That was what I told them, but they persisted in plundering thy goods, and, in spite of my efforts, they actually began to eat the cheese and carry off the lambs; and they said they would tie thee in a three-cubit pillory and tear out thy bowels by force at thy navel, and flay thy back thoroughly with the scourge; and then, after binding thee, fling thy carcase down among the benches of their ship to sell to some one for heaving up stones, or else throw thee into a mill.

CYCLOPS Oh, indeed! Be off then and sharpen my cleavers at once; heap high the faggots and light them; for they shall be slain forthwith and fill this maw of mine, what time I pick my feast hot from the coals, waiting not for carvers, and fish up the rest from the cauldron boiled and sodden; for I have had my fill of mountain-fare and sated myself with banquets of lions and stags, but ’tis long I have been without human flesh.

SILENUS Truly, master, a change like this is all the sweeter after everyday fare; for just of late there have been no fresh arrivals of strangers at these caves.

ODYSSEUS Hear the strangers too in turn, Cyclops. We had come near the cave from our ship, wishing to procure provisions by purchase, when this fellow sold us the lambs and handed them over for a stoup of wine to drink himself,—a voluntary act on both sides,—there was no violence employed at all. No, there is not a particle of truth in the story he tells, now that he has been caught selling thy property behind thy back.

SILENUS I? Perdition catch thee!

ODYSSEUS If I am lying, yes.

SILENUS O Cyclops, by thy sire Poseidon, by mighty Triton and Nereus, by Calypso and the daughters of Nereus, by the sacred billows and all the race of fishes! I swear to thee, most noble sir, dear little Cyclops, master mine, it is not I who sell thy goods to strangers, else may these children, dearly as I love them, come to an evil end.

CHORUS Keep that for thyself; with my own eyes I saw thee sell the goods to the strangers; and if I lie, perdition catch my sire! but injure not the strangers.

CYCLOPS Ye lie; for my part I put more faith in him than Rhadamanthus, declaring him more just. But I have some questions to ask. Whence sailed ye, strangers? of what country are you? what city was it nursed your childhood?

ODYSSEUS We are Ithacans by birth, and have been driven from our course by the winds of the sea on our way from Ilium, after sacking its citadel.

CYCLOPS Are ye the men who visited on Ilium, that bordereth on Scamander’s wave, the rape of Helen, worst of women?

ODYSSEUS We are; that was the fearful labour we endured.

CYCLOPS A sorry expedition yours, to have sailed to the land of Phrygia for the sake of one woman!

ODYSSEUS It was a god’s doing; blame not any son of man. But thee do we implore, most noble son of Ocean’s god, speaking as free-born men; be not so cruel as to slay thy friends on their coming to thy cave, nor regard us as food for thy jaws, an impious meal; for we preserved thy sire, O king, in possession of his temple-seats deep in the nooks of Hellas; and the sacred port of Taenarus and Malea’s furthest coves remain unharmed; and Sunium’s rock, the silver-veined, sacred to Zeus-born Athena, still is safe, and Geraestus, the harbour of refuge; and we did not permit Phrygians to put such an intolerable reproach on Hellas. Now in these things thou too hast a share, for thou dwellest in a corner of the land of Hellas beneath Aetna’s fire-streaming rock; and although thou turn from arguments, still it is a custom amongst mortal men to receive shipwrecked sailors as their suppliants and show them hospitality and help them with raiment; not that these should fill thy jaws and belly, their limbs transfixed with spits for piercing ox-flesh. The land of Priam hath emptied Hellas quite enough, drinking the blood of many whom the spear laid low, with the ruin it has brought on widowed wives, on aged childless dames, and hoary-headed sires; and if thou roast and consume the remnant,—a meal thou wilt rue,—why, where shall one turn? Nay, be persuaded by me, Cyclops; forego thy ravenous greed and choose piety rather than wickedness; for on many a man ere now unrighteous gains have brought down retribution.

SILENUS . . . . . I will give thee a word of advice! as for his flesh, leave not a morsel of it, and if thou eat his tongue, Cyclops, thou wilt become a monstrous clever talker.

