E.P. Coleridge, tr. (1891); with R. Potter and others

Euripides (c. 480–406 BCE) — the third of the three great Athenian tragedians and in many ways the most modern. Where Aeschylus shaped divine fate and Sophocles shaped heroic character, Euripides shaped human psychology. He undermined the heroic tradition by showing heroes as flawed, gods as amoral, and women as fully realized persons. Medea is a study in obsessive rage. Hippolytus dramatizes sexual repression and its consequences. The Bacchae — written in his final exile in Macedonia — is his darkest and strangest work, in which Dionysus destroys those who deny him.

Of his estimated ninety-two plays, nineteen survive (including the possibly non-Euripidean Rhesus) — more than Aeschylus and Sophocles combined, because Byzantine scholars compiled a teaching edition of Euripides that survived the medieval period intact. Aristotle called him the most tragic of the poets. Nietzsche hated him. Neither assessment is entirely wrong.

E.P. Coleridge's 1891 translation (George Bell) covers the bulk of the corpus. Ion and Iphigenia in Tauris are in Robert Potter's eighteenth-century verse translation; the Alcestis is by Richard Aldington; the Trojan Women includes Gilbert Murray's celebrated verse rendering.

Alcestis
By Euripides

Translated by Richard Aldington

Dramatis Personae

APOLLO
DEATH
CHORUS OF OLD MEN
A WOMAN SERVANT
ALCESTIS, the Queen, wife of ADMETUS
ADMETUS, King of Thessaly
EUMELUS, their child
HERACLES
PHERES, father of ADMETUS

At Pherae, outside the Palace of ADMETUS, King of Thessaly. The centre
of the scene represents a portico with columns and a large double-door.
To the left are the women's quarters, to the right the guest rooms.
The centre doors of the Palace slowly open inwards, and Apollo comes
out. In his left hand he carries a large unstrung golden bow. He moves
slowly and majestically, turns, and raises his right hand in salutation
to the Palace.

APOLLO Dwelling of Admetus, wherein I, a God, deigned to accept
the food of serfs!

The cause was Zeus. He struck Asclepius, my son, full in the breast
with a bolt of thunder, and laid him dead. Then in wild rage I slew
the Cyclopes who forge the fire of Zeus. To atone for this my Father
forced me to labour as a hireling for a mortal man; and I came to
this country, and tended oxen for my host. To this hour I have protected
him and his. I, who am just, chanced on the son of Pheres, a just
man, whom I have saved from Death by tricking the Fates. The Goddesses
pledged me their faith Admetus should escape immediate death if, in
exchange, another corpse were given to the Under-Gods.

One by one he tested all his friends, and even his father and the
old mother who bad brought him forth-and found none that would die
for him and never more behold the light of day, save only his wife.
Now, her spirit waiting to break loose, she droops upon his arm within
the house; this is the day when she must die and render up her life.

But I must leave this Palace's dear roof, for fear pollution soil
me in the house.

See! Death, Lord of All the Dead, now comes to lead her to the house
of Hades! Most punctually he comes! How well he marked the day she
had to die! (From the right comes DEATH, with a drawn sword in his
hand. He moves stealthily towards the Palace; then sees APOLLO and
halts abruptly. The two Deities confront each other.)

DEATH Ha! Phoebus! You! Before this Palace! Lawlessly would you grasp,
abolish the rights of the Lower Gods! Did you not beguile the Fates
and snatch Admetus from the grave? Does not that suffice? Now, once
again, you have armed your hand with the bow, to guard the daughter
of Pelias who must die in her husband's stead!

APOLLO Fear not! I hold for right, and proffer you just words.

DEATH If you hold for right, why then your bow?

APOLLO My custom is ever to carry it.

DEATH Yes! And you use it unjustly to aid this house!

APOLLO I grieve for a friend's woe.

DEATH So you would rob me of a second body?

APOLLO Not by force I won the other.

DEATH Why, then, is he in the world and not below the ground?

APOLLO In his stead he gives his wife-whom you have come to take.

DEATH And shall take-to the Underworld below the earth!

APOLLO Take her, and go! I know not if I can persuade you...

DEATH Not to kill her I must kill? I am appointed to that task.

APOLLO No, no! But to delay death for those about to die.

DEATH I hear your words and guess your wish!

APOLLO May not Alcestis live to old age?

DEATH No! I also prize my rights!

APOLLO Yet at most you win one life.

DEATH They who die young yield me a greater prize.

APOLLO If she dies old, the burial will be richer.

DEATH Phoebus, that argument favours the rich.

APOLLO What! Are you witty unawares?

DEATH The rich would gladly pay to die old.

APOLLO So you will not grant me this favour?

DEATH Not I! You know my nature.

APOLLO Yes! Hateful to men and a horror to the gods!

DEATH You cannot always have more than your due.

APOLLO Yet you shall change, most cruel though you are! For a man
comes to the dwelling of Pheres, sent by Eurystheus to fetch a horse-drawn
chariot from the harsh-wintered lands of Thrace; and he shall be a
guest in the house of Admetus, and by force shall he tear this woman
from you. Thus shall you gain no thanks from us, and yet you shall
do this thing-and my hatred be upon you (APOLLO goes out. DEATH gazes
after him derisively.)

DEATH Talk all you will, you get no more of me! The woman shall go
down to the dwelling of Hades. Now must I go to consecrate her for
the sacrifice with this sword; for when once this blade has shorn
the victim's hair, then he is sacred to the Lower Gods! (DEATH enters
the Palace by the open main door. The CHORUS enters from the right.
They are the Elders or Notables of the city, and, therefore move slowly,
leaning upon their staffs.)

LEADER OF THE CHORUS (chanting) Why is there no sound outside the
Palace? Why is the dwelling of Admetus silent? Not a friend here to
tell me if I must weep for a dead Queen or whether she lives and looks
upon the light, Alcestis, the daughter of Pelias, whom among all women
I hold the best wife to her spouse!

CHORUS (Singing) Is a sob to be heard?
Or the beating of hands
In the house?
The lament for her end?
Not one,
Not one of her servants
Stands at the gate!

Ah! to roll back the wave of our woe,
O Healer,
Appear!

FIRST SEMI-CHORUS Were she dead
They had not been silent.

SECOND SEMI-CHORUS She is but a dead body!

FIRST SEMI-CHORUS Yet she has not departed the house.

SECOND SEMI-CHORUS Ah! Let me not boast!
Why do you cling to hope?

FIRST SEMI-CHORUS Would Admetus bury her solitary,
Make a grave alone for a wife so dear?

CHORUS At the gate I see not
The lustral water from the spring
Which stands at the gates of the dead!
No shorn tress in the portal
Laid in lament for the dead!
The young women beat not their hands!

SECOND SEMI-CHORUS Yet to-day is the day appointed....

FIRST SEMI-CHORUS Ah! What have you said?

SECOND SEMI-CHORUS When she must descend under earth

FIRST SEMI-CHORUS You have pierced my soul!
You have pierced my mind!

SECOND SEMI-CHORUS He that for long
Has been held in esteem
Must weep when the good are destroyed.

CHORUS No!
There is no place on earth
To send forth a suppliant ship-
Not to Lycia,
Not to Ammon's waterless shrine-
To save her from death!
The dreadful doom is at hand.
To what laden altar of what God
Shall I turn my steps?

He alone-
If the light yet shone for his eye-
Asclepius, Phoebus's son,
Could have led her back
From the land of shadows,
From the gates of Hades,
For he raised the dead
Ere the Zeus-driven shaft
Slew him with thunder fire....
But now
What hope can I hold for her life?

LEADER (chanting) The King has fulfilled
Every rite;
The altars of all the Gods
Drip with the blood of slain beasts:
Nothing, nothing avails. (From the women's quarters in the left wing
of the Palace comes a woman in tears. She is not a slave, but one
of the personal attendants on the Queen.) But now from the house
comes one of her women servants, all in tears. What now shall I learn?
(To the weeping Servant) It is well to weep when our lords are in
sorrow-but tell us, we would know, is she alive, is she dead?

SERVANT You may say she is both alive and dead.

LEADER How can the same man be dead and yet behold the light?

SERVANT She gasps, she is on the verge of death.

LEADER Ah, unhappy man! For such a husband what loss is such a wife!

SERVANT The King will not know his loss until he suffers it.

LEADER Then there is no hope that her life may be saved?

SERVANT The fated day constrains her.

LEADER Are all things befitting prepared for her?

SERVANT The robes in which her lord will bury her are ready.

LEADER Then let her know that she dies gloriously, the best of women
beneath the sun by far!

SERVANT How should she not be the best! Who shall deny it? What should
the best among women be? How better might a woman hold faith to her
lord than gladly to die for him? This the whole city knows, but you
will marvel when you hear what she has done within the house. When
she knew that the last of her days was come she bathed her white body
in river water, she took garments and gems from her rooms of cedar
wood, and clad herself nobly; then, standing before the hearth-shrine,
she uttered this prayer:

'O Goddess, since now I must descend beneath the earth, for the last
time I make supplication to you: and entreat you to protect my motherless
children. Wed my son to a fair bride, and my daughter to a noble husband.
Let not my children die untimely, as I their mother am destroyed,
but grant that they live out happy lives with good fortune in their
own land!'

To every altar in Admetus's house she went, hung them with garlands.
offered prayer, cut myrtle boughs-unweeping, unlamenting; nor did
the coming doom change the bright colour of her face.

Then to her marriage-room she went, flung herself down upon her bed,
and wept, and said:

'O my marriage-bed, wherein I loosed my virgin girdle to him for whom
I die! Farewell! I have no hatred for you. Only me you lose. Because
I held my faith to you and to my lord-I must die. Another woman shall
possess you, not more chaste indeed than I, more fortunate perhaps.'

She fell upon her knees and kissed it, and all the bed was damp with
the, tide of tears which flooded to her eyes. And when she was fulfilled
of many tears, drooping she rose from her bed and made as if to go,
and many times she turned to go and many times turned back, and flung
herself once more upon the bed.

Her children clung to their mother's dress, and wept; and she clasped
them in her arms and kissed them turn by turn, as a dying woman.

All the servants in the house wept with compassion for their Queen,
But she held out her hand to each, and there was none so base to whom
she did not speak, and who did not reply again.

Such is the misery in Admetus's house. If he had died, he would be
nothing now; and, having escaped, he suffers an agony he will never
forget.

LEADER And does Admetus lament this woe-since he must be robbed of
so noble a woman?

SERVANT He weeps, and clasps in his arms his dear bedfellow, and
cries to her not to abandon him, asking impossible things. For she
pines, and is wasted by sickness. She falls away, a frail burden on
his arm; and yet, though faintly, she still breathes, still strives
to look upon the sunlight, which she shall never see hereafter-since
now for the last time she looks upon the orb and splendour of the
sun I

I go, and shall announce that you are here; for all men are not so
well-minded to their lords as loyally to stand near them in misfortunes,
but you for long have been a friend to both my lords. (She goes back
into the women's quarters of the Palace. The CHORUS now begins to
sing.)

FIRST SEMI-CHORUS O Zeus,
What end to these woes?
What escape from the Fate
Which oppresses our lords?

SECOND SEMI-CHORUS Will none come forth?
Must I shear my hair?
Must we wrap ourselves
In black mourning folds?

FIRST SEMI-CHORUS It is certain, O friends, it is certain?

But still let us cry to the Gods;
Very great is the power of the Gods.

CHORUS O King, O Healer,
Seek out appeasement
To Admetus's agony!
Grant this, Oh, grant it!
Once before did you find it;
Now once more
Be the Releaser from death.
The Restrainer of blood-drenched Hades!

SECOND SEMI-CHORUS Alas!
O son of Pheres.
What ills shall you suffer
Being robbed of your spouse!

FIRST SEMI-CHORUS At sight of such woes
Shall we cut our throats?
Shall we slip
A dangling noose round our necks?

CHORUS See! See!
She comes
From the house with her lord!
Cry out, Oh, lament.
O land of Pherae,
For the best of women
Fades away in her doom
Under the earth,
To dark Hades! (From the central door of the Palace comes a splendid
but tragical procession. Preceded by the royal guards, ADMETUS enters,
supporting ALCESTIS. The two children, a boy and a girl, cling to
their mother's dress. There is a train of attendants and waiting women,
who bring a low throne for the fainting ALCESTIS.)

LEADER OF THE CHORUS (chanting) Never shall I say that we ought
to rejoice in marriage, but rather weep; this have I seen from of
old and now I look upon the fate of the King, who loses the best of
wives, and henceforth until the end his life shall be intolerable.

ALCESTIS (chanting) Sun, and you, light of day,
Vast whirlings of swift cloud!

ADMETUS The sun looks upon you and me, both of us miserable, who
have wrought nothing against the Gods to deserve death.

ALCESTIS (chanting) O Earth, O roof-tree of my home,
Bridal-bed of my country, Iolcus!

ADMETUS Rouse up, O unhappy one, and, do not leave me! Call upon
the mighty Gods to pity!

ALCESTIS (starting up and gazing wildly in terror, chanting) I see
the two-oared boat,
I see the boat on the lake!
And Charon,
Ferryman of the Dead,
Calls to me, his hand on the oar:
'Why linger? Hasten! You delay me!'
Angrily he urges me.

ADMETUS Alas! How bitter to me is that ferrying of which you speak!
O my unhappy one, how we suffer!

ALCESTIS (chanting) He drags me, he drags me away-
Do you not see?-
To the House of the Dead,
The Winged One
Glaring under dark brows,
Hades!-
What is it you do?
Set me free!-
What a path must I travel,
O most hapless of women!

ADMETUS O piteous to those that love you, above all to me and to
these children who sorrow in this common grief!

ALCESTIS (chanting) Loose me, Oh, loose me now;
Lay me down;
All strength is gone from my feet. (She falls back in the throne.)
Hades draws near!
Dark night falls on my eyes,
My children, my children,
Never more, Oh, never more
Shall your mother be yours!
O children, farewell,
Live happy in the light of day!

ADMETUS (chanting) Alas! I hear this unhappy speech, and for me
it is worse than all death. Ah! By the Gods, do not abandon me! Ah!
By our children, whom you leave motherless, take heart! If you die,
I become as nothing; in you we have our life and death; we revere
your love.

ALCESTIS (recovering herself) Admetus, you see the things I suffer;
and now before I die I mean to tell you what I wish.

To show you honour and-at the cost of my life-that you may still behold
the light, I die; and yet I might have lived and wedded any in Thessaly
I chose, and dwelt with happiness in a royal home. But, torn from
you, I would not live with fatherless children, nor have I hoarded
up those gifts of youth in which I found delight. Yet he who begot
you, she who brought you forth, abandoned you when it had been beautiful
in them to die, beautiful to die with dignity to save their son! They
had no child but you, no hope if you were dead that other children
might be born to them. Thus I should have lived my life out, and you
too, and you would not lament as now, made solitary from your wife,
that you must rear our children motherless!

But these things are a God's doing and are thus.
Well! Do not forget this gift, for I shall ask-not a recompense, since
nothing is more precious than life, but-only what is just, as you
yourself will say, since if you have not lost your senses you must
love these children no less than I. Let them be masters in my house;
marry not again, and set a stepmother over them, a woman harsher than
I, who in her jealousy will lift her hand against my children and
yours. Ah! not this, let not this be, I entreat you! The new stepmother
hates the first wife's children, the viper itself is not more cruel.
The son indeed finds a strong rampart in his father-but you, my daughter,
how shall you live your virgin life out in happiness? How will you
fare with your father's new wife? Ah! Let her not cast evil report
upon you and thus wreck your marriage in the height of your youth!
You will have no mother, O my child, to give you in marriage, to comfort
you in childbed when none is tenderer than a mother!

And I must die. Not to-morrow. nor to-morrow's morrow comes this misfortune
on me, but even now I shall be named with those that are no more.
Farewell! Live happy! You, my husband, may boast you had the best
of wives; and you, my children, that you lost the best of mothers!
(She falls back.)

LEADER Take heart! I do not hesitate to speak for him. This he will
do, unless he has lost his senses.

ADMETUS It shall be so, it shall be! Have no fear! And since I held
you living as my wife, so, when dead, you only shall be called my
wife, and in your place no bride of Thessaly shall salute me hers;
no other woman is noble enough for that, no other indeed so beautiful
of face. My children shall suffice me; I pray the Gods I may enjoy
them, since you we have not enjoyed.

I shall wear mourning for you, O my wife, not for one year but all
my days, abhorring the woman who bore me, hating my father-for they
loved me in words, not deeds. But you-to save my life you give the
dearest thing you have! Should I not weep then, losing such a wife
as you?

I shall make an end of merry drinking parties, and of flower-crowned
feasts and of the music which possessed my house. Never again shall
I touch the lyre, never again shall I raise my spirits to sing to
the Libyan flute-for you have taken from me all my joy. Your image,
carven by the skilled hands of artists, shall be laid in our marriage-bed;
I shall clasp it, and my hands shall cling to it and I shall speak
your name and so, not having you, shall think I have my dear wife
in my arms-a cold delight, I know, but it will lighten the burden
of my days. Often you will gladden me, appearing in my dreams; for
sweet it is to look on those we love in dreams, however brief the
night.

Ah! If I had the tongue and song of Orpheus so that I might charm
Demeter's Daughter or her Lord, and snatch you back from Hades, would
go down to hell; and neither Pluto's dog nor Charon, Leader of the
Dead, should hinder me until I had brought your life back to the light!

At least await me there whenever I shall die, and prepare the house
where you will dwell with me. I shall lay a solemn charge upon these
children to stretch me in the same cedar shroud with you, and lay
my side against your side; for even in death let me not be separate
from you, you who alone were faithful to me!

LEADER (to ADMETUS) And I also will keep this sad mourning with
you, as a friend with a friend; for she is worthy of it.

ALCESTIS O my children, you have heard your father say that never
will he set another wife over you and never thus insult me.

ADMETUS Again I say it, and will perform it too!

ALCESTIS (placing the children's hands in his) Then take these children
from my hand.

ADMETUS I take them-dear gifts from a dear hand.

ALCESTIS Now you must be the mother for me to my children.

ADMETUS It must be so, since they are robbed of you.

ALCESTIS O children, I should have lived my life out-and I go to
the Underworld.

ADMETUS Alas! What shall I do, left alone by you?

ALCESTIS Time will console you. The dead are nothing.

ADMETUS Take me with you, by the Gods! Take me to the Underworld!

ALCESTIS It is enough that I should die-for you.

ADMETUS O Fate, what a wife you steal from me!

ALCESTIS (growing faint) My dimmed eyes are heavily oppressed.

ADMETUS O woman, I am lost if you leave me!

ALCESTIS You may say of me that I am nothing.

ADMETUS Lift up your head! Do not abandon your children!

ALCESTIS Ah! Indeed it is unwillingly-but, farewell, my children!

ADMETUS Look at them, look....

ALCESTIS I am nothing.

ADMETUS What are you doing? Are you leaving me?

ALCESTIS (falling back dead) Farewell.

ADMETUS (staring at the body) Wretch that I am, I am lost!

LEADER She is gone! The wife of Admetus is no more.

EUMELUS (chanting) Ah! Misery!
Mother has gone,
Gone to the Underworld!
She lives no more,
O my Father,
In the sunlight.
O sad one,
You have left us
To live motherless!

See, Oh, see her eyelids
And her drooping hands!
Mother, Mother,
Hearken to me, listen,
I beseech you!
I-I-Mother!-
I am calling to you,
Your little bird fallen upon your face!

ADMETUS She hears not, she sees not. You and I are smitten by a dread
calamity.

EUMELUS (chanting) Father, I am a child,
And I am left
Like a lonely ship
By the mother I loved.
Oh! The cruel things I suffer!
And you, little sister,
Suffer with me.

O my Father,
Vain, vain was your wedding,
You did not walk with her
To the end of old age.
She died first;
And your death, O Mother,
Destroys our house.

LEADER Admetus, you must endure this calamity. You are not the first
and will not be the last to lose a noble wife. We all are doomed to
die.

ADMETUS I know it.
Not unawares did this woe swoop down on me; for long it has gnawed
at me.

But, since I shall ordain the funeral rites for this dead body, you
must be there, and meanwhile let a threnody re-echo to the implacable
God of the Underworld. And all you men of Thessaly whom I rule-I order
you to share the mourning for this woman with severed hair and black-robed
garb. You who yoke the four-horsed chariot and the swift single horses,
cut the mane from their necks with your steel.

Let there be no noise of flutes or lyre within the city until twelve
moons are fulfilled. Never shall I bury another body so dear to me,
never one that has loved me better. From me she deserves all honour,
since she alone would die for me! (The body of ALCESTIS is carried
solemnly into the Palace, followed by ADMETUS, With bowed head, holding
one of his children by each hand. When all have entered, the great
doors are quietly shut.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

O Daughter of Pelias,
Hail to you in the house of Hades,
In the sunless home where you shall dwell!
Let Hades, the dark-haired God,
Let the old man, Leader of the Dead,
Who sits at the oar and helm,
Know you:
Far, far off is the best of women
Borne beyond the flood of Acheron
In the two-oared boat!

(antistrophe 1)

Often shall the Muses' servants
Sing of you to the seven-toned
Lyre-shell of the mountain-tortoise,
And praise you with mourning songs at Sparta
When the circling season
Brings back the month Carneius
Under the nightlong upraised moon,
And in bright glad Athens.
Such a theme do you leave by your death
For the music of singers!

(strophe 2)

Ah! That I had the power
To bring you back to the light
From the dark halls of Hades,
And from the waves of Cocytus
With the oar of the river of hell
Oh, you only,
O dearest of women,
You only dared give your life
For the life of your lord in Hades!
Light rest the earth above you,
O woman.
If your lord choose another bridal-bed
He shall be hateful to me
As to your own children.

(antistrophe 2)

When his mother
And the old father that begot him
Would not give their bodies to the earth
For their son's sake,
They dared not deliver him-O cruel!
Though their heads were grey.
But you,
In your lively youth,
Died for him, and are gone from the light!
Ah! might I be joined
With a wife so dear!
But in life such fortune is rare.
How happy were my days with her! (From the left HERACLES enters.
He is black-bearded and of great physical strength; he wears a lion-skin
over his shoulders and carries a large club.)

HERACLES (with a gesture of salutation) Friends, dwellers in the
lands of Pherae, do I find Admetus in his home?

LEADER OF THE CHORUS The son of Pheres is in his home, O Heracles.
But, tell us, what brings you to the land of Thessaly and to the city
of Pherae?

HERACLES I have a task I must achieve for Eurystheus of Tiryns.

LEADER Where do you go? To what quest are you yoked?

HERACLES The quest of the four-horsed chariot of Diomedes, the Thracian.

LEADER But how will you achieve it? Do you know this stranger?

HERACLES No, I have never been to the land of the Bistones.

LEADER You cannot obtain the horses without a struggle.

HERACLES I cannot renounce my labours.

LEADER You must kill to return, or you will remain there dead.

HERACLES It will not be the first contest I have risked.

LEADER And if you conquer the King will you gain anything?

HERACLES I shall bring back his foals to the lord of Tiryns.

LEADER It is not easy to thrust the bit into their jaws.

HERACLES Only if they breathe fire from their nostrils!

LEADER But they tear men with their swift jaws.

HERACLES You speak of the food of wild mountain beasts, not of horses.

LEADER You may see their mangers foul with blood.

HERACLES Of what father does the breeder boast himself the son?

LEADER Of Ares, the lord of the gold-rich shield of Thrace!

HERACLES In this task once more you remind me of my fate, which is
ever upon harsh steep ways, since I must join battle with the sons
of Ares-first with Lycaon, then with Cycnus, and now in this third
contest I am come to match myself with these steeds and their master!

LEADER But see, the lord of this land, Admetus himself, comes from
the house! (The central doors of the Palace have opened, and ADMETUS
comes slowly on the Stage, preceded and followed by guards and attendants.
The King has put off all symbols of royalty, and is dressed in black.
His tong hair is clipped close to his head. ADMETUS dissembles his
grief throughout this scene, in obedience to the laws of hospitality,
which were particularly reverenced in Thessaly.)

ADMETUS Hail Son of Zeus and of the blood of Perseus!

HERACLES And hail to you, Admetus, lord of the Thessalians

ADMETUS May it be so! I know your friendship well.

HERACLES What means this shorn hair, this mourning robe?

ADMETUS To-day I must bury a dead body.

HERACLES May a God avert harm from your children!

ADMETUS The children I have begotten are alive in the house.

HERACLES Your father was ripe for death-if it is he has gone?

ADMETUS He lives-and she who brought me forth, O Heracles.

HERACLES Your wife-Alcestis-she is not dead?

ADMETUS (evasively) Of her I might make a double answer.

HERACLES Do you mean that she is dead or alive?

ADMETUS (ambiguously) She is and is not-and for this I grieve.

HERACLES (perplexed) I am no wiser-you speak obscurely.

ADMETUS Did you not know the fate which must befall her?

HERACLES I know she submitted to die for you.

ADMETUS How then can she be alive, having consented to this?

HERACLES Ah! Do not weep for your wife till that time comes.

ADMETUS Those who are about to die are dead, and the dead are nothing.

HERACLES Men hold that to be and not to be are different things.

ADMETUS You hold for one, Heracles, and I for the other.

HERACLES Whom, then, do you mourn? Which of your friends is dead?

ADMETUS A woman. We spoke of her just now.

HERACLES (mistaking his meaning) A stranger? Or one born of your
kin?

ADMETUS A stranger, but one related to this house.

HERACLES But how, then, did she chance to die in your house?

ADMETUS When her father died she was sheltered here.

HERACLES Alas! Would I had not found you in this grief, Admetus!

ADMETUS What plan are you weaving with those words?

HERACLES I shall go to the hearth of another friend.

ADMETUS Not so, O King! This wrong must not be.

HERACLES (hesitating) The coming of a guest is troublesome to those
who mourn.

ADMETUS (decisively) The dead are dead. Enter my house.

HERACLES But it is shameful to feast among weeping friends.

ADMETUS We shall put you in the guest-rooms, which are far apart.

HERACLES Let me go, and I will give you a thousand thanks.

ADMETUS No, you shall not go to another man's hearth. (To a servant)
Guide him, and open for him the guest-rooms apart from the house.
(HERACLES enters the Palace by the guests' door; when he has gone
in, ADMETUS turns to the other servants) Close the inner door of
the courtyard; it is unseemly that guests rejoicing at table should
hear lamentations, and be saddened. (The attendants go into the Palace.)

LEADER What are you about? When such a calamity has fallen upon you,
Admetus, have you the heart to entertain a guest? Are you mad?

ADMETUS And if I had driven away a guest who came to my house and
city, would you have praised me more? No, indeed! My misfortune would
have been no less, and I inhospitable. One more ill would have been
added to those I have if my house were called inhospitable. I myself
find him the best of hosts when I enter the thirsty land of Argos.

LEADER But why did you hide from him the fate that has befallen,
if the man came as a friend, as you say?

ADMETUS Never would he have entered my house if he had guessed my
misfortune.

To some, I know, I shall appear senseless in doing this, and they
will blame me; but my roof knows not to reject or insult a guest.
(He goes into the Palace, as the CHORUS begins its song.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

O house of a bountiful lord,
Ever open to many guests,
The God of Pytho,
Apollo of the beautiful lyre,
Deigned to dwell in you
And to live a shepherd in your lands!
On the slope of the hillsides
He played melodies of mating
On the Pipes of Pan to his herds.

(antistrophe 1)

And the dappled lynxes fed with them
In joy at your singing;
From the wooded vale of Orthrys
Came a yellow troop of lions;
To the sound of your lyre, O Phoebus,
Danced the dappled fawn
Moving on light feet
Beyond the high-crested pines,
Charmed by your sweet singing.

(strophe 2)

He dwells in a home most rich in flocks
By the lovely moving Boebian lake.
At the dark stabling-place of the Sun
He takes the sky of the Molossians
As a bourne to his ploughing of fields,
To the soils of his plains;
He bears sway
As far as the harbourless
Coast of the Aegean Sea,
As far as Pelion.

(antistrophe 2)

Even to-day he opened his house
And received a guest,
Though his eyelids were wet
With tears wept by the corpse
Of a dear bedfellow dead in the house.
For the noble spirit is proclaimed by honour;
All wisdom lies with the good.
I admire him:
And in my soul I know
The devout man shall have joy. (The funeral procession of ALCESTIS
enters from the door of the women's quarters. The body, carried on
a bier by men servants, is followed by ADMETUS and his two children.
Behind them comes a train of attendants and servants carrying the
funeral offerings. All are in mourning. ADMETUS addresses the CHORUS.)

ADMETUS O friendly presence of you men of Pherae! Now that the body
is prepared, and the servants bear it on high to the tomb and the
fire, do you, as is fitting, salute the dead as she goes forth on
her last journey. (PHERES, the father of ADMETUS, enters, followed
by attendants bearing funeral offerings.)

LEADER OF THE CHORUS But I see your father, tottering with an old
man's walk, and his followers bearing in their hands for your wife
garments as an offering to the dead.

PHERES My son, I have come to share your sorrow, for the wife you
have lost was indeed noble and virtuous-none can deny it. But these
things must be endured, however intolerable they may be.

Take these garments, and let her descend under the earth. Her body
must be honoured, for she died to save your life, my son; she has
not made me childless, nor left me to be destroyed without you in
my hapless old age; and she has given glorious fame to all women by
daring so noble a deed! (He lifts his hand in salutation to the body
of ALCESTIS.) O woman, who saved my son, who raised me up when I
had fallen, hail! Be happy in the halls of Hades! I declare it-such
marriages are profitable to mankind; otherwise, it is foolish to marry.

ADMETUS (furiously) It was not my wish that you should come to this
burial, and I deny that your presence is that of a friend! She shall
never wear these garments of yours; she needs not your gifts for her
burial. You should have grieved when I was, about to die; but you
stood aside, and now do you come to wail over a corpse when you, an
old man, allowed a young woman to die?

Were you in very truth father of this body of mine? Did she, who claims
to be and is called my mother, bring me forth? Or was I bred of a
slave's seed and secretly brought to your wife's breast? You have
proved what you are when it comes to the test, and therefore I am
not your begotten son; or you surpass all men in cowardice, for, being
at the very verge and end of life, you had neither courage nor will
to die for your son. But this you left to a woman, a stranger, whom
alone I hold as my father and my mother!

Yet it had been a beautiful deed in you to die for your son, and short
indeed was the time left you to live. She and I would have lived out
our lives, and I should not now be here alone lamenting my misery.

You enjoyed all that a happy man can enjoy-you passed the flower of
your age as a king, and in me your son you had an heir to your dominion;
you would not have died childless, leaving an orphaned house to be
plundered by strangers. You will not say that you abandoned me to
death because I dishonoured your old age, for above all I was respectful
to you-and this is the gratitude I have from you and my mother!

Beget more sons, and quickly, to cherish your old age and wrap you
in a shroud when dead and lay your body out in state! This hand of
mine shall not inter you. I am dead to you. I look upon the light
of day because another saved me-I say I am her son, and will cherish
her old age!

Vainly do old men pray for death, regretting their age and the long
span of life. If death draws near, none wants to die, and age is no
more a burden to him.

LEADER Admetus! The present misfortune is enough. Do not provoke
your father's spirit. (ADMETUS turns angrily to depart, but PHERES
prevents him.)

PHERES My son, do you think you are pursuing some hireling Lydian
or Phrygian with your taunts? Do you know I am a Thessalian, a free
man lawfully begotten by a Thessalian father? You are over-insolent,
and you shall not leave thus, after wounding me with your boyish insults.
I indeed begot you, and bred you up to be lord of this land, but I
am not bound to die for you. It is not a law of our ancestors or of
Hellas that the fathers should die for the children! You were born
to live your own life, whether miserable or fortunate; and what is
due to you from me you have. You rule over many men, and I shall leave
you many wide fields even as received them from my own father. How,
then, have I wronged you? Of what have I robbed you? Do not die for
me, any more than I die for you. You love to look upon the light of
day-do you think your father hates it? I tell myself that we are a
long time underground and that life is short, but sweet.

But you-you strove shamelessly not to die, and you are alive, you
shirked your fate by killing her! And you call me a coward, you, the
worst of cowards, surpassed by a woman who died for you, pretty boy?
And now you insult those who should be dear to you, when they refuse
to die for a coward like you!

Be silent! Learn that if you love your life, so do others. If you
utter insults, you shall hear many, and true ones too!

LEADER These insults and those that went before suffice. Old man,
cease to revile your son.

ADMETUS (to PHERES) Speak on! I shall refute you. If the truth wounds
you when you hear it you should not have wronged me.

PHERES I should have wronged you far more if I had died for you.

ADMETUS It is the same then to die an old man and in the flower of
life?

PHERES We should live one life, not two.

ADMETUS May you live longer than God!

PHERES Do you curse your parents when they have done you no wrong?

ADMETUS I see you are in love with long life.

PHERES But you are not carrying her dead body in place of your own?

ADMETUS It is the proof of your cowardice, O worst of men.

PHERES You cannot say she died for me!

ADMETUS Alas! May you one day need my help.

PHERES Woo many women, so that more may die for you.

ADMETUS To your shame be it-you who dared not die.

PHERES Sweet is the daylight of the Gods, very sweet.

ADMETUS Your spirit is mean, not a man's.

PHERES Would you laugh to carry an old man's body to the grave?

ADMETUS You will die infamous, whenever you die.

PHERES It will matter little enough to me to hear ill of myself when
I am dead!

ADMETUS Alas! Alas! full of impudence. is old age!

PHERES She was not impudent, but foolish,

ADMETUS Go! Leave me to bury her body.

PHERES (turning away) I go. You, her murderer, will bury her-but
soon you must render an account to her relatives. Acastus is not a
man if he fails to avenge his sister's blood on you! (PHERES goes
out by the way he entered, followed by his attendants. ADMETUS gazes
angrily after him.)

ADMETUS Go with a curse, you, and she who dwells with you! Grow old,
as you ought, childless though you have a child. You shall never return
to this house. And if I could renounce your hearth as my father's
by heralds, I would do it. But we-since this sorrow must be endured-let
us go, and set her body on the funeral pyre. (The Procession moves
slowly along the stage, and is joined by the CHORUS. As they pass,
the LEADER salutes the body of ALCESTIS.)

LEADER (chanting) Alas! Alas! You who suffer for your courage, O
noblest and best of women, hail! May Hermes of the Dead, may Hades,
greet you kindly. If there are rewards for the dead, may you share
them as you sit by the bride of the Lord of the Dead! (The Procession
has filed out. A servant in mourning hurries out from the guests'
quarters.)

SERVANT Many guests from every land, I know, have come to the Palace
of Admetus, and I have set food before them, but never one worse than
this guest have I welcomed to the hearth.

First, though he saw our Lord was in mourning, he entered, and dared
to pass through the gates. Then, knowing our misfortune, he did not
soberly accept what was offered him, but if anything was not served
to him he ordered us to bring it. In both hands he took a cup of ivy-wood,
and drank the unmixed wine of the dark grape-mother, until he was
encompassed and heated with the flame of wine. He crowned his head
with myrtle sprays, howling discordant songs. There was he caring
nothing for Admetus's misery, and we servants weeping for our Queen;
and yet we hid our tear-laden eyes from the guest, for so Admetus
had commanded.

And now in the Palace I must entertain this stranger, some villainous
thief and brigand, while she, the Queen I mourn, has gone from the
house unfollowed, unsaluted, she who was as a mother to me and all
us servants, for she sheltered us from a myriad troubles by softening
her husband's wrath.

Am I not right, then, to hate this stranger, who came to us in the
midst of sorrow? (HERACLES comes from the Palace. He is drunkenly
merry, with a myrtle wreath on his head, and a large cup and wine-skin
in his hands. He staggers a little.)

HERACLES Hey, you! Why so solemn and anxious? A servant should not
be sullen with guests, but greet them with a cheerful heart.

You see before you a man who is your lord's friend, and you greet
him with a gloomy, frowning face, because of your zeal about a strange
woman's death. Come here, and let me make you a little wiser! (With
drunken gravity) Know the nature of human life? Don't think you do.
You couldn't. Listen to me. All mortals must die. Isn't one who knows
if he'll be alive to-morrow morning. Who knows where Fortune will
lead? Nobody can teach it. Nobody learn it by rules. So, rejoice in
what you hear, and learn from me! Count each day as it comes as Life-and
leave the rest to Fortune. Above all, honour the Love Goddess, sweetest
of all the Gods to mortal men, a kindly goddess! Put all the rest
aside. Trust in what I say, if you think I speak truth-as I believe.
Get rid of this gloom, rise superior to Fortune. Crown yourself with
flowers and drink with me, won't you? I know the regular clink of
the wine-cup will row you from darkness and gloom to another haven.
Mortals should think mortal thoughts. To all solemn and frowning men,
life I say is not life, but a disaster.