CYCLOPS Wealth, manikin, is the god for the wise; all else is mere vaunting and fine words. Plague take the headlands by the sea, on which my father seats himself! Why hast thou put forward these arguments? I shudder not at Zeus’s thunder, nor know I wherein Zeus is a mightier god than I, sir stranger; what is more, I reck not of him; my reasons hear. When he pours down the rain from above, here in this rock in quarters snug, feasting on roast calf’s flesh or some wild game and moistening well my upturned paunch with deep draughts from a tub of milk, I rival the thunderclaps of Zeus with my artillery; and when the north-wind blows from Thrace and sheddeth snow, I wrap my carcase in the hides of beasts and light a fire, and what care I for snow? The earth perforce, whether she like it or not, produces grass and fattens my flocks, which I sacrifice to no one save myself and this belly, the greatest of deities; but to the gods, not I! For surely to eat and drink one’s fill from day to day and give oneself no grief at all, this is the king of gods for your wise man, but lawgivers go hang, chequering, as they do, the life of man! And so I will not cease from indulging myself by devouring thee; and thou shalt receive this stranger’s gift, that I may be free of blame,—fire and my father’s element yonder, and a cauldron to hold thy flesh and boil it nicely in collops. So in with you, that ye may feast me well, standing round the altar to honour the cavern’s god. [Enters his cave.

ODYSSEUS Alas! escaped from the troubles of Troy and the sea, my barque now strands upon the whim and forbidding heart of this savage. O Pallas, mistress mine, goddess-daughter of Zeus, help me, help me now; for I am come to toils and depths of peril worse than all at Ilium; and thou, O Zeus, the stranger’s god, who hast thy dwelling ’mid the radiant stars, behold these things; for, if thou regard them not, in vain art thou esteemed the great god Zeus, though but a thing of naught. [Follows the Cyclops reluctantly.

CHORUS Ope wide the portal of thy gaping throat, Cyclops; for strangers’ limbs, both boiled and grilled, are ready from off the coals for thee to gnaw and tear and mince up small, reclining in thy shaggy goatskin coat.

CHORUS Relinquish not thy meal for me; keep that boat for thyself alone. Avaunt this cave! avaunt the burnt-offerings, which the godless Cyclops offers on Aetna’s altars, exulting in meals on strangers’ flesh!

CHORUS Oh! the ruthless monster! to sacrifice his guests at his own hearth, the suppliants of his halls, cleaving and tearing and serving up to his loathsome teeth a feast of human flesh, hot from the coals.

CHORUS

ODYSSEUS (reappearing with a look of horror.) O Zeus! what can I say after the hideous sights I have seen inside the cave, things past belief, resembling more the tales men tell than aught they do?

CHORUS What news, Odysseus? has the Cyclops, most godless monster, been feasting on thy dear comrades?

ODYSSEUS Aye, he singled out a pair, on whom the flesh was fattest and in best condition, and took them up in his hand to weigh.

CHORUS How went it with you then, poor wretch?

ODYSSEUS When we had entered yonder rocky abode, he lighted first a fire, throwing logs of towering oak upon his spacious hearth, enough for three waggons to carry as their load; next, close by the blazing flame, he placed his couch of pine-boughs laid upon the floor, and filled a bowl of some ten firkins, pouring white milk thereinto, after he had milked his kine; and by his side he put a can of ivy-wood, whose breadth was three cubits and its depth four maybe; next he set his brazen pot a-boiling on the fire, spits too he set beside him, fashioned of the branches of thorn, their points hardened in the fire and the rest of them trimmed with the hatchet, and the blood-bowls of Aetna for the axe’s edge. Now when that hell-cook, god-detested, had everything quite ready, he caught up a pair of my companions and proceeded deliberately to cut the throat of one of them over the yawning brazen pot; but the other he clutched by the tendon of his heel, and, striking him against a sharp point of rocky stone, dashed out his brains; then, after hacking the fleshy parts with glutton cleaver, he set to grilling them, but the limbs he threw into his cauldron to seethe. And I, poor wretch, drew near with streaming eyes and waited on the Cyclops; but the others kept cowering like frightened birds in crannies of the rock, and the blood forsook their skin. Anon, when he had gorged himself upon my comrades’ flesh and had fallen on his back, breathing heavily, there came a sudden inspiration to me. I filled a cup of this Maronian wine and offered him a draught, saying, Cyclops, son of Ocean’s god, see here what heavenly drink the grapes of Hellas yield, glad gift of Dionysus. He, glutted with his shameless meal, took and drained it at one draught, and, lifting up his hand, he thanked me thus, Dearest to me of all my guests! fair the drink thou givest me to crown so fair a feast. Now when I saw his delight, I gave him another cup, knowing the wine would make him rue it, and he would soon be paying the penalty. Then he set to singing; but I kept filling bumper after bumper and heating him with drink. So there he is singing discordantly amid the weeping of my fellow-sailors, and the cave re-echoes; but I have made my way out quietly and would fain save thee and myself, if thou wilt. Tell me then, is it your wish, or is it not, to fly from this unsocial wretch and take up your abode with Naiad nymphs in the halls of the Bacchic god? Thy father within approves this scheme; but there! he is powerless, getting all he can out of his liquor; his wings are snared by the cup as if he had flown against bird-lime, and he is fuddled; but thou art young and lusty; so save thyself with my help and regain thy old friend Dionysus, so little like the Cyclops.

CHORUS Best of friends, would we might see that day, escaping the godless Cyclops! for ’tis long we have been without the joys of men, unable to escape him.

ODYSSEUS Hear then how I will requite this vile monster and rescue you from thraldom.

CHORUS Tell me how; no note of Asiatic lyre would sound more sweetly in our ears than news of the Cyclops’ death.

ODYSSEUS Delighted with this liquor of the Bacchic god, he fain would go a-revelling with his brethren.

CHORUS I understand; thy purpose is to seize and slay him in the thickets when alone, or push him down a precipice.

ODYSSEUS Not at ail; my plan is fraught with subtlety.

CHORUS What then? Truly we have long heard of thy cleverness.

ODYSSEUS I mean to keep him from this revel, saying he must not give this drink to his brethren but keep it for himself alone and lead a happy life. Then when he falls asleep, o’ermastered by the Bacchic god, I will put a point with this sword of mine to an olive-branch I saw lying in the cave, and will set it on fire; and when I see it well alight, I will lift the heated brand, and, thrusting it full in the Cyclops’ eye, melt out his sight with its blaze; and, as when a man in fitting the timbers of a ship makes his auger spin to and fro with a double strap, so will I make the brand revolve in the eye that gives the Cyclops light and will scorch up the pupil thereof.

CHORUS Ho! ho! how glad I feel! wild with joy at the contrivance!

ODYSSEUS That done, I will embark thee and those thou lovest with old Silenus in the deep hold of my black ship, my ship with double banks of oars, and carry you away from this land.

CHORUS Well, can I too lay hold of the blinding brand, as though the god’s libation had been poured? for I would fain have a share in this offering of blood.

ODYSSEUS Indeed thou must, for the brand is large, and thou must help hold it.

CHORUS How lightly would I lift the load of e’en a hundred wains, if that will help us to grub out the eye of the doomed Cyclops, like a wasp’s nest.

ODYSSEUS Hush! for now thou knowest my plot in fall, and when I bid you, obey the author of it; for I am not the man to desert my friends inside the cave and save myself alone. And yet I might escape; I am clear of the cavern’s depths already; but no! to desert the friends with whom I journeyed hither and only save myself is not a righteous course. [Re-enters the cave.

FIRST HALF-CHORUS Come, who will be the first and who the next to him upon the list to grip the handle of the brand, and, thrusting it into the Cyclops’ eye, gouge out the light thereof?

SECOND HALF-CHORUS Hush! hush! Behold the drunkard leaves his rocky home, trolling loud some hideous lay, a clumsy tuneless clown, whom tears await. Come, let us give this boor a lesson in revelry. Ere long will he be blind at any rate.