SERVANT We know all that, but what we endure here to-day is far indeed
from gladness and laughter.

HERACLES But the dead woman was a stranger. Lament not overmuch,
then, for the Lords of this Palace are still alive.

SERVANT How, alive? Do you not know the misery of this house?

HERACLES Your lord did not lie to me?

SERVANT He goes too far in hospitality!

HERACLES But why should I suffer for a stranger's death?

SERVANT It touches this house only too nearly.

HERACLES Did he hide some misfortune from me?

SERVANT Go in peace! The miseries of our lords concern us.

HERACLES That speech does not imply mourning for a stranger!

SERVANT No, or I should not have been disgusted to see you drinking.

HERACLES Have I then been basely treated by my host?

SERVANT You did not come to this house at a welcome hour. We are
in mourning. You see my head is shaved and the black garments I wear.

HERACLES But who, then, is dead? One of the children? The old father?

SERVANT O stranger, Admetus no longer has a wife.

HERACLES What! And yet I was received in this way?

SERVANT He was ashamed to send you away from his house.

HERACLES O hapless one! What a wife you have lost!

SERVANT Not she alone, but all of us are lost.

HERACLES (now completely sobered) I felt there was something when
I saw his tear-wet eyes, his shaven head, his distracted look. But
he persuaded me he was taking the body of a stranger to the grave.
Against my will I entered these ates, and drank in the home of this
generous man-and he in such grief! And shall I drink at such a time
with garlands of flowers on my head? You, why did you not tell me
that such misery had come upon this house? Where is he burying her?
Where shall I find him?

SERVANT Beside the straight road which leads to Larissa you will
see a tomb of polished stone outside the walls. (Returns to the servants'
quarters)

HERACLES O heart of me, much-enduring heart, O right arm, now indeed
must you show what son was born to Zeus by Alcmena, the Tirynthian,
daughter of Electryon! For I must save this dead woman, and bring
back Alcestis to this house as a grace to Admetus.

I shall watch for Death, the black-robed Lord of the Dead, and I know
I shall find him near the tomb, drinking the blood of the sacrifices.
If can leap upon him from an ambush, seize him, grasp him in my arms,
no power in the world shall tear his bruised sides from me until he
has yielded up this woman. If I miss my prey, if he does not come
near the bleeding sacrifice, I will go down to Kore and her lord in
their sunless dwelling, and I will make my entreaty to them, and I
know they will give me Alcestis to bring back to the hands of the
host who welcomed me, who did not repulse me from his house, though
he was smitten with heavy woe which most nobly he hid from me! Where
would be a warmer welcome in Thessaly or in all the dwellings of Hellas?

He shall not say he was generous to an ingrate! (HERACLES goes out.
Presently ADMETUS and his attendants, followed by the CHORUS, return
from the burial of ALCESTIS.)

ADMETUS (chanting) Alas!
Hateful approach, hateful sight of my widowed house! Oh me! Oh me!
Alas! Whither shall I go? Where rest? What can I say? What refrain
from saying? Why can I not die? Indeed my mother bore me for a hapless
fate. I envy the dead, I long to be with them, theirs are the dwellings
where I would be. Without pleasure I look upon the light of day and
set my feet upon the earth-so precious a hostage has Death taken from
me to deliver unto Hades!

CHORUS (chanting responsively with ADMETUS) Go forward,

Enter your house.

ADMETUS Alas!

CHORUS Your grief deserves our tears.

ADMETUS O Gods!

CHORUS I know you have entered into sorrow.

ADMETUS Woe! Woe!

CHORUS Yet you bring no aid to the dead.

ADMETUS Oh me! Oh me!

CHORUS Heavy shall it be for you
Never to look again
On the face of the woman you love.

ADMETUS You bring to my mind the grief that breaks my heart. What
sorrow is worse for a man than the loss of such a woman? I would I
had never married, never shared my house with her. I envy the wifeless
and the childless. They live but one life-what is suffering to them?
But the sickness of children, bridal-beds ravished by Death-dreadful!
when we might be wifeless and childless to the end.

CHORUS Chance, dreadful Chance, has stricken you.

ADMETUS Alas!

CHORUS But you set no limit to your grief.

ADMETUS Ah! Gods!

CHORUS A heavy burden to bear, and yet...

ADMETUS Woe! Woe!

CHORUS Courage! You are not the first to lose...

ADMETUS Oh me! Oh me!

CHORUS A wife.
Different men
Fate crushes with different blows.

ADMETUS O long grief and mourning for those beloved under the earth!

Why did you stay me from casting myself into the hollow grave to lie
down for ever in death by the best of women? Two lives, not one, had
then been seized by Hades, most faithful one to the other; and together
we should have crossed the lake of the Underworld.

CHORUS A son most worthy of tears
Was lost to one of my house,
Yet, childless, he suffered with courage,
Though the white was thick in his hair
And his days were far-spent!

ADMETUS O visage of my house! How shall I enter you? How shall I
dwell in you, now that Fate has turned its face from me? How great
is the change! Once, of old, I entered my house with marriage-songs
and the torches of Pelion, holding a loved woman by the hand, followed
by a merry crowd shouting good wishes to her who is dead and to me,
because we had joined our lives, being both noble and born of noble
lines. Today, in place of marriage-songs are lamentations; instead
of white garments I am clad in mourning, to return to my house and
a solitary bed.

CHORUS Grief has fallen upon you
In the midst of a happy life
Untouched by misfortune.
But your life and your spirit are safe.
She is dead,
She has left your love.
Is this so new?
Ere now many men
Death has severed from wives.

ADMETUS (speaking) O friends, whatsoever may be thought by others,
to me it seems that my wife's fate is happier than mine. Now, no pain
ever shall touch her again; she has reached the noble end of all her
sufferings. But I, I who should have died, I have escaped my fate,
only to drag out a wretched life. Only now do I perceive it.

How shall I summon strength to enter this house? Whom shall I greet?
Who will greet me in joy at my coming? Whither shall I turn my steps?
I shall be driven forth by solitude when I see my bed widowed of my
wife, empty the chairs on which she sat, a dusty floor beneath my
roof, my children falling at my knees and calling for their mother,
and the servants lamenting for the noble lady lost from the house!

Such will be my life within the house. Without, I shall be driven
from marriage-feasts and gatherings of the women of Thessaly. I shall
not endure to look upon my wife's friends. Those who hate me will
say: 'See how he lives in shame, the man who dared not die, the coward
who gave his wife to Hades in his stead! Is that a man? He hates his
parents, yet he himself refused to die!'

This evil fame I have added to my other sorrows. O my friends, what
then avails it that I live, if I must live in misery and shame? (He
covers his head with his robe, and crouches in abject misery on the
steps of his Palace.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

I have lived with the Muses
And on lofty heights:
Many doctrines have I learned;
But Fate is above us all.
Nothing avails against Fate
Neither the Thracian tablets
Marked with Orphic symbols,
Nor the herbs given by Phoebus
To the children of Asclepius
To heal men of their sickness.

(antistrophe 1)

None can come near to her altars,
None worship her statues;
She regards not our sacrifice.
O sacred goddess,
Bear no more hardly upon me
Than in days overpast!
With a gesture Zeus judges,
But the sentence is yours.
Hard iron yields to your strength;
Your fierce will knows not gentleness.

(strophe 2)

And the Goddess has bound you
Ineluctably in the gyves of her hands.
Yield.
Can your tears give life to the dead?
For the sons of the Gods
Swoon in the shadow of Death.
Dear was she in our midst,
Dear still among the dead,
For the noblest of women was she
Who lay in your bed.

(antistrophe 2)

Ah!
Let the grave of your spouse
Be no more counted as a tomb,
But revered as the Gods,
And greeted by all who pass by!
The wanderer shall turn from his path,
Saying: 'She died for her lord;
A blessed spirit she is now.
Hail, O sacred lady, be our friend!'
Thus shall men speak of her. (ADMETUS is still crouched on the Palace
steps, when HERACLES enters from the side, leading a veiled woman.)

LEADER OF THE CHORUS But see! The son of Alcmena, as I think, comes
to your house. (ADMETUS uncovers his head, and faces the newcomer.)

HERACLES Admetus, a man should speak freely to his friends, and not
keep reproaches silent in his heart. Since I was near you in your
misfortune, should have wished to show myself your friend. But you
did not tell me the dead body was your wife's, and you took me into
your house as if you were in mourning only for a stranger. And I put
a garland of flowers upon my head, and poured wine-offerings to the
Gods, when your house was filled with lamentation. I blame you, yes,
I blame you for this-but I will not upbraid you in your misfortune.

Why I turned back and am here, I shall tell you. Take and keep this
woman for me until I have slain the King of the Bistones and return
here with the horses of Thrace. If ill happens to me-may I return
safely!-I give her to you to serve in your house.

With much striving I won her to my hands. On my way I found public
games, worthy of athletes, and I have brought back this woman whom
I won as the prize of victory. The winners of the easy tests had horses;
heads of cattle were given to those who won in boxing and wrestling.
Then came a woman as a prize. Since I was present, it would have been
shameful for me to miss this glorious gain. Therefore, as I said,
you must take care of this woman, whom I bring to you, not as one
stolen but as the prize of my efforts. Perhaps in time you will approve
of what I do.

ADMETUS Not from disdain, nor to treat you as a foe, did I conceal
my wife's fate from you. But if you had turned aside to another man's
hearth, one more grief had been added to my sorrow. It was enough
that I should weep my woe.

This woman-O King, I beg it may be thus-enjoin some other Thessalian,
one who is not in sorrow, to guard her. In Pherae there are many to
welcome you. Do not remind me of my grief. Seeing her in my house,
I could not restrain my tears. Add not a further anguish to my pain,
for what I suffer is too great. And then-where could I harbour a young
woman in my house? For she is young-I see by her clothes and jewels.
Could she live with the men under my roof? How, then, could she remain
chaste, if she moved to and fro among the young men? Heracles, it
is not easy to restrain the young....I am thinking of your interests....Must
I take her to my dead wife's room? How could I endure her to enter
that bed? I fear a double reproach-from my people, who would accuse
me of betraying my saviour to slip into another woman's bed, and from
my dead wife, who deserves my respect, for which I must take care.

O woman, whosoever you may be, you have the form of Alcestis, and
your body is like hers.

Ah! By all the Gods, take her from my sight! Do not insult a broken
man. When I look upon her-she seems my wife-my heart is torn asunder-tears
flow from my eyes. Miserable creature that I am, now taste the bitterness
of my sorrow.

LEADER I do not praise this meeting; but, whatever happens, we must
accept the gifts of the Gods.

HERACLES Oh, that I might bring your wife back into the light of
day from the dwelling of the Under-Gods, as a gift of grace to you!

ADMETUS I know you would wish this-but to what end? The dead cannot
return to the light of day.

HERACLES Do not exaggerate, but bear this with decorum.

ADMETUS Easier to advise than bear the test.

HERACLES How will it aid you to lament for ever?

ADMETUS I know-but my love whirls me away.

HERACLES Love for the dead leads us to tears.

ADMETUS I am overwhelmed beyond words.

HERACLES You have lost a good wife-who denies it?

ADMETUS So that for me there is no more pleasure in life.

HERACLES Time will heal this open wound.

ADMETUS You might say Time, if Time were death!

HERACLES Another woman, a new marriage, shall console you.

ADMETUS Oh, hush! What have you said? A thing unbelievable!

HERACLES What! You will not marry? Your bed will remain widowed?

ADMETUS No other woman shall ever lie at my side.

HERACLES Do you think that avails the dead?

ADMETUS Wherever she may be, I must do her honour.

HERACLES I praise you-but men will call you mad.

ADMETUS Yet never more shall I be called a bridegroom.

HERACLES I praise your faithful love to your wife-

ADMETUS May I die if I betray her even when dead!

HERACLES (offering him the veiled woman's hand.) Receive her then
into your noble house.

ADMETUS No, by Zeus who begot you, no!

HERACLES Yet you will do wrong if you do not take her.

ADMETUS If I do it, remorse will tear my heart.

HERACLES Yield-perhaps it will be a good thing for you.

ADMETUS Ah! If only you had not won her in the contest!

HERACLES But I conquered-and you conquered with me.

ADMETUS It is true-but let the woman go hence.

HERACLES She shall go, if she must. But first-ought she to go?

ADMETUS She must-unless it would anger you.

HERACLES There is good reason for my zeal.

ADMETUS You have conquered then-but not for my pleasure.

HERACLES One day you will praise me for it-be persuaded.

ADMETUS (to his attendants) Lead her in, since she must be received
in this house.

HERACLES No, I cannot leave such a woman to servants.

ADMETUS Then lead her in yourself, if you wish.

HERACLES I must leave her in your hands.

ADMETUS I must not touch her-let her go into the house.

HERACLES I trust only in your right hand.

ADMETUS O King, you force me to this against my will.

HERACLES Put forth your hand and take this woman.

ADMETUS (turning aside his head) It is held out.

HERACLES As if you were cutting off a Gorgon's head! Do you hold
her?

ADMETUS Yes.

HERACLES Then keep her. You shall not deny that the son of Zeus is
a grateful guest. (Takes off the veil and shows ALCESTIS.) Look
at her, and see if she is not like your wife. And may joy put an end
to all your sorrow!

ADMETUS (drops her hand and starts back) O Gods! What am I to say?
Unhoped-for wonder! Do I really look upon my wife? Or I am snared
in the mockery of a God?

HERACLES No you look upon your wife indeed.

ADMETUS Beware! May it not be some phantom from the Underworld?

HERACLES Do not think your guest a sorcerer.

ADMETUS But do I indeed look upon the wife I buried?

HERACLES Yes-but I do not wonder at your mistrust.

ADMETUS Can I touch, speak to her, as my living wife?

HERACLES Speak to her-you have all you desired.

ADMETUS (taking ALCESTIS in his arms) O face and body of the dearest
of women! I have you once more, when I thought I should never see
you again!

HERACLES You have her-may the envy of the Gods be averted from you!

ADMETUS O noble son of greatest Zeus, fortune be yours, and may your
Father guard you! But how did you bring her back from the Underworld
to the light of day?

HERACLES By fighting with the spirit who was her master.

ADMETUS Then did you contend with Death?

HERACLES I hid by the tomb and leaped upon him.

ADMETUS But why is she speechless?

HERACLES You may not hear her voice until she is purified from her
consecration to the Lower Gods, and until the third dawn has risen.
Lead her in.

And you, Admetus, show as ever a good man's welcome to your guests.

Farewell! I go to fulfil the task set me by the King, the son of Sthenelus.

ADMETUS Stay with us, and share our hearth.

HERACLES That may be hereafter, but now I must be gone in haste.
(HERACLES departs.)

ADMETUS (gazing after him) Good fortune to you, and come back here!
(To the CHORUS) In all the city and in the four quarters of Thessaly
let there be choruses to rejoice at this good fortune, and let the
altars smoke with the flesh of oxen in sacrifice! To-day we have changed
the past for a better life. I am happy. (He leads ALCESTIS into the
Palace.)

CHORUS (singing) Spirits have many shapes,
Many strange things are performed by the Gods.
The expected does not always happen,
And God makes a way for the unexpected.
So ends this action.

THE END

Andromache
By Euripides

Translated by E. P. Coleridge

Dramatis Personae

ANDROMACHE
MAID OF ANDROMACHE
CHORUS OF PHTHIAN WOMEN
HERMIONE, daughter of MENELAUS and wife of Neoptolemus
MENELAUS, King of Sparta
MOLOSSUS, son of ANDROMACHE and Neoptolemus
PELEUS, father of Achilles
NURSE OF HERMIONE
ORESTES, son of Agamemnon
MESSENGER
THETIS, the goddess, wife of PELEUS

Before the temple of THETIS in Thessaly. ANDROMACHE, dressed as a
suppliant, is clinging to the altar in front of the temple. The palace
of Achilles is nearby.

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 borne 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 in scorn
of his bondmaid's charms hath wedded that Spartan Hermione, 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 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 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. (The MAID OF ANDROMACHE
enters.)

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,
am sure; but, as it is, thou art friendless.

ANDROMACHE Have no tidings come that Peleus may arrive?

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.
(The MAID withdraws.)

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. (She begins to chant.) 'Twas no bride
Paris took with him to the towers of Ilium, but curse to his bed when
he brought Helen to her bower. For her sake, 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 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. (The CHORUS
OF PHTHIAN WOMEN enters.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

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.

(antistrophe 1)

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?

(strophe 2)

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.

(antistrophe 2)

Yea, I did pity thee most truly, Trojan dame, when thou camest 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 enters, in complete royal regalia.)

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; (to the
CHORUS) 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 other's 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
to one lawful love, that is, all who care to live an honourable life.

LEADER OF THE 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 Laconia's
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 o'er Phthia? Ah no! there is the love that Hellas
bears me, both for Hector's sake and for my own humble rank forsooth,
that never knew a queen's 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 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 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.

LEADER 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 such a theme as this.

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 these 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. (HERMIONE
departs.)

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 (singing, strophe 1)

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.

(antistrophe 1)

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.

(strophe 2)

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.

(antistrophe 2)

Ah! had they listened, Ilium's daughters neer 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 and his retinue enter. He is leading MOLOSSUS
by the hand.)

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 carry through 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 be 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 great ills; 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.

LEADER OF THE 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 Women, 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 wife's rights most grave; for whatever else a woman suffers
is second 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 baled away by the hair of my head
to the Argive ships in slavery, and on my arrival in Phthia was given
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 me '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.

LEADER 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, seize this woman (His attendants swiftly carry
out the order.) ; 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. (MENELAUS and his guards lead ANDROMACHE
out.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

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

(antistrophe 1)

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.

(strophe 2)

Again, when strong winds are drifting mariners, the divided counsel
of the wise does not best avail for steering, and their collective
wisdom has less weight than the inferior mind 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.

(antistrophe 2)

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 yet visit thee.

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 enters,
her arms bound. Her son clings to her. MENELAUS and the guards follow,
intent on accomplishing the murder. The following lines are chanted
responsively.)

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 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.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS Behold! I see Peleus drawing nigh; with aged
step he hasteth hither. (PELEUS enters with an attendant.)

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 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
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
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 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.

LEADER 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 famous father, kin to me through 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 'tis no disgrace to argue; 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.

LEADER 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, exalted by the toilsome efforts
of others, now take your seats in all the swollen pride of Trojan
fame and Trojan generalship. 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 misfortune prevents
her bearing 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.

LEADER 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. (MENELAUS
and his retinue withdraw.)

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 coward? (PELEUS, ANDROMACHE, and MOLOSSUS go out.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe)

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.

(antistrophe)

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
near being a stain on a house. 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.

(epode)

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 famed; 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. (The NURSE OF HERMIONE enters.)

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.

LEADER OF THE 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 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 enters, in agitation. She is carrying
a sword which the NURSE wrests from her.)

HERMIONE (chanting) Woe, woe is me! I will rend my hair and tear
cruel furrows in my cheeks.

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

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

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

HERMIONE (chanting) 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 (chanting) Yea, 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 (chanting) 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 (chanting) 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 (chanting) 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. (The NURSE departs
as ORESTES and his attendants enter.)

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

ORESTES Women of this foreign land! is this the home, the palace
of Achilles' son?

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

ORESTES The son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra, by name Orestes, on
ply 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 ill! 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 what thou
hast done.

HERMIONE Thou hast guessed it; for he will have a right to slay me.
What can 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 hates 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 ruled before. Maybe some one will say, "How
was it thou didst go thus astray?" I was ruined by evil women who
came to me and puffed me up with words like these: "Wait! 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 evil; 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 ill.

LEADER 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 thither, 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 endured 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 bear 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. 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 with his swift steeds.

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
false accusations; so shall he find out my enmity. For the deity upsets
the fortune of them that hate him, and suffers them not to be high-minded.
(ORESTES and HERMIONE depart.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

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?

(antistrophe 1)

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.

(strophe 2)

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?

(antistrophe 2)

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 enters
in haste.)

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
I am 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.

LEADER OF THE 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 did she fear? explain that to me.

LEADER She was afraid her lord would cast her out.

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

LEADER Yea, and she was afraid of yon captive.

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

LEADER The son of Agamemnon came and took her hence.

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

LEADER Yes, and he is plotting thy grandson's death.

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

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

PELEUS God help us. This is a present 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. (A MESSENGER
enters.)

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.

LEADER 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, Iying 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? (The MESSENGER withdraws as the body of Neoptolemus
is carried in on a bier. The following lines between PELEUS and the
CHORUS are chanted responsively.)

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
seem born to endure! What friend can I look to for relief? Ah, dear
lips, and cheeks, and hands! Would thy destiny had slain the '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 o'er thee, my son, Hermione's deadly net! 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-father's 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 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 is seen hovering
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 (from above) 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 borne 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. (THETIS vanishes.)

CHORUS (chanting) 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 END

The Bacchantes
By Euripides

Dramatis Personae

Dionysus
Cadmus
Pentheus
Agave
Teiresias
First Messenger
Second Messenger
Servant

Before the Palace of Pentheus at Thebes. Enter DIONYSUS.

DIONYSUS Lo! I am come to this land of Thebes, Dionysus' the son
of Zeus, of whom on a day Semele, the daughter of Cadmus, was delivered
by a flash of lightning. I have put off the god and taken human shape,
and so present myself at Dirce's springs and the waters of Ismenus.
Yonder I see my mother's monument where the bolt slew her nigh her
house, and there are the ruins of her home smouldering with the heavenly
flame that blazeth still-Hera's deathless outrage on my mother. To
Cadmus all praise I offer, because he keeps this spot hallowed, his
daughter's precinct, which my own hands have shaded round about with
the vine's clustering foliage.

Lydia's glebes, where gold abounds, and Phrygia have I left behind;
o'er Persia's sun-baked plains, by Bactria's walled towns and Media's
wintry clime have I advanced through Arabia, land of promise; and
Asia's length and breadth, outstretched along the brackish sea, with
many a fair walled town, peopled with mingled race of Hellenes and
barbarians; and this is the first city in Hellas I have reached. There
too have I ordained dances and established my rites, that I might
manifest my godhead to men; but Thebes is the first city in the land
of Hellas that I have made ring with shouts of joy, girt in a fawn-skin,
with a thyrsus, my ivy-bound spear, in my hand; since my mother's
sisters, who least of all should have done it, denied that Dionysus
was the son of Zeus, saying that Semele, when she became a mother
by some mortal lover, tried to foist her sin on Zeus-a clever ruse
of Cadmus, which, they boldly asserted, caused Zeus to slay her for
the falsehood about the marriage. Wherefore these are they whom I
have driven frenzied from their homes, and they are dwelling on the
hills with mind distraught; and I have forced them to assume the dress
worn in my orgies, and all the women-folk of Cadmus' stock have I
driven raving from their homes, one and all alike; and there they
sit upon the roofless rocks beneath the green pine-trees, mingling
amongst the sons of Thebes. For this city must learn, however loth,
seeing that it is not initiated in my Bacchic rites, and I must take
up my mother's defence, by showing to mortals that the child she bore
to Zeus is a deity. Now Cadmus gave his sceptre and its privileges
to Pentheus, his daughter's child, who wages war 'gainst my divinity,
thrusting me away from his drink-offerings, and making no mention
of me in his prayers. Therefore will I prove to him and all the race
of Cadmus that I am a god. And when I have set all in order here,
I will pass hence to a fresh country, manifesting myself; but if the
city of Thebes in fury takes up arms and seeks to drive my votaries
from the mountain, I will meet them at the head of my frantic rout.
This is why I have assumed a mortal form, and put off my godhead to
take man's nature.

O ye who left Tmolus, the bulwark of Lydia, ye women, my revel rout!
whom I brought from your foreign homes to be ever by my side and bear
me company, uplift the cymbals native to your Phrygian home, that
were by me and the great mother Rhea first devised, and march around
the royal halls of Pentheus smiting them, that the city of Cadmus
may see you; while I will seek Cithaeron's glens, there with my Bacchanals
to join the dance. (Exit DIONYSUS., Enter CHORUS.)

CHORUS From Asia o'er the holy ridge of Tmolus hasten to a pleasant
task, a toil that brings no weariness, for Bromius' sake, in honour
of the Bacchic god. Who loiters in the road? who lingers 'neath the
roof? Avaunt! I say, and let every lip be hushed in solemn silence;
for I will raise a hymn to Dionysus, as custom aye ordains. O happy
he! who to his joy is initiated in heavenly mysteries and leads a
holy life, joining heart and soul in Bacchic revelry upon the hills,
purified from every sin; observing the rites of Cybele, the mighty
mother, and brandishing the thyrsus, with ivy-wreathed head, he worships
Dionysus. Go forth, go forth, ye Bacchanals, bring home the Bromian
god Dionysus, child of a god, from the mountains of Phrygia to the
spacious streets of Hellas, bring home the Bromian god! whom on a
day his mother in her sore travail brought forth untimely, yielding
up her life beneath the lightning stroke of Zeus' winged bolt; but
forthwith Zeus, the son of Cronos, found for him another womb wherein
to rest, for he hid him in his thigh and fastened it with golden pins
to conceal him from Hera. And when the Fates had fully formed the
horned god, he brought him forth and crowned him with a coronal of
snakes, whence it is the thyrsus-bearing Maenads hunt the snake to
twine about their hair. O Thebes, nurse of Semele! crown thyself with
ivy; burst forth, burst forth with blossoms fair of green convolvulus,
and with the boughs of oak and pine join in the Bacchic revelry; dor;-thy
coat of dappled fawn-skin, decking it with tufts of silvered hair;
with reverent hand the sportive wand now wield. Anon shall the whole
land be dancing, when Bromius leads his revellers to the hills, to
the hills away! where wait him groups of maidens from loom and shuttle
roused in frantic haste by Dionysus. O hidden cave of the Curetes!
O hallowed haunts in Crete, that saw Zeus born, where Corybantes with
crested helms devised for me in their grotto the rounded timbrel of
ox-hide, mingling Bacchic minstrelsy with the shrill sweet accents
of the Phrygian flute, a gift bestowed by them on mother Rhea, to
add its crash of music to the Bacchantes' shouts of joy; but frantic
satyrs won it from the mother-goddess for their own, and added it
to their dances in festivals, which gladden the heart of Dionysus,
each third recurrent year. Oh! happy that votary, when from the hurrying
revel-rout he sinks to earth, in his holy robe of fawnskin, chasing
the goat to drink its blood, a banquet sweet of flesh uncooked, as
he hastes to Phrygia's or to Libya's hills; while in the van the Bromian
god exults with cries of Evoe. With milk and wine and streams of luscious
honey flows the earth, and Syrian incense smokes. While the Bacchante
holding in his hand a blazing torch of pine uplifted on his wand waves
it, as he speeds along, rousing wandering votaries, and as he waves
it cries aloud with wanton tresses tossing in the breeze; and thus
to crown the revelry, he raises loud his voice, "On, on, ye Bacchanals,
pride of Tmolus with its rills of gold I to the sound of the booming
drum, chanting in joyous strains the praises of your joyous god with
Phrygian accents lifted high, what time the holy lute with sweet complaining
note invites you to your hallowed sport, according well with feet
that hurry wildly to the hills; like a colt that gambols at its mother's
side in the pasture, with gladsome heart each Bacchante bounds along."
(Enter TEIRESIAS.)

TEIRESIAS What loiterer at the gates will call Cadmus from the house,
Agenor's son, who left the city of Sidon and founded here the town
of Thebes? Go one of you, announce to him that Teiresias is seeking
him; he knows himself the reason of my coming and the compact I and
he have made in our old age to bind the thyrsus with leaves and don
the fawnskin, crowning our heads the while with ivy-sprays. (Enter
CADMUS.)

CADMUS Best of friends! I was in the house when I heard thy voice,
wise as its owner. I come prepared, dressed in the livery of the god.
For 'tis but right I should magnify with all my might my own daughter's
son, Dionysus, who hath shown his godhead unto men. Where are we to
join the dance? where plant the foot and shake the hoary head? Do
thou, Teiresias, be my guide, age leading age, for thou art wise.
Never shall I weary, night or day, of beating the earth with my thyrsus.
What joy to forget our years?

TEIRESIAS Why, then thou art as I am. For I too am young again, and
will essay the dance.

CADMUS We will drive then in our chariot to the hill.

TEIRESIAS Nay, thus would the god not have an equal honour paid.

CADMUS Well, I will lead thee, age leading age.

TEIRESIAS The god will guide us both thither without toil.

CADMUS Shall we alone of all the city dance in Bacchus' honour?

TEIRESIAS Yea, for we alone are wise, the rest are mad.

CADMUS We stay too long; come, take my hand.

TEIRESIAS There link thy hand in my firm grip.

CADMUS Mortal that I am, I scorn not the gods.

TEIRESIAS No subtleties do I indulge about the powers of heaven.
The faith we inherited from our fathers, old as time itself, no reasoning
shall cast down; no! though it were the subtlest invention of wits
refined. Maybe some one will say, I have no respect for my grey hair
in going to dance with ivy round my head; not so, for the god did
not define whether old or young should dance, but from all alike he
claims a universal homage, and scorns nice calculations in his worship.

CADMUS Teiresias, since thou art blind, I must prompt thee what to
say. Pentheus is coming hither to the house in haste, Echion's son,
to whom I resign the government. How scared he looks I what strange
tidings will he tell? (Enter PENTHEUS.)

PENTHEUS I had left my kingdom for awhile, when tidings of strange
mischief in this city reached me; I hear that our women-folk have
left their homes on pretence of Bacchic rites, and on the wooded hills
rush wildly to and fro, honouring in the dance this new god Dionysus,
whoe'er he is; and in the midst of each revel-rout the brimming wine-bowl
stands, and one by one they steal away to lonely spots to gratify
their lust, pretending forsooth that they are Maenads bent on sacrifice,
though it is Aphrodite they are placing before the Bacchic god. As
many as I caught, my gaolers are keeping safe in the public prison
fast bound; and all who are gone forth, will I chase from the hills,
Ino and Agave too who bore me to Echion, and Actaeon's mother Autonoe.
In fetters of iron will I bind them and soon put an end to these outrageous
Bacchic rites. They say there came a stranger hither, a trickster
and a sorcerer, from Lydia's land, with golden hair and perfumed locks,
the flush of wine upon his face, and in his eyes each grace that Aphrodite
gives; by day and night he lingers in our maidens' company on the
plea of teaching Bacchic mysteries. Once let me catch him within these
walls, and I will put an end to his thyrsus-beating and his waving
of his tresses, for I will cut his head from his body. This is the
fellow who says that Dionysus is a god, says that he was once stitched
up in the thigh of Zeus-that child who with his mother was blasted
by the lightning flash, because the woman falsely said her marriage
was with Zeus. Is not this enough to deserve the awful penalty of
hanging, this stranger's wanton insolence, whoe'er he be?

But lo! another marvel. I see Teiresias, our diviner, dressed in dappled
fawn-skins, and my mother's father too, wildly waving the Bacchic
wand; droll sight enough! Father, it grieves me to see you two old
men so void of sense. Oh! shake that ivy from thee! Let fall the thyrsus
from thy hand, my mother's sire! Was it thou, Teiresias, urged him
on to this? Art bent on introducing this fellow as another new deity
amongst men, that thou mayst then observe the fowls of the air and
make a gain from fiery divination? Were it not that thy grey hairs
protected thee, thou shouldst sit in chains amid the Bacchanals, for
introducing knavish mysteries; for where the gladsome grape is found
at women's feasts, I deny that their rites have any longer good results.

CHORUS What impiety! Hast thou no reverence, sir stranger, for the
gods or for Cadmus who sowed the crop of earth-born warriors? Son
of Echion as thou art, thou dost shame thy birth.

TEIRESIAS Whenso a man of wisdom finds a good topic for argument,
it is no difficult matter to speak well; but thou, though possessing
a glib tongue as if endowed with sense, art yet devoid thereof in
all thou sayest. A headstrong man, if he have influence and a capacity
for speaking, makes a bad citizen because he lacks sense. This new
deity, whom thou deridest, will rise to power I cannot say how great,
throughout Hellas. Two things there are, young prince, that hold first
rank among men, the goddess Demeter, that is, the earth, calf her
which name thou please; she it is that feedeth men with solid food;
and as her counterpart came this god, the son of Semele, who discovered
the juice of the grape and introduced it to mankind, stilling thereby
each grief that mortals suffer from, soon as e'er they are filled
with the juice of the vine; and sleep also he giveth, sleep that brings
forgetfulness of daily ills, the sovereign charm for all our woe.
God though he is, he serves all other gods for libations, so that
through him mankind is blest. He it is whom thou dost mock, because
he was sewn up in the thigh of Zeus. But I will show thee this fair
mystery. When Zeus had snatched him from the lightning's blaze, and
to Olympus borne the tender babe, Hera would have cast him forth from
heaven, but Zeus, as such a god well might, devised a counterplot.
He broke off a fragment of the ether which surrounds the world, and
made thereof a hostage against Hera's bitterness, while he gave out
Dionysus into other hands; hence, in time, men said that he was reared
in the thigh of Zeus, having changed the word and invented a legend,
because the god was once a hostage to the goddess Hera. This god too
hath prophetic power, for there is no small prophecy inspired by Bacchic
frenzy; for whenever the god in his full might enters the human frame,
he makes his frantic votaries foretell the future. Likewise he hath
some share in Ares' rights; for oft, or ever a weapon is touched,
a panic seizes an army when it is marshalled in array; and this too
is a frenzy sent by Dionysus. Yet shalt thou behold him e'en on Delphi's
rocks leaping o'er the cloven height, torch in hand, waving and brandishing
the branch by Bacchus loved, yea, and through the length and breadth
of Hellas. Hearken to me, Pentheus; never boast that might alone doth
sway the world, nor if thou think so, unsound as thy opinion is, credit
thyself with any wisdom; but receive the god into thy realm, pour
out libations, join the revel rout, and crown thy head. It is not
Dionysus that will force chastity on women in their love; but this
is what we should consider, whether chastity is part of their nature
for good and all; for if it is, no really modest maid will ever fall
'mid Bacchic mysteries. Mark this: thou thyself art glad when thousands
throng thy gates, and citizens extol the name of Pentheus; he too,
I trow, delights in being honoured. Wherefore I and Cadmus, whom thou
jeerest so, will wreath our brows with ivy and join the dance; pair
of grey beards though we be, still must we take part therein; never
will I for any words of thine fight against heaven. Most grievous
is thy madness, nor canst thou find a charm to cure thee, albeit charms
have caused thy malady.

CHORUS Old sir, thy words do not discredit Phoebus, and thou art
wise in honouring Bromius, potent deity.

CADMUS My son, Teiresias hath given thee sound advice; dwell with
us, but o'erstep not the threshold of custom; for now thou art soaring
aloft, and thy wisdom is no wisdom. E'en though he be no god, as thou
assertest, still say he is; be guilty of a splendid fraud, declaring
him the son of Semele, that she may be thought the mother of a god,
and we and all our race gain honour. Dost thou mark the awful fate
of Actaeon? whom savage hounds of his own rearing rent in pieces in
the meadows, because he boasted himself a better hunter than Artemis.
Lest thy fate be the same, come let me crown thy head with ivy; join
us in rendering homage to the god.

PENTHEUS Touch me not away to thy Bacchic rites thyself! never try
to infect me with thy foolery! Vengeance will I have on the fellow
who teaches thee such senselessness. Away one of you without delay!
seek yonder seat where he observes his birds, wrench it from its base
with levers, turn it upside down, o'erthrowing it in utter confusion,
and toss his garlands to the tempest's blast. For by so doing shall
I wound him most deeply. Others of you range the city and hunt down
this girl-faced stranger, who is introducing a new complaint amongst
our women, and doing outrage to the marriage tie. And if haply ye
catch him, bring him hither to me in chains, to be stoned to death,
a bitter ending to his revelry in Thebes. (Exit PENTHEUS.)

TEIRESIAS Unhappy wretch! thou little knowest what thou art saying.
Now art thou become a raving madman, even before unsound in mind.
Let us away, Cadmus, and pray earnestly for him, spite of his savage
temper, and likewise for the city, that the god inflict not a signal
vengeance. Come, follow me with thy ivy-wreathed staff; try to support
my tottering frame as I do thine, for it is unseemly that two old
men should fall; but let that-pass. For we must serve the Bacchic
god, the son of Zeus. Only, Cadmus, beware lest Pentheus' bring sorrow
to thy house; it is not my prophetic art, but circumstances that lead
me to say this; for the words of a fool are folly. (Exeunt CADMUS
and TEIRESIAS.)

CHORUS O holiness, queen amongst the gods, sweeping on golden pinion
o'er the earth! dost hear the words of Pentheus, dost hear his proud
blaspheming Bromius, the son of Semele; first of all the blessed gods
at every merry festival? His it is to rouse the revellers to dance,
to laugh away dull care, and wake the flute, whene'er at banquets
of the gods the luscious grape appears, or when the winecup in the
feast sheds sleep on men who wear the ivy-spray. The end of all unbridled
speech and lawless senselessness is misery; but the life of calm repose
and the rule of reason abide unshaken and support the home; for far
away in heaven though they dwell, the powers divine behold man's state.
Sophistry is not wisdom, and to indulge in thoughts beyond man's ken
is to shorten life; and if a man on such poor terms should aim too
high, he may miss the pleasures in his reach. These, to my mind, are
the ways of madmen and idiots. Oh! to make my way to Cyprus, isle
of Aphrodite, where dwell the love-gods strong to soothe man's soul,
or to Paphos, which that foreign river, never fed by rain, enriches
with its hundred mouths! Oh! lead me, Bromian god, celestial guide
of Bacchic pilgrims, to the hallowed slopes of Olympus, where Pierian
Muses have their haunt most fair. There dwell the Graces; there is
soft desire; there thy votaries may hold their revels freely. The
joy of our god, the son of Zeus, is in banquets, his delight is in
peace, that giver of riches and nurse divine of youth. Both to rich
and poor alike hath he granted the delight of wine, that makes all
pain to cease; hateful to him is every one who careth not to live
the life of bliss, that lasts through days and nights of joy. True
wisdom is to keep the heart and soul aloof from over-subtle wits.
That which the less enlightened crowd approves and practises, will
I accept. (Re-enter PENTHEUS. Enter SERVANT bringing DIONYSUS bound.)

SERVANT We are come, Pentheus, having hunted down this prey, for
which thou didst send us forth; not in vain hath been our quest. We
found our quarry tame; he did not fly from us, but yielded himself
without a struggle; his cheek ne'er blanched, nor did his ruddy colour
change, but with a smile he bade me bind and lead him away, and he
waited, making my task an easy one. For very shame I said to him,
"Against my will, sir stranger, do I lead thee hence, but Pentheus
ordered it, who sent me hither." As for his votaries whom thou thyself
didst check, seizing and binding them hand and foot in the public
gaol, all these have loosed their bonds and fled into the meadows
where they now are sporting, calling aloud on the Bromian god. Their
chains fell off their feet of their own accord, and doors flew open
without man's hand to help. Many a marvel hath this stranger brought
with him to our city of Thebes; what yet remains must be thy care.

PENTHEUS Loose his hands; for now that I have him in the net he is
scarce swift enough to elude me. So, sir stranger, thou art not ill-favoured
from a woman's point of view, which was thy real object in coming
to Thebes; thy hair is long because thou hast never been a wrestler,
flowing right down thy cheeks most wantonly; thy skin is white to
help thee gain thy end, not tanned by ray of sun, but kept within
the shade, as thou goest in quest of love with beauty's bait. Come,
tell me first of thy race.

DIONYSUS That needs no braggart's tongue, 'tis easily told; maybe
thou knowest Tmolus by hearsay.

PENTHEUS I know it, the range that rings the city of Sardis round.

DIONYSUS Thence I come, Lydia is my native home.

PENTHEUS What makes thee bring these mysteries to Hellas?

DIONYSUS Dionysus, the son of Zeus, initiated me.

PENTHEUS Is there a Zeus in Lydia, who begets new gods?

DIONYSUS No, but Zeus who married Semele in Hellas.

PENTHEUS Was it by night or in the face of day that he constrained
thee?

DIONYSUS 'Twas face to face he intrusted his mysteries to me.

PENTHEUS Pray, what special feature stamps thy rites?

DIONYSUS That is a secret to be hidden from the uninitiated.

PENTHEUS What profit bring they to their votaries?

DIONYSUS Thou must not be told, though 'tis well worth knowing.

PENTHEUS A pretty piece of trickery, to excite my curiosity!

DIONYSUS A man of godless life is an abomination to the rites of
the god.

PENTHEUS Thou sayest thou didst see the god clearly; what was he
like?

DIONYSUS What his fancy chose; I was not there to order this.

PENTHEUS Another clever twist and turn of thine, without a word of
answer.

DIONYSUS He were a fool, methinks, who would utter wisdom to a fool.

PENTHEUS Hast thou come hither first with this deity?

DIONYSUS All foreigners already celebrate these mysteries with dances.

PENTHEUS The reason being, they are far behind Hellenes in wisdom.

DIONYSUS In this at least far in advance, though their customs differ.

PENTHEUS Is it by night or day thou performest these devotions?

DIONYSUS By night mostly; darkness lends solemnity.

PENTHEUS Calculated to entrap and corrupt women.

DIONYSUS Day too for that matter may discover shame.

PENTHEUS This vile quibbling settles thy punishment.

DIONYSUS Brutish ignorance and godlessness will settle thine.

PENTHEUS How bold our Bacchanal is growing! a very master in this
wordy strife!

DIONYSUS Tell me what I am to suffer; what is the grievous doom thou
wilt inflict upon me?

PENTHEUS First will I shear off thy dainty tresses.

DIONYSUS My locks are sacred; for the god I let them grow.

PENTHEUS Next surrender that thyrsus.

DIONYSUS Take it from me thyself; 'tis the wand of Dionysus I am
bearing.

PENTHEUS In dungeon deep thy body will I guard.

DIONYSUS The god himself will set me free, whene'er I list.

PENTHEUS Perhaps he may, when thou standest amid thy Bacchanals and
callest on his name.

DIONYSUS Even now he is near me and witnesses my treatment.

PENTHEUS Why, where is he? To my eyes he is invisible.

DIONYSUS He is by my side; thou art a godless man and therefore dost
not see him.

PENTHEUS Seize him! the fellow scorns me and Thebes too.

DIONYSUS I bid you bind me not, reason addressing madness.

PENTHEUS But I say "bind!" with better right than thou.

DIONYSUS Thou hast no knowledge of the life thou art leading; thy
very existence is now a mystery to thee.

PENTHEUS I am Pentheus, son of Agave and Echion.

DIONYSUS Well-named to be misfortune's mate!

PENTHEUS Avaunt! Ho! shut him up within the horses' stalls hard by,
that for light he may have pitchy gloom. Do thy dancing there, and
these women whom thou bringest with thee to share thy villainies I
will either sell as slaves or make their hands cease from this noisy
beating of drums, and set them to work at the loom as servants of
my own.

DIONYSUS I will go; for that which fate forbids, can never befall
me. For this thy mockery be sure Dionysus will exact a recompense
of thee-even the god whose existence thou deniest; for thou art injuring
him by haling me to prison. (Exit DIONYSUS, guarded, and PENTHEUS.)

CHORUS Hail to thee, Dirce, happy maid, daughter revered of Achelous!
within thy founts thou didst receive in days gone by the babe of Zeus,
what time his father caught him up into his thigh from out the deathless
flame, while thus he cried: "Go rest, my Dithyrambus, there within
thy father's womb; by this name, O Bacchic god, I now proclaim thee
to Thebes." But thou, blest Dirce, thrustest me aside, when in thy
midst I strive to hold my revels graced with crowns. Why dost thou
scorn me? Why avoid me? By the clustered charm that Dionysus sheds
o'er the vintage I vow there yet shall come a time when thou wilt
turn thy thoughts to Bromius. What furious rage the earth-born race
displays, even Pentheus sprung of a dragon of old, himself the son
of earth-born Echion, a savage monster in his very mien, not made
in human mould, but like some murderous giant pitted against heaven;
for he means to bind me, the handmaid of Bromius, in cords forthwith,
and e'en now he keeps my fellow-reveller pent within his palace, plunged
in a gloomy dungeon. Dost thou mark this, O Dionysus, son of Zeus,
thy prophets struggling 'gainst resistless might? Come, O king, brandishing
thy golden thyrsus along the slopes of Olympus; restrain the pride
of this bloodthirsty wretch! Oh! where in Nysa, haunt of beasts, or
on the peaks of Corycus art thou, Dionysus, marshalling with thy wand
the revellers? or haply in the thick forest depths of Olympus, where
erst Orpheus with his lute gathered trees to his minstrelsy, and beasts
that range the fields. Ah blest Pieria! Evius honours thee, to thee
will he come with his Bacchic rites to lead the dance, and thither
will he lead the circling Maenads, crossing the swift current of Axius
and the Lydias, that giveth wealth and happiness to man, yea, and
the father of rivers, which, as I have heard, enriches with his waters
fair a land of steeds.

DIONYSUS (Within) What ho! my Bacchantes, ho! hear my call, oh!
hear.

CHORUS Who art thou? what Evian cry is this that calls me? whence
comes it?

DIONYSUS What ho! once more I call, I the son of Semele, the child
of Zeus.

CHORUS II My master, O my master, hail!

CHORUS III Come to our revel-band, O Bromian god.

CHORUS IV Thou solid earth!

CHORUS Most awful shock!

CHORUS VI O horror! soon will the palace of Pentheus totter and fall.

CHORUS VII Dionysus is within this house.

CHORUS VIII Do homage to him.

CHORUS IX We do! I do!

CHORUS Did ye mark yon architrave of stone upon the columns start
asunder?

CHORUS XI Within these walls the triumph-shout of Bromius himself
will rise.

DIONYSUS Kindle the blazing torch with lightning's fire, abandon
to the flames the halls of Pentheus.

CHORUS XII Ha! dost not see the flame, dost not clearly mark it at
the sacred tomb of Semele, the lightning flame which long ago the
hurler of the bolt left there?

CHORUS XIII Your trembling limbs prostrate, ye Maenads, low upon
the ground.

CHORUS XIV Yea, for our king, the son of Zeus, is assailing and utterly
confounding this house. (Enter DIONYSUS.)

DIONYSUS Are ye so stricken with terror that ye have fallen to the
earth, O foreign dames? Ye saw then, it would seem, how the Bacchic
god made Pentheus' halls to quake; but arise, be of good heart, compose
your trembling limbs.

CHORUS O chiefest splendour of our gladsome Bacchic sport, with what
joy I see thee in my loneliness!

DIONYSUS Were ye cast down when I was led into the house, to be plunged
into the gloomy dungeons of Pentheus?

CHORUS Indeed I was. Who was to protect me, if thou shouldst meet
with mishap? But how wert thou set free from the clutches of this
godless wretch?

DIONYSUS My own hands worked out my own salvation, easily and without
trouble.

CHORUS But did he not lash fast thy hands with cords?

DIONYSUS There too I mocked him; he thinks he bound me, whereas he
never touched or caught hold of me, but fed himself on fancy. For
at the stall, to which he brought me for a gaol, he found a bull,
whose legs and hoofs he straightly tied, breathing out fury the while,
the sweat trickling from his body, and he biting his lips; but I from
near at hand sat calmly looking on. Meantime came the Bacchic god
and made the house quake, and at his mother's tomb relit the fire;
but Pentheus, seeing this, thought his palace was ablaze, and hither
and thither he rushed, bidding his servants bring water; but all in
vain was every servant's busy toil. Thereon he let this labour be
awhile, and, thinking maybe that I had escaped, rushed into the palace
with his murderous sword unsheathed. Then did Bromius-so at least
it seemed to me; I only tell you what I thought-made a phantom in
the hall, and he rushed after it in headlong haste, and stabbed the
lustrous air, thinking he wounded me. Further the Bacchic god did
other outrage to him; he dashed the building to the ground, and there
it lies a mass of ruin, a sight to make him rue most bitterly my bonds.
At last from sheer fatigue he dropped his sword and fell fainting;
for he a mortal frail, dared to wage war upon a god; but I meantime
quietly left the house and am come to you, with never a thought of
Pentheus. But methinks he will soon appear before the house; at least
there is a sound of steps within. What will he say, I wonder, after
this? Well, be his fury never so great, I will lightly bear it; for
'tis a wise man's way to school his temper into due control. (Enter
PENTHEUS.)

PENTHEUS Shamefully have I been treated; that stranger, whom but
now I made so fast in prison, hath escaped me. Ha! there is the man!
What means this? How didst thou come forth, to appear thus in front
of my palace?

DIONYSUS Stay where thou art; and moderate thy fury.

PENTHEUS How is it thou hast escaped thy fetters and art at large?

DIONYSUS Did I not say, or didst thou not hear me, "There is one
will loose me."

PENTHEUS Who was it? there is always something strange in what thou
sayest.

DIONYSUS He who makes the clustering vine to grow for man.

PENTHEUS (I scorn him and his vines!)

DIONYSUS A fine taunt indeed thou hurlest here at Dionysus!

PENTHEUS (To his servants) Bar every tower that hems us in, I order
you.

DIONYSUS What use? Cannot gods pass even over walls?

PENTHEUS How wise thou art, except where thy wisdom is needed!

DIONYSUS Where most 'tis needed, there am I most wise. But first
listen to yonder messenger and hear what he says; he comes from the
hills with tidings for thee; and I will await thy pleasure, nor seek
to fly. (Enter MESSENGER.) Messenger.
Pentheus, ruler of this realm of Thebes! I am come from Cithaeron,
where the dazzling flakes of pure white snow ne'er cease to fall.

PENTHEUS What urgent news dost bring me?

MESSENGER I have seen, O king, those frantic Bacchanals, who darted
in frenzy from this land with bare white feet, and I am come to tell
thee and the city the wondrous deeds they do, deeds passing strange.
But I fain would hear, whether I am freely to tell all I saw there,
or shorten my story; for I fear thy hasty temper, sire, thy sudden
bursts of wrath and more than princely rage.

PENTHEUS Say on, for thou shalt go unpunished by me in all respects;
for to be angered with the upright is wrong. The direr thy tale about
the Bacchantes, the heavier punishment will I inflict on this fellow
who brought his secret arts amongst our women.

MESSENGER I was just driving the herds of kine to a ridge of the
hill as I fed them, as the sun shot forth his rays and made the earth
grow warm; when lo! I see three revel-bands of women; Autonoe was
chief of one, thy mother Agave of the second, while Ino's was the
third. There they lay asleep, all tired out; some were resting on
branches of the pine, others had laid their heads in careless ease
on oak-leaves piled upon the ground, observing all modesty; not, as
thou sayest, seeking to gratify their lusts alone amid the woods,
by wine and soft flute-music maddened.

Anon in their midst thy mother uprose and cried aloud to wake them
from their sleep, when she heard the lowing of my horned kine. And
up they started to their feet, brushing from their eyes sleep's quickening
dew, a wondrous sight of grace and modesty, young and old and maidens
yet unwed. First o'er their shoulders they let stream their hair;
then all did gird their fawn-skins up, who hitherto had left the fastenings
loose, girdling the dappled hides with snakes that licked their cheeks.
Others fondled in their arms gazelles or savage whelps of wolves,
and suckled them-young mothers these with babes at home, whose breasts
were still full of milk; crowns they wore of ivy or of oak or blossoming
convolvulus. And one took her thyrsus and struck it into the earth,
and forth there gushed a limpid spring; and another plunged her wand
into the lap of earth and there the god sent up a fount of wine; and
all who wished for draughts of milk had but to scratch the soil with
their finger-tips and there they had it in abundance, while from every
ivy-wreathed staff sweet rills of honey trickled.

Hadst thou been there and seen this, thou wouldst have turned to pray
to the god, whom now thou dost disparage. Anon we herdsmen and shepherds
met to discuss their strange and wondrous doings; then one, who wandereth
oft to town and hath a trick of speech, made harangue in the midst,
"O ye who dwell upon the hallowed mountain-terraces! shall we chase
Agave, mother of Pentheus, from her Bacchic rites, and thereby do
our prince a service?" We liked his speech, and placed ourselves in
hidden ambush among the leafy thickets; they at the appointed time
began to wave the thyrsus for their Bacchic rites, calling on Iacchus,
the Bromian god, the son of Zeus, in united chorus, and the whole
mount and the wild creatures re-echoed their cry; all nature stirred
as they rushed on. Now Agave chanced to come springing near me, so
up I leapt from out my ambush where I lay concealed, meaning to seize
her. But she cried out, "What ho! my nimble hounds, here are men upon
our track; but follow me, ay, follow, with the thyrsus in your hand
for weapon." Thereat we fled, to escape being torn in pieces by the
Bacchantes; but they, with hands that bore no weapon of steel, attacked
our cattle as they browsed. Then wouldst thou have seen Agave mastering
some sleek lowing calf, while others rent the heifers limb from limb.
Before thy eyes there would have been hurling of ribs and hoofs this
way and that; and strips of flesh, all blood-bedabbled, dripped as
they hung from the pine-branches. Wild bulls, that glared but now
with rage along their horns, found themselves tripped up, dragged
down to earth by countless maidens' hands. The flesh upon their limbs
was stripped therefrom quicker than thou couldst have closed thy royal
eye-lids. Then off they sped, like birds that skim the air, to the
plains beneath the hills, which bear a fruitful harvest for Thebes
beside the waters of Asopus; to Hysiae and Erythrae, hamlets 'neath
Cithaeron's peak, with fell intent, swooping on everything and scattering
all pellmell; and they would snatch children from their homes; but
all that they placed upon their shoulders, abode there firmly without
being tied, and fell not to the dusky earth, not even brass or iron;
and on their hair they carried fire and it burnt them not; but the
country-folk rushed to arms, furious at being pillaged by Bacchanals;
whereon ensued, O king, this wondrous spectacle. For though the ironshod
dart would draw no blood from them, they with the thyrsus, which they
hurled, caused many a wound and put their foes to utter rout, women
chasing men, by some god's intervention. Then they returned to the
place whence they had started, even to the springs the god had made
to spout for them; and there washed off the blood, while serpents
with their tongues were licking clean each gout from their cheeks.
Wherefore, my lord and master, receive this deity, whoe'er he be,
within the city; for, great as he is in all else, I have likewise
heard men say, 'twas he that gave the vine to man, sorrow's antidote.
Take wine away and Cypris flies, and every other human joy is dead.

CHORUS Though I fear to speak my mind with freedom in the presence
of my king, still must I utter this; Dionysus yields to no deity in
might.

PENTHEUS Already, look you! the presumption of these Bacchantes is
upon us, swift as fire, a sad disgrace in the eyes of all Hellas.
No time for hesitation now! away to the Electra gate! order a muster
of all my men-at-arms, of those that mount fleet steeds, of all who
brandish light bucklers, of archers too that make the bowstring twang;
for I will march against the Bacchanals. By Heaven I this passes all,
if we are to be thus treated by women. (Exit MESSENGER.)

DIONYSUS Still obdurate, O Pentheus, after hearing my words! In spite
of all the evil treatment I am enduring from thee, still I warn thee
of the sin of bearing arms against a god, and bid thee cease; for
Bromius will not endure thy driving his votaries from the mountains
where they revel.

PENTHEUS A truce to thy preaching to me! thou hast escaped thy bonds,
preserve thy liberty; else will I renew thy punishment.

DIONYSUS I would rather do him sacrifice than in a fury kick against
the pricks; thou a mortal, he a god.

PENTHEUS Sacrifice! that will I, by setting afoot a wholesale slaughter
of women 'mid Cithaeron's glens, as they deserve.

DIONYSUS Ye will all be put to flight-a shameful thing that they
with the Bacchic thyrsus should rout your mail-clad warriors.

PENTHEUS I find this stranger a troublesome foe to encounter; doing
or suffering he is alike irrepressible.

DIONYSUS Friend, there is still a way to compose this bitterness.

PENTHEUS Say how; am I to serve my own servants?

DIONYSUS I will bring the women hither without weapons.

PENTHEUS Ha! ha! this is some crafty scheme of thine against me.

DIONYSUS What kind of scheme, if by my craft I purpose to save thee?

PENTHEUS You have combined with them to form this plot, that your
revels may on for ever.

DIONYSUS Nay, but this is the compact I made with the god; be sure
of that.

PENTHEUS (Preparing to start forth) Bring forth my arms. Not another
word from thee!

DIONYSUS Ha! wouldst thou see them seated on the hills?

PENTHEUS Of all things, yes! I would give untold sums for that.

DIONYSUS Why this sudden, strong desire?

PENTHEUS 'Twill be a bitter sight, if I find them drunk with wine.

DIONYSUS And would that be a pleasant sight which will prove bitter
to thee?

PENTHEUS Believe me, yes! beneath the fir-trees as I sit in silence.

DIONYSUS Nay, they will track thee, though thou come secretly.

PENTHEUS Well, I will go openly; thou wert right to say so.

DIONYSUS Am I to be thy guide? wilt thou essay the road?

PENTHEUS Lead on with all speed, I grudge thee all delay.

DIONYSUS Array thee then in robes of fine linen.

PENTHEUS Why so? Am I to enlist among women after being a man?

DIONYSUS They may kill thee, if thou show thy manhood there.

PENTHEUS Well said! Thou hast given me a taste of thy wit already.

DIONYSUS Dionysus schooled me in this lore.

PENTHEUS How am I to carry out thy wholesome advice?

DIONYSUS Myself will enter thy palace and robe thee.

PENTHEUS What is the robe to be? a woman's? Nay, I am ashamed.

DIONYSUS Thy eagerness to see the Maenads goes no further.

PENTHEUS But what dress dost say thou wilt robe me in?

DIONYSUS Upon thy head will I make thy hair grow long.

PENTHEUS Describe my costume further.

DIONYSUS Thou wilt wear a robe reaching to thy feet; and on thy head
shall be a snood.

PENTHEUS Wilt add aught else to my attire?

DIONYSUS A thyrsus in thy hand, and a dappled fawnskin.

PENTHEUS I can never put on woman's dress.

DIONYSUS Then wilt thou cause bloodshed by coming to blows with the
Bacchanals.

PENTHEUS Thou art right. Best go spy upon them first.

DIONYSUS Well, e'en that is wiser than by evil means to follow evil
ends.

PENTHEUS But how shall I pass through the city of the Cadmeans unseen?

DIONYSUS We will go by unfrequented paths. I will lead the way.

PENTHEUS Anything rather than that the Bacchantes should laugh at
me.

DIONYSUS We will enter the palace and consider the proper steps.

PENTHEUS Thou hast my leave. I am all readiness. I will enter, prepared
to set out either sword in hand or following thy advice. (Exit PENTHEUS.)

DIONYSUS Women! our prize is nearly in the net. Soon shall he reach
the Bacchanals, and there pay forfeit with his life. O Dionysus! now
'tis thine to act, for thou art not far away; let us take vengeance
on him. First drive him mad by fixing in his soul a wayward frenzy;
for never, whilst his senses are his own, will he consent to don a
woman's dress; but when his mind is gone astray he will put it on.
And fain would I make him a laughing-stock to Thebes as he is led
in woman's dress through the city, after those threats with which
he menaced me before. But I will go to array Pentheus in those robes
which he shall wear when he sets out for Hades' halls, a victim to
his own mother's fury; so shall he recognize Dionysus, the son of
Zeus, who proves himself at last a god most terrible, for all his
gentleness to man. (Exit DIONYSUS.)

CHORUS Will this white foot e'er join the night-long dance? what
time in Bacchic ecstasy I toss my neck to heaven's dewy breath, like
a fawn, that gambols 'mid the meadow's green delights, when she hath
escaped the fearful chase, clear of the watchers, o'er the woven nets;
while the huntsman, with loud halloo, harks on his hounds' full cry,
and she with laboured breath at lightning speed bounds o'er the level
water-meadows, glad to be far from man amid the foliage of the bosky
grove. What is true wisdom, or what fairer boon has heaven placed
in mortals' reach, than to gain the mastery o'er a fallen foe? What
is fair is dear for aye. Though slow be its advance, yet surely moves
the power of the gods, correcting those mortal wights, that court
a senseless pride, or, in the madness of their fancy, disregard the
gods. Subtly they lie in wait, through the long march of time, and
so hunt down the godless man. For it is never right in theory or in
practice to o'erride the law of custom. This is a maxim cheaply bought:
whatever comes of God, or in time's long annals, has grown into a
law upon a natural basis, this is sovereign. What is true wisdom,
or what fairer boon has heaven placed in mortals' reach, than to gain
the mastery o'er a fallen foe? What is fair is dear for ave. Happy
is he who hath escaped the wave from out the sea, and reached the
haven; and happy he who hath triumphed o'er his troubles; though one
surpasses another in wealth and power; yet there be myriad hopes for
all the myriad minds; some end in happiness for man, and others come
to naught; but him, whose life from day to day is blest, I deem a
happy man. (Enter DIONYSUS.)

DIONYSUS Ho! Pentheus, thou that art so cager to see what is forbidden,
and to show thy zeal in an unworthy cause, come forth before the palace,
let me see thee clad as a woman in frenzied Bacchante's dress, to
spy upon thy own mother and her company. (Enter PENTHEUS.) Yes,
thou resemblest closely a daughter of Cadmus.

PENTHEUS Of a truth I seem to see two suns, and two towns of Thebes,
our seven-gated city; and thou, methinks, art a bull going before
to guide me, and on thy head a pair of horns have grown. Wert thou
really once a brute beast? Thon hast at any rate the appearance of
a bull.

DIONYSUS The god attends us, ungracious heretofore, but now our sworn
friend; and now thine eyes behold the things they should.

PENTHEUS Pray, what do I resemble? Is not mine the carriage of Ino,
or Agave my own mother?

DIONYSUS In seeing thee, I seem to see them in person. But this tress
is straying from its place, no longer as I bound it 'neath the snood.

PENTHEUS I disarranged it from its place as I tossed it to and fro
within my chamber, in Bacchic ecstasy.

DIONYSUS Well, I will rearrange it, since to tend thee is my care;
hold up thy head.

PENTHEUS Come, put it straight; for on thee do I depend.

DIONYSUS Thy girdle is loose, and the folds of thy dress do not hang
evenly below thy ankles.

PENTHEUS I agree to that as regards the right side, but on the other
my dress hangs straight with my foot.

DIONYSUS Surely thou wilt rank me first among thy friends, when contrary
to thy expectation thou findest the Bacchantes virtuous.

PENTHEUS Shall I hold the thyrsus in the right or left hand to look
most like a Bacchanal?

DIONYSUS Hold it in thy right hand, and step out with thy right foot;
thy change of mind compels thy praise.

PENTHEUS Shall I be able to carry on my shoulders Cithaeron's glens,
the Bacchanals and all?

DIONYSUS Yes, if so thou wilt; for though thy mind was erst diseased,
'tis now just as it should be.

PENTHEUS Shall we take levers, or with my hands can I uproot it,
thrusting arm or shoulder 'neath its peaks?

DIONYSUS No, no! destroy not the seats of the Nymphs and the haunts
of Pan, the place of his piping.

PENTHEUS Well said! Women must not be mastered by brute force; amid
the pines will I conceal myself.

DIONYSUS Thou shalt hide thee in the place that fate appoints, coming
by stealth to spy upon the Bacchanals.

PENTHEUS Why, methinks they are already caught in the pleasant snares
of dalliance, like birds amid the brakes.

DIONYSUS Set out with watchful heed then for this very purpose; maybe
thou wilt catch them, if thou be not first caught thyself.

PENTHEUS Conduct me through the very heart of Thebes, for I am the
only man among them bold enough to do this deed.

DIONYSUS Thou alone bearest thy country's burden, thou and none other;
wherefore there await thee such struggles as needs must. Follow me,
for I will guide thee safely thither; another shall bring thee thence.

PENTHEUS My mother maybe.

DIONYSUS For every eye to see.

PENTHEUS My very purpose in going.

DIONYSUS Thou shalt be carried back,

PENTHEUS What luxury

DIONYSUS In thy mother's arms.

PENTHEUS Thou wilt e'en force me into luxury.

DIONYSUS Yes, to luxury such as this.

PENTHEUS Truly, the task I am undertaking deserves it. (Exit PENTHEUS.)

DIONYSUS Strange, ah! strange is thy career, leading to scenes of
woe so strange, that thou shalt achieve a fame that towers to heaven.
Stretch forth thy hands, Agave, and ye her sisters, daughters of Cadmus;
mighty is the strife to which I am bringing the youthful king, and
the victory shall rest with me and Bromius; all else the event will
show. (Exit DIONYSUS.)

CHORUS To the hills! to the hills! fleet hounds of madness, where
the daughters of Cadmus hold their revels, goad them into wild fury
against the man disguised in woman's dress, a frenzied spy upon the
Maenads. First shall his mother mark him as he peers from some smooth
rock or riven tree, and thus to the Maenads she will call, "Who is
this of Cadmus' sons comes hasting to the mount, to the mountain away,
to spy on us, my Bacchanals? Whose child can he be? For he was never
born of woman's blood; but from some lioness maybe or Libyan Gorgon
is he sprung." Let justice appear and show herself, sword in hand,
to plunge it through and through the throat of the godless, lawless,
impious son of Echion, earth's monstrous child! who with wicked heart
and lawless rage, with mad intent and frantic purpose, sets out to
meddle with thy holy rites, and with thy mother's, Bacchic god, thinking
with his weak arm to master might as masterless as thine. This is
the life that saves all pain, if a man confine his thoughts to human
themes, as is his mortal nature, making no pretence where heaven is
concerned. I envy not deep subtleties; far other joys have I, in tracking
out great truths writ clear from all eternity, that a man should live
his life by day and night in purity and holiness, striving toward
a noble goal, and should honour the gods by casting from him each
ordinance that lies outside the pale of right. Let justice show herself,
advancing sword in hand to plunge it through and through the throat
of Echion's son, that godless, lawless, and abandoned child of earth!
Appear, O Bacchus, to our eyes as a bull or serpent with a hundred
heads, or take the shape of a lion breathing flame! Oh! come, and
with a mocking smile cast the deadly noose about the hunter of thy
Bacchanals, e'en as he swoops upon the Maenads gathered yonder. (Enter
SECOND MESSENGER.)

SECOND MESSENGER O house, so prosperous once through Hellas long
ago, home of the old Sidonian prince, who sowed the serpent's crop
of earth-born men, how do I mourn thee! slave though I be, yet still
the sorrows of his master touch a good slave's heart.

CHORUS How now? Hast thou fresh tidings of the Bacchantes?

SECOND MESSENGER Pentheus, Echion's son is dead.

CHORUS Bromius, my king! now art thou appearing in thy might divine.

SECOND MESSENGER Ha! what is it thou sayest? art thou glad, woman,
at my master's misfortunes?

CHORUS A stranger I, and in foreign tongue I express my joy, for
now no more do I cower in terror of the chain.

SECOND MESSENGER Dost think Thebes so poor in men?(*, * Probably
the whole of one iambic line with part of another is here lost.)

CHORUS 'Tis Dionysus, Dionysus, not Thebes that lords it over me.

SECOND MESSENGER All can I pardon thee save this; to exult o'er hopeless
suffering is sorry conduct, dames.

CHORUS Tell me, oh! tell me how he died, that villain scheming villainy!

SECOND MESSENGER Soon as we had left the homesteads of this Theban
land and had crossed the streams of Asopus, we began to breast Cithaeron's
heights, Pentheus and I, for I went with my master, and the stranger
too, who was to guide us to the scene. First then we sat us down in
a grassy glen, carefully silencing each footfall and whispered breath,
to see without being seen. Now there was a dell walled in by rocks,
with rills to water it, and shady pines o'erhead; there were the Maenads
seated, busied with joyous toils. Some were wreathing afresh the drooping
thyrsus with curling ivy-sprays; others, like colts let loose from
the carved chariot-yoke, were answering each other in hymns of Bacchic
rapture. But Pentheus, son of sorrow, seeing not the women gathered
there, exclaimed, "Sir stranger, from where I stand, I cannot clearly
see the mock Bacchantes; but I will climb a hillock or a soaring pine
whence to see clearly the shameful doings of the Bacchanals." Then
and there I saw the stranger work a miracle; for catching a lofty
fir-branch by the very end he drew it downward to the dusky earth,
lower yet and ever lower; and like a bow it bent, or rounded wheel,
whose curving circle grows complete, as chalk and line describe it;
e'en so the stranger drew down the mountain-branch between his hands,
bending it to earth, by more than human agency. And when he had seated
Pentheus aloft on the pine branches, he let them slip through his
hands gently, careful not to shake him from his seat. Up soared the
branch straight into the air above, with my master perched thereon,
seen by the Maenads better far than he saw them; for scarce was he
beheld upon his lofty throne, when the stranger disappeared, while
from the sky there came a voice, 'twould seem, by Dionysus uttered-

"Maidens, I bring the man who tried to mock you and me and my mystic
rites; take vengeance on him." And as he spake he raised 'twixt heaven
and earth a dazzling column of awful flame. Hushed grew the sky, and
still hung each leaf throughout the grassy glen, nor couldst thou
have heard one creature cry. But they, not sure of the voice they
heard, sprang up and peered all round; then once again his bidding
came; and when the daughters of Cadmus knew it was the Bacchic god
in very truth that called, swift as doves they dirted off in cager
haste, his mother Agave and her sisters dear and all the Bacchanals;
through torrent glen, o'er boulders huge they bounded on, inspired
with madness by the god. Soon as they saw my master perched upon the
fir, they set to hurling stones at him with all their might, mounting
a commanding eminence, and with pine-branches he was pelted as with
darts; and others shot their wands through the air at Pentheus, their
hapless target, but all to no purpose. For there he sat beyond the
reach of their hot endeavours, a helpless, hopeless victim. At last
they rent off limbs from oaks and were for prising up the roots with
levers not of iron. But when they still could make no end to all their
toil, Agave cried: "Come stand around, and grip the sapling trunk,
my Bacchanals! that we may catch the beast that sits thereon, lest
he divulge the secrets of our god's religion."

Then were a thousand hands laid on the fir, and from the ground they
tore it up, while he from his seat aloft came tumbling to the ground
with lamentations long and loud, e'en Pentheus; for well he knew his
hour was come. His mother first, a priestess for the nonce, began
the bloody deed and fell upon him; whereon he tore the snood from
off his hair, that hapless Agave might recognize and spare him, crying
as he touched her cheek, "O mother! it is I, thy own son Pentheus,
the child thou didst bear in Echion's halls; have pity on me, mother
dear! oh! do not for any sin of mine slay thy own son."

But she, the while, with foaming mouth and wildly rolling eyes, bereft
of reason as she was, heeded him not; for the god possessed her. And
she caught his left hand in her grip, and planting her foot upon her
victim's trunk she tore the shoulder from its socket, not of her own
strength, but the god made it an easy task to her hands; and Ino set
to work upon the other side, rending the flesh with Autonoe and all
the eager host of Bacchanals; and one united cry arose, the victim's
groans while yet he breathed, and their triumphant shouts. One would
make an arm her prey, another a foot with the sandal on it; and his
ribs were stripped of flesh by their rending nails; and each one with
blood-dabbled hands was tossing Pentheus' limbs about. Scattered lies
his corpse, part beneath the rugged rocks, and part amid the deep
dark woods, no easy task to find; but his poor head hath his mother
made her own, and fixing it upon the point of a thyrsus, as it had
been a mountain lion's, she bears it through the midst of Cithaeron,
having left her sisters with the Maenads at their rites. And she is
entering these walls exulting in her hunting fraught with woe, calling
on the Bacchic god her fellow-hunter who had helped her to triumph
in a chase, where her only prize was tears.

But I will get me hence, away from this piteous scene, before Agave
reach the palace. To my mind self-restraint and reverence for the
things of God point alike the best and wisest course for all mortals
who pursue them. (Exit SECOND MESSENGER.)

CHORUS Come, let us exalt our Bacchic god in choral strain, let us
loudly chant the fall of Pentheus from the serpent sprung, who assumed
a woman's dress and took the fair Bacchic wand, sure pledge of death,
with a bull to guide him to his doom. O ye Bacchanals of Thebes! glorious
is the triumph ye have achieved, ending in sorrow and tears. 'Tis
a noble enterprise to dabble the hand in the blood of a son till it
drips. But hist! I see Agave, the mother of Pentheus, with wild rolling
eye hasting to the house; welcome the revellers of the Bacchic god.
(Enter AGAVE.)

AGAVE Ye Bacchanals from Asia

CHORUS Why dost thou rouse me? why?

AGAVE From the hills I am bringing to my home a tendril freshly-culled,
glad guerdon-of the chase.

CHORUS I see it, and I will welcome thee unto our revels. All hail!

AGAVE I caught him with never a snare, this lion's whelp, as ye may
see.

CHORUS From what desert lair?

AGAVE Cithaeron-

CHORUS Yes, Cithaeron?

AGAVE Was his death.

CHORUS Who was it gave the first blow?

AGAVE Mine that privilege; "Happy Agave!" they call me 'mid our revellers.

CHORUS Who did the rest?

AGAVE Cadmus-

CHORUS What of him?

AGAVE His daughters struck the monster after me; yes, after me.

CHORUS Fortune smiled upon thy hunting here.

AGAVE Come, share the banquet.

CHORUS Share? ah I what?

AGAVE 'Tis but a tender whelp, the down just sprouting on its cheek
beneath a crest of failing hair.

CHORUS The hair is like some wild creature's.