FIRST HALF-CHORUS Happy he who plays the Bacchanal amid the precious streams distilled from grapes, stretched at full length for a revel, his arm around the friend he loves, and some fair dainty damsel on his couch, his hair perfumed with nard and glossy, the while he calls, Oh! who will ope the door for me?

CYCLOPS Ha! ha! full of wine and merry with the feast’s good cheer am I, my hold freighted like a merchant-ship up to my belly’s very top. This turf graciously invites me to seek my brother Cyclopes for a revel in the spring-tide. Come, stranger, bring the wine-skin hither and hand it over to me.

SECOND HALF-CHORUS Forth from the house its fair lord comes, casting his fair glance round him. We have some one to befriend us. A hostile brand is awaiting thee, no tender bride in dewy grot. No single colour will those garlands have, that soon shall cling so close about thy brow.

ODYSSEUS (Returning with the wineskin.) Hearken, Cyclops; for I am well versed in the ways of Bacchus, whom I have given thee to drink.

CYCLOPS And who is Bacchus? some reputed god?

ODYSSEUS The greatest god men know to cheer their life.

CYCLOPS I like his after-taste at any rate.

ODYSSEUS This is the kind of god he is; he harmeth no man.

CYCLOPS But how does a god like being housed in a wine-skin?

ODYSSEUS Put him where one may, he is content there.

CYCLOPS It is not right that gods should be clad in leather.

ODYSSEUS What of that, provided he please thee? does the leather hurt thee?

CYCLOPS I hate the wine-skin, but the liquor we have here I love.

ODYSSEUS Stay, then, Cyclops; drink and be merry.

CYCLOPS Must I not give my brethren a share in this liquor?

ODYSSEUS No, keep it thyself and thou wilt appear of more honour.

CYCLOPS Give it my friends and I shall appear of more use.

ODYSSEUS Revelling is apt to end in blows, abuse, and strife.

CYCLOPS I may be drunk, but no man will lay hands on me for all that.

ODYSSEUS Better stay at home, my friend, after a carouse.

CYCLOPS Who loves not revelling then is but a simpleton.

ODYSSEUS But whoso stays at home, when drunk, is wise.

CYCLOPS What shall we do, Silenus? art minded to stay?

SILENUS That I am; for what need have we of others to share our drink, Cyclops?

CYCLOPS Well, truly the turf is soft as down with its fresh flowering plants.

SILENUS (seating himself.) Aye, and ’tis pleasant drinking in the warm sunshine.

CYCLOPS

SILENUS Come, let me see thee stretch thy carcase on the ground.

CYCLOPS (sitting dawn.) There then! Why art thou putting the mixing-bowl behind me?

SILENUS That no one passing by may come upon it.

CYCLOPS Nay, but thy purpose is to drink upon the sly; set it between us. (To Odysseus.) Now tell me, stranger, by what name to call thee.

ODYSSEUS Noman. What boon shall I receive of thee to earn my thanks?

CYCLOPS I will feast on thee last, after all thy comrades.

ODYSSEUS Fair indeed the honour thou bestowest on thy guest, sir Cyclops!

CYCLOPS (turning suddenly to Silenus.) Ho, sirrah! what art thou about? taking a stealthy pull at the wine?

SILENUS No, but it kissed me for my good looks.

CYCLOPS Thou shalt smart, if thou kiss the wine when it kisses not thee.

SILENUS Oh! but it did, for it says it is in love with my handsome face.

CYCLOPS (holding out his cup.) Pour in; only give me my cup full.

SILENUS H’m! how is it mixed? just let me make sure. (Takes another pull.)

CYCLOPS Perdition! give it me at once.

SILENUS Oh, no! I really cannot, till I see thee with a crown on, and have another taste myself.

CYCLOPS My cup-bearer is a cheat.

SILENUS No really, but the wine is so luscious. Thou must wipe thy lips, though, to get a draught.

CYCLOPS There! my lips and beard are clean now.