AGAVE The Bacchic god, a hunter skilled, roused his Maenads to pursue
this quarry skilfully.

CHORUS Yea, our king is a hunter indeed.

AGAVE Dost approve?

CHORUS Of course I do.

AGAVE Soon shall the race of Cadmus-

CHORUS And Pentheus, her own son, shall to his mother-

AGAVE Offer praise for this her quarry of the lion's brood.

CHORUS Quarry strange!

AGAVE And strangely caught.

CHORUS Dost thou exult?

AGAVE Right glad am I to have achieved a great and glorious triumph
for my land that all can see.

CHORUS Alas for thee! show to the folk the booty thou hast won and
art bringing hither.

AGAVE All ye who dwell in fair fenced Thebes, draw near that ye may
see the fierce wild beast that we daughters of Cadmus made our prey,
not with the thong-thrown darts of Thessaly, nor yet with snares,
but with our fingers fair. Ought men idly to boast and get them armourers'
weapons? when we with these our hands have caught this prey and torn
the monster limb from limb? Where is my aged sire? let him approach.
And where is Pentheus, my son? Let him bring a ladder and raise it
against the house to nail up on the gables this lion's head, my booty
from the chase. (Enter CADMUS.)

CADMUS Follow me, servants to the palace-front, with your sad burden
in your arms, ay, follow, with the corpse of Pentheus, which after
long weary search I found, as ye see it, torn to pieces amid Cithaeron's
glens, and am bringing hither; no two pieces did I find together,
as they lay scattered through the trackless wood. For I heard what
awful deeds one of my daughters had done, just as I entered the city-walls
with old Teiresias returning from the Bacchanals; so I turned again
unto the and bring from thence my son who was slain by Maenads. There
I saw Autonoe, that bare Actaeon on a day to Aristaeus, and Ino with
her, still ranging the oak-groves in their unhappy frenzy; but one
told me that that Agave, was rushing wildly hither, nor was it idly
said, for there I see her, sight of woe!

AGAVE Father, loudly mayst thou boast, that the daughters thou hast
begotten are far the best of mortal race; of one and all I speak,
though chiefly of myself, who left my shuttle at the loom for nobler
enterprise, even to hunt savage beasts with my hands; and in my arms
I bring my prize, as thou seest, that it may be nailed up on thy palace-wall;
take it, father, in thy had and proud of my hunting, call thy friends
to a banquet; for blest art thou, ah! doubly blest in these our gallant
exploits.

CADMUS O grief that has no bounds, too cruel for mortal eye! 'tis
murder ye have done with your hapless hands. Fair is the victim thou
hast offered to the gods, inviting me and my Thebans to the feast
Ah, woe is me first for thy sorrows, then for mine. What ruin the
god, the Bromian king, hath brought on us, just maybe, but too severe,
seeing he is our kinsman!

AGAVE How peevish old age makes men! what sullen looks! Oh, may my
son follow in his mother's footsteps and be as lucky in his hunting,
when he goes quest of game in company with Theban youthsl But he can
do naught but wage war with gods. Father, 'tis thy duty to warn him.
Who will summon him hither to my sight to witness my happiness?

CADMUS Alas for you! alas! Terrible will be your grief when ye are
conscious of your deeds; could ye re. for ever till life's close in
your present state, ye would not, spite of ruined bliss, appear so
cursed with woe.

AGAVE Why? what is faulty bere? what here for sorrow?

CADMUS First let thine eye look up to heaven.

AGAVE See! I do so. Why dost thou suggest my looking thereupon?

CADMUS Is it still the same, or dost think there's any change?

AGAVE 'Tis brighter than it was, and dearer too.

CADMUS Is there still that wild unrest within thy soul?

AGAVE I know not what thou sayest now; yet methinks my brain is clearing,
and my former frenzy passed away.

CADMUS Canst understand, and give distinct replies?

AGAVE Father, how completely I forget all we said before!

CADMUS To what house wert thou brought with marriage-hymns?

AGAVE Thou didst give me to earthborn Echion, as men call him.

CADMUS What child was born thy husband in his halls?

AGAVE Pentheus, of my union with his father.

CADMUS What head is that thou barest in thy arms?

AGAVE A lion's; at least they said so, who hunted it.

CADMUS Consider it aright; 'tis no great task to look at it.

AGAVE Ah! what do I see? what is this I am carrying in my hands?

CADMUS Look closely at it; make thy knowledge more certain.

AGAVE Ah, 'woe is me! O sight of awful sorrow!

CADMUS Dost think it like a lion's head?

AGAVE Ah no! 'tis Pentheus' head which I his unhappy mother hold.

CADMUS Bemoaned by me, or ever thou didst recognize him.

AGAVE Who slew him? How came he into my hands?

CADMUS O piteous truth! how ill-timed thy presence here!

AGAVE Speak; my bosom throbs at this suspense.

CADMUS 'Twas thou didst slay him, thou and thy sisters.

AGAVE Where died he? in the house or where?

CADMUS On the very spot where hounds of yore rent Actaeon in pieces.

AGAVE Why went he, wretched youth! to Cithaeron?

CADMUS He would go and mock the god and thy Bacchic rites.

AGAVE But how was it we had journeyed thither?

CADMUS Ye were distraught; the whole city had the Bacchic frenzy.

AGAVE 'Twas Dionysus proved our ruin; now I see it all.

CADMUS Yes, for the slight he suffered; ye would not believe in his
godhead.

AGAVE Father, where is my dear child's corpse?

CADMUS With toil I searched it out and am bringing it myself.

AGAVE Is it all fitted limb to limb in seemly wise?
CADMUS (*, * One line, or maybe more, is missing)

AGAVE But what had Pentheus to do with folly of mine?

CADMUS He was like you in refusing homage to the god, who, therefore,
hath involved you all in one common ruin, you and him alike, to destroy
this house and me, forasmuch as I, that had no sons, behold this youth,
the fruit of thy womb, unhappy mother! foully and most shamefully
slain. To thee, my child, our house looked up, to thee my daughter's
son, the stay of my palace, inspiring the city with awe; none caring
to flout the old king when he saw thee by, for he would get his deserts.
But now shall I be cast out dishonoured from my halls, Cadmus the
great, who sowed the crop of Theban seed and reaped that goodly harvest.
O beloved child! dead though thou art, thou still shalt be counted
by me amongst my own dear children; no more wilt thou lay thy hand
upon my chin in fond embrace, my child, and calling on thy mother's
sire demand, "Who wrongs thee or dishonours thee, old sire? who vexes
thy heart, a thorn within thy side? Speak, that I may punish thy oppressor,
father mine!"

But now am I in sorrow plunged, and woe is thee, and woe thy mother
and her suffering sisters too! Ah! if there be any man that scorns
the gods, let him well mark this prince's death and then believe in
them.

CHORUS Cadmus, I am sorry for thy fate; for though thy daughter's
child hath met but his deserts, 'tis bitter grief to thee.

AGAVE O father, thou seest how sadly my fortune is changed.(*, *
After this a very large lacuna occurs in the MS.)

DIONYSUS Thou shalt be changed into a serpent; and thy wife Harmonia,
Ares' child, whom thou in thy human life didst wed, shall change her
nature for a snake's, and take its form. With her shalt thou, as leader
of barbarian tribes, drive thy team of steers, so saith an oracle
of Zeus; and many a city shalt thou sack with an army numberless;
but in the day they plunder the oracle of Loxias, shall they rue their
homeward march; but thee and Harmonia will Ares rescue, and set thee
to live henceforth in the land of the blessed. This do I declare,
I Dionysus, son of no mortal father but of Zeus. Had ye learnt wisdom
when ye would not, ye would now be happy with the son of Zeus for
your ally.

AGAVE O Dionysus! we have sinned; thy pardon we implore.

DIONYSUS Too late have ye learnt to know me; ye knew me not at the
proper time.

AGAVE We recognize our error; but thou art too revengeful.

DIONYSUS Yea, for I, though a god, was slighted by you.

AGAVE Gods should not let their passion sink to man's level.

DIONYSUS Long ago my father Zeus ordained it thus.

AGAVE Alas! my aged sire, our doom is fixed; 'tis woful exile.

DIONYSUS Why then delay the inevitable? Exit.

CADMUS Daughter, to what an awful pass are we now come, thou too,
poor child, and thy sisters, while I alas! in my old age must seek
barbarian shores, to sojourn there; but the oracle declares that I
shall yet lead an army, half-barbarian, half-Hellene, to Hellas; and
in serpent's shape shall I carry my wife Harmonia, the daughter of
Ares, transformed like me to a savage snake, against the altars and
tombs of Hellas at the head of my troops; nor shall I ever cease from
my woes, ah me! nor ever cross the downward stream of Acheron and
be at rest.

AGAVE Father, I shall be parted from thee and exiled.

CADMUS Alas! my child, why fling thy arms around me, as a snowy cygnet
folds its wings about the frail old swan?

AGAVE Whither can I turn, an exile from my country?

CADMUS I know not, my daughter; small help is thy father now.

AGAVE Farewell, my home! farewell, my native city! with sorrow I
am leaving thee, an exile from my bridal bower.

CADMUS Go, daughter, to the house of Aristaeus,(*, * Another large
lacuna follows.)

AGAVE Father, I mourn for thee.

CADMUS And I for thee, my child; for thy sisters too I shed a tear.

AGAVE Ah! terribly was king Dionysus bringing this outrage on thy
house.

CADMUS Yea, for he suffered insults dire from you, his name receiving
no meed of honour in Thebes.

AGAVE Farewell, father mine!

CADMUS Farewell, my hapless daughter and yet thou scarce canst reach
that bourn.

AGAVE Oh! lead me, guide me to the place where I shall find my sisters,
sharers in my exile to their sorrow! Oh! to reach a spot where cursed
Cithaeron ne'er shall see me more nor I Cithaeron with mine eyes;
where no memorial of the thyrsus is set up! Be they to other Bacchantes
dear!

CHORUS Many are the forms the heavenly will assumes, and many a thing
the gods fulfil contrary to all hope; that which was expected is not
brought to pass, while for the unlooked-for Heaven finds out a way.
E'en such hath been the issue here. (Exeunt OMNES.)

THE END

The Cyclops
By Euripides

Translated by E. P. Coleridge

Dramatis Personae

SILENUS, old servant of the CYCLOPS
CHORUS OF SATYRS
ODYSSEUS
THE CYCLOPS

Before the great cave of the CYCLOPS at the foot of Mount Aetna. SILENUS
enters. He has a rake with him, with which he cleans up the ground
in front of the cave as he soliloquizes.

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 music of lyres to the halls
of Althaea? (The CHORUS OF SATYRS enters, driving a flock of goats
and sheep. Servants follow them.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe)

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? 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.

(antistrophe)

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?...

(epode)

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.

LEADER OF THE 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 and his
companions enter. They carry baskets for provisions and water jars.)

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 (joyfully) 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 (pouring) There then!

SILENUS (smelling it) 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 (taking a drink) 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 it's possible for this to stand up straight,
and then to fondle breasts, and to caress well tended locks, and there
is 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? (SILENUS goes into the cave.)

LEADER Hearken, Odysseus, let us hold some converse with thee.

ODYSSEUS Well, do so; ours is a meeting of friends.

LEADER Did you take Troy and capture the famous Helen?

ODYSSEUS Aye, and we destroyed the whole family of Priam.

LEADER 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, unles 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 begone from
the cave at once, after giving me a drink of merry grape-juice in
exchange.

LEADER 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. (The CYCLOPS enters as SILENUS goes into the cave. The
CYCLOPS, not noticing ODYSSEUS and his companions, addresses the CHORUS
in anger.)

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.

LEADER There! my head is bent back till I see Zeus himself; I behold
both the stars and Orion.

CYCLOPS Is my breakfast quite ready?

LEADER 'Tis laid; be thy throat only ready.

CYCLOPS Are, the bowls too full of milk?

LEADER Aye, so that thou canst swill off a whole hogshead, so it
please thee.

CYCLOPS Sheep's milk or cows' milk or a mixture of both?

LEADER 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. (SILENUS comes out of the cave. He has made himself
appear as though he had just suffered a terrible beating.) 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 someone 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 (in agitation) 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.

LEADER 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, 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 up-turned paunch with deep draughts from a tub
of milk, I rival the thunder-claps 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. (The CYCLOPS goes into his
cave, driving ODYSSEUS' men before him.)

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. (He follows the CYCLOPS reluctantly. SILENUS also goes
in.)

CHORUS (singing) Ope wide the portal of thy gaping throat, Cyclops;
for strangers' limbs, both boiled and grilled, are ready from off
the coals for the to gnaw and tear and mince up small, reclining in
thy shaggy goat-skin coat.

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!

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.

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?

LEADER OF THE 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.

LEADER 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 wagons 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.

LEADER Best of friends, would we might see that day, escaping the
godless Cyclops!

ODYSSEUS Hear then how I will requite this vile monster and rescue
you from thraldom.

LEADER 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-reveling with his brethren.

LEADER I understand; thy purpose is to seize and slay him in the
thickets when clone, or push him down a precipice.

ODYSSEUS Not at all; my plan is fraught with subtlety.

LEADER 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.

LEADER 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.

LEADER 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.

LEADER 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 full, 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. (He re-enters the cave.)

FIRST SEMI-CHORUS (singing) 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 SEMI-CHORUS (singing) 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 SEMI-CHORUS (singing) 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?" (The CYCLOPS enters.
He is obviously drunk.)

CYCLOPS (singing) Ha! ha! full of wine and merry with a 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 revel in the spring-tide. Come, stranger, bring the wine-skin
hither and hand it over to me.

SECOND SEMI-CHORUS (singing) Forth from the house its fair lord
comes, casting his fair glance round him. We have someone 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 wine-skin. He is followed by SILENUS,
who is also drunk.) 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. Come, let me see thee stretch thy carcase on the ground.

CYCLOPS (sitting down) There then Why art thou putting the mixing-bowl
behind me?

SILENUS That no one passing by may upset 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.
(SILENUS is drinking steadily and stealthily.)

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 drunk 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. 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; for I like lads better than
the wenches.

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.

LEADER OF THE 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. (SILENUS
is dragged into the cave by the 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 cloud of smoke; and the only reason we prepared it was
to burn the Cyclops' eye; so mind thou quit thee like a man.

LEADER 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 roust we reckon Chance a goddess, and Heaven's will inferior
to hers. (ODYSSEUS re-enters the cave.)

CHORUS (singing) Tightly the pincers shall grip the neck of him
who feasts upon his guests; 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.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS Silent we stand with bated breath.

ODYSSEUS In then, and mind your fingers grip the brand, for it is
splendidly red-hot.

LEADER Thyself ordain who first must seize the blazing bar and burn
the Cyclops' eye out, that we may share alike whate'er betides.

FIRST SEMI-CHORUS Standing where I am before the door, I am too far
off to thrust the fire into his eye.

SECOND SEMI-CHORUS I have just gone lame.

FIRST SEMI-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 SEMI-CHORUS Yes, and my eyes are full of dust or ashes from
somewhere or other.

ODYSSEUS These are sorry fellows, worthless as allies.

LEADER 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. (ODYSSEUS goes back into the cave.)

LEADER That will I do; the Carian shall run the risk for us; and
as far as encouragement goes, let the Cyclops smoulder.

CHORUS (singing) What ho! my gallants, thrust away, make haste and
burn his eyebrow 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.

LEADER OF THE 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 will stand in the entrance of the cleft and
fit my hands into it thus. (Staggering to the entrance)

LEADER Why dost thou cry out, Cyclops?

CYCLOPS I am undone.

LEADER Thou art indeed a sorry sight.

CYCLOPS Aye, and a sad one, too.

LEADER Didst fall among the coals in a drunken fit?

CYCLOPS Noman has undone me,

LEADER Then there is no one hurting thee after all.

CYCLOPS Noman is blinding me.

LEADER Then art thou not blind.

CYCLOPS As blind as thou, forsooth.

LEADER How, pray, could no man have made thee blind?

CYCLOPS Thou mockest me; but where is this Noman?

LEADER 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.

LEADER Ah! wine is a terrible foe, hard to wrestle with.

CYCLOPS Tell me, I adjure thee, have they escaped or are they still
within? (During the following lines, ODYSSEUS and his men slip by
the CYCLOPS, despite his efforts to stop them.)

LEADER Here they are ranged in silence, taking the rock to screen
them.

CYCLOPS On which side?

LEADER On thy right.

CYCLOPS Where?

LEADER Close against the rock. Hast caught them?

CYCLOPS Trouble on trouble! I have run my skull against the rock
and cracked it

LEADER Aye, and they are escaping thee.

CYCLOPS This way, was it not? 'Twas this way thou saidst.

LEADER No, not this way.

CYCLOPS Which then?

LEADER They are getting round thee on the left.

CYCLOPS Alas! I am being mocked; ye jeer me in my evil plight.

LEADER 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 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.

LEADER As for us, henceforth will we be the servants of Bacchus,
sharing the voyage of this hero Odysseus.

THE END

Electra
By Euripides

Translated by E. P. Coleridge

Dramatis Personae

A PEASANT OF MYCENAE, husband of ELECTRA
ELECTRA, daughter of Agamemnon
ORESTES, son of Agamemnon
PYLADES, friend Of ORESTES
CHORUS OF ARGIVE COUNTRY-WOMEN
CLYTEMNESTRA, widow of Agamemnon
OLD MAN, formerly servant of Agamemnon
MESSENGER
THE DIOSCURI

Before the hut of the PEASANT, in the country on the borders of Argolis.
It is just before sunrise. The PEASANT is discovered alone.

PEASANT O Argos, ancient land, and streams of Inachus, whence on
a day king Agamemnon sailed to the realm of Troy, carrying his warriors
aboard a thousand ships; and after he had slain Priam who was reigning
in Ilium and captured the famous city of Dardanus, he came hither
to Argos and has set up high on the temple-walls many a trophy, spoil
of the barbarians. Though all went well with him in Troy, yet was
he slain in his own palace by the guile of his wife Clytemnestra and
the hand of Aegisthus, son of Thyestes. So he died and left behind
him the ancient sceptre of Tantalus, and Aegisthus reigns in his stead,
with the daughter of Tyndareus, Agamemnon's queen, to wife. Now as
for those whom he left in his halls, when he sailed to Troy, his son
Orestes and his tender daughter Electra,-the boy Orestes, as he was
like to be slain by Aegisthus, his sire's old foster-father secretly
removed to the land of Phocis and gave to Strophius to bring up, but
the maid Electra abode in her father's house, and soon as she had
budded into maidenhood, came all the princes of Hellas asking her
hand in marriage. But Aegisthus kept her at home for fear she might
bear a son to some chieftain who would avenge Agamemnon, nor would
he betroth her unto any. But when e'en thus there seemed some room
for fear that she might bear some noble lord a child by stealth and
Aegisthus was minded to slay her, her mother, though she had a cruel
heart, yet rescued the maiden from his hand. For she could find excuses
for having slain her husband, but she feared the hatred she would
incur for her children's murder. Wherefore Aegisthus devised this
scheme; on Agamemnon's son who had escaped his realm by flight he
set a price to be paid to any who should slay him, while he gave Electra
to me in marriage, whose ancestors were citizens of Mycenae. It is
not that I blame myself for; my family was noble enough, though certainly
impoverished, and so my good birth suffers. By making for her this
weak alliance he thought he would have little to fear. For if some
man of high position had married her, he might have revived the vengeance
for Agamemnon's murder, which now is sleeping; in which case Aegisthus
would have paid the penalty. But Cypris is my witness that I have
ever respected her maidenhood; she is still as though unwed. Unworthy
as I am, honour forbids that I should so affront the daughter of a
better man. Yea, and I am sorry for Orestes, hapless youth, who is
called my kinsman, to think that he should ever return to Argos and
behold his sister's wretched marriage. And whoso counts me but a fool
for leaving a tender maid untouched when I have her in my house, to
him I say, he measures purity by the vicious standard of his own soul,
a standard like himself. (ELECTRA enters from the hut, carrying a
water pitcher on her head. She is meanly clad.)

ELECTRA O sable night, nurse of the golden stars! beneath thy pall
I go to fetch water from the brook with my pitcher poised upon my
head, not indeed because I am forced to this necessity, but that to
the gods I may display the affronts Aegisthus puts upon me, and to
the wide firmament pour out my lamentation for my sire. For my own
mother, the baleful daughter of Tyndareus, hath cast me forth from
her house to gratify her lord; for since she hath borne other children
to Aegisthus she puts me and Orestes on one side at home.

PEASANT Oh! why, poor maiden, dost thou toil so hard on my behalf,
thou that aforetime wert reared so daintily? why canst thou not forego
thy labour, as I bid thee?

ELECTRA As a god's I count thy kindness to me, for in my distress
thou hast never made a mock at me. 'Tis rare fortune when mortals
find such healing balm for their cruel wounds as 'tis my lot to find
in thee. Wherefore I ought, though thou forbid me, to lighten thy
labours, as far as my strength allows, and share all burdens with
thee to ease thy load. Thou hast enough to do abroad; 'tis only right
that I should keep thy house in order. For when the toiler cometh
to his home from the field, it is pleasant to find all comfortable
in the house.

PEASANT If such thy pleasure, go thy way; for, after all, the spring
is no great distance from my house. And at break of day I will drive
my steers to my glebe and sow my crop. For no idler, though he has
the gods' names ever on his lips, can gather a livelihood without
hard work. (ELECTRA and the PEASANT go out. A moment later ORESTES
and PYLADES enter.)

ORESTES Ah Pylades, I put thee first 'mongst men for thy love, thy
loyalty and friendliness to me; for thou alone of all my friends wouldst
still honour poor Orestes, in spite of the grievous plight whereto
I am reduced by Aegisthus, who with my accursed mother's aid slew
my sire. I am come from Apollo's mystic shrine to the soil of Argos,
without the knowledge of any, to avenge my father's death upon his
murderers. Last night went unto his tomb and wept thereon, cutting
off my hair as an offering and pouring o'er the grave the blood of
a sheep for sacrifice, unmarked by those who lord it o'er this land.
And now though I enter not the walled town, yet by coming to the borders
of the land I combine two objects; I can escape to another country
if any spy me out and recognize me, and at the same time seek my sister,
for I am told she is a maid no longer but is married and living here,
that I may meet her, and, after enlisting her aid in the deed of blood,
learn for certain what is happening in the town. Let us now, since
dawn is uplifting her radiant eye, step aside from this path. For
maybe some labouring man or serving maid will come in sight, of whom
we may inquire whether it is here that my sister hath her home. Lo!
yonder I see a servant bearing a full pitcher of water on her shaven
head; let us sit down and make inquiry of this bond-maid, if haply
we may glean some tidings of the matter which brought us hither, Pylades.
(They retire a little, as ELECTRA returns from the spring.)

ELECTRA (chanting, strophe 1)

Bestir thy lagging feet, 'tis high time; on, on o'er thy path of
tears! ah misery! I am Agamemnon's daughter, she whom Clytemnestra,
hateful child of Tyndareus, bare; hapless Electra is the name my countrymen
call me. Ah me! for my cruel lot, my hateful existence! O my father
Agamemnon! in Hades art thou laid, butchered by thy wife and Aegisthus.
Come, raise with me that dirge once more; uplift the woful strain
that brings relief.

(antistrophe 1)

On, on o'er thy path of tears! ah misery! And thou, poor brother,
in what city and house art thou a slave, leaving thy suffering sister
behind in the halls of our fathers to drain the cup of bitterness?
Oh! come, great Zeus, to set me free from this life of sorrow, and
to avenge my sire in the blood of his foes, bringing the wanderer
home to Argos.

(strophe 2)

Take this pitcher from my head, put it down, that I may wake betimes,
while it is yet night, my lamentation for my sire, my doleful chant,
my dirge of death, for thee, my father in thy grave, which day by
day I do rehearse, rending my skin with my nails, and smiting on my
shaven head in mourning for thy death. Woe, woe! rend the cheek; like
a swan with clear loud note beside the brimming river calling to its
parent dear that lies a-dying in the meshes of the crafty net, so
I bewail thee, my hapless sire,

(antistrophe 2)

After that last fatal bath of thine laid out most piteously in death.
Oh I the horror of that axe which hacked thee so cruelly, my sire
I oh! the bitter thought that prompted thy return from Troy! With
no garlands or victor's crowns did thy wife welcome thee, but with
his two-edged sword she made thee the sad sport of Aegisthus and kept
her treacherous paramour. (The CHORUS OF ARGIVE COUNTRY-WOMEN enter.
The following lines between ELECTRA and the CHORUS are sung responsively.)

CHORUS (strophe)

O Electra, daughter of Agamemnon, to thy rustic cot I come, for a
messenger hath arrived, a highlander from Mycenae, one who lives on
milk, announcing that the Argives are proclaiming a sacrifice for
the third day from now, and all our maidens are to go to Hera's temple.

ELECTRA Kind friends, my heart is not set on festivity, nor do necklaces
of gold cause any flutter in my sorrowing bosom, nor will I stand
up with the maidens of Argos to beat my foot in the mazy dance. Tears
have been my meat day and night; ah misery! See my unkempt hair, my
tattered dress; are they fit for a princess, a daughter of Agamemnon,
or for Troy which once thought of my father as its captor?

CHORUS (antistrophe)

Mighty is the goddess; so come, and borrow of me broidered robes
for apparel and jewels of gold that add a further grace to beauty's
charms. Dost think to triumph o'er thy foes by tears, if thou honour
not the gods? 'Tis not by lamentation but by pious prayers to heaved
that thou, my daughter, wilt make fortune smile on thee.

ELECTRA No god hearkens to the voice of lost Electra, or heeds the
sacrifices offered by my father long ago. Ah woe for the dead! woe
for the living wanderer, who dwelleth in some foreign land, an outcast
and vagabond at a menial board, sprung though he is of a famous sire!
Myself, too, in a poor man's hut do dwell, wasting my soul with grief,
an exile from my father's halls, here by the scarred hill-side; while
my mother is wedded to a new husband in a marriage stained by blood.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS Many a woe to Hellas and thy house did Helen,
thy mother's sister, cause.

ELECTRA (catching sight of ORESTES AND PYLADES) Ha! Friends, I break
off my lament; yonder are strangers just leaving the place of ambush
where they were couching, and making for the house. We must seek to
escape the villains by flying, thou along the path and I into my cottage.

ORESTES Stay, poor maid; fear no violence from me.

ELECTRA O Phoebus Apollo I beseech thee spare my life.

ORESTES Give me the lives of others more my foes than thou!

ELECTRA Begone! touch me not! thou hast no right to.

ORESTES There is none I have a better right to touch.

ELECTRA How is it then thou waylayest me, sword in hand, near my
house?

ORESTES Wait and hear, and thou wilt soon agree with me

ELECTRA Here I stand; I am in thy power in any case, since thou art
the stronger.

ORESTES I am come to thee with news of thy brother.

ELECTRA O best of friends! is he alive or dead?

ORESTES Alive; I would fain give thee my good news first.

ELECTRA God bless thee! in return for thy welcome tidings.

ORESTES I am prepared to share that blessing between us.

ELECTRA In what land is my poor brother spending his dreary exile?

ORESTES His ruined life does not conform to the customs of any one
city.

ELECTRA Surely he does not want for daily bread?

ORESTES Bread he has, but an exile is a helpless man at best.

ELECTRA What is this message thou hast brought from him?

ORESTES He asks, "Art thou alive? and if so, How art thou faring?"

ELECTRA Well, first thou seest how haggard I am grown.

ORESTES So wasted with sorrow that I weep for thee.

ELECTRA Next mark my head, shorn and shaven like a Scythian's.

ORESTES Thy brother's fate and father's death no doubt disturb thee.

ELECTRA Yes, alas! for what have I more dear than these?

ORESTES Ah! and what dost thou suppose is dearer to thy brother?

ELECTRA He is far away, not here to show his love to me.

ORESTES Wherefore art thou living here far from the city?

ELECTRA I am wedded, sir; a fatal match!

ORESTES Alas! for thy brother; I pity him. Is thy husband of Mycenae?

ELECTRA He is not the man to whom my father ever thought of betrothing
me.

ORESTES Tell me all, that I may report it to thy brother.

ELECTRA I live apart from my husband in this house.

ORESTES The only fit inmate would be a hind or herd.

ELECTRA Poor he is, yet he displays a generous consideration for
me.

ORESTES Why, what is this consideration that attaches to thy husband?

ELECTRA He has never presumed to claim from me a husband's rights.

ORESTES Is he under a vow of chastity? or does he disdain thee?

ELECTRA He thought he had no right to flout my ancestry.

ORESTES How was it he was not overjoyed at winning such a bride?

ELECTRA He does not recognize the right of him who disposed of my
hand.

ORESTES I understand; he was afraid of the vengeance of Orestes hereafter.

ELECTRA There was that fear, but he was a virtuous man as well.

ORESTES Ah! a noble nature this! He deserves kind treatment.

ELECTRA Yes, if ever the wanderer return.

ORESTES But did thy own mother give in to this?

ELECTRA 'Tis her husband, not her children that a woman loves, sir
stranger.

ORESTES Wherefore did Aegisthus put this affront on thee?

ELECTRA His design in giving me to such a husband was to weaken my
offspring

ORESTES To prevent thee bearing sons, I suppose, who should punish
him?

ELECTRA That was his plan; God grant I may avenge me on him for it!

ORESTES Does thy mother's husband know that thou art yet a maid?

ELECTRA He does not; our silence robs him of that knowledge.

ORESTES Are these women friends of thine, who overhear our talk?

ELECTRA They are, and they will keep our conversation perfectly secret.

ORESTES What could Orestes do in this matter, if he did return?

ELECTRA Canst thou ask? Shame on thee for that! Is not this the time
for action?

ORESTES But suppose he comes, how could he slay his father's murderers?

ELECTRA By boldly meting out the same fate that his father had meted
out to him by his foes.

ORESTES Wouldst thou be brave enough to help him slay his mother?

ELECTRA Aye, with the self-same axe that drank my father's blood.

ORESTES Am I to tell him this, and that thy purpose firmly holds?

ELECTRA Once I have shed my mother's blood o'er his, then welcome
death!

ORESTES Ah! would Orestes were standing near to hear that!

ELECTRA I should not know him, sir, if I saw him.

ORESTES No wonder; you were both children when you parted.

ELECTRA There is only one of my friends would recognize him.

ORESTES The man maybe who is said to have snatched him away from
being murdered?

ELECTRA Yes, the old servant who tended my father's childhood long
ago.

ORESTES Did thy father's corpse obtain burial?

ELECTRA Such burial as it was, after his body had been flung forth
from the palace.

ORESTES O God! how awful is thy story! Yes, there is a feeling, arising
even from another's distress, that wrings the human heart. Say on,
that when know the loveless tale, which yet I needs must hear, I may
carry it to thy brother. For pity, though it has no place in ignorant
natures, is inborn in the wise; still it may cause trouble to find
excessive cleverness amongst the wise.

LEADER I too am stirred by the same desire as the stranger. For dwelling
so far from the city I know nothing of its ills, and I should like
to hear about them now myself.

ELECTRA I will tell you, if I may; and surely I may tell a friend
about my own and my father's grievous misfortunes. Now since thou
movest me to speak, I entreat thee, sir, tell Orestes of our sorrows;
first, describe the dress I wear, the load of squalor that oppresses
me, the hovel I inhabit after my royal home; tell him how hard I have
to work at weaving clothes myself or else go barely clad and do without;
how I carry home on my head water from the brook; no part have I in
holy festival, no place amid the dance; a maiden still I turn from
married dames and from Castor too, to whom they betrothed me before
he joined the heavenly host, for I was his kinswoman. Meantime my
mother, 'mid the spoils of Troy, is seated on her throne, and at her
foot-stool slaves from Asia stand and wait, captives of my father's
spear, whose Trojan robes are fastened with brooches of gold. And
there on the wall my father's blood still leaves a deep dark stain,
while his murderer mounts the dead man's car and fareth forth, proudly
grasping in his blood-stained hands the sceptre with which Agamemnon
would marshal the sons of Hellas. Dishonoured lies his grave; naught
as yet hath it received of drink outpoured or myrtle-spray, but bare
of ornament his tomb is left. Yea, and 'tis said that noble hero who
is wedded to my mother, in his drunken fits, doth leap upon the grave,
and pelt with stones my father's monument, boldly gibing at us on
this wise, "Where is thy son Orestes? Is he ever coming in his glory
to defend thy tomb?" Thus is Orestes flouted behind his back. Oh!
tell him this, kind sir, I pray thee. And there be many calling him
to come,-I am but their mouthpiece,-these suppliant hands, this tongue,
my broken heart, my shaven head, and his own father too. For 'tis
shameful that the sire should have destroyed Troy's race and the son
yet prove too weak to pit himself against one foe unto the death,
albeit he has youth and better blood as well.

LEADER Lo! here is thy husband hurrying homeward, his labour done.

PEASANT (entering and catching sight of strangers talking to ELECTRA)
Ha! who are these strangers I see at my door? And why are they come
hither to my rustic gate? can they want my help? for 'tis unseemly
for a woman to stand talking with young men.

ELECTRA Dear husband, be not suspicious of me. For thou shalt hear
the truth; these strangers have come to bring me news of Orestes.
Good sirs, pardon him those words.

PEASANT What say they? is that hero yet alive and in the light of
day?

ELECTRA He is; at least they say so, and I believe them.

PEASANT Surely then he hath some memory of his father and thy wrongs?

ELECTRA These are things to hope for; a man in exile is helpless.

PEASANT What message have they brought from Orestes?

ELECTRA He sent them to spy out my evil case.

PEASANT Well, they only see a part of it, though maybe thou art telling
them the rest.

ELECTRA They know all; there is nothing further they need ask.

PEASANT Long ere this then shouldst thou have thrown open our doors
to them. Enter, sirs; for in return for your good tidings, shall ye
find such cheer as my house affords. Ho! servants, take their baggage
within; make no excuses, for ye are friends sent by one I love; and
poor though I am, yet will I never show meanness in my habits.

ORESTES 'Fore heaven! is this the man who is helping thee to frustrate
thy marriage, because he will not shame Orestes?

ELECTRA This is he whom they call my husband, woe is me!

ORESTES Ah! there is no sure mark to recognize a man's worth; for
human nature hath in it an element of confusion. For I have seen ere
now the son of noble sire prove himself a worthless knave, and virtuous
children sprung from evil parents; likewise dearth in a rich man's
spirit, and in a poor man's frame a mighty soul. By what standard
then shall we rightly judge these things? By wealth? An evil test
to use. By poverty then? Nay, poverty suffers from this, that it teaches
a man to play the villain from necessity. To martial prowess must
I turn? But who could pronounce who is the valiant man merely from
the look of his spear? Better is it to leave these matters to themselves
without troubling. For here is a man of no account in Argos, with
no family reputation to boast, one of the common herd, proved a very
hero. A truce to your folly! ye self-deceivers, swollen with idle
fancies; learn to judge men by their converse, and by their habits
decide who are noble. Such are they who rule aright both states and
families; while those forms of flesh, devoid of intellect, are but
figure-heads in the market-place. The strong arm, again, no more than
the weak awaits the battle-shock, for this depends on natural courage.
Well! absent or present, Agamemnon's son, whose business brings us
here, deserves this of us, so let us accept a lodging in this house.
(Calling to his servants) Ho! sirrahs, go within. A humble host,
who does his best, in preference to a wealthy man for me! And so I
thankfully accept this peasant's proffered welcome, though I could
have preferred that thy brother were conducting me to share his fortune
in his halls. Maybe he yet will come; for the oracies of Loxias are
sure, but to man's divining "Farewell" say I. (ORESTES, PYLADES and
their attendants go into the hut.)

LEADER Electra, I feel a warmer glow of joy suffuse my heart than
ever heretofore; perchance our fortune, moving on at last, will find
a happy resting-place.

ELECTRA O reckless man, why didst thou welcome strangers like these,
so far beyond thy station, knowing the poverty of thy house?

PEASANT Why? if they are really as noble as they seem, surely they
will be equally content with rich or humble fare.

ELECTRA Well. since thou hast made this error, poor man as thou art,
go to my father's kind old foster-sire; on the bank of the river Tanaus,
the boundary 'twixt Argos and the land of Sparta, he tends his flocks,
an outcast from the city; bid him come hither to our house and some
provision for the strangers' entertainment. Glad will he be, and will
offer thanks to heaven to hear that the child, whom once he saved,
is yet alive. I shall get nothing from my mother from my ancestral
halls; for we should rue our message, were she to learn, unnatural
wretch! that Orestes liveth.

PEASANT I will take this message to the old man, if it seem good
to thee; but get thee in at once and there make ready. A woman, when
she chooses, can find dainties in plenty to garnish a feast. Besides,
there is quite enough in the house to satisfy them with food for one
day at least. 'Tis in such cases, when I come to muse thereon, that
I discern the mighty power of wealth, whether to give to strangers,
or to expend in curing the body when it falls sick; but our daily
food is a small matter; for all of us, rich as well as poor, are in
like case, as soon as we are satisfied. (The PEASANT departs as ELECTRA
enters the hut.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

Ye famous ships, that on a day were brought to land at Troy by those
countless oars, what time ye led the Nereids' dance, where the dolphin
music-loving rolled and gambolled round your dusky prows, escorting
Achilles, nimble son of Thetis, when he went with Agamemnon to the
banks of Trojan Simois;

(antistrophe 1)

When Nereids left Euboea's strand, bringing from Hephaestus' golden
forge the harness he had fashioned for that warrior's use; him long
they sought o'er Pelion and Ossa's spurs, ranging the sacred glens
and the peaks of Nymphaea, where his knightly sire was training up
a light for Hellas, even the sea-born son of Thetis, a warrior swift
to help the sons of Atreus.

(strophe 2)

One that came from Ilium, and set foot in the haven of Nauplia, told
me that on the circle of thy far-famed targe, O son of Thetis, was
wrought this blazon, a terror to the Phrygians; on the rim of the
buckler Perseus with winged sandals, was bearing in his hand across
the main the Gorgon's head, just severed by the aid of Hermes, the
messenger of Zeus, that rural god whom Maia bore;

(antistrophe 2)

While in the centre of the shield the sun's bright orb flashed light
on the backs of his winged coursers; there too was the heavenly choir
of stars, Pleiades and Hyades, to dazzle Hector's eyes and make him
flee; and upon his gold-forged helm were sphinxes, bearing in their
talons the prey of which the minstrels sing; on his breast-plate was
lioness breathing flame, her eye upon Peirene's steed, in eagerness
to rend it.

There too in murderous fray four-footed steeds were prancing, while
oer their backs uprose dark clouds of dust. But he who led these warriors
stout, was slain by wedding thee, malignant child of Tyndareus! Wherefore
shall the gods of heaven one day send thee to thy doom, and I shall
yet live to see the sword at thy throat, drinking its crimson tide.
(The OLD MAN, the former servant of Agamemnon, enters. ELECTRA presently
appears at the door of the hut.)

OLD MAN Where is the young princess, my mistress, Agamemnon's daughter,
whom I nursed in days gone by? Oh! how steep is the approach to this
house, a hard climb for these old wasted feet of mine! Still, to reach
such friends as these, I must drag my bent old back and tottering
knees up it. Ah, daughter!-for I see thee now at thy door,-lo! I have
brought the this tender lamb from my own flock, having taken it from
its dam, with garlands too and cheese straight from the press, and
this flask of choice old wine with fragrant bouquet; 'tis small perhaps,
but pour a cup thereof into some weaker drink, and it is a luscious
draught. Let some one carry these gifts into the house for the guests;
for I would fain wipe from my eyes the rising tears on this tattered
cloak.

ELECTRA Why stands the tear-drop in thine eye, old friend? Is it
that my sorrows have been recalled to thee after an interval? or art
thou bewailing the sad exile of Orestes, and my father's fate, whom
thou didst once fondle in thy arms, in vain, alas! for thee and for
thy friends?

OLD MAN Ah yes! in vain; but still I could not bear to leave him
thus; and so I added this to my journey that I sought his grave, and,
falling thereupon, wept o'er its desolation; then did I open the wine-skin,
my gift to thy guests, and poured a libation, and set myrtle-sprigs
round the tomb. And lo! upon the grave itself I saw a black ram had
been offered, and there was blood, not long poured forth, and severed
locks of auburn hair. Much I wondered, my daughter, who had dared
approach the tomb; certainly 'twas no Argive. Nay, thy brother may
perchance have come by stealth, and going thither have done honour
to his father's wretched grave. Look at the hair, compare it with
thy own, to see if the colour of these cut locks is the same; for
children in whose veins runs the same father's blood have a close
resemblance in many features.

ELECTRA Old sir, thy words are unworthy of a wise man, if thou thinkest
my own brave brother would have come to this land by stealth for fear
of Aegisthus. In the next place, how should our hair correspond? His
is the hair of a gallant youth trained up in manly sports, mine a
woman's curled and combed; nay, that is a hopeless clue. Besides,
thou couldst find many, whose hair is of the same colour, albeit not
sprung from the same blood. No, maybe 'twas some stranger cut off
his hair in pity at his tomb, or one that came to spy this land privily.

OLD MAN Put thy foot in the print of his shoe and mark whether it
correspond with thine, my child.

ELECTRA How should the foot make any impression on stony ground?
and if it did, the foot of brother and sister would not be the same
in size, for man's is the larger.

OLD MAN Hast thou no mark, in case thy brother should come, whereby
to recognize the weaving of thy loom, the robe wherein I snatched
him from death that day?

ELECTRA Dost thou forget I was still a babe when Orestes left the
country? and even if I had woven him a robe, how should he, a mere
child then, be wearing the same now, unless our clothes and bodies
grow together?

OLD MAN Where are these guests? I fain would question them face to
face about thy brother. (As he speaks, ORESTES and PYLADES come out
of the hut.)

ELECTRA There they are, in haste to leave the house.

OLD MAN Well born, it seems, but that may be a sham; for there be
plenty such prove knaves. Still I give them greeting.

ORESTES All hail, father! To which of thy friends, Electra, does
this old relic of mortality belong?

ELECTRA This is he who nursed my sire, sir stranger.

ORESTES What! do I behold him who removed thy brother out of harm's
way?

ELECTRA Behold the man who saved his life; if, that is, he liveth
still.

ORESTES Ha! why does he look so hard at me, as if he were examining
the bright device on silver coin? Is he finding in me a likeness to
some other?

ELECTRA Maybe he is glad to see in thee a companion of Orestes.

ORESTES A man I love full well. But why is he walking round me?

ELECTRA I, too, am watching his movements with amaze, sir stranger.

OLD MAN My honoured mistress, my daughter Electra, return thanks
to heaven,-

ELECTRA For past or present favours? which?

OLD MAN That thou hast found a treasured prize, which God is now
revealing.

ELECTRA Hear me invoke the gods. But what dost thou mean, old man?

OLD MAN Behold before thee, my child, thy nearest and dearest.

ELECTRA I have long feared thou wert not in thy sound senses

OLD MAN Not in my sound senses, because I see thy brother?

ELECTRA What mean'st thou, aged friend, by these astounding words?

OLD MAN That I see Orestes, Agamemnon's son, before me.

ELECTRA What mark dost see that I can trust?

OLD MAN A scar along his brow, where he fell and cut himself one
day in his father's home when chasing a fawn with thee.

ELECTRA Is it possible? True; I see the mark of the fall.

OLD MAN Dost hesitate then to embrace thy own dear brother?

ELECTRA No! not any longer, old friend; for my soul is convinced
by the tokens thou showest. O my brother, thou art come at last, and
I embrace thee, little as I ever thought to.

ORESTES And thee to my bosom at last I press.

ELECTRA I never thought that it would happen.

ORESTES All hope in me was also dead.

ELECTRA Art thou really he?

ORESTES Aye, thy one and only champion, if I can but safely draw
to shore the cast I mean to throw; and I feel sure I shall; else must
we cease to believe in gods, if wrong is to triumph o'er right.

CHORUS (singing) At last, at last appears thy radiant dawn, O happy
day! and as beacon to the city hast thou revealed the wanderer, who,
long ago, poor boy! was exiled from his father's halls. Now, lady,
comes our turn for victory, ushered in by some god. Raise hand and
voice in prayer, beseech the gods that good fortune may attend thy
brother's entry to the city.

ORESTES Enough! sweet though the rapture of this greeting be, I must
wait and return it hereafter. Do thou, old friend so timely met, tell
me how I am to avenge me on my father's murderer, and on my mother,
the partner in his guilty marriage. Have I still in Argos any band
of kindly friends? or am I, like my fortunes, bankrupt altogether?
With whom am I to league myself? by night or day shall I advance?
point out a road for me to take against these foes of mine.

OLD MAN My son, thou hast no friend now in thy hour of adversity.
No! that is a piece of rare good luck, to find another share thy fortunes
alike for better and for worse. Thou art of every friend completely
reft, all hope is gone from thee; be sure of what I tell thee; on
thy own arm and fortune art thou wholly thrown to win thy father's
home and thy city.

ORESTES What must I do to compass this result?

OLD MAN Slay Thyestes' son and thy mother.

ORESTES I came to win that victor's crown, but how can I attain it?

OLD MAN Thou wouldst never achieve it if thou didst enter the walls.

ORESTES Are they manned with guards and armed sentinels?

OLD MAN Aye truly; for he is afraid of thee, and cannot sleep secure.

ORESTES Well then, do thou next propose a scheme, old friend.

OLD MAN Hear me a moment; an idea has just occurred to me.

ORESTES May thy counsel prove good, and my perception keen!

OLD MAN I saw Aegisthus, as I was slowly pacing hither-

ORESTES I welcome thy words. Where was he?

OLD MAN Not far from these fields, at his stables.

ORESTES What was he doing? I see a gleam of hope after our helplessness.

OLD MAN I thought he was preparing a feast for the Nymphs.

ORESTES In return for the bringing up of children or in anticipation
of a birth?

OLD MAN All I know is this, he was preparing to sacrifice oxen.

ORESTES How many were with him? or was he alone with his servants?

OLD MAN There was no Argive there; only a band of his own followers.

ORESTES Is it possible that any of them will recognize me, old man?

OLD MAN They are only servants, and they have never even seen thee.

ORESTES Will they support me, if I prevail?

OLD MAN Yes, that is the way of slaves, luckily for thee.

ORESTES On what pretext can I approach him?

OLD MAN Go to some place where he will see thee as he sacrifices.

ORESTES His estate is close to the road then, I suppose.

OLD MAN Yes, and when he sees thee there, he will invite thee to
the feast.

ORESTES So help me God! He shall rue his invitation.

OLD MAN After that, form thy own plan according to circumstances.

ORESTES Good advice! But my mother, where is she?

OLD MAN At Argos; but she will yet join her husband for the feast.

ORESTES Why did she not come forth with him?

OLD MAN From fear of the citizens' reproach she stayed behind.

ORESTES I understand; she knows that the city suspects her.

OLD MAN Just so; her wickedness makes her hated.

ORESTES How shall I slay her and him together?

ELECTRA Mine be the preparation of my mother's slaying!

ORESTES Well, as for the other, fortune will favour us.

ELECTRA Our old friend here must help us both.

OLD MAN Aye, that will I; but wnat is thy scheme for slaying thy
mother?

ELECTRA Go, old man, and tell Clytemnestra from me that I have given
birth to a son.

OLD MAN Some time ago, or quite recently?

ELECTRA Ten days ago, which are the days of my purification.

OLD MAN Suppose it done; but how doth this help towards slaying thy
mother?

ELECTRA She will come, when she hears of my confinement.

OLD MAN What! dost think she cares aught for thee, my child?

ELECTRA Oh yes! she will weep no doubt over my child's low rank.

OLD MAN Perhaps she may; but go back again to the point.

ELECTRA Her death is certain, if she comes.

OLD MAN In that case, let her come right up to the door of the house.

ELECTRA Why then it were a little thing to turn her steps into the
road to Hades' halls.

OLD MAN Oh! to see this one day, then die!

ELECTRA First of all, old friend, act as my brother's guide.

OLD MAN To the place where Aegisthus is now sacrificing to the gods?

ELECTRA Then go, find my mother and give her my message.

OLD MAN Aye, that I will, so that she shall think the very words
are thine.

ELECTRA (to ORESTES) Thy work begins at once; thou hast drawn the
first lot in the tragedy.

ORESTES I will go, if some one will show me the way.

OLD MAN I will myself conduct thee nothing loth.

ORESTES O Zeus, god of my fathers, vanquisher of my foes, have pity
on us, for a piteous lot has ours been.

ELECTRA Oh! have pity on thy own descendants.

ORESTES O Hera, mistress of Mycenae's altars, grant us the victory,
if we are asking what is right.

ELECTRA Yes, grant us vengeance on them for our father's death.

ORESTES Thou too, my father, sent to the land of shades by wicked
hands, and Earth, the queen of all, to whom I spread my suppliant
palms, up and champion thy dear children. Come with all the dead to
aid, all they who helped thee break the Phrygians' power, and all
who hate ungodly crime. Dost hear me, father, victim of my mother's
rage?

ELECTRA Sure am I he heareth all; but 'tis time to part. For this
cause too I bid thee strike Aegisthus down, because, if thou fall
in the struggle and perish, I also die; no longer number me amongst
the living; for I will stab myself with a two-edged sword. And now
will I go indoors and make all ready there, for, if there come good
news from thee, my house shall ring with women's cries of joy; but,
if thou art slain, a different scene must then ensue. These are my
instructions to thee.

ORESTES I know my lesson well. (ORESTES, PYLADES, the OLD MAN, and
attendants, depart.)

ELECTRA Then show thyself a man. And you, my friends, signal to me
by cries the certain issue of this fray. Myself will keep the sword
ready in my grasp, for I will never accept defeat, and yield my body
to my enemies to insult. (ELECTRA goes into the hut.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

Still the story finds a place in time-honoured legends, how on day
Pan, the steward of husbandry, came breathing dulcet music on his
jointed pipe, and brought with him from its tender dam on Argive hills,
a beauteous lamb with fleece of gold; then stood a herald high upon
the rock and cried aloud, "Away to the place of assembly, ye folk
of Mycenae! to behold the strange and awful sight vouchsafed to our
blest rulers." Anon the dancers did obeisance to the family of Atreus;

(antistrophe 1)

The altar-steps of beaten gold were draped; and through that Argive
town the altars blazed with fire; sweetly rose the lute's clear note,
the handmaid of the Muse's song; and ballads fair were written on
the golden lamb, saying that Thyestes had the luck; for he won the
guilty love of the wife of Atreus, and carried off to his house the
strange creature, and then coming before the assembled folk he declared
to them that he had in his house that horned beast with fleece of
gold.

(strophe 2)

In the self-same hour it was that Zeus changed the radiant courses
of the stars, the light of the sun, and the joyous face of dawn, and
drave his car athwart the western sky with fervent heat from heaven's
fires, while northward fled the rain-clouds, and Ammon's strand grew
parched and faint and void of dew, when it was robbed of heaven's
genial showers.

(antistrophe 2)

'Tis said, though I can scarce believe it, the sun turned round his
glowing throne of gold, to vex the sons of men by this change because
of the quarrel amongst them. Still, tales of horror have their use
in making men regard the gods; of whom thou hadst no thought, when
thou slewest thy husband, thou mother of this noble pair.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS Hark! my friends, did ye hear that noise, like
to the rumbling of an earthquake, or am I the dupe of idle fancy?
Hark! hark! once more that wind-borne sound swells loudly on mine
ear. Electra! mistress mine! come forth from the house!

ELECTRA (rushing out) What is it, good friends? how goes the day
with us?

LEADER I hear the cries of dying men; no more I know.

ELECTRA I heard them too, far off, but still distinct.

LEADER Yes, the sound came stealing from afar, but yet 'twas clear.

ELECTRA Was it the groan of an Argive, or of my friends?

LEADER I know not; for the cries are all confused.

ELECTRA That word of thine is my death-warrant; why do I delay?

LEADER Stay, till thou learn thy fate for certain.

ELECTRA No, no; we are vanquished; where are our messengers?

LEADER They will come in time; to slay a king is no light task.
(A MESSENGER enters in haste.)

MESSENGER All hail! ye victors, maidens of Mycenae, to all Orestes'
friends his triumph I announce; Aegisthus, the murderer of Agamemnon,
lies weltering where he fell; return thanks to heaven.

ELECTRA Who art thou? What proof dost thou give of this?

MESSENGER Look at me, dost thou not recognize thy brother's servant?

ELECTRA O best of friends! 'twas fear that prevented me from recognizing
thee; now I know thee well. What sayst thou? Is my father's hateful
murderer slain?

MESSENGER He is; I repeat it since it is thy wish.

LEADER Ye gods, and justice, whose eye is on all, at last art thou
come.

ELECTRA I fain would learn the way and means my brother took to slay
Thyestes' son.

MESSENGER After we had set out from this house, we struck into the
broad highroad, and came to the place where was the far-famed King
of Mycenae. Now he was walking in a garden well-watered, culling a
wreath of tender myrtle-sprays for his head, and when he saw us, he
called out, "All hail! strangers; who are ye? whence come ye? from
what country?" To him Orestes answered, "We are from Thessaly, on
our way to Alpheus' banks to sacrifice to Olympian Zeus." When Aegisthus
heard that, he said, "Ye must be my guests to-day, and share the feast,
for I am even now sacrificing to the Nymphs; and by rising with tomorrow's
light ye will be just as far upon your journey; now let us go within."
Therewith he caught us by the hand and led us by the way; refuse we
could not; and when we were come to the house, he gave command: "Bring
water for my guests to wash forthwith, that they may stand around
the altar near the laver." But Orestes answered, "'Twas but now we
purified ourselves and washed us clean in water from the river. So
if we strangers are to join your citizens in sacrifice, we are ready,
King Aegisthus, and will not refuse." So ended they their private
conference. Meantime the servants, that composed their master's bodyguard,
laid aside their weapons, and one and all were busied at their tasks.
Some brought the bowl to catch the blood, others took up baskets,
while others kindled fire and set cauldrons round about the altars,
and the whole house rang. Then did thy mother's husband take the barley
for sprinkling, and began casting it upon the hearth with these words,
"Ye Nymphs, who dwell among the rocks, grant that I may often sacrifice
with my wife, the daughter of Tyndareus, within my halls, as happily
as now, and ruin seize my foes!" (whereby he meant Orestes and thyself)
. But my master, lowering his voice, offered a different prayer,
that he might regain his father's house. Next Aegisthus took from
basket a long straight knife, and cutting off some of the calf's hair,
laid it with his right hand on the sacred fire, and then cut its throat
when the servants had lifted it upon their shoulders, and thus addressed
thy brother; "Men declare that amongst the Thessalians this is counted
honourable, to cut up a bull neatly and to manage steeds. So take
the knife, sir stranger, and show us if rumour speaks true about the
Thessalians." Thereon Orestes seized the Dorian knife of tempered
steel and cast from his shoulders his graceful buckled robe; then
choosing Pylades to help him in his task, he made the servants withdraw,
and catching the calf by the hoof, proceeded to lay bare its white
flesh, with arm outstretched, and he flayed the hide quicker than
a runner ever finishes the two laps of the horses' race-course; next
he laid the belly open, and Aegisthus took the entrails in his hands
and carefully examined them. Now the liver had no lobe, while the
portal vein leading to the gall-bladder portended dangerous attack
on him who was observing it. Dark grows Aegisthus' brow, but my master
asks, "Why so despondent, good sir?" Said he, "I fear treachery from
a stranger. Agamemnon's son of all men most I hate, and he hates my
house." But Orestes cried, "What! fear treachery from an exile! thou
the ruler of the city? Ho! take this Dorian knife away and bring me
a Thessalian cleaver, that we by sacrificial feast may learn the will
of heaven; let me cleave the breast-bone." And he took the axe and
cut it through. Now Aegisthus was examining the entrails, separating
them in his hands, and as he was bending down, thy brother rose on
tiptoe and smote him on the spine, severing the bones of his back;
and his body gave one convulsive shudder from head to foot and writhed
in the death-agony. No sooner did his servants see it, than they rushed
to arms, a host to fight with two; yet did Pylades and Orestes of
their valiancy meet them with brandished spears. Then cried Orestes,
"I am no foe that come against this city and my own servants, but
I have avenged me on the murderer of my sire, I, ill-starred Orestes.
Slay me not, my father's former thralls!" They, when they heard him
speak, restrained their spears, and an old man, who had been in the
family many a long year, recognized him. Forthwith they crown thy
brother with a wreath, and utter shouts of joy. And lo! he is coming
to show thee the head, not the Gorgon's, but the head of thy hated
foe Aegisthus; his death today has paid in blood a bitter debt of
blood.

CHORUS (singing) Dear mistress, now with step as light as fawn join
in the dance; lift high the nimble foot and be glad. Victory crowns
thy brother; he hath won a fairer wreath than ever victor gained beside
the streams of Alpheus; so raise a fair hymn to victory, the while
I dance.

ELECTRA O light of day! O bright careering sun! O earth! and night
erewhile my only day; now may I open my eyes in freedom, for Aegisthus
is dead, my father's murderer. Come friends, let me bring out whate'er
my house contains to deck his head and wreath with crowns my conquering
brother's brow.

CHORUS (singing) Bring forth thy garlands for his head, and we will
lead the dance the Muses love. Now shall the royal line, dear to us
in days gone by, resume its sway o'er the realm, having laid low the
usurper as he deserves. So let the shout go up, whose notes are those
of joy. (ORESTES and PYLADES enter, followed by attendants who are
bearing the body of Aegisthus.)

ELECTRA Hail! glorious victor, Orestes, son of a sire who won the
day 'neath Ilium's walls, accept this wreath to bind about the tresses
of thy hair. Not in vain hast thou run thy course unto the goal and
reached thy home again; no! but thou hast slain thy foe, Aegisthus,
the murderer of our father. Thou too, O Pylades, trusty squire, whose
training shows thy father's sterling worth, receive a garland from
my hand, for thou no less than he hast a share in this emprise; and
so I pray, good luck be thine for ever!

ORESTES First recognize the gods, Electra, as being the authors of
our fortune, and then praise me their minister and fate's. Yea, I
come from having slain Aegisthus in very deed, no mere pretence; and
to make thee the more certain of this, I am bringing thee his corpse,
which, if thou wilt, expose for beasts to rend, or set it upon a stake
for birds, the children of the air, to prey upon; for now is he thy
slave, once called thy lord and master.

ELECTRA I am ashamed to utter my wishes.

ORESTES What is it? speak out, for thou art through the gates of
fear.

ELECTRA I am ashamed to flout the dead, for fear some spite assail
me.

ORESTES No one would blame thee for this.

ELECTRA Our folk are hard to please, and love to blame.

ORESTES Speak all thy mind, sister; for we entered on this feud with
him on terms admitting not of truce.

ELECTRA Enough! (Turning to the corpse of Aegisthus) With which
of thy iniquities shall I begin my recital? With which shall I end
it? To which allot a middle place? And yet I never ceased, as each
day dawned, to rehearse the story I would tell thee to thy face, if
ever I were freed from my old terrors; and now I am; so I will pay
thee back with the abuse I fain had uttered to thee when alive. Thou
wert my ruin, making me and my brother orphans, though we had never
injured thee, and thou didst make a shameful marriage with my mother,
having slain her lord who led the host of Hellas, though thyself didst
never go to Troy. Such was thy folly, thou didst never dream that
my mother would prove thy curse when thou didst marry her, though
thou wert wronging my father's honour. Know this; whoso defiles his
neighbour's wife, and afterward is forced to take her to himself,
is a wretched wight, if he supposes she will be chaste as his wife,
though she sinned against her former lord. Thine was a life most miserable,
though thou didst pretend 'twas otherwise; well thou knewest how guilty
thy marriage was, and my mother knew she had a villain for husband.
Sinners both ye took each other's lot, she thy fortune, thou her curse.
While everywhere in Argos thou-wouldst hear such phrases as, "that
woman's husband," never "that man's wife." Yet 'tis shameful for the
wife and not the man to rule the house; wherefore I loathe those children,
who are called in the city not the sons of the man, their father,
but of their mother. For if a man makes a great match above his rank,
there is no talk of the husband but only of the wife. Herein lay thy
grievous error, due to ignorance; thou thoughtest thyself some one,
relying on thy wealth, but this is naught save to stay with us a space.
'Tis nature that stands fast, not wealth. For it, if it abide unchanged,
exalts man's horn; but riches dishonestly acquired and in the hands
of fools, soon take their flight, their blossom quickly shed. As for
thy sins with women, I pass them by, 'tis not for maiden's lips to
mention them, but I will shrewdly hint thereat. And then thy arrogance!
because forsooth thou hadst a palace and some looks to boast. May
I never have a husband with a girl's face, but one that bears him
like a man! For the children of these latter cling to a life of arms,
while those, who are so fair to see, do only serve to grace the dance.
Away from me! (Spurning the corpse with her foot) Time has shown
thy villainy, little as thou reckest of the forfeit thou hast paid
for it. Let none suppose, though he have run the first stage of his
course with joy, that he will get the better of justice, till he have
reached the goal and ended his career.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS Terrible alike his crime and your revenge; for
mighty is the power of justice.

ORESTES 'Tis well. Carry his body within the house and hide it, sirrahs,
that when my mother comes, she may not see his corpse before she is
smitten herself. (PYLADES and the attendants take the body into the
hut.)

ELECTRA Hold! let us strike out another scheme.

ORESTES How now? Are those allies from Mycenae whom I see?

ELECTRA No, 'tis my mother, that bare me.

ORESTES Full into the net she is rushing, oh, bravely!

ELECTRA See how proudly she rides in her chariot and fine robes!

ORESTES What must we do to our mother? Slay her?

ELECTRA What! has pity seized thee at sight of her?

ORESTES O God! how can I slay her that bare and suckled me?

ELECTRA Slay her as she slew thy father and mine.

ORESTES O Phoebus, how foolish was thy oracle-

ELECTRA Where Apollo errs, who shall be wise?

ORESTES In bidding me commit this crime-my mother's murder!

ELECTRA How canst thou be hurt by avenging thy father?

ORESTES Though pure before, I now shall carry into exile the stain
of a mother's blood.

ELECTRA Still, if thou avenge not thy father, thou wilt fail in thy
duty.

ORESTES And if I slay my mother, I must pay the penalty to her.

ELECTRA And so must thou to him, if thou resign the avenging of our
father.

ORESTES Surely it was a fiend in the likeness of the god that ordered
this!

ELECTRA Seated on the holy tripod? I think not so.

ORESTES I cannot believe this oracle was meant.

ELECTRA Turn not coward! Cast not thy manliness away!

ORESTES Am I to devise the same crafty scheme for her?

ELECTRA The self-same death thou didst mete out to her lord Aegisthus.

ORESTES I will go in; 'tis an awful task I undertake; an awful deed
I have to do; still if it is Heaven's will, be it so; I loathe and
yet I love the enterprise. (As ORESTES withdraws into the hut, CLYTEMNESTRA
enters in a chariot. Her attendants are hand-maidens attired in gorgeous
apparel.)

CHORUS (singing) Hail! Queen of Argos, daughter of Tyndareus, sister
of those two noble sons of Zeus, who dwell in the flame-lit firmament
amid the stars, whose guerdon high it is to save the sailor tossing
on the sea. All hail! because of thy wealth and high prosperity, I
do thee homage as I do the blessed gods. Now is the time, great queen,
for us to pay our court unto thy fortunes.

CLYTEMNESTRA Alight from the car, ye Trojan maids, and take my hand
that I may step down from the chariot. With Trojan spoils the temples
of the gods are decked, but I have obtained these maidens as a special
gift from Troy, in return for my lost daughter, a trifling boon no
doubt, but still an ornament to my house.

ELECTRA And may not I, mother, take that highly-favoured hand of
thine? I am a slave like them, an exile from my father's halls in
this miserable abode.

CLYTEMNESTRA See, my servants are here; trouble not on my account.

ELECTRA Why, thou didst make me thy prisoner by robbing me of my
home; like these I became a captive when my home was taken, an orphan
all forlorn.

CLYTEMNESTRA True; but thy father plotted so wickedly against those
of his own kin whom least of all he should have treated so. Speak
I must; albeit, when woman gets an evil reputation, there is a feeling
of bitterness against all she says; unfairly indeed in my case, for
it were only fair to hate after learning the circumstances, and seeing
if the object deserves it; otherwise, why hate at all? Now Tyndareus
bestowed me on thy father not that I or any children I might bear
should be slain. Yet he went and took my daughter from our house to
the fleet at Aulis, persuading me that Achilles was to wed her; and
there he held her o'er the pyre, and cut Iphigenia's snowy throat.
Had he slain her to save his city from capture, or to benefit his
house, or to preserve his other children, a sacrifice of one for many,
could have pardoned him. But, as it was, his reasons for murdering
my child were these: the wantonness of Helen and her husband's folly
in not punishing the traitress. Still, wronged as I was, my rage had
not burst forth for this, nor would I have slain my lord, had he not
returned to me with that frenzied maiden and made her his mistress,
keeping at once two brides beneath the same roof. Women maybe are
given to folly, I do not deny it; this granted, when a husband goes
astray and sets aside his own true wife, she fain will follow his
example and find another love; and then in our case hot abuse is heard,
while the men, who are to blame for this, escape without a word. Again,
suppose Menelaus had been secretly snatched from his home, should
I have had to kill Orestes to save Menelaus, my sister's husband?
How would thy father have endured this? Was he then to escape death
for slaying what was mine, while I was to suffer at his hands? I slew
him, turning, as my only course, to his enemies. For which of all
thy father's friends would have joined me in his murder? Speak all
that is in thy heart, and prove against me with all free speech, that
thy father's death was not deserved.

ELECTRA Justly urged! but thy justice is not free from shame; for
in all things should every woman of sense yield to her husband. Whoso
thinketh otherwise comes not within the scope of what I say. Remember,
mother, those last words of thine, allowing me free utterance before
thee.

CLYTEMNESTRA Daughter, far from refusing it, I grant it again.

ELECTRA Thou wilt not, when thou hearest, wreak thy vengeance on
me?

CLYTEMNESTRA No, indeed; I shall welcome thy opinion.

ELECTRA Then will I speak, and this shall be the prelude of my speech:
Ah, mother mine! would thou hadst had a better heart; for though thy
beauty and Helen's win you praises well deserved, yet are ye akin
in nature, pair of wantons, unworthy of Castor. She was carried off,
'tis true, but her fall was voluntary: and thou hast slain the bravest
soul in Hellas, excusing thyself on the ground that thou didst kill
a husband to avenge a daughter; the world does not know thee so well
as I do, thou who before ever thy daughter's death was decided, yea,
soon as thy lord had started from his home, wert combing thy golden
tresses at thy mirror. That wife who, when her lord is gone from home,
sets to beautifying herself, strike off from virtue's list; for she
has no need to carry her beauty abroad, save she is seeking some mischief.
Of all the wives in Hellas thou wert the only one I know who wert
overjoyed when Troy's star was in the ascendant, while, if it set,
thy brow was clouded, since thou hadst no wish that Agamemnon should
return from Troy. And yet thou couldst have played a virtuous part
to thy own glory. The husband thou hadst was no whit inferior to Aegisthus,
for he it was whom Hellas chose to be her captain. And when thy sister
Helen wrought that deed of shame, thou couldst have won thyself great
glory, for vice is a warning and calls attention to virtue. If, as
thou allegest, my father slew thy daughter, what is the wrong I and
my brother have done thee? How was it thou didst not bestow on us
our father's halls after thy husband's death, instead of bartering
them to buy a paramour? Again, thy husband is not exiled for thy son's
sake, nor is he slain to avenge my death, although by him this life
is quenched twice as much as e'er my sister's was; so if murder is
to succeed murder in requital, I and thy son Orestes must slay thee
to avenge our father; if that was just, why so is this. Whoso fixes
his gaze on wealth or noble birth and weds a wicked woman, is a fool;
better is a humble partner in his home, if she be virtuous, than a
proud one.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS Chance rules the marriages of women; some I
see turn out well, others ill amongst mankind.

CLYTEMNESTRA Daughter, 'twas ever thy nature to love thy father.
This too one finds; some sons cling to their father, others have a
deeper affection for their mother. I will forgive thee, for myself
am not so exceeding glad at the deed that I have done, my child. But
thou,-why thus unwashed and clad in foul attire, now that the days
of thy lying-in are accomplished? Ah me, for my sorry schemes! I have
goaded my husband into anger more than e'er I should have done.

ELECTRA Thy sorrow comes too late; the hour of remedy has gone from
thee; my father is dead. Yet why not recall that exile, thy own wandering
son?

CLYTEMNESTRA I am afraid; 'tis my interest, not his that I regard.
For they say he is wroth for his father's murder.

ELECTRA Why, then, dost thou encourage thy husband's bitterness against
us?

CLYTEMNESTRA 'Tis his way; thou too hast a stubborn nature.

ELECTRA Because I am grieved; yet will I check my spirit.

CLYTEMNESTRA I promise then he shall no longer oppress thee.

ELECTRA From living in my home he grows too proud.

CLYTEMNESTRA Now there! 'tis thou that art fanning the quarrel into
new life.

ELECTRA I say no more; my dread of him is even what it is.

CLYTEMNESTRA Peace! Enough of this. Why didst thou summon me, my
child?

ELECTRA Thou hast heard, I suppose, of my confinement; for this I
pray thee, since I know not how, offer the customary sacrifice on
the tenth day after birth, for I am a novice herein, never having
had a child before.

CLYTEMNESTRA This is work for another, even for her who delivered
thee.

ELECTRA I was all alone in my travail and at the babe's birth.

CLYTEMNESTRA Dost live so far from neighbours?

ELECTRA No one cares to make the poor his friends.

CLYTEMNESTRA Well, I will go to offer to the gods a sacrifice for
the child's completion of the days; and when I have done thee this
service, I will seek the field where my husband is sacrificing to
the Nymphs. Take this chariot hence, my servants, and tie the horses
to the stalls; and when ye think that I have finished my offering
to the gods, attend me, for I must likewise pleasure my lord. (She
goes into the hut.)

ELECTRA Enter our humble cottage; but, prithee, take care that my
smoke grimed walls soil not thy robes; now wilt thou offer to the
gods a fitting sacrifice. There stands the basket ready, and the knife
is sharpened, the same that slew the bull, by whose side thou soon
wilt lie a corpse; and thou shalt be his bride in Hades' halls whose
wife thou wast on earth. This is the boon I will grant thee, while
thou shalt pay me for my father's blood. (ELECTRA follows her into
the hut.)

CHORUS (chanting, strophe)

Misery is changing sides; the breeze veers round, and now blows fair
upon my house. The day is past when my chief fell murdered in his
bath, and the roof and the very stones of the walls rang with this
his cry: "O cruel wife, why art thou murdering me on my return to
my dear country after ten long years?"

(antistrophe)

The tide is turning, and justice that pursues the faithless wife
is drawing within its grasp the murderess, who slew her hapless lord,
when he came home at last to these towering Cyclopean walls,-aye,
with her own hand she smote him with the sharpened steel, herself
the axe uplifting. Unhappy husband! whate'er the curse that possessed
that wretched woman. Like a lioness of the hills that rangeth through
the woodland for her prey, she wrought the deed.

CLYTEMNESTRA (within) O my children, by Heaven I pray ye spare your
mother.

CHORUS (chanting) Dost hear her cries within the house?

CLYTEMNESTRA O God! ah me!

CHORUS (chanting) I too bewail thee, dying by thy children's hands.
God deals out His justice in His good time. A cruel fate is thine,
unhappy one; yet didst thou sin in murdering thy lord. (ORESTES and
ELECTRA come out of the hut, followed by attendants who are carrying
the two corpses. The following lines between ELECTRA, ORESTES and
the CHORUS are chanted.) But lo! from the house they come, dabbled
in their mother's fresh-spilt gore, their triumph proving the piteous
butchery. There is not nor ever has been a race more wretched than
the line of Tantalus.

ORESTES O Earth, and Zeus whose eye is over all! behold this foul
deed of blood, these two corpses lying here that I have slain in vengeance
for my sufferings.

ELECTRA Tears are all too weak for this, brother; and I am the guilty
cause. Ah, woe is me! How hot my fury burned against the mother that
bare me!

ORESTES Alas! for thy lot, O mother mine! A piteous, piteous doom,
aye, worse than that, hast thou incurred at children's hands! Yet
justly hast thou paid forfeit for our father's blood. Ah, Phoebus!
thine was the voice that praised this vengeance; thou it is that hast
brought these hideous scenes to light, and caused this deed of blood.
To what city can I go henceforth? what friend, what man of any piety
will bear the sight of a mother's murderer like me?

ELECTRA Ah me! alas! and whither can I go? What share have I henceforth
in dance or marriage rite? What husband will accept me as his bride?

ORESTES Again thy fancy changes with the wind; for now thou thinkest
aright, though not so formerly; an awful deed didst thou urge thy
brother against his will to commit, dear sister. Oh! didst thou see
how the poor victim threw open her robe and showed her bosom as smote
her, sinking on her knees, poor wretch? And her hair I-

ELECTRA Full well I know the agony through which thou didst pass
at hearing thy own mother's bitter cry.

ORESTES Ah yes! she laid her band upon my chin, and cried aloud,
"My child, I entreat thee!" and she clung about my neck, so that I
let fall the sword.

ELECTRA O my poor mother! How didst thou endure to see her breathe
her last before thy eyes?

ORESTES I threw my mantle o'er them and began the sacrifice by plunging
the sword into my mother's throat.