SILENUS Bend thine elbow gracefully, and then quaff thy cup, as thou seest me do, and as now thou seest me not. (Burying his face in his cup.)

CYCLOPS Aha! what next?

SILENUS I drank it off at a draught with much pleasure.

CYCLOPS Stranger, take the skin thyself and be my cup-bearer.

ODYSSEUS Well, at any rate the grape is no stranger to my hand.

CYCLOPS Come, pour it in.

ODYSSEUS In it goes! keep silence, that is all.

CYCLOPS A difficult task when a man is deep in his cups.

ODYSSEUS Here, take and drink it off; leave none.

CYCLOPS

ODYSSEUS Thou must be silent and only give in when the liquor does.

CYCLOPS God wot! it is a clever stock that bears the grape.

ODYSSEUS Aye, and if thou but swallow plenty of it after a plentiful meal, moistening thy belly till its thirst is gone, it will throw thee into slumber; but if thou leave aught behind, the Bacchic god will parch thee for it.

CYCLOPS Ha! ha! what a trouble it was getting out! This is pleasure unalloyed; earth and sky seem whirling round together; I see the throne of Zeus and all the godhead’s majesty. Kiss thee! no! There are the Graces trying to tempt me. I shall rest well enough with my Ganymede here; yea, by the Graces, right fairly.

SILENUS What! Cyclops, am I Ganymede, Zeus’s minion?

CYCLOPS (attempting to carry him into the cave.) To be sure, Ganymede whom I am carrying off from the halls of Dardanus.

SILENUS I am undone, my children; outrageous treatment waits me.

CHORUS Dost find fault with thy lover? dost scorn him in his cups?

SILENUS Woe is me! most bitter shall I find the wine ere long. [Exit Silenus, dragged away by Cyclops.

ODYSSEUS Up now, children of Dionysus, sons of a noble sire, soon will yon creature in the cave, relaxed in slumber as ye see him, spew from his shameless maw the meat. Already the brand inside his lair is vomiting a cloud of smoke; and the only reason we prepared it was to burn the Cyclops’ eye; so mind thou quit thee like a man.

CHORUS I will have a spirit as of rock or adamant; but go inside, before my father suffers any shameful treatment; for here thou hast things ready.

ODYSSEUS O Hephaestus, lord of Aetna, rid thyself for once and all of a troublesome neighbour by burning his bright eye out. Come, Sleep, as well, offspring of sable Night, come with all thy power on the monster god-detested; and never after Troy’s most glorious toils destroy Odysseus and his crew by the hands of one who recketh naught of God or man; else must we reckon Chance a goddess, and Heaven’s wall inferior to hers. [Odysseus re-enters the cave.

CHORUS Tightly the pincers shall grip the neck of him who feasts upon his guest; for soon will he lose the light of his eye by fire; already the brand, a tree’s huge limb, lurks amid the embers charred. Oh! come ye then and work his doom, pluck out the maddened Cyclops’ eye, that he may rue his drinking. And I too fain would leave the Cyclops’ lonely land and see king Bromius, ivy-crowned, the god I sorely miss. Ah! shall I ever come to that?

ODYSSEUS (leaving the cave cautiously.) Silence, ye cattle! I adjure you; close your lips; make not a sound! I’ll not let a man of you so much as breathe or wink or clear his throat, that yon pest awake not, until the sight in the Cyclops’ eye has passed through the fiery ordeal.

CHORUS Silent we stand with ’bated breath.

ODYSSEUS In then, and mind your fingers grip the brand, for it is splendidly red-hot.

CHORUS Thyself ordain who first must seize the blazing bar and burn the Cyclops’ eye out, that we may share alike whate’er betides.

FIRST HALF-CHORUS Standing where I am before the door, I am too far off to thrust the fire into his eye.

SECOND HALF-CHORUS I have just gone lame.

FIRST HALF-CHORUS Why, then, thou art in the same plight as I; for somehow or other I sprained my ankle, standing still.

ODYSSEUS Sprained thy ankle, standing still?

SECOND HALF-CHORUS Yes, and my eyes are full of dust or ashes from somewhere or other.