ELECTRA Yet 'twas I that urged thee on, yea, and likewise grasped
the steel. Oh! I have done an awful deed.

ORESTES Oh! take and hide our mother's corpse beneath a pall, and
close her gaping wound. (Turning to the corpse) Ah! thy murderers
were thine own children.

ELECTRA (covering the corpse) There! thou corpse both loved and
loathed; still o'er thee I cast robe, to end the grievous troubles
of our house.

CHORUS See! where o'er the roof-top spirits are appearing, or gods
maybe from heaven, for this is not a road that mortals tread. Why
come they thus where mortal eyes can see them clearly? (THE DIOSCURI
appear from above.)

DIOSCURI Hearken, son of Agamemnon. We, the twin sons of Zeus, thy
mother's sisters, call thee, even Castor and his brother Polydeuces.
'Tis but now we have reached Argos after stilling the fury of the
sea for mariners, having seen the slaying of our sister, thy mother.
She hath received her just reward, but thine is no righteous act,
and Phoebus-but no! he is my king, my lips are sealed-is Phoebus still,
albeit the oracle he gave thee was no great proof of his wsdom. But
we must acquiesce herein. Henceforth must thou follow what Zeus and
destiny ordain for thee. On Pylades bestow Electra for his wife to
take unto his home; do thou leave Argos, for after thy mother's murder
thou mayst not set foot in the city. And those grim goddesses of doom,
that glare like savage hounds, will drive thee mad and chase thee
to and fro; but go thou to Athens and make thy prayer to the holy
image of Pallas, for she will close their fierce serpents' mouths,
so that they touch thee not, holding o'er thy head her aegis with
the Gorgon's head. A hill there is, to Ares sacred, where first the
gods in conclave sat to decide the law of blood, in the day that savage
Ares slew Halirrothius, son of the ocean-king, in anger for the violence
he offered to his daughter's honour; from that time all decisions
given there are most holy and have heaven's sanction. There must thou
have this murder tried; and if equal votes are given, they shall save
thee from death in the decision, for Loxias will take the blame upon
himself, since it was his oracle that advised thy mother's murder.
And this shall be the law for all posterity; in every trial the accused
shall win his case if the votes are equal. Then shall those dread
goddesses, stricken with grief at this, vanish into a cleft of the
earth close to the hill, revered by men henceforth as a place for
holy oracles; whilst thou must settle in a city of Arcadia on the
banks of the river Alpheus near the shrine of Lycaean Apollo, and
the city shall be called after thy name. To thee I say this. As for
the corpse of Aegisthus, the citizens of Argos must give it burial;
but Menelaus, who has just arrived at Nauplia from the sack of Troy,
shall bury the, mother, Helen helping him; for she hath come from
her sojourn in Egypt in the halls of Proteus, and hath never been
to Troy; but Zeus, to stir up strife and bloodshed in the world, sent
forth a phantom of Helen to Ilium. Now let Pylades take his maiden
wife and bear her to his home in Achaea; also he must conduct thy
so-called kinsman to the land of Phocis, and there reward him well.
But go thyself along the narrow Isthmus, and seek Cecropia's happy
home. For once thou hast fulfilled the doom appointed for this murder,
thou shalt be blest and free from all thy troubles. (The remaining
lines of the play are chanted.)

CHORUS Ye sons of Zeus, may we draw near to speak with you?

DIOSCURI Ye may, since ye are not polluted by this murder.

ORESTES May I too share your converse, of Tyndareus?

DIOSCURI Thou too! for to Phoebus will I ascribe this deed of blood.

CHORUS How was it that ye, the brothers of the murdered woman, gods
too, did not ward the doom-goddesses from her roof?

DIOSCURI 'Twas fate that brought resistless doom to her, and that
thoughtless oracle that Phoebus gave.

ELECTRA But why did the god, and wherefore did his oracles make me
my mother's murderer?

DIOSCURI A share in the deed, a share in its doom; one ancestral
curse hath ruined both of you.

ORESTES Ah, sister mine! at last I see thee again only to be robbed
in moment of thy dear love; I must leave thee, and by thee be left.

DIOSCURI Hers are a husband and a home; her only suffering this,
that she is quitting Argos.

ORESTES Yet what could call forth deeper grief than exile from one's
fatherland? I must leave my father's house, and at a stranger's bar
he sentenced for my mother's blood.

DIOSCURI Be of good cheer; go to the holy town of Pallas; keep a
stout heart only.

ELECTRA O my brother, best and dearest! clasp me to thy breast; for
now is the curse of our mother's blood cutting us off from the home
of our fathers.

ORESTES Throw thy arms in close embrace about me. Oh! weep as o'er
my grave when I am dead.

DIOSCURI Ah me, that bitter cry makes even gods shudder to hear.
Yea, for in my breast and in every heavenly being's dwells pity for
the sorrows of mankind.

ORESTES Never to see thee more!

ELECTRA Never again to stand within thy sight!

ORESTES This is my last good-bye to thee.

ELECTRA Farewell, farewell, my city! and ye my fellow-countrywomen,
long farewell to you!

ORESTES Art thou going already, truest of thy sex?

ELECTRA I go, the tear-drop dimming my tender eyes.

ORESTES Go, Pylades, and be happy; take and wed Electra.

DIOSCURI Their only thoughts will be their marriage; but haste thee
to Athens, seeking to escape these hounds of hell, for they are on
thy track in fearful wise, swart monsters, with snakes for hands,
who reap a harvest of man's agony. But we twain must haste away o'er
the Sicilian main to save the seaman's ship. Yet as we fly through
heaven's expanse we help not the wicked; but whoso in his life loves
piety and justice, all such we free from troublous toils and save.
Wherefore let no man be minded to act unjustly, or with men foresworn
set sail; such the warning I, a god, to mortals give. (THE DIOSCURI
vanish.)

CHORUS Farewell! truly that mortal's is a happy lot, who can thus
fare, unafflicted by any woe.

THE END

Hecuba
By Euripides

Translated by E. P. Coleridge

Dramatis Personae

THE GHOST OF POLYDORUS, son of HECUBA and Priam, King of
Troy
HECUBA, wife of Priam
CHORUS OF CAPTIVE TROJAN WOMEN
POLYXENA, daughter of HECUBA and Priam
ODYSSEUS
TALTHYBIUS, herald of AGAMEMNON
MAID OF HECUBA
AGAMEMNON
POLYMESTOR, King of the Thracian Chersonese

Before AGAMEMNON'S tent in the Greek camp upon the shore of the Thracian
Chersonese. The GHOST OF POLYDORUS appears.

GHOST Lo! I am come from out the charnel-house and gates of gloom,
where Hades dwells apart from gods, I Polydorus, a son of Hecuba the
daughter of Cisseus and of Priam. Now my father, when Phrygia's capital
was threatened with destruction by the spear of Hellas, took alarm
and conveyed me secretly from the land of Troy unto Polymestor's house,
his friend in Thrace, who sows these fruitful plains of Chersonese,
curbing by his might a nation delighting in horses. And with me my
father sent great store of gold by stealth, that, if ever Ilium's
walls should fall, his children that survived might not want for means
to live. I was the youngest of Priam's sons; and this it was that
caused my stealthy removal from the land; for my childish arm availed
not to carry weapons or to wield the spear. So long then as the bulwarks
of our land stood firm, and Troy's battlements abode unshaken, and
my brother Hector prospered in his warring, I, poor child, grew up
and flourished, like some vigorous shoot, at the court of the Thracian,
my father's friend. But when Troy fell and Hector lost his life and
my father's hearth was rooted up, and himself fell butchered at the
god-built altar by the hands of Achilles' murderous son; then did
my father's friend slay me his helpless guest for the sake of the
gold, and thereafter cast me into the swell of the sea, to keep the
gold for himself in his house. And there I lie one time upon the strand,
another in the salt sea's surge, drifting ever up and down upon the
billows, unwept, unburied; but now am I hovering o'er the head of
my dear mother Hecuba, a disembodied spirit, keeping my airy station
these three days, ever since my poor mother came from Troy to linger
here in Chersonese. Meantime all the Achaeans sit idly here in their
ships at the shores of Thrace; for the son of Peleus, even Achilles,
appeared above his tomb and stayed the whole host of Hellas, as they
were making straight for home across the sea, demanding to have my
sister Polyxena offered at his tomb, and to receive his guerdon. And
he will obtain this prize, nor will they that are his friends refuse
the gift; and on this very day is fate leading my sister to her doom.
So will my mother see two children dead at once, me and that ill-fated
maid. For I, to win a grave, ah me! will appear amid the rippling
waves before her bond-maid's feet. Yes! I have won this boon from
the powers below, that I should find tomb and fall into my mother's
hands; so shall I get my heart's desire; wherefore I will go and waylay
aged Hecuba, for yonder she passeth on her way from the shelter of
Agamemnon's tent, terrified at my spectre. Woe is thee! ah, mother
mine! from a palace dragged to face a life of slavery! how sad thy
lot, as sad as once 'twas blest! Some god is now destroying thee,
setting this in the balance to outweigh thy former bliss. (The GHOST
vanishes. HECUBA enters from the tent of AGAMEMNON, supported by her
attendants, captive Trojan women.)

HECUBA (chanting) Guide these aged steps, my servants, forth before
the house; support your fellow-slave, your queen of yore, ye maids
of Troy. Take hold upon my aged hand, support me, guide me, lift me
up; and I will lean upon your bended arm as on a staff and quicken
my halting footsteps onwards. O dazzling light of Zeus! O gloom of
night! why am I thus scared by fearful visions of the night? O earth,
dread queen, mother of dreams that flit on sable wings! I am seeking
to avert the vision of the night, the sight of horror which I saw
so clearly in my dreams touching my son, who is safe in Thrace, and
Polyxena my daughter dear. Ye gods of this land! preserve my son,
the last and only anchor of my house, now settled in Thrace, the land
of snow, safe in the keeping of his father's friend. Some fresh disaster
is in store, a new strain of sorrow will be added to our woe. Such
ceaseless thrills of terror never wrung my heart before. Oh! where,
ye Trojan maidens, can I find inspired Helenus or Cassandra, that
they may read me my dream? For I saw a dappled hind mangled by a wolf's
bloody fangs, torn from my knees by force in piteous wise. And this
too filled me with affright; o'er the summit of his tomb appeared
Achilles' phantom, and for his guerdon he would have one of the luckless
maids of Troy. Wherefore, I implore you, powers divine, avert this
horror from my daughter, from my child. (The CHORUS OF CAPTIVE TROJAN
WOMEN enters.)

CHORUS (singing) Hecuba, I have hastened away to thee, leaving my
master's tent, where the lot assigned me as his appointed slave, in
the day that was driven from the city of Ilium, hunted by Achaeans
thence at the point of the spear; no alleviation bring I for thy sufferings;
nay have laden myself with heavy news, and am a herald of sorrow to
thee, lady. 'Tis said the Achaeans have determined in full assembly
to offer thy daughter in sacrifice to Achilles; for thou knowest how
one day he appeared standing on his tomb in golden harness, and stayed
the sea-borne barques, though they had their sails already hoisted,
with this pealing cry, "Whither away so fast, ye Danai, leaving my
tomb without its prize?" Thereon arose a violent dispute with stormy
altercation, and opinion was divided in the warrior host of Hellas,
some being in favour of offering the sacrifice at the tomb, others
dissenting. There was Agamemnon, all eagerness in thy interest, because
of his love for the frenzied prophetess; but the two sons of Theseus,
scions of Athens, though supporting different proposals, yet agreed
on the same decision, which was to crown Achilles' tomb with fresh-spilt
blood; for they said they never would set Cassandra's love before
Achilles' valour. Now the zeal of the rival disputants was almost
equal, until that shifty, smooth-mouthed varlet, the son of Laertes,
whose tongue is ever at the service of the mob, persuaded the army
not to put aside the best of all the Danai for want of a bond-maid's
sacrifice, nor have it said by any of the dead that stand beside Persephone,
"The Danai have left the plains of Troy without one thought of gratitude
for their brethren who died for Hellas." Odysseus will be here in
an instant, to drag the tender maiden from thy breast and tear her
from thy aged arms. To the temples, to the altars with thee! at Agamemnon's
knees throw thyself as a suppliant! Invoke alike the gods in heaven
and those beneath the earth. For either shall thy prayers avail to
spare thee the loss of thy unhappy child, or thou must live to see
thy daughter fall before the tomb, her crimson blood spurting in deep
dark jets from her neck with gold encircled. (THE following lines
between HECUBA and POLYXENA are chanted responsively.)

HECUBA Woe, woe is me! What words, or cries, or lamentations can
I utter? Ah me! for the sorrows of my closing years! for slavery too
cruel to brook or bear! Woe, woe is me! What champion have I? Sons,
and city-where are they? Aged Priam is no more; no more my children
now. Which way am I to go, or this or that? Whither shall I turn my
steps? Where is any god or power divine to succour me? Ah, Trojan
maids! bringers of evil tidings! messengers of woe! ye have made an
end, an utter end of me; life on earth has no more charm for me. Ah!
luckless steps, lead on, guide your aged mistress to yon tent. (calling)
My child, come forth; come forth, thou daughter of the queen of sorrows;
listen to thy mother's voice, my child, that thou mayst know the hideous
rumour I now hear about thy life. (POLYXENA enters from the tent.)

POLYXENA O mother, mother mine! why dost thou call so loud? what
news is it thou hast proclaimed, scaring me, like a cowering bird,
from my chamber by this alarm?

HECUBA Alas, my daughter!

POLYXENA Why this ominous address? it bodeth sorrow for me.

HECUBA Woe for thy life!

POLYXENA Tell all, hide it no longer. Ah mother! how I dread, ay
dread the import of thy loud laments.

HECUBA Ah my daughter! a luckless mother's child!

POLYXENA Why dost thou tell me this?

HECUBA The Argives with one consent are eager for thy sacrifice to
the son of Peleus at his tomb.

POLYXENA Ah! mother mine! how canst thou speak of such a horror?
Yet tell me all, yes all, O mother dear!

HECUBA 'Tis a rumour ill-boding I tell, my child; they bring me word
that sentence is passed upon thy life by the Argives' vote.

POLYXENA Alas, for thy cruel sufferings! my persecuted mother! woe
for thy life of grief! What grievous outrage some fiend hath sent
on thee, hateful, horrible! No more shall I thy daughter share thy
bondage, hapless youth on hapless age attending. For thou, alas! wilt
see thy hapless child torn from thy arms, as a calf of the hills is
torn from its mother, and sent beneath the darkness of the earth with
severed throat for Hades, where with the dead shall I be laid, ah
me! For thee I weep with plaintive wail, mother doomed to a life of
sorrow! for my own life, its ruin and its outrage, never a tear I
shed; nay, death is become to me a happier lot than life.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS See where Odysseus comes in haste, to announce
some fresh command to thee, Hecuba. (ODYSSEUS enters, with his attendants.)

ODYSSEUS Lady, methinks thou knowest already the intention of the
host, and the vote that has been passed; still will I declare it.
It is the Achaeans' will to sacrifice thy daughter Polyxena at the
mound heaped o'er Achilles' grave; and they appoint me to take the
maid and bring her thither, while the son of Achilles is chosen to
preside o'er the sacrifice and act as priest. Dost know then what
to do? Be not forcibly torn from her, nor match thy might 'gainst
mine; recognize the limits of thy strength, and the presence of thy
troubles. Even in adversity 'tis wise to yield to reason's dictates.

HECUBA Ah me! an awful trial is nigh, it seems, fraught with mourning,
rich in tears. Yes, I too escaped death where death had been my due,
and Zeus destroyed me not but is still preserving my life, that I
may witness in my misery fresh sorrows surpassing all before. Still
if the bond may ask the free of things that grieve them not nor wrench
their heart-strings, 'tis well that thou shouldst make an end and
hearken to my questioning.

ODYSSEUS Granted; put thy questions; that short delay I grudge thee
not.

HECUBA Dost remember the day thou camest to spy on Ilium, disguised
in rags and tatters, while down thy cheek ran drops of blood?

ODYSSEUS Remember it! yes; 'twas no slight impression it made upon
my heart.

HECUBA Did Helen recognize thee and tell me only?

ODYSSEUS I well remember the awful risk I ran.

HECUBA Didst thou embrace my knees in all humility?

ODYSSEUS Yea, so that my hand grew dead and cold upon thy robe.

HECUBA What saidst thou then, when in my power?

ODYSSEUS Doubtless I found plenty to say, to save my life.

HECUBA Was it I that saved and sent thee forth again?

ODYSSEUS Thou didst, and so I still behold the light of day.

HECUBA Art not thou then playing a sorry part to plot against me
thus, after the kind treatment thou didst by thy own confession receive
from me, showing me no gratitude but all the ill thou canst? A thankless
race! all ye who covet honour from the mob for your oratory. Oh that
ye were unknown to me ye who harm your friends and think no more of
it, if ye can but say a word to win the mob. But tell me, what kind
of cleverness did they think it, when against this child they passed
their bloody vote? Was it duty led them to slay a human victim at
the tomb, where sacrifice of oxen more befits? or does Achilles, if
claiming the lives of those who slew him as his recompense, show his
justice by marking her out for death? No! she at least ne'er injured
him. He should have demanded Helen as a victim at his tomb, for she
it was that proved his ruin, bringing him to Troy; or if some captive
of surpassing beauty was to be singled out for doom, this pointed
not to us; for the daughter of Tyndareus was fairer than all womankind,
and her injury to him was proved no les than ours. Against the justice
of his plea I pit this argument. Now hear the recompense due from
thee to me at my request. On thy own confession, thou didst fall at
my feet and embrace my hand and aged cheek; I in my turn now do the
same to thee, and claim the favour then bestowed; and I implore thee,
tear not my child from my arms, nor slay her. There be dead enough;
she is my only joy, in her I forget my sorrows; My one comfort she
in place of many a loss, my city and my nurse, my staff and journey's
guide. 'Tis never right that those in power should use it out of season,
or when prosperous suppose they will be always so. For I like them
was prosperous once, but now my life is lived, and one day robbed
me of all my bliss. Friend, by thy beard, have some regard and pity
for me; go to Achaea's host, and talk them over, saying how hateful
a thing it is to slay women whom at first ye spared out of pity, after
dragging them from the altars. For amongst you the self-same law holds
good for bond and free alike respecting bloodshed; such influence
as thine will persuade them even though thy words are weak; for the
same argument, when proceeding from those of no account, has not the
same force as when it is uttered by men of mark.

LEADER Human nature is not so stony-hearted as to hear thy plaintive
tale and catalogue of sorrows, without shedding a tear.

ODYSSEUS O Hecuba! be schooled by me, nor in thy passion count him
a foe who speaketh wisely. Thy life I am prepared to save, for the
service I received; I say no otherwise. But what I said to all, I
will not now deny, that after Troy's capture I would give thy daughter
to the chiefest of our host because he asked a victim. For herein
is a source of weakness to most states, whene'er a man of brave and
generous soul receives no greater honour than his inferiors. Now Achilles,
lady, deserves honour at our hands, since for Hellas he died as nobly
as a mortal can. Is not this a foul reproach to treat a man as a friend
in life, but, when he is gone from us, to treat him so no more? How
now? what will they say, if once more there comes gathering of the
host and a contest with the foe? "Shall we fight or nurse our lives,
seeing the dead have no honours?" For myself, indeed, though in life
my daily store were scant, yet would it be all-sufficient, but as
touching a tomb I should wish mine to be an object of respect, for
this gratitude has long to run. Thou speakest of cruel sufferings;
hear my answer. Amongst us are aged dames and grey old men no less
miserable than thou, and brides of gallant husbands reft, o'er whom
this Trojan dust has closed. Endure these sorrows; for us, if we are
wrong in resolving to honour the brave, we shall bring upon ourselves
a charge of ignorance; but as for you barbarians, regard not your
friends as such and pay no homage to your gallant dead, that Hellas
may prosper and ye may reap the fruits of such policy.

LEADER Alas! how cursed is slavery alway in its nature, forced by
the might of the stronger to endure unseemly treatment.

HECUBA Daughter, my pleading to avert thy bloody death was wasted
idly on the air; do thou, if in aught endowed with greater power to
move than thy mother, make haste to use it, uttering every pleading
note like the tuneful nightingale, to save thy soul from death. Throw
thyself at Odysseus' knees to move his pity, and try to move him.
Here is thy plea: he to hath children, so that he can feel for thy
sad fate.

POLYXENA Odysseus, I see thee hiding thy right hand beneath thy robe
and turning away thy face, that I may not touch thy beard. Take heart;
thou art safe from the suppliant's god in my case, for I will follow
thee, alike because I must and because it is my wish to die; for were
I loth, a coward should I show myself, a woman faint of heart. Why
should I prolong my days? I whose sire was king of all the Phrygians?-my
chiefest pride in life, Then was I nursed on fair fond hopes to be
a bride for kings, the centre of keen jealousy amongst suitors, to
see whose home I would make my own; and o'er each dame of Ida I was
queen; ah me! a maiden marked amid her fellows, equal to a goddess,
save for death alone, but now slave! That name first makes me long
for death, so strange it sounds; and then maybe my lot might give
me to some savage master, one that would buy me for money,-me the
sister of Hector and many another chief,-who would make me knead him
bread within his halls, or sweep his house or set me working at the
loom, leading a life of misery; while some slave, bought I know not
whence, will taint my maiden charms, once deemed worthy of royalty.
No, never! Here I close my eyes upon the light, free as yet, and dedicate
myself to Hades. Lead me hence, Odysseus, and do thy worst, for I
see naught within my reach to make me hope or expect with any confidence
that I am ever again to be happy. Mother mine! seek not to hinder
me by word or deed, but join in my wish for death ere I meet with
shameful treatment undeserved. For whoso is not used to taste of sorrow's
cup, though he bears it, yet it galls him when he puts his neck within
the yoke; far happier would he be dead than alive, for life of honour
reft is toil and trouble.

LEADER A wondrous mark, most clearly stamped, doth noble birth imprint
on men, and the name goeth still further where it is deserved.

HECUBA A noble speech, my daughter! but there is sorrow linked with
its noble sentiments.

Odysseus, if ye must pleasure the son of Peleus, and avoid reproach,
slay not this maid, but lead me to Achilles' pyre and torture me unsparingly:
'twas I that bore Paris, whose fatal shaft laid low the son of Thetis.

ODYSSEUS 'Tis not thy death, old dame, Achilles' wraith hath demanded
of the Achaeans, but hers.

HECUBA At least then slaughter me with my child; so shall there be
a double draught of blood for the earth and the dead that claims this
sacrifice.

ODYSSEUS The maiden's death suffices; no need to add a second to
the first; would we needed not e'en this!

HECUBA Die with my daughter I must and will.

ODYSSEUS How so? I did not know I had a master.

HECUBA I will cling to her like ivy to an oak.

ODYSSEUS Not if thou wilt hearken to those who are wiser than thyself.

HECUBA Be sure I will never willingly relinquish my child.

ODYSSEUS Well, be equally sure I will never go away and leave her
here.

POLYXENA Mother, hearken to me; and thou, son of Laertes, make allowance
for a parent's natural wrath. My poor mother, fight not with our masters.
Wilt thou be thrown down, be roughly thrust aside and wound thy aged
skin, and in unseemly wise be torn from me by youthful arms? This
wilt thou suffer; do not so, for 'tis not right for thee. Nay, dear
mother mine give me thy hand beloved, and let me press thy cheek to
mine; for never, nevermore, but now for the last time shall I behold
the dazzling sun-god's orb. My last farewells now take! O mother,
mother mine! beneath the earth I pass.

HECUBA O my daughter, I am still to live and be a slave.

POLYXENA Unwedded I depart, never having tasted the married joys
that were my due!

HECUBA Thine, my daughter, is a piteous lot, and sad is mine also.

POLYXENA There in Hades' courts shall I be laid apart from thee.

HECUBA Ah me, what shall I do? where shall I end my life?

POLYXENA Daughter of a free-born sire, a slave I am to die.

HECUBA Not one of all my fifty children left!

POLYXENA What message can I take for thee to Hector or thy aged lord?

HECUBA Tell them that of all women I am the most miserable.

POLYXENA Ah! bosom and breasts that fed me with sweet food!

HECUBA Woe is thee, my child, for this untimely fate!

POLYXENA Farewell, my mother! farewell, Cassandra!

HECUBA "Fare well!" others do, but not thy mother, no!

POLYXENA Thou too, my brother Polydorus, who art in Thrace, the home
of steeds!

HECUBA Aye, if he lives, which much I doubt; so luckless am I every
way.

POLYXENA Oh yes, he lives; and, when thou diest, he will close thine
eyes.

HECUBA I am dead; sorrow has forestalled death here.

POLYXENA Come veil my head, Odysseus, and take me hence; for now,
ere falls the fatal blow, my heart is melted by my mother's wailing,
and hers no less by mine. O light of day! for still may I call thee
by thy name, though now my share in thee is but the time I take to
go 'twixt this and the sword at Achilles' tomb. (ODYSSEUS and his
attendants lead POLYXENA away.)

HECUBA Woe is me! I faint; my limbs sink under me. O my daughter,
embrace thy mother, stretch out thy hand, give it me again; leave
me not childless! Ah, friends! 'tis my death-blow. Oh! to see that
Spartan woman, Helen, sister of the sons of Zeus, in such a plight;
for her bright eyes have caused the shameful fall of Troy's once prosperous
town. (HECUBA sinks fainting to the ground.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

O breeze from out the deep arising, that waftest swift galleys, ocean's
coursers, across the surging main! whither wilt thou bear me the child
of sorrow? To whose house shall I be brought, to be his slave and
chattel? to some haven in the Dorian land, or in Phthia, where men
say Apidanus, father of fairest streams, makes fat and rich the tilth?

(antistrophe 1)

or to an island home, sent on a voyage of misery by oars that sweep
the brine, leading a wretched existence in halls where the first-created
palm and the bay-tree put forth their sacred shoots for dear Latona,
memorial fair of her divine travail? and there with the maids of Delos
shall I hymn the golden snood and bow of Artemis their goddess?

(strophe 2)

Or in the city of Pallas, the home of Athena of the beauteous chariot,
shall I upon her saffron robe yoke horses to the car, embroidering
them on my web in brilliant varied shades, or the race of Titans,
whom Zeus the son of Cronos lays to their unending sleep with bolt
of flashing flame?

(antistrophe 2)

Woe is me for my children! woe for my ancestors, and my country which
is falling in smouldering ruin 'mid the smoke, sacked by the Argive
spear! while I upon a foreign shore am called a slave for-sooth, leaving
Asia, Europe's handmaid, and receiving in its place deadly marriage-bower.
(The herald, TALTHYBIUS, enters.)

TALTHYBIUS Where can I find Hecuba, who once was queen of Ilium,
ye Trojan maidens?

LEADER OF THE CHORUS There she lies near thee, Talthybius, stretched
full length upon the ground, wrapt in her robe.

TALTHYBIUS Great Zeus! what can I say? that thine eye is over man?
or that we hold this false opinion all to no purpose, thinking there
is any race of gods, when it is chance that rules the mortal sphere?
Was not this the queen of wealthy Phrygia, the wife of Priam highly
blest? And now her city is utterly o'erthrown by the foe, and she,
a slave in her old age, her children dead, lies stretched upon the
ground, soiling her hair, poor lady in the dust. Well, well; old as
I am, may death be my lot before I am caught in any foul mischance.
Arise, poor queen! lift up thyself and raise that hoary head.

HECUBA (stirring) Ah! who art thou that wilt not let my body rest?
why disturb me in my anguish, whosoe'er thou art?

TALTHYBIUS 'Tis I, Talthybius, who am here, the minister of the Danai;
Agamemnon has sent me for thee, lady.

HECUBA (rising) Good friend, art come because the Achaeans are resolved
to slay me to at the grave? How welcome would thy tidings be! Let
us hasten and lose no time; prithee, lead the way, old sir.

TALTHYBIUS I am come to fetch thee to bury thy daughter's corpse,
lady; and those that send me are the two sons of Atreus and the Achaean
host.

HECUBA Ah! what wilt thou say? Art thou not come, as I had thought,
to fetch me to my doom, but to announce ill news? Lost, lost, my child!
snatched from thy mother's arms! and I am childless now, at least
as touches thee; ah, woe is me!

How did ye end her life? was any mercy shown? or did ye deal ruthlessly
with her as though your victim were a foe, old man? Speak, though
thy words must be pain to me.

TALTHYBIUS Lady, thou art bent on making mine a double meed of tears
in pity for thy child; for now too as I tell the sad tale a tear will
wet my eye, as it did at the tomb when she was dying.

All Achaea's host was gathered there in full array before the tomb
to see thy daughter offered; and the son of Achilles took Polyxena
by the hand and set her on the top of the mound, while I stood near;
and a chosen band of young Achaeans followed to hold thy child and
prevent her struggling. Then did Achilles' son take in his hands a
brimming cup of gold and poured an offering to his dead sire, making
a sign to me to proclaim silence throughout the Achaean host. So I
stood at his side and in their midst proclaimed, "Silence, ye Achaeans!
hushed be the people all! peace! be still! "Therewith I hushed the
host. Then spake he, "Son of Peleus, father mine, accept the offering
I pour thee to appease thy spirit, strong to raise the dead; and come
to drink the black blood of a virgin pure, which I and the host are
offering thee; oh! be propitious to us; grant that we may loose our
prows and the cables of our ships, and, meeting with prosperous voyage
from Ilium, all to our country come." So he; and all the army echoed
his prayer. Then seizing his golden sword by the hilt he drew it from
its scabbard, signing the while to the picked young Argive warriors
to hold the maid. But she, when she was ware thereof, uttered her
voice and said: "O Argives, who have sacked my city! of my free will
I die; let none lay hand on me; for bravely will I yield my neck.
Leave me free, I do beseech; so slay me, that death may find me free;
for to be called a slave amongst the dead fills my royal heart with
shame." Thereat the people shouted their applause, and king Agamemnon
bade the young men loose the maid. So they set her free, as soon as
they heard this last command from him whose might was over all. And
she, hearing her captors' words took her robe and tore it open from
the shoulder to the waist, displaying a breast and bosom fair as a
statue's; then sinking on her knee, one word she spake more piteous
than all the rest, "Young prince, if 'tis my breast thou'dst strike,
lo! here it is, strike home! or if at my neck thy sword thou'lt aim,
behold! that neck is bared."

Then he, half glad, half sorry in his pity for the maid, cleft with
the steel the channels of her breath, and streams of blood gushed
forth; but she, e'en in death's agony, took good heed to fall with
maiden grace, hiding from gaze of man what modest maiden must. Soon
as she had breathed her last through the fatal gash, each Argive set
his hand to different tasks, some strewing leaves o'er the corpse
in handfuls, others bringing pine-logs and heaping up a pyre; and
he, who brought nothing, would hear from him who did such taunts as
these, "Stand'st thou still, ignoble wretch, with never a robe or
ornament to bring for the maiden? Wilt thou give naught to her that
showed such peerless bravery and spirit?"

Such is the tale I tell about thy daughter's death, and I regard thee
as blest beyond all mothers in thy noble child, yet crossed in fortune
more than all.

LEADER Upon the race of Priam and my city some fearful curse hath
burst; 'tis sent by God, and we must bear it.

HECUBA O my daughter! 'mid this crowd of sorrows I know not where
to turn my gaze; for if I set myself to one, another will not give
me pause; while from this again a fresh grief summons me, finding
a successor to sorrow's throne. No longer now can I efface from my
mind the memory of thy sufferings sufficiently to stay my tears; yet
hath the story of thy noble death taken from the keenness of my grief.
Is it not then strange that poor land, when blessed by heaven with
a lucky year, yields a good crop, while that which is good, if robbed
of needful care, bears but little increase; yet 'mongst men the knave
is never other than a knave, the good man aught but good, never changing
for the worse because of misfortune, but ever the same? Is then the
difference due to birth or bringing up? Good training doubtless gives
lessons in good conduct, and if a man have mastered this, he knows
what is base by the standard of good. Random shafts of my soul's shooting
these, I know. (To TALTHYBIUS) Go thou and proclaim to the Argives
that they touch not my daughter's body but keep the crowd away. For
when countless host is gathered, the mob knows no restraint, and the
unruliness of sailors exceeds that of fire, all abstinence from evil
being counted evil. (TALTHYBIUS goes out., Addressing a servant)
My aged handmaid, take a pitcher and dip it in the salt sea and bring
hither thereof, that I for the last time may wash my child, a virgin
wife, a widowed maid, and lay her out,-as she deserves, ah! whence
can I? impossible! but as best I can; and what will that be? I will
collect adornment from the captives, my companions in these tents,
if haply any of them escaping her master's eye have some secret store
from her old home. (The MAID departs.) O towering halls, O home
so happy once, O Priam, rich in store of fairest wealth, most blest
of sires, and I no less, the grey-haired mother of thy race, how are
we brought to naught, stripped of our former pride! And spite of all
we vaunt ourselves, one on the riches of his house, another be, cause
he has an honoured name amongst his fellow-citizens! But these things
are naught; in vain are all our thoughtful schemes, in vain our vaunting
words. He is happiest who meets no sorrow in his daily walk. (HECUBA
enters the tent.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe)

Woe and tribulation were made my lot in life, soon as ever Paris
felled his beams of pine in Ida's woods, to sail across the heaving
main in quest of Helen's hand, fairest bride on whom the sun-god turns
his golden eye.

(antistrophe)

For here beginneth trouble's cycle, and, worse than that, relentless
fate; and from one man's folly came a universal curse, bringing death
to the land of Simois, with trouble from an alien shore. The strife
the shepherd decided on Ida 'twixt three daughters of the blessed
gods,

(epode)

brought as its result war and bloodshed and the ruin of my home;
and many a Spartan maiden too is weeping bitter tears in her halls
on the banks of fair Eurotas, and many a mother whose sons are slain,
is smiting her hoary head and tearing her cheeks, making her nails
red in the furrowed gash.

MAID (entering excitedly, attended by bearers bringing in a covered
corpse) Oh! where, ladies, is Hecuba, our queen of sorrow, who far
surpasses all in tribulation, men and women both alike? None shall
wrest the crown from her.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS What now, thou wretched bird of boding note?
Thy evil tidings never seem to rest.

MAID 'Tis to Hecuba I bring my bitter news; no easy task is it for
mortal lips to speak smooth words in sorrow's hour.

LEADER Lo! she is coming even now from the shelter of the tent appearing
just in time to hear thee speak. (HECUBA comes out of the tent.)

MAID Alas for thee! most hapless queen, ruined beyond all words of
mine to tell; robbed of the light of life; of children, husband, city
reft; hopelessly undone!

HECUBA This is no news but insult; I have heard it all before. But
why art thou come, bringing hither to me the corpse of Polyxena, on
whose burial Achaea's host was reported to be busily engaged?

MAID (aside) She little knows what I have to tell, but mourns Polyxena,
not grasping her new sorrows.

HECUBA Ah! woe is me! thou art not surely bringing hither mad Cassandra,
the prophetic maid?

MAID She lives, of whom thou speakest; but the dead thou dost not
weep is here. (Uncovering the corpse) Mark well the body now laid
bare; is not this a sight to fill thee with wonder, and upset thy
hopes?

HECUBA Ah me! 'tis the corpse of my son Polydorus I behold, whom
he of Thrace was keeping safe for me in his halls. Alas! this is the
end of all; my life is o'er. (Chanting) O my son, my son, alas for
thee! a frantic strain I now begin; thy fate I learnt, a moment gone,
from some foul fiend.

MAID What! so thou knewest thy son's fate, poor lady.

HECUBA (chanting) I cannot, cannot credit this fresh sight I see.
Woe succeeds to woe; time will never cease henceforth to bring me
groans and tears.

LEADER Alas poor lady, our sufferings are cruel indeed.

HECUBA (chanting) O my son, child of a luckless mother, what was
the manner of thy death? what lays thee dead at my feet? Who did the
deed?

MAID I know not. On the sea-shore I found him.

HECUBA (chanting) Cast up on the smooth sand, or thrown there after
the murderous blow?

MAID The waves had washed him ashore.

HECUBA (chanting) Alas! alas! I read aright the vision I saw in
my sleep, nor did the phantom dusky-winged escape my ken, even the
vision I saw concerning my son, who is now no more within the bright
sunshine.

LEADER Who slew him then? Can thy dream-lore tell us that?

HECUBA (chanting) 'Twas my own, own friend, the knight of Thrace,
with whom his aged sire had placed the boy in hiding.

LEADER O horror! what wilt thou say? did he slay him to get the gold?

HECUBA (chanting) O awful crime! O deed without a name! beggaring
wonder! impious! intolerable! Where are now the laws 'twixt guest
and host? Accursed monster! how hast thou mangled his flesh, slashing
the poor child's limbs with ruthless sword, lost to all sense of pity!

LEADER Alas for thee! how some deity, whose hand is heavy on thee,
hath sent thee troubles beyond all other mortals! But yonder I see
our lord and master Agamemnon coming; so let us be still henceforth,
my friends. (AGAMEMNON enters.)

AGAMEMNON Hecuba, why art thou delaying to come and bury thy daughter?
for it was for this that Talthybius brought me thy message begging
that none of the Argives should touch thy child. And so I granted
this, and none is touching her, but this long delay of thine fills
me with wonder. Wherefore am I come to send thee hence; for our part
there is well performed; if herein there be any place for "well."
(He sees the body.) Ha! what man is this I see near the tents, some
Trojan's corpse? 'tis not an Argive's body; that the garments it is
clad in tell me.

HECUBA (aside) Unhappy one! in naming thee I name myself; O Hecuba,
what shall do? throw myself here at Agamemnon's knees, or bear my
sorrows in silence?

AGAMEMNON Why dost thou turn thy back towards me and weep, refusing
to say, what has happened, or who this is?

HECUBA (aside) But should he count me as a slave and foe and spurn
me from his knees, I should but add to my anguish.

AGAMEMNON I am no prophet born; wherefore, if I be not told, I cannot
learn the current of thy thoughts.

HECUBA (aside) Can it be that in estimating this man's feelings
I make him out too ill-disposed, when he is not really so?

AGAMEMNON If thy wish really is that I should remain in ignorance,
we are of one mind; for I have no wish myself to listen.

HECUBA (aside) Without his aid I shall not be able to avenge my
children. Why do still ponder the matter? I must do and dare whether
I win or lose. (Turning to AGAMEMNON) O Agamemnon! by thy knees,
by thy beard and conquering hand I implore thee.

AGAMEMNON What is thy desire? to be set free? that is easily done.

HECUBA Not that; give me vengeance on the wicked, and evermore am
I willing to lead a life of slavery.

AGAMEMNON Well, but why dost thou call me to thy aid?

HECUBA 'Tis a matter thou little reckest of, O king. Dost see this
corpse, for whom my tears now flow?

AGAMEMNON I do; but what is to follow, I cannot guess.

HECUBA He was my child in days gone by; I bore him in my womb.

AGAMEMNON Which of thy sons is he, poor sufferer?

HECUBA Not one of Priam's race who fell 'neath Ilium's walls.

AGAMEMNON Hadst thou any son besides those, lady?

HECUBA Yes, him thou seest here, of whom, methinks, I have small
gain.

AGAMEMNON Where then was he, when his city was being destroyed?

HECUBA His father, fearful of his death, conveyed him out of Troy.

AGAMEMNON Where did he place him apart from all the sons he then
had?

HECUBA Here in this very land, where his corpse was found.

AGAMEMNON With Polymestor, the king of this country?

HECUBA Hither was he sent in charge of gold, most bitter trust!

AGAMEMNON By whom was he slain? what death o'ertook him?

HECUBA By whom but by this man? His Thracian host slew him.

AGAMEMNON The wretch! could he have been so eager for the treasure?

HECUBA Even so; soon as ever he heard of the Phrygians' disaster.

AGAMEMNON Where didst find him? or did some one bring his corpse?

HECUBA This maid, who chanced upon it on the sea-shore.

AGAMEMNON Was she seeking it, or bent on other tasks?

HECUBA She had gone to fetch water from the sea to wash Polyxena.

AGAMEMNON It seems then his host slew him and cast his body out to
sea.

HECUBA Aye, for the waves to toss, after mangling him thus.

AGAMEMNON Woe is thee for thy measureless troubles!

HECUBA I am ruined; no evil now is left, O Agamemnon.

AGAMEMNON Look you! what woman was ever born to such misfortune?

HECUBA There is none, unless thou wouldst name misfortune herself.
But hear my reason for throwing myself at thy knees. If my treatment
seems to thee deserved, I will be content; but, if otherwise, help
me to punish this most godless host, that hath wrought a deed most
damned, fearless alike of gods in heaven or hell; who, though full
oft he had shared my board and been counted first of all my guest-friends
and after meeting with every kindness he could claim and receiving
my consideration, slew my son, and bent though he was on murder, deigned
not to bury him but cast his body forth to sea.

I may be a slave and weak as well, but the gods are strong, and custom
too which prevails o'er them, for by custom it is that we believe
in them and set up bounds of right and wrong for our lives. Now if
this principle, when referred to thee, is to be set at naught, and
they are to escape punishment who murder guests or dare to plunder
the temples of gods, then is all fairness in things human at an end.
Deem this then a disgrace and show regard for me, have pity on me,
and, like an artist standing back from his picture, look on me and
closely scan my piteous state. I was once queen, but now I am thy
slave; a happy mother once, but now childless and old alike, reft
of city, utterly forlorn, the most wretched woman living. Ah! woe
is me! whither wouldst thou withdraw thy steps from me? (as AGAMEMNON
is turning away) My efforts then will be in vain, ah me! ah me! Why,
oh! why do we mortals toil, as needs we must, and seek out all other
sciences, but persuasion, the only real mistress of mankind, we take
no furthur pains to master completely by offering to pay for the knowledge,
so that any man might upon occasion convince his fellows as he pleased
and gain his point as well? How shall anyone hereafter hope for prosperity?
All those my sons are gone from me, and I, their mother, am led away
into captivity to suffer shame, while yonder I see the smoke leaping
up o'er my city. Further-though perhaps this were idly urged, to plead
thy love, still will I put the case:-at thy side lies my daughter,
Cassandra, the maid inspired, as the Phrygians call her. How then,
king, wilt thou acknowledge those nights of rapture, or what return
shall she my daughter or I her mother have for all the love she has
lavished on her lord? For from darkness and the endearments of the
night mortals reap by far their keenest joys. Hearken then; dost see
this corpse? By doing him a service thou wilt do it to a kinsman of
thy bride's. One thing only have I yet to urge. Oh! would I had a
voice in arms, in hands, in hair and feet, placed there by the arts
of Daedalus or some god, that all together they might with tears embrace
thy knees, bringing a thousand pleas to bear on thee! O my lord and
master, most glorious light of Hellas, listen, stretch forth a helping
hand to this aged woman, for all she is a thing of naught; still do
so. For 'tis ever a good man's duty to succour the right, and to punish
evil-doers wherever found.

LEADER 'Tis strange how each extreme doth meet in human life! Custom
determines even our natural ties, making the most bitter foes friends,
and regarding as foes those who formerly were friends.

AGAMEMNON Hecuba, I feel compassion for thee and thy son and thy
ill-fortune, as well as for thy suppliant gesture, and I would gladly
see yon impious host pay thee this forfeit for the sake of heaven
and justice, could I but find some way to help thee without appearing
to the army to have plotted the death of the Thracian king for Cassandra's
sake. For on one point I am assailed by perplexity; the army count
this man their friend, the dead their foe; that he is dear to thee
is a matter apart, wherein the army has no share. Reflect on this;
for though thou find'st me ready to share thy toil and quick to lend
my aid, yet the risk of being reproached by the Achaeans makes me
hesitate.

HECUBA Ah! there is not in the world a single man free; for he is
either a slave to money or to fortune, or else the people in their
thousands or the fear of public prosecution prevents him from following
the dictates of his heart.

But since thou art afraid, deferring too much to the rabble, I will
rid thee of that fear. Thus; be privy to my plot if I devise mischief
against this murderer, but refrain from any share in it. And if there
break out among the Achaeans any uproar or attempt at rescue, when
the Thracian is suffering his doom, check it, though without seeming
to do so for my sake. For what remains, take heart; I will arrange
everything well.

AGAMEMNON How? what wilt thou do? wilt take a sword in thy old hand
and slay the barbarian, or hast thou drugs or what to help thee? Who
will take thy part? whence wilt thou procure friends?

HECUBA Sheltered beneath these tents is a host of Trojan women.

AGAMEMNON Dost mean the captives, the booty of the Hellenes?

HECUBA With their help will I punish my murderous foe.

AGAMEMNON How are women to master men?

HECUBA Numbers are a fearful thing, and joined to craft a desperate
foe.

AGAMEMNON True; still I have a mean opinion of the female race.

HECUBA What? did not women slay the sons of Aegyptus, and utterly
clear Lemnos of men? But let it be even thus; put an end to our conference,
and send this woman for me safely through the host. And do thou (To
servant) draw near my Thracian friend and say, "Hecuba, once queen
of Ilium, summons thee, on thy own business no less than hers, thy
children too, for they also must hear what she has to say." (The
servant goes out.) Defer awhile, Agamemnon, the burial of Polyxena
lately slain, that brother and sister may be laid on the same pyre
and buried side by side, a double cause of sorrow to their mother.

AGAMEMNON So shall it be; yet had the host been able to sail, I could
not have granted thee this boon; but, as it is, since the god sends
forth no favouring breeze, we needs must abide, seeing, as we do,
that sailing cannot be. Good luck to thee! for this is the interest
alike of citizen and state, that the wrong-doer be punished and the
good man prosper. (AGAMEMNON departs as HECUBA withdraws into the
tent.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

No more, my native Ilium, shalt thou be counted among the towns ne'er
sacked; so thick a cloud of Hellene troops is settling all around,
wasting thee with the spear; shorn art thou of thy coronal of towers,
and fouled most piteously with filthy soot; no more, ah me! shall
tread thy streets.

(antistrophe 1)

'Twas in the middle of the night my ruin came, in the hour when sleep
steals sweetly o'er the eyes after the feast is done. My husband,
the music o'er, and the sacrifice that sets the dance afoot now ended,
was lying in our bridal-chamber, his spear hung on a peg; with never
a thought of the sailor-throng encamped upon the Trojan shores;

(strophe 2)

and I was braiding my tresses 'neath a tight-drawn snood before my
golden mirror's countless rays, that I might lay me down to rest;
when lo! through the city rose a din, and a cry went ringing down
the streets of Troy, "Ye sons of Hellas, when, oh! when will ye sack
the citadel of Ilium, and seek your homes?"

(antistrophe 2)

Up sprang I from my bed, with only a mantle about me, like Dorian
maid, and sought in vain, ah me! to station myself at the holy hearth
of Artemis; for, after seeing my husband slain, I was hurried away
o'er the broad sea; with many a backward look at my city, when the
ship began her homeward voyage and parted me from Ilium's strand;
till alas! for very grief I fainted,

(epode)

cursing Helen the sister of the Dioscuri, and Paris the baleful shepherd
of Ida; for 'twas their marriage, which was no marriage but a curse
by some demon sent, that robbed me of my country and drove me from
my home. Oh! may the sea's salt flood neer carry her home again; and
may she never set foot in her father's halls! (HECUBA comes out of
the tent as POLYMESTOR, his children and guards enter.)

POLYMESTOR My dear friend Priam, and thou no less, Hecuba, I weep
to see thee and thy city thus, and thy daughter lately slain. Alas!
there is naught to be relied on; fair fame is insecure, nor is there
any guarantee that weal will not be turned to woe. For the gods confound
our fortunes, tossing them to and fro, and introduce confusion, that
our perplexity may make us worship them. But what boots it to bemoan
these things, when it brings one no nearer to heading the trouble?
If thou art blaming me at all for my absence, stay a moment; I was
away in the very heart of Thrace when thou wast brought hither; but
on my return, just as I was starting from my home for the same purpose,
thy maid fell in with me, and gave me thy message, which brought me
here at once.

HECUBA Polymestor, I am holden in such wretched plight that I blush
to meet thine eye; for my present evil case makes me ashamed to face
thee who didst see me in happier days, and I cannot look on thee with
unfaltering gaze. Do not then think it ill-will on my part, Polymestor;
there is another cause as well, I mean the custom which forbids women
to meet men's gaze.

POLYMESTOR No wonder, surely. But what need hast thou of me? Why
didst send for me to come hither from my house?

HECUBA I wish to tell thee and thy children a private matter of my
own; prithee, bid thy attendants withdraw from the tent.

POLYMESTOR (to his Attendants) Retire; this desert spot is safe
enough. (The guards go out; to HECUBA) Thou art my friend, and this
Achaean host is well-disposed to me. But thou must tell me how prosperity
is to succour its unlucky friends; for ready am I to do so.

HECUBA First tell me of the child Polydorus, whom thou art keeping
in thy halls, received from me and his father; is he yet alive? The
rest will I ask thee after that.

POLYMESTOR Yes, thou still hast a share in fortune there.

HECUBA Well said, dear friend! how worthy of thee!

POLYMESTOR What next wouldst learn of me?

HECUBA Hath he any recollection of me his mother?

POLYMESTOR Aye, he was longing to steal away hither to thee.

HECUBA Is the gold safe, which he brought with him from Troy?

POLYMESTOR Safe under lock and key in my halls.

HECUBA There keep it, but covet not thy neighbour's goods.

POLYMESTOR Not I; God grant me luck of what I have, lady!

HECUBA Dost know what I wish to say to thee and thy children?

POLYMESTOR Not yet; thy words maybe will declare it.

HECUBA May it grow as dear to thee as thou now art to me!

POLYMESTOR What is it that I and my children are to learn?

HECUBA There be ancient vaults filled full of gold by Priam's line.

POLYMESTOR Is it this thou wouldst tell thy son?

HECUBA Yes, by thy lips, for thou art a righteous man.

POLYMESTOR What need then of these children's presence?

HECUBA 'Tis better they should know it, in case of thy death.

POLYMESTOR True; 'tis also the wiser way.

HECUBA Well, dost thou know where stands the shrine of Trojan Athena?

POLYMESTOR Is the gold there? what is there to mark it?

HECUBA A black rock rising above the ground.

POLYMESTOR Is there aught else thou wouldst tell me about the place?

HECUBA I wish to keep safe the treasure I brought from Troy.

POLYMESTOR Where can it be? inside thy dress, or hast thou it hidden?

HECUBA 'Tis safe amid a heap of spoils within these tents.

POLYMESTOR Where? This is the station built by the Achaeans to surround
their fleet.

HECUBA The captive women have huts of their own.

POLYMESTOR It is safe to enter? are there no men about?

HECUBA There are no Achaeans within; we are alone. Enter then the
tent, for the Argives are eager to set sail from Troy for home; and,
when thou hast accomplished all that is appointed thee, thou shalt
return with thy children to that bourn where thou hast lodged my son.
(HECUBA leads POLYMESTOR and his children into the tent.)

CHORUS (chanting) Not yet hast thou paid the penalty, but maybe
thou yet wilt; like one who slips and falls into the surge with no
haven near, so shalt thou lose thy own life for the life thou hast
taken. For where the rights of justice and the law of heaven are one,
there is ruin fraught with death and doom. Thy hopes of this journey
shall cheat thee, for it hath led thee, unhappy wretch! to the halls
of death; and to no warrior's hand shalt thou resign thy life.

POLYMESTOR (within the tent) O horror! I am blinded of the light
of my eyes, ah me!

LEADER OF THE CHORUS Heard ye, friends, that Thracian's cry of woe?

POLYMESTOR (within) O horror! horror! my children! O the cruel blow.

LEADER Friends, new ills are brought to pass in yonder tent.

POLYMESTOR (within) Nay, ye shall never escape for all your hurried
flight; for with my fist will I burst open the inmost recesses of
this hall.

LEADER Hark! how he launches ponderous blows! Shall we force an entry?
The crisis calls on us to aid Hecuba and the Trojan women. (HECUBA
enters, calling back into the tent.)

HECUBA Strike on, spare not, burst the doors! thou shalt ne'er replace
bright vision in thy eyes nor ever see thy children, whom I have slain,
alive again.

LEADER What! hast thou foiled the Thracian, and is the stranger in
thy power, mistress mine? is all thy threat now brought to pass?

HECUBA A moment, and thou shalt see him before the tent, his eyes
put out, with random step advancing as a blind man must; yea, and
the bodies of his two children whom I with my brave daughters of Troy
did slay; he hath paid me his forfeit; look where he cometh from the
tent. I will withdraw out of his path and stand aloof from the hot
fury of this Thracian, my deadly foe. (POLYMESTOR rushes out. Blood
is streaming from his eyes.)

POLYMESTOR (chanting) Woe is me! whither can I go, where halt, or
whither turn? shall crawl upon my hands like a wild four-footed beast
on their track? Which path shall I take first, this or that, eager
as I am to clutch those Trojan murderesses that have destroyed me?
Out upon ye, cursed daughters of Phrygia! to what corner have ye fled
cowering before me? O sun-god, would thou couldst heal my bleeding
orbs, ridding me of my blindness!

Ha! hush! I catch their stealthy footsteps here. Where can I dart
on them and gorge me on their flesh and bones, making for myself wild
beasts' meal, exacting vengeance in requital of their outrage on me?
Ah, woe is me! whither am I rushing, leaving my babes unguarded for
hell-hounds to mangle, to be murdered and ruthlessly cast forth upon
the hills, a feast of blood for dogs? Where shall I stay or turn my
steps? where rest? like a ship that lies anchored at sea, so gathering
close my linen robe I rush to that chamber of death, to guard my babes.

LEADER Woe is thee! what grievous outrage hath been wreaked on thee!
fearful penalty for thy foul deed hath the deity imposed, whoe'er
he is whose hand is heavy upon thee.

POLYMESTOR (chanting) Woe is me! Ho! my Thracian spearmen, clad
in mail, a race of knights whom Ares doth inspire! Ho! Achaeans! sons
of Atreus ho! to you I loudly call; come hither, in God's name come!
Doth any hearken, or will no man help me? Why do ye delay? Women,
captive women have destroyed me. A fearful fate is mine; ah me my
hideous outrage! Whither can I turn or go? Shall I take wings and
soar aloft to the mansions of the sky, where Orion and Sirius dart
from their eyes a flash as of fire, or shall I, in my misery, plunge
to Hades' murky flood?

LEADER 'Tis a venial sin, when a man, suffering from evils too heavy
to bear, rids himself of a wretched existence. (AGAMEMNON and his
retinue enter.)

AGAMEMNON Hearing a cry I am come hither; for Echo, child of the
mountain-rock, hath sent her voice loud-ringing through the host,
causing a tumult. Had I not known that Troy's towers were levelled
by the might of Hellas, this uproar had caused no slight terror.

POLYMESTOR Best of friends! for by thy voice I know thee, Agamemnon,
dost see my piteous state?

AGAMEMNON What! hapless Polymestor, who hath stricken thee? who hath
reft thine eves of sight, staining the pupils with blood? who hath
slain these children? whoe'er he was, fierce must have been his wrath
against thee and thy children.

POLYMESTOR Hecuba, helped by the captive women, hath destroyed me;
no! not destroyed, far worse than that.

AGAMEMNON (addressing HECUBA) What hast thou to say? Was it thou
that didst this deed, as he avers? thou, Hecuba, that hast ventured
on this inconceivable daring?

POLYMESTOR Ha! what is that? is she somewhere near? show me, tell
me where, that I may grip her in my hands and rend her limb from limb,
bespattering her with gore.

AGAMEMNON Ho! madman, what wouldst thou?

POLYMESTOR By heaven I entreat thee, let me vent on her the fury
of my arm.

AGAMEMNON Hold! banish that savage spirit from thy heart and plead
thy cause, that after hearing thee and her in turn I may fairly decide
what reason there is for thy present sufferings.

POLYMESTOR I will tell my tale. There was a son of Priam, Polydorus,
the youngest, a child by Hecuba, whom his father Priam sent to me
from Troy to bring up in my halls, suspecting no doubt the fall of
Troy. Him I slew; but hear my reason for so doing, to show how cleverly
and wisely I had planned. My fear was that if that child were left
to be thy enemy, he would re-people Troy and settle it afresh; and
the Achaeans, knowing that a son of Priam survived, might bring another
expedition against the Phrygian land and harry and lay waste these
plains of Thrace hereafter, for the neighbours of Troy to experience
the very troubles we were lately suffering, O king. Now Hecuba, having
discovered the death of her son, brought me hither on this pretext,
saying she would tell me of hidden treasure stored up in Ilium by
the race of Priam; and she led me apart with my children into the
tent, that none but I might hear her news. So I sat me down on a couch
in their midst to rest; for there were many of the Trojan maidens
seated there, some on my right hand, some on my left, as it had been
beside a friend; and they were praising the weaving of our Thracian
handiwork, looking at this robe as they held it up to the light; meantime
others examined my Thracian spear and so stripped me of the protection
of both. And those that were young mothers were dandling my children
in their arms, with loud admiration, as they passed them on from hand
to hand to remove them far from their father; and then after their
smooth speeches (wouldst thou believe it?) in an instant snatching
daggers from some secret place in their dress they stab my children;
whilst others, like foes, seized me hand and foot; and if I tried
to raise my head, anxious to help my babes, they would clutch me by
the hair; while if I stirred my hands, I could do nothing, poor wretch!
for the numbers of the women. At last they wrought a fearful deed,
worse than what had gone before; for they took their brooches and
stabbed the pupils of my hapless eyes, making them gush with blood,
and then fled through the chambers; up I sprang like a wild beast
in pursuit of the shameless murderesses, searching along each wall
with hunter's care, dealing buffets, spreading ruin. This then is
what I have suffered because of my zeal for thee, O Agamemnon, for
slaying an enemy of thine. But to spare thee a lengthy speech; if
any of the men of former times have spoken ill of women, if any doth
so now, or shall do so hereafter, all this in one short sentence will
say; for neither land or sea produces a race so pestilent, as whosoever
hath had to do with them knows full well.

LEADER Curb thy bold tongue, and do not, because of thy own woes,
thus embrace the whole race of women in one reproach; for though some
of us, and those a numerous class, deserve to be disliked, there are
others amongst us who rank naturally amongst the good.

HECUBA Never ought words to have outweighed deeds in this world,
Agamemnon. No! if a man's deeds had been good, so should his words
have been; if, on the other hand, evil, his words should have betrayed
their unsoundness, instead of its being possible at times to give
a fair complexion to injustice. There are, 'tis true, clever persons,
who have made a science of this, but their cleverness cannot last
for ever; a miserable end awaits them; none ever yet escaped. This
is a warning I give thee at the outset. Now will I turn to this fellow,
and will give thee thy answer, thou who sayest it was to save Achaea
double toil and for Agamemnon's sake that thou didst slay my son.
Nay, villain, in the first place how could the barbarian race ever
be friends with Hellas? Impossible, ever. Again, what interest hadst
thou to further by thy zeal? was it to form some marriage, or on the
score of kin, or, prithee, why? or was it likely that they would sail
hither again and destroy thy country's crops? Whom dost thou expect
to persuade into believing that? Wouldst thou but speak the truth,
it was the gold that slew my son, and thy greedy spirit. Now tell
me this; why, when Troy was victorious, when her ramparts still stood
round her, when Priam was alive, and Hector's warring prospered, why
didst thou not, if thou wert really minded to do Agamemnon a service,
then slay the child, for thou hadst him in thy palace 'neath thy care,
or bring him with thee alive to the Argives? Instead of this, when
our sun was set and the smoke of our city showed it was in the enemy's
power, thou didst murder the guest who had come to thy hearth. Furthermore,
to prove thy villainly, hear this; if thou wert really a friend to
those Achaeans, thou shouldst have brought the gold, which thou sayst
thou art keeping not for thyself but for Agamemnon, and given it to
them, for they were in need and had endured a long exile from their
native land. Whereas not even now canst thou bring thyself to part
with it, but persistest in keeping it in thy palace. Again, hadst
thou kept my son safe and sound, as thy duty was, a fair renown would
have been thy reward, for it is in trouble's hour that the good most
clearly show their friendship; though prosperity of itself in every
case finds friends. Wert thou in need of money and he prosperous,
that son of mine would have been as a mighty treasure for thee to
draw upon; but now thou hast him no longer to be thy friend, and the
benefit of the gold is gone from thee, thy children too are dead,
and thyself art in this sorry plight.

To thee, Agamemnon, I say, if thou help this man, thou wilt show thy
worthlessness; for thou wilt be serving one devoid of honour or piety,
a stranger to the claims of good faith, a wicked host; while I shall
say thou delightest in evil-doers, being such an one thyself; but
I rail not at my masters.

LEADER Look you! how a good cause ever affords men an opening for
a good speech.

AGAMEMNON To be judge in a stranger's troubles goes much against
my grain, but still I must; yea, for to take this matter in hand and
then put it from me is a shameful course. My opinion, that thou mayst
know it, is that it was not for the sake of the Achaeans or me that
thou didst slay thy guest, but to keep that gold in thy own house.
In thy trouble thou makest a case in thy own interests. Maybe amongst
you 'tis a light thing to murder guests, but with us in Hellas 'tis
a disgrace. How can I escape reproach if I judge the not guilty? I
cannot do it. Nay, since thou didst dare thy horrid crime, endure
as well its painful consequence.

POLYMESTOR Woe is me! worsted by a woman and a slave, I am, it seems,
to suffer by unworthy hands.

HECUBA Is it not just for thy atrocious crime?

POLYMESTOR Ah, my children! ah, my blinded eyes! woe is me!

HECUBA Dost thou grieve? what of me? thinkst thou I grieve not for
my son?

POLYMESTOR Thou wicked wretch! thy delight is in mocking me.

HECUBA I am avenged on thee; have I not cause for joy?

POLYMESTOR The joy will soon cease, in the day when ocean's flood-

HECUBA Shall convey me to the shores of Hellas?

POLYMESTOR Nay, but close o'er thee when thou fallest from the masthead.

HECUBA Who will force me to take the leap?

POLYMESTOR Of thy own accord wilt thou climb the ship's mast.

HECUBA With wings upon my back, or by what means?

POLYMESTOR Thou wilt become a dog with bloodshot eyes.

HECUBA How knowest thou of my transformation?

POLYMESTOR Dionysus, our Thracian prophet, told me so.

HECUBA And did he tell thee nothing of thy present trouble?

POLYMESTOR No; else hadst thou never caught me thus by guile.

HECUBA Shall I die or live, and so complete my life on earth?

POLYMESTOR Die shalt thou; and to thy tomb shall be given a name-

HECUBA Recalling my form, or what wilt thou tell me?

POLYMESTOR "The hapless hound's grave," a mark for mariners."

HECUBA 'Tis naught to me, now that thou hast paid me forfeit.

POLYMESTOR Further, thy daughter Cassandra must die.

HECUBA I scorn the prophecy! I give it to thee to keep for thyself.

POLYMESTOR Her shall the wife of Agamemnon, grim keeper of his palace,
slay.

HECUBA Never may the daughter of Tyndareus do such a frantic deed!

POLYMESTOR And she shall slay this king as well, lifting high the
axe.

AGAMEMNON Ha! sirrah, art thou mad? art so eager to find sorrow?

POLYMESTOR Kill me, for in Argos there awaits thee a murderous bath.

AGAMEMNON Ho! servants, hale him from my sight

POLYMESTOR Ha! my words gall thee?

AGAMEMNON Stop his mouth!

POLYMESTOR Close it now; for I have spoken.

AGAMEMNON Haste and cast him upon some desert island, since his mouth
is full of such exceeding presumption. Go thou, unhappy Hecuba, and
bury thy two corpses; and you, Trojan women, to your masters' tents
repair, for lo! I perceive a breeze just rising to waft us home. God
grant we reach our country and find all well at home, released from
troubles here! (POLYMESTOR is dragged away by AGAMEMNON'S guards.)

CHORUS (chanting) Away to the harbour and the tents, my friends,
to prove the toils of slavery! for such is fate's relentless hest.

THE END

Helen
By Euripides

Translated by E. P. Coleridge

Dramatis Personae

HELEN, wife Of MENELAUS
TEUCER, a Greek warrior, who fought at Troy
CHORUS OF CAPTIVE GREEK WOMEN, attending HELEN
MENELAUS, King of Sparta
PORTRESS of THEOCLYMENUS
FIRST MESSENGER
SECOND MESSENGER
THEONOE, sister of THEOCLYMENUS
THEOCLYMENUS, King of Egypt
SERVANT of THEOCLYMENUS
THE DIOSCURI

Before the palace of THEOCLYMENUS in Egypt. It is near the mouth of
the Nile. The tomb of Proteus, the father of THEOCLYMENUS is visible.
HELEN is discovered alone before the tomb.

HELEN Lo! These are the fair virgin streams of Nile, the river that
waters Egypt's tilth, fed by pure melting snow instead of rain from
heaven. Proteus during his life-time was king of this land, dwelling
in the isle of Pharos, and ruling o'er Egypt; and he took to wife
one of the daughters of the sea, Psamathe, after she left the embraces
of Aeacus. Two children she bare in this his palace, a son Theoclymenus,
who hath passed his life in duteous service to the gods, and likewise
a noble daughter, her mother's pride, called Eido in her infancy,
but when she reached her youthful prime, the age for wedded joys,
renamed Theonoe; for well she knew whate'er the gods design, both
present and to come, for she had won this guerdon from her grandsire
Nereus. Nor is my fatherland unknown to fame, e'en Sparta, or my sire
Tyndareus; for a legend tells how Zeus winged his way to my mother
Leda's breast, in the semblance of a bird, even a swan, and thus as
he fled from an eagle's pursuit, achieved by guile his amorous purpose,
if this tale be true. My name is Helen, and I will now recount the
sorrows I have suffered. To a hollow vale on Ida came three goddesses
to Paris, for beauty's prize contending, Hera and Cypris, and the
virgin child of Zeus, eager to secure his verdict on their loveliness.
Now Cypris held out my beauty,-if aught so wretched deserves that
name,-as a bride before the eyes of Paris, saying he should marry
me; and so she won the day; wherefore the shepherd of Ida left his
steading, and came to Sparta, thinking to win me for his bride. But
Hera, indignant at not defeating the goddesses, brought to naught
my marriage with Paris, and gave to Priam's princely son not Helen,
but a phantom endowed with life, that she made in my image out of
the breath of heaven; and Paris thought that I was his, although I
never was,-an idle fancy! Moreover, the counsels of Zeus added further
troubles unto these; for upon the land of Hellas and the hapless Phrygians
he brought a war, that he might lighten mother-earth of her myriad
hosts of men, and to the bravest of the sons of Hellas bring renown.
So I was set up as a prize for all the chivalry of Hellas, to test
the might of Phrygia, yet not I, but my name alone; for Hermes caught
me up in the embracing air, and veiled me in a cloud; for Zeus was
not unmindful of me; and he set me down here in the house of Proteus,
judging him to be the most virtuous of all mankind; that so I might
preserve my marriage with Menelaus free from taint. Here then I abide,
while my hapless lord has gathered an army, and is setting out for
the towers of Ilium to track and recover me. And there by Scamander's
streams hath many a life breathed out its last, and all for me; and
I, that have endured all this, am accursed, and seem to have embroiled
all Hellas in a mighty war by proving a traitress to my husband. Why,
then, do I prolong my life? Because I heard Hermes declare, that I
should yet again make my home on Sparta's glorious soil, with my lord,-for
Hermes knew I never went to Ilium,-that so I might never submit to
any other's wooing. Now as long as Proteus gazed upon yon glorious
sun, I was safe from marriage; but when o'er him the dark grave closed,
the dead man's son was eager for my hand. But I, from regard to my
former husband, am throwing myself down in suppliant wise before this
tomb of Proteus, praying him to guard my husband's honour, that, though
through Hellas I bear a name dishonoured, at least my body here may
not incur disgrace. (TEUCER enters.)

TEUCER Who is lord and master of this fenced palace? The house is
one I may compare to the halls of Plutus, with its royal bulwarks
and towering buildings. Ha! great gods! what sight is here? I see
the counterfeit of that fell murderous dame, who ruined me and all
the Achaeans. May Heaven show its loathing for thee, so much dost
thou resemble Helen! Were I not standing on a foreign soil, with this
well-aimed shaft had worked thy death, thy reward for resembling the
daughter of Zeus.

HELEN Oh! why, poor man, whoe'er thou art, dost thou turn from me,
loathing me for those troubles Helen caused?

TEUCER I was wrong; I yielded to my anger more than I ought; my reason
was, the hate all Hellas bears to that daughter of Zeus. Pardon me,
lady, for the words I uttered.

HELEN Who art thou? whence comest thou to visit this land?

TEUCER One of those hapless Achaeans am I, lady.

HELEN No wonder then that thou dost bate Helen. But say, who art
thou? Whence comest? By what name am I to call thee?

TEUCER My name is Teucer; my sire was Telamon, and Salamis is the
land that nurtured me.

HELEN Then why art thou visiting these meadows by the Nile?

TEUCER A wanderer I, an exile from my native land.

HELEN Thine must be a piteous lot; who from thy country drives thee
out?

TEUCER My father Telamon. Couldst find a nearer and a dearer?

HELEN But why? This case is surely fraught with woe.

TEUCER The death of Ajax my brother at Troy was my ruin.

HELEN How so? surely 'twas not thy sword that stole his life away?

TEUCER He threw himself on his own blade and died.

HELEN Was he mad? for who with sense endowed would bring himself
to this?

TEUCER Dost thou know aught of Achilles. son of Peleus?

HELEN He came, so I have heard, to woo Helen once.

TEUCER When he died, he left his arms for his comrades to contest.

HELEN Well, if he did, what harm herein to Ajax?

TEUCER When another won these arms, to himself he put an end.

HELEN Art thou then a sufferer by woes that he inflicted?

TEUCER Yes, because I did not join him in his death.

HELEN So thou camest, sir stranger, to Ilium's famous town?

TEUCER Aye, and, after helping to sack it, myself did learn what
ruin meant.

HELEN Is Troy already fired and utterly by flames consumed?

TEUCER Yea, so that not so much as one vestige of her walls is now
to be seen.

HELEN Woe is thee, poor Helen! thou art the cause of Phrygia's ruin.

TEUCER And of Achaea's too. Ah! 'tis a tale of grievous misery!

HELEN How long is it since the city was sacked?

TEUCER Nigh seven fruitful seasons have come and gone.

HELEN And how much longer did ye abide in Troy?

TEUCER Many a weary month, till through ten full years the moon had
held her course.

HELEN And did ye capture that Spartan dame?

TEUCER Menelaus caught her by the hair, and was for dragging her
away.

HELEN Didst thou thyself behold that unhappy one? or art thou speaking
from hearsay?

TEUCER As plain as I now see thee, I then saw her.

HELEN Consider whether ye were but indulging an idle fancy sent by
heaven.

TEUCER Bethink thee of some other topic; no more of her!

HELEN Are you so sure this fancy was reliable?

TEUCER With these eyes I saw her face to face, if so be I see thee
now.

HELEN Hath Menelaus reached his home by this time with his wife?

TEUCER No; he is neither in Argos, nor yet by the streams of Eurotas.

HELEN Ah me! here is evil news for those to whom thou art telling
it.

TEUCER 'Tis said he disappeared with his wife.

HELEN Did not all the Argives make the passage together?

TEUCER Yes: but a tempest scattered them in every direction.

HELEN In what quarter of the broad ocean?

TEUCER They were crossing the Aegean in mid channel.

HELEN And after that, doth no man know of Menelaus' arrival?

TEUCER No; none; but through Hellas is he reported to be dead.

HELEN Then am I lost. Is the daughter of Thestius alive?

TEUCER Dost speak of Leda? She is dead; aye, dead and gone.

HELEN Was it Helen's shame that caused her death?

TEUCER Aye, 'tis said she tied the noose about her noble neck.

HELEN Are the sons of Tyndareus still alive or not?

TEUCER Dead, and yet alive: 'tis a double story.

HELEN Which is the more credible report? Woe is me for my sorrows!

TEUCER Men say that they are gods in the likeness of stars.

HELEN That is happy news; but what is the other rumour?

TEUCER That they by self-inflicted wounds gave up the ghost because
of their sister's shame. But enough of such talk! I have no wish to
multiply my griefs. The reason of my coming to this royal palace was
a wish to see that famous prophetess Theonoe. Do thou the means afford,
that I from her may obtain an oracle how I shall steer a favourable
course to the sea-girt shores of Cyprus; for there Apollo hath declared
my home shall be, giving to it the name of Salamis, my island home,
in honour of that fatherland across the main.

HELEN That shall the voyage itself explain, sir stranger; but do
thou leave these shores and fly, ere the son of Proteus, the ruler
of this land, catch sight of thee. Now is he away with his trusty
hounds tracking his savage quarry to the death; for every stranger
that he catcheth from the land of Hellas doth he slay. His reason
never ask to know; my lips are sealed; for what could word of mine
avail thee?

TEUCER Lady, thy words are fair. Heaven grant thee a fair requital
for this kindness! For though in form thou dost resemble Helen, thy
soul is not like hers, nay, very different. Perdition seize her! May
she never reach the streams of Eurotas! But thine be joy for evermore,
lady! (TEUCER departs. The CHORUS OF CAPTIVE GREEK WOMEN enter. They
sing responsively with HELEN.)