ODYSSEUS These are sorry fellows, worthless as allies.

CHORUS Because I feel for my back and spine, and express no wish to have my teeth knocked out, I am a coward, am I? Well, but I know a spell of Orpheus, a most excellent one, to make the brand enter his skull of its own accord, and set alight the one-eyed son of Earth.

ODYSSEUS Long since I knew thou wert by nature such an one, and now I know it better; I must employ my own friends; but, though thou bring no active aid, cheer us on at any rate, that I may find my friends emboldened by thy encouragement. [Exit Odysseus.

CHORUS That will I do; the Carian shall run the risk for us; and as far as encouragement goes, let the Cyclops smoulder.

CHORUS What ho! my gallants, thrust away, make haste and burn his eye-brow off, the monster’s guest-devouring. Oh! singe and scorch the shepherd of Aetna; twirl the brand and drag it round and be careful lest in his agony he treat thee to some wantonness.

CYCLOPS (Bellowing in the cave.) Oh! oh! my once bright eye is burnt to cinders now.

CHORUS Sweet indeed the triumph-song; pray sing it to us, Cyclops.

CYCLOPS (from within.) Oh! oh! once more; what outrage on me and what ruin! But never shall ye escape this rocky cave unpunished, ye worthless creatures; for I will stand in the entrance of the cleft and fit my hands into it thus. [Staggering to the entrance.

CHORUS Why dost thou cry out, Cyclops?

CYCLOPS I am undone.

CHORUS Thou art indeed a sorry sight.

CYCLOPS Aye, and a sad one, too.

CHORUS Didst fall among the coals in a drunken fit?

CYCLOPS Noman has undone me.

CHORUS Then there is no one hurting thee after all.

CYCLOPS Noman is blinding me.

CHORUS Then art thou not blind.

CYCLOPS As blind as thou, forsooth.

CHORUS How, pray, could no man have made thee blind?

CYCLOPS Thou mockest me; but where is this Noman.

CHORUS Nowhere, Cyclops.

CYCLOPS It was the stranger, vile wretch! who proved my ruin, that thou mayst understand rightly, by swilling me with the liquor he gave me.

CHORUS Ah! wine is a terrible foe, hard to wrestle with.

CYCLOPS Tell me, I adjure thee, have they escaped or are they still within?

CHORUS Here they are ranged in silence, taking the rock to screen them.

CYCLOPS On which side?

CHORUS On thy right.

CYCLOPS Where?

CHORUS Close against the rock. Hast caught them?

CYCLOPS Trouble on trouble! I have run my skull against the rock and cracked it.

CHORUS Aye, and they are escaping thee.

CYCLOPS This way, was it not? ’Twas this way thou saidst.

CHORUS No, not this way.

CYCLOPS Which then?

CHORUS They are getting round thee on the left.

CYCLOPS Alas! I am being mocked; ye jeer me in my evil plight.

CHORUS They are no longer there; but facing thee that stranger stands.

CYCLOPS Master of villainy, where, oh! where art thou?

ODYSSEUS Some way from thee I am keeping careful guard over the person of Odysseus.

CYCLOPS What, a new name! hast changed thine?

ODYSSEUS Yes, Odysseus the name my father gave me. But thou wert doomed to pay for thy unholy feast; for I should have seen Troy burned to but sorry purpose, unless I had avenged on thee the slaughter of my comrades.

CYCLOPS Woe is me! ’tis an old oracle coming true; yes, it said I should have my eye put out by thee on thy way home from Troy; but it likewise foretold that thou wouldst surely pay for this, tossing on the sea for many a day.

ODYSSEUS Go hang! E’en as I say, so have I done. And now will I get me to the beach and start my hollow ship across the sea of Sicily to the land of my fathers.

CYCLOPS Thou shalt not; I will break a boulder off this rock and crush thee, crew and all, beneath my throw. Blind though I be, I will climb the hill, mounting through yonder tunnel.

CHORUS As for us, henceforth will we be the servants of Bacchus, sharing the voyage of this hero Odysseus.