HELEN Ah me! what piteous dirge shall I strive to utter, now that
I am beginning my strain of bitter lamentation? What Muse shall I
approach with tears or songs of death or woe? Ah me! ye Sirens, Earth's
virgin daughters, winged maids, come, oh! come to aid my mourning,
bringing with you the Libyan flute or pipe, to waft to Persephone's
ear a tearful plaint, the echo of my sorrow, with grief for grief,
and mournful chant for chant, with songs of death and doom to match
my lamentation, that in return she may receive from me, besides my
tears, dirges for the departed dead beneath her gloomy roof!

CHORUS Beside the deep-blue water I chanced to be hanging purple
robes along the tendrils green and on the sprouting reeds, to dry
them in the sun-god's golden blaze, when lo! I heard a sound of woe,
a mournful wail, the voice of one crying aloud in her anguish; yea,
such a cry of woe as Naiad nymph might send ringing o'er the hills,
while to her cry the depths of rocky grots re-echo her screams at
the violence of Pan.

HELEN Woe! woe! ye maids of Hellas, booty of barbarian sailors! one
hath come, an Achaean mariner, bringing fresh tears to me, the news
of Ilium's overthrow, how that it is left to the mercy of the foeman's
flame, and all for me the murderess, or for my name with sorrow fraught.
While for anguish at my deed of shame, hath Leda sought her death
by hanging; and on the deep, to weary wandering doomed my lord hath
met his end; and Castor and his brother, twin glory of their native
land, are vanished from men's sight, leaving the plains that shook
to their galloping steeds, and the course beside reed-fringed Eurotas,
where those youthful athletes strove.

CHORUS Ah, misery! Alas! for thy grievous destiny! Woe for thy sad
lot, lady! Ah! 'twas a day of sorrow meted out for thee when Zeus
came glancing through the sky on snowy pinions like a swan and won
thy mother's heart. What evil is not thine? Is there a grief in life
that thou hast not endured? Thy mother is dead; the two dear sons
of Zeus have perished miserably, and thou art severed from thy country's
sight, while through the towns of men a rumour runs, consigning thee,
my honoured mistress, to a barbarian's bed; and 'mid the ocean waves
thy lord hath lost his life, and never, never more shalt thou fill
with joy thy father's halls or Athena's temple of the "Brazen House."

HELEN Ah! who was that Phrygian, who was he, that felled that pine
with sorrow fraught for Ilium, and for those that came from Hellas?
Hence it was that Priam's son his cursed barque did build, and sped
by barbarian oars sailed unto my home, in quest of beauty, woman's
curse, to win me for his bride; and with him sailed the treacherous
queen of Love, on slaughter bent, with death alike for Priam's sons,
and Danai too. Ah me! for my hard lot! Next, Hera, stately bride of
Zeus, seated on her golden throne, sent the son of Maia, swift of
foot, who caught me up as I was gathering fresh rose-buds in the folds
of my robe, that I might go to the "Brazen House," and bore me through
the air to this loveless land, making me an object of unhappy strife
'twixt Hellas and the race of Priam. And my name is but a sound without
reality beside the streams of Simois.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS Well I know thou hast a bitter lot to bear;
still 'tis best to bear as lightly as we may the ills that life is
heir to.

HELEN Good friends, to what a fate am I united? Did not my mother
bear me to be a monster to the world? For no woman, Hellene or barbarian,
gives birth to babes in eggs inclosed, as they say Leda bare me to
Zeus. My life and all I do is one miracle, partly owing to Hera, and
partly is my beauty to blame. Would God I could rub my beauty out
like a picture, and assume hereafter in its stead a form less comely,
and oh! that Hellas had forgotten the evil fate that now I bear, and
were now remembering my career of honour as surely as they do my deeds
of shame. Now, if a man doth turn his eyes to a single phase of fortune,
and meets ill-usage at heaven's hands, 'tis hard no doubt; but still
it can be borne; but I in countless troubles am involved. First, although
I never sinned, my good name is gone. And this is a grief beyond the
reality, if a man incurs blame for sins that are not his. Next, have
the gods removed me from my native land, to dwell with men of barbarous
ways, and reft of every friend, I arn become a slave though free by
birth; for amongst barbarians all are slaves but one. And the last
anchor that held my fortunes, the hope that my husband would return
one day, and rid me of my woes, is now no more, lost since the day
he died. My mother too is dead, and I am called her murderess, unjustly
it is true, but still that injustice is mine to bear; and she that
was the glory of my house, my darling child, is growing old and grey,
unwedded still; and those twin brethren, called the sons of Zeus,
are now no more. But 'tis fortune, not my own doing, that hath crushed
me with sorrow and slain me. And this is the last evil of all; if
ever I come to my native land. they will shut me up in prison, thinking
me that Helen of Ilium, in quest of whom Menelaus came thither. Were
my husband still alive, we might have recognized each other, by having
recourse to tokens which ourselves alone would know. But now this
may not be, nor is there any chance of his escape. Why then do I prolong
my life? What fortune have I still in store? Shall I choose marriage
as an alternative of evils, and dwell with a barbarian lord, seated
at his sumptuous board? No! when a husband she loathes is mated with
a woman, even life is loathly to her. Best for her to die; but how
shall I die a noble death? The dangling noose is an uncomely end;
even slaves consider it disgrace; to stab oneself hath something fair
and. noble in it; 'tis a small thing that moment of ridding the flesh
of life. Yes, it must be; I am plunged so deep in misery; for that
beauty, which to other women is a boon, to me hath been a very bane.

LEADER Helen, never believe that the stranger, whoe'er he was that
came, has spoken naught but truth.

HELEN Yet he said so clearly that my lord was dead.

LEADER There is much that falsehood seems to make quite clear.

HELEN The word of truth hath a very different sound to falsehood.

LEADER Thou art inclined to misfortune, rather than to luck.

HELEN Fear girds me with terrors as with a garment, and takes me
in her train.

LEADER What friends hast thou within the palace?

HELEN All are my friends here save him who seeks to wed-me.

LEADER Thy action then is clear; leave thy seat at the tomb.

HELEN To what words or advice art thou leading up?

LEADER Go in and question the daughter of the ocean Nereid, who knoweth
all things, even Theonoe, whether thy husband is still alive, or whether
he hath left the light of day; and when thou knowest for certain,
be glad or sorrowful, as fits thy fortune. But before thou hast right
knowledge, what shall sorrow avail thee? Nay, hearken to me; leave
this tomb and seek the maiden's company, that she may tell thee the
truth, for from her shalt thou learn all. If thou abide here in this
seat, what prospect hast thou? And I will myself go in with thee,
and with thee inquire of the maiden's oracles; for 'tis a woman's
bounden duty to share a sister's trouble. (The following lines are
chanted responsively by HELEN and the CHORUS.)

HELEN Kind friends, I welcome your advice. Come in, come in, that
ye may learn the result of my struggle within the palace.

CHORUS Thy invitation comes to very willing ears.

HELEN Woe for this heavy day! Ah me! what mournful tidings shall
hear?

CHORUS Dear mistress mine, be not a prophetess of sorrow, forestalling
lamentation.

HELEN What is the fate of my poor husband? Doth he still behold the
light turning towards the sun-god's chariot and the stars in their
courses? Or among the dead, beneath the earth, is he to death consigned?

CHORUS Of the future take a brighter view, whatever shall betide.

HELEN On thee I call, and thee adjure, Eurotas green with river-reeds,
to tell me if this rumour of my husband's death be true.

CHORUS What boots this meaningless appeal?

HELEN About my neck will I fasten the deadly noose from above, or
drive the murderous knife with self-aimed thrust deep into my throat
to sever it, striving to cut my flesh, a sacrifice to those goddesses
three and to that son of Priam, who in days gone by would wake the
music of his pipe around his steading.

CHORUS Oh may sorrow be averted otherwhither, and thou be blest!

HELEN Woe is thee, unhappy Troy! Thou through deeds not done by the
art ruined, and hast suffered direst woe; for the gift that Cypris
gave to me, hath caused a sea of blood to flow, and many an eye to
weep, with grief on grief and tear on tear. All this hath Ilium suffered
and mothers have lost their children; and virgin sisters of the slain
have cut off their tresses by the swollen tide of Phrygian Scamander.
And the land of Hellas hath lifted her voice of woe and broken forth
in wailing, smiting on her head, and making tender cheeks to stream
with gore beneath the rending nail. Ah blest maid Callisto, who long
ago in Arcady didst find favour with Zeus, in the semblance of beast
four-footed, how much happier was thy lot than my mother's, for thou
hast changed the burden of thy grief and now with savage eye art weeping
o'er thy shaggy monster-shape; aye, and hers was a happier lot, whom
on a day Artemis drove from her choir, changed to a hind with horns
of gold, the fair Titanian maid, daughter of Merops, because of her
beauty; but my fair form hath proved the curse of Dardan Troy and
doomed Achaea's sons. (HELEN and the CHORUS go into the palace. After
the doors have closed upon them, MENELAUS enters. He is alone and
clad in rags.)

MENELAUS Ah! Pelops, easy victor long ago o'er thy rival Oenomaus
in the chariot-race on Pisa's plain, would thou hadst ended thy career
amongst the gods that day thou wert beguiled into making a banquet
for them, or ever thou hadst begotten my father Atreus, to whom were
born by Aerope his wife, Agamemnon and myself Menelaus, an illustrious
pair; and herein I make no idle boast, for 'twas a mighty host, I
trow, that I their leader carried o'er the sea to Troy, using no violence
to make them follow me, but leading all the chivalry of Hellas by
voluntary consent. And some of these must we number 'mid the slain,
and some to their joy have 'scaped the sea, bearing to their homes
again names long reckoned dead. But I, poor wretch, go wandering o'er
grey Ocean's swell a weary space, long as that which saw me sick the
towers of Ilium; and for all my longing to reach my country I am not
counted worthy of this boon by heaven, but to Libya's desert cheerless
roadsteads have I sailed, to each and all of them; and whensoe'er
I draw me near my native land, the storm-wind drives me back again,
and never yet have favouring breezes filled my sails, to let me reach
my fatherland. And now a wretched, shipwrecked mariner, my friends
all lost, am I cast up upon this shore; and my ship is shattered in
a thousand pieces against the rocks; and its keel was wrested from
its cunning fastenings; thereon did I with difficulty escape, most
unexpectedly, and Helen also, for her had I rescued from Troy and
had with me. But the name of this country and its people I know not;
for I blushed to mingle with the crowd to question them, anxious for
very shame to hide my misfortunes which reduce me to these sorry rags.
For when a man of high degree meets with adversity, he feels the strangeness
of his fallen state more keenly than a sufferer of long standing.
Dire want is wasting me; for I have neither food, nor raiment to gird
myself withal; behold the facts before you to judge from-I am clad
in tatters cast up from the ship; while all the robes I once did wear,
glorious attire and ornaments, bath the sea swallowed; and in a cavern's
deep recesses have I hidden my wife, the cause of all my trouble,
and have come hither, after straitly charging the survivors of my
friends to watch her. Alone am I come, seeking for those there left
some help, if haply I may find it after careful search. So when I
saw this palace girt with towering walls and stately gates of some
prosperous lord, I drew nigh; for I have hope to obtain somewhat for
my sailors from this wealthy house, whereas from houses which have
no store, the inmates for all their goodwill could furnish naught.
Ho! there, who keeps the gate and will come forth to bear my tale
of woe into the house? (A PORTRESS comes out of the palace in answer
to his call.)

PORTRESS Who stands before the door? Begone from the housel stand
not at the court-yard gate, annoying my masters! otherwise shalt thou
die, for thou art a Hellene born. and with them have we no dealings.

MENELAUS Mother, herein sayest thou rightly on all points. 'Tis well;
I will obey; but moderate thy words.

PORTRESS Away! stranger, my orders are to admit no Hellene to this
palace.

MENELAUS Ha! do not seek to push me hence, or thrust me away by violence.

PORTRESS Thou dost not heed my words, and therefore hast thyself
to blame.

MENELAUS Carry my message to thy master in the palace.

PORTRESS Some one would rue it, methinks, were I to take thy message.

MENELAUS I come as a shipwrecked man and a stranger, whom heaven
protects.

PORTRESS Well, get thee to some other house than this.

MENELAUS Nay, but I will pass into the house; so listen to me.

PORTRESS Let me tell thee thou art unwelcome, and soon wilt be forcibly
ejected.

MENELAUS Ah me! where are now those famous troops of mine?

PORTRESS Elsewhere maybe thou wert a mighty man; thou art not here.

MENELAUS O fortune! I have not deserved such insult.

PORTRESS Why are thy eyes with tear-drops wet? Why so sad?

MENELAUS 'Tis the contrast with my fortunes erst so blest.

PORTRESS Hence! then, and give thy friends those tears.

MENELAUS What land is this? whose is the palace?

PORTRESS Proteus lives here. It is the land of Egypt.

MENELAUS Egypt? Woe is me! to think that hither I have sailed!

PORTRESS Pray, what fault hast thou to find with the race of Nile?

MENELAUS 'Twas no fault I found; my own disasters I lament.

PORTRESS There be plenty in evil case; thou art not the only one.

MENELAUS Is the king, of whom thou speakest, here within?

PORTRESS There is his tomb; his son rules in his stead.

MENELAUS And where may he be? abroad, or in the house?

PORTRESS He is not within. To Hellas is he a bitter foe.

MENELAUS His reason, pray, for this enmity? the results whereof I
have experienced.

PORTRESS Beneath this roof dwells the daughter of Zeus, Helen.

MENELAUS What mean'st thou? what is it thou hast said? Repeat, I
pray, thy words.

PORTRESS The daughter of Tyndareus is here, who erst in Sparta dwelt.

MENELAUS Whence came she? What means this business?

PORTRESS She came from Lacedaemon hither.

MENELAUS When? Surely I have never been robbed of my wife from the
cave!

PORTRESS Before the Achaeans went to Troy, sir stranger. But get
thee hence; for somewhat hath chanced within, whereat the whole palace
is in an uproar. Thou comest most unseasonably; and if my master catch
thee, death will be thy stranger's gift. This say I, because to Hellas
I am well disposed, albeit I gave thee harsh answers for fear of my
master. (The PORTRESS goes back into the palace.)

MENELAUS What can I think or say? For after my previous troubles,
this is a fresh piece of ill-luck I hear, if, indeed, after recovering
my wife from Troy and bringing her hither, and putting her for safety
in the cave, I am then to find another woman living here with the
same name as my wife. She called her the begotten child of Zeus. Can
there be a man that hath the name of Zeus by the banks of Nile? The
Zeus of heaven is only one, at any rate. Where is there a Sparta in
the world save where Eurotas glides between his reedy banks? The name
of Tyndareus is the name of one alone. Is there any land of the same
name as Lacedaemon or Troy? I know not what to say; for naturally
there are many in the wide world that have the same names, cities
and women too; there is nothing, then, to marvel at. Nor yet again
will I fly from the alarm a servant raises; for there is none so cruel
of heart as to refuse me food when once he hears my name. All have
heard of Ilium's burning, and I, that set it ablaze, am famous now
throughout the world, I, Menelaus. I therefore wait the master of
this house. There are two issues I must watch; if he prove somewhat
stern of heart, I will to my wreck and there conceal myself; but if
he show any sign of pity, I will ask for help in this my present strait.
This is the crowning woe in all my misery, to beg the means of life
from other princes, prince though I be myself; still needs must I.
Yea, this is no saying of mine, but a word of wisdom, "Naught in might
exceedeth dread necessity." (HELEN and the CHORUS enter from the
palace. They do not notice MENELAUS.)

CHORUS (singing) I have heard the voice of the maiden inspired.
Clear is the answer she hath vouchsafed within yon palace, declaring
that Menelaus is not yet dead and buried, passed to the land of shades,
where darkness takes the place of light; but on the stormy main is
wearing out his life, nor yet hath reached the haven of his country,
a wanderer dragging out a piteous existence, reft of every friend,
setting foot in every corner of the world, as he voyageth home from
Troy.

HELEN Lo! once again I seek the shelter of this tomb, with Theonoe's
sweet tidings in my ears; she that knoweth all things of a truth;
for she saith my lord is yet alive and in the light of day, albeit
he is roaming to and fro after many a weary voyage, and hither shall
he come whenso he reach the limit of his toils, no novice in the wanderer's
life. But one thing did she leave unsaid. Is he to escape when he
hath come? And I refrained from asking that question clearly, so glad
was I when she told me he was safe. For she said that he was somewhere
nigh this shore, cast up by shipwreck with a handful of friends. Ah!
when shall I see thee come? How welcome will thy advent be! (She
catches sight of MENELAUS.) Ha! who is this? Am I being snared by
some trick of Proteus' impious son? Oh! let me, like a courser at
its speed, or a votary of Bacchus, approach the tomb! for there is
something wild about this fellow's looks, who is eager to o'ertake
me.

MENELAUS Ho there! thou that with fearful effort seekest to reach
the basement of the tomb and the pillars of burnt sacrifice, stay
thee. Wherefore art flying? Ah! with what speechless amaze the sight
of thee affects me!

HELEN O friends! I am being ill-treated. This man is keeping me from
the tomb, and is eager to take and give me to his master, whose wooing
I was seeking to avoid.

MENELAUS No robber I, or minister of evil.

HELEN At any rate the garb wherein thou art clad is unseemly.

MENELAUS Stay thy hasty flight; put fear aside.

HELEN I do so, now that I have reached this spot.

MENELAUS Who art thou? whom do I behold in thee, lady?

HELEN Nay, who art thou? The self-same reason prompts us both.

MENELAUS never saw a closer resemblance.

HELEN Great God! Yea, for to recognize our friends is of God.

MENELAUS Art thou from Hellas, or a native of this land?

HELEN From Hellas; but I would learn thy story too.

MENELAUS Lady, in thee I see a wondrous likeness to Helen.

HELEN And I in thee to Menelaus; I know not what to say.

MENELAUS Well, thou hast recognized aright a man of many sorrows.

HELEN Hail! to thy wife's arms restored at last!

MENELAUS Wife indeed! Lay not a finger on my robe.

HELEN The wife that Tyndareus, my father, gave thee.

MENELAUS O Hecate, giver of light, send thy visions favourably!

HELEN In me thou beholdest no spectre of the night, attendant on
the queen of phantoms.

MENELAUS Nor yet am I in my single person the husband of two wives.

HELEN What other woman calls thee lord?

MENELAUS The inmate of yonder cave, whom I from Troy convey.

HELEN Thou hast none other wife but me.

MENELAUS Can it be my mind is wandering, my sight failing?

HELEN Dost not believe thou seest in me thy wife?

MENELAUS Thy form resembles her, but the real truth robs me of this
belief.

HELEN Observe me well; what need hast thou of clearer proof?

MENELAUS Thou art like her; that will I never deny.

HELEN Who then shall teach thee, unless it be thine own eyes?

MENELAUS Herein is my dilemma; I have another wife.

HELEN To Troy I never went; that was a phantom.

MENELAUS Pray, who fashions living bodies?

HELEN The air, whence thou hast a wife of heaven's workmanship.

MENELAUS What god's handiwork? Strange is the tale thou tellest.

HELEN Hera made it as a substitute, to keep me from Paris.

MENELAUS How then couldst thou have been here, and in Troy, at the
same time?

HELEN The name may be in many a place at once, though not the body.

MENELAUS Unhand me! the sorrows I brought with me suffice.

HELEN What! wilt leave me, and take that phantom bride away?

MENELAUS For thy likeness unto Helen, fare thee well.

HELEN Ruined! in thee I found my lord only to lose thee.

MENELAUS The greatness of my troubles at Troy convinces me; thou
dost not.

HELEN Ah, woe is me! who was ever more unfortunate than I? Those
whom I love best are leaving me, nor shall I ever reach Hellas, my
own dear native land. (The FIRST MESSENGER enters in haste.)

MESSENGER At last I find thee, Menelaus, after an anxious search,
not till I have evandered through the length and breadth of this foreign
strand; I am sent by thy comrades, whom thou didst leave behind.

MENELAUS What news? surely you are not being spoiled by the barbarians?

MESSENGER A miracle hath happened; my words are too weak for the
reality.

MENELAUS Speak; for judging by this haste, thou hast stirring news.

MESSENGER My message is: thy countless toils have all been toiled
in vain.

MENELAUS That is an old tale of woe to mourn! come, thy news?

MESSENGER Thy wife hath disappeared, soaring away into the embracing
air; in heaven she now is hidden, and as she left the hollowed cave
where we were guarding her, she hailed us thus, "Ye hapless Phrygians,
and all Achaea's race! for me upon Scamander's strand by Hera's arts
ye died from day to day, in the false belief that Helen was in the
hands of Paris. But I, since I have stayed my appointed time, and
kept the laws of fate, will now depart unto the sky that gave me birth;
but the unhappy daughter of Tyndareus, through no fault of hers, hath
borne an evil name without reason." (Catching Sight of HELEN) Daughter
of Leda, hail to thee, so thou art here after all! I was just announcing
thy departure to the hidden starry realms, little knowing that thou
couldst fly at will. I will not a second time let thee flout us thus,
for thou didst cause tiki lord and his comrades trouble all for naught
in Ilium.

MENELAUS This is even what she said; her words are proved true; O
longed-for day, how hath it restored thee to my arms!

HELEN O Menelaus, dearest husband, the time of sorrow has been long,
but joy is now ours at last. Ah, friends, what joy for me to hold
my husband in a fond embrace after many a weary cycle of yon blazing
lamp of day!

MENELAUS What joy for me to hold my wife! but with all that I would
ask about these years, I now know not where I may first begin.

HELEN O rapture! the very hair upon my head starts up for joy! my
tears run down! Around thy neck I fling my arms, dear husband, to
hug my joy to me.

MENELAUS O happy, happy sight! I have no fault to find; my wife,
he daughter of Zeus and Leda, is mine again, she whom her brothers
on their snow-white steeds, whilst torches blazed, made my happy bride,
but gods removed her from my home. Now is the deity guiding us to
a new destiny, happier than of yore.

HELEN Evil into good transformed hath brought us twain together at
last, dear husband; but late though it be, God grant me joy of my
good luck!

MENELAUS God grant thee joy! I join thee in the self-same prayer;
for of us twain one cannot suffer without the other.

HELEN No more, my friends, I mourn the past; no longer now I grieve.
My own dear husband is restored to me, whose coming from Troy I have
waited many a long year.

MENELAUS I to thee, and thou to me. And after these long, long years
I have at last discovered the fraud of the goddess. But these tears,
in gladness shed, are tears of thankfulness rather than of sorrow.

HELEN What can I say? What mortal heart could e'er have had such
hope? To my bosom I press thee, little as I ever thought to.

MENELAUS And I to mine press thee, who all men thought hadst gone
to Ida's town and the hapless towers of Ilium.

HELEN Ah me! ah me! that is a bitter subject to begin on.

MENELAUS Tell me, I adjure thee, how wert thou from my home conveyed?

HELEN Alas! alas! 'tis a bitter tale thou askest to hear.

MENELAUS Speak, for I must hear it; all that comes is Heaven's gift.

HELEN I loathe the story I am now to tell.

MENELAUS Tell it for all that. 'Tis sweet to hear of trouble past.

HELEN I ne'er set forth to be the young barbarian's bride, with oars
and wings of lawless love to speed me on my way.

MENELAUS What deity or fate tore thee from thy country, then?

HELEN Ah, my lord! 'twas Hermes, the son of Zeus, that brought and
placed me by the banks of Nile.

MENELAUS A miracle! Who sent thee thither? O monstrous story!

HELEN I wept, and still my eyes are wet with tears. 'Twas the wife
of Zeus that ruined me.

MENELAUS Hera? wherefore should she afflict us twain?

HELEN Woe is me for my awful fate! Woe for those founts and baths
where the goddesses made brighter still that beauty, which evoked
the fatal verdict!

MENELAUS Why did Hera visit thee with evil regarding this verdict?

HELEN To wrest the promise of Cypris-

MENELAUS How now? Say on.

HELEN From Paris, to whom that goddess pledged me.

MENELAUS Woe for thee!

HELEN And so she brought me hither to Egypt to my sorrow.

MENELAUS Then she gave him a phantom in thy stead, as thou tellest
me?

HELEN And then began those woes of thine, ah, mother! woe is me!

MENELAUS What meanest thou?

HELEN My mother is no more; my shameful marriage made her fix the
noose about her neck.

MENELAUS Ah me! is our daughter Hermione yet alive?

HELEN Still unwed, childless still, she mourns my fatal marriage.

MENELAUS O Paris, who didst utterly o'erthrow my home, here was thy
ruin too and theirs, those countless mail-clad Danai.

HELEN From my country, city, and from thee heaven cast me forth unhappy
and accursed, because I left,-and yet not I,-home and husband for
union of foul shame.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS If haply ye find happiness in the future, it
will suffice when to the past ye look.

MESSENGER Menelaus, grant me too a portion of that joy which, though
mine own eyes see, I scarcely comprehend.

MENELAUS Come then, old friend, and share with us our talk.

MESSENGER Was it not then in her power to decide all the trouble
in Troy?

MENELAUS It was not; I was tricked by the gods into taking to my
arms a misty phantom-form, to my sorrow.

MESSENGER How so? was it then for this we vainly toiled?

MENELAUS 'Twas Hera's handiwork, and the jealousy of three goddesses.

MESSENGER Is this real woman, then, thy wife?

MENELAUS This is she; trust my word for that.

MESSENGER Daughter, how changeful and inscrutable is the nature of
God! With some good end doth he vary men's fortune-now up, now down;
one suffers; another who ne'er knew suffering, is in his turn to awful
ruin brought, having no assurance in his lot from day to day. Thou
and thy husband have had your share of trouble-thou in what the world
has said, he in battle's heat. For all the striving that he strove,
he got him naught; while now, without an effort made, every blessing
fortune boasts is his. And thou, in spite of all, hast brought no
shame upon thy aged sire, or those twin sons of Zeus, nor art thou
guilty of those rumoured crimes. Now again do I recall thy wedding
rites, remembering the blazing torch I bore beside thee in a four-horsed
chariot at full gallop; while thou with this thy lord, a new-made
bride, wert driving forth from thy happy home. A sorry servant he,
whoso regardeth not his master's interest, sympathizing with his sorrows
and his joys. Slave though I was born, yet may I be numbered amongst
honest servants; for in heart, though not in name, I am free. For
this is better far than in my single person to suffer these two evils,
to feel my heart corrupt, and as the slave of others to be at my neighbour's
beck and call.

MENELAUS Come, old friend, oft hast thou stood side by side with
me and taken thy full share of toil; so now be partner in my happiness.
Go, tell my comrades, whom I left behind, the state of matters here,
as thou hast found them, and the issue of my fortunes; and bid them
wait upon the beach and abide the result of the struggle, which I
trow awaits me; and if mayhap we find a way to take this lady from
the land by stealth, tell them to keep good watch that we may share
the luck and escape, if possible, from the barbarian's clutch.

MESSENGER It shall be done, O king. Now I see how worthless are the
seers' tricks, how full of falsehood; nor is there after all aught
trustworthy in the blaze of sacrifice or in the cry of feathered fowls;
'tis folly, the very notion that birds can help mankind. Calchas never
by word or sign showed the host the truth, when he saw his friends
dying on behalf of a phantom, nor yet did Helenus; but the city was
stormed in vain. Perhaps thou wilt say, 'twas not heaven's will that
they should do so. Then why do we employ these prophets? Better were
it to sacrifice to the gods, and crave a blessing, leaving prophecy
alone; for this was but devised as a bait to catch livelihood, and
no man grows rich by divination if he is idle. No! sound judgment
and discernment are the best of seers. (The MESSENGER departs.)

LEADER My views about seers agree exactly with this old man's: whoso
hath the gods upon his side will have the best seer in his house.

HELEN Good! so far all is well. But how camest thou, poor husband,
safe from Troy? though 'tis no gain to know, yet friends feel a longing
to learn all that their friends have suffered.

MENELAUS That one short sentence of thine contains a host of questions.
Why should I tell thee of our losses in the Aegean, or of the beacon
Nauplius lighted on Euboea? or of my visits to Crete and the cities
of Libya, or of the peaks of Perseus? For I should never satisfy thee
with the tale, and by telling thee should add to my own pain, though
I suffered enough at the time; and so would my grief be doubled.

HELEN Thy answer shows more wisdom than my question. Omit the rest,
and tell me only this; how long wert thou a weary wanderer o'er the
wide sea's face?

MENELAUS Seven long years did I see come and go, besides those ten
in Troy.

HELEN Alas, poor sufferer! 'twas a weary while. And thou hast thence
escaped only to bleed here.

MENELAUS How so? what wilt thou tell? Ah wife, thou hast ruined me.

HELEN Escape and fly with all thy speed from this land. Thou wilt
be slain by him whose house this is.

MENELAUS What have I done to merit such a fate?

HELEN Thou hast arrived unexpectedly to thwart my marriage.

MENELAUS What! is some man bent on wedding my wife?

HELEN Aye, and on heaping those insults on me, which I have hitherto
endured.

MENELAUS Is he some private prince, or a ruler of this land?

HELEN The son of Proteus, king of the country.

MENELAUS This was that dark saying I heard the servant tell.

HELEN At which of the barbarian's gates wert thou standing?

MENELAUS Here, whence like a beggar I was like to be driven.

HELEN Surely thou wert not begging food? Ah, woe is me!

MENELAUS That was what I was doing, though I had not the name of
beggar.

HELEN Of course thou knowest, then, all about my marriage.

MENELAUS I do. But whether thou hast escaped thy lover, I know not.

HELEN Be well assured I have kept my body chaste.

MENELAUS How wilt thou convince me of this? If true, thy words are
sweet.

HELEN Dost see the wretched station I have kept at this tomb?

MENELAUS I see, alas! a bed of straw; but what hast thou to do with
it?

HELEN There I crave escape from this marriage as a suppliant.

MENELAUS For want of an altar, or because it is the barbarians' way?

HELEN This was as good a protection to me as the gods' temples.

MENELAUS May I not then even bear thee homeward on my ship?

HELEN The sword far sooner than thy wife's embrace is waiting thee.

MENELAUS So should I be of all men the most miserable.

HELEN Put shame aside, and fly from this land.

MENELAUS Leaving thee behind? 'twas for thy sake I sacked Troy.

HELEN Better so, than that our union should cause thy death.

MENELAUS Oh! these are coward words, unworthy of those days at Troy!

HELEN Thou canst not slay the prince, thy possible intent.

MENELAUS Hath he, then, a body which steel cannot wound?

HELEN Thou shalt hear. But to attempt impossibilities is no mark
of wisdom.

MENELAUS Am I to let them bind my hands, and say nothing?

HELEN Thou art in a dilemma; some scheme must be devised.

MENELAUS I had liefer die in action than sitting still.

HELEN There is one hope, and only one, of our safety.

MENELAUS Will gold, or daring deeds, or winning words procure it?

HELEN We are safe if the prince learn not of thy coming.

MENELAUS ary one tell him it is I? He certainly will not know who
I am.

HELEN He hath within his palace an ally equal to the gods.

MENELAUS Some voice divine within the secret chambers of his house?

HELEN No; his sister; Theonoe men call her.

MENELAUS Her name hath a prophetic sound; tell me what she doth.

HELEN She knoweth everything, and she will tell her brother thou
art come.

MENELAUS Then must we die; for I cannot escape her ken.

HELEN Perchance we might by suppliant prayers win her over.

MENELAUS To what end? To what vain hope art thou leading me?

HELEN That she should not tell her brother thou art here.

MENELAUS Suppose we persuade her, can we get away?

HELEN Easily, if she connive thereat; without her knowledge, no,

MENELAUS Be that thy task; women deal best with women.

HELEN I will not fail, be sure, to clasp her knees.

MENELAUS Come, then; only, suppose she reject our proposals?

HELEN Thou wilt be slain, and I, alas! wedded by force.

MENELAUS Thou wilt betray me; that "force" of thine is but an excuse.

HELEN Nay, by thy life I swear a sacred oath.

MENELAUS What meanest thou? dost swear to die and never to another
husband yield?

HELEN Yes, by the self-same sword; I will fall by thy side.

MENELAUS On these conditions touch my right hand.

HELEN I do so, swearing I will quit the light of day if thou art
slain.

MENELAUS I, too, will end my life if I lose thee.

HELEN How shall we die so as to gain fame?

MENELAUS I will slay thee and then myself upon the summit of the
tomb. But first will I in doughty fight contest another's claim to
thee; and let who will draw nigh! for I will not sully the lustre
of my Trojan fame, nor will I, on my return to Hellas, incur a storm
of taunts, as one who robbed Thetis of Achilles; saw Ajax, son of
Telamon, fall a weltering corpse; and the sort of Neleus of his child
bereft; shall I then flinch myself from death for my own wife? No,
no! For if the gods are wise, o'er a brave man by his foes laid low
they lightly sprinkle the earth that is his tomb, while cowards 'they
cast forth on barren rocky soil.

LEADER Grant, heaven, that the race of Tantalus may at last be blest,
and pass from sorrow unto joy!

HELEN Ah, woe is me! Yea, all my lot is woe; O Menelaus, we are utterly
undone! Behold! from forth the house comes Theonoe, the prophetess,
The palace echoes as the bolts are unfastened; fly! yet what use to
fly? For whether absent or present she knows of thy arrival here.
Ah me! how lost am I! Saved from Troy and from a barbarian land, thou
hast come only to fall a prey to barbarian swords. (THEONOE enters,
attended by hand-maidens carrying torches.)

THEONOE Lead on, bearing before me blazing brands, and, as sacred
rites ordain, purge with incense every cranny of the air, that I may
breathe heaven's breath free from taint; meanwhile do thou, in case
the tread of unclean feet have soiled the path, wave the cleansing
flame above it, and brandish the torch in front, that I may pass upon
my way. And when to heaven ye have paid the customs I exact, bear
back into the house the brand from off the hearth. What of my prophecy,
Helen? how stands it now? Thou hast seen thy husband Menelaus arrive
without disguise, reft of his ships, and of thy counterfeit. Ah, hapless
man! what troubles hast thou escaped, and art come hither, and yet
knowest not whether thou art to return or to abide here; for there
is strife in heaven, and Zeus this very day will sit in solemn conclave
on thee. Hera, who erst was thy bitter foe, is now grown kind, and
is willing to bring thee and thy wife safe home, that Hellas may learn
that the marriage of Paris was all a sham, assigned to him by Cypris;
but Cypris fain would mar thy homeward course, that she may not be
convicted, or proved to have bought the palm of beauty at the price
of Helen in a futile marriage. Now the decision rests with me, whether
to ruin thee, as Cypris wishes, by telling my brother of thy presence
bere, or to save thy life by taking Hera's side, concealing thy coming
from my brother, for his orders are that I should tell him, whensoe'er
thou shouldst reach these shores. Ho! one of you, go show my brother
this man is here, that I may secure my safety.

HELEN Maiden, at thy knees I fall a suppliant, and seat myself in
this sad posture on behalf of myself and him, whom I am in danger
of seeing slain, after I have so hardly found him. Oh! tell not thy
brother that my husband is returned to these loving arms; save us,
I beseech thee; never for thy brother's sake sacrifice thy character
for uprightness, by evil and unjust means bidding for his favour.
For the deity hates violence, and biddeth all men get lawful gains
without plundering others. Wealth unjustly gotten, though it bring
some power, is to be eschewed. The breath of heaven and the earth
are man's common heritage, wherein to store his home, without taking
the goods of others, or wresting them away by force. Me did Hermes
at a critical time, to my sorrow, intrust to thy father's safe keeping
for this my lord, who now is here and wishes to reclaim me. But how
can he recover me if he be slain? How could thy sire restore the living
to the dead? Oh! consider ere that the will of heaven and thy father's
too; would the deity or would thy dead sire restore their neighbour's
goods, or would they forbear? restore them, I feel sure. It is not,
therefore, right that thou shouldst more esteem thy wanton brother
than thy righteous father. Yet if thou, prophetess as thou art and
believer in divine providence, shalt pervert the just intention of
thy father and gratify thy unrighteous brother, 'tis shameful thou
shouldst have full knowledge of the heavenly will, both what is and
what is not, and yet be ignorant of justice. Oh! save my wretched
life from the troubles which beset it, granting this as an accession
to our good fortune; for every living soul loathes Helen, seeing that
there is gone a rumour throughout Hellas that I was false unto my
lord, and took up my abode in Phrygia's sumptuous halls. Now, 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 goddesses, while was no traitress
to my friends after all; and so will they restore to me my virtuous
name again, and I shall give my daughter in marriage, whom no man
now will wed; and, leaving this vagrant life in Egypt, shall enjoy
the treasures in my home. Had Menelaus met his doom at some funeral
pyre, with tears should I be cherishing his memory in a far-off land,
but must lose him now when he is alive and safe? Ah! maiden, I beseech
thee, say not so; grant me this boon, I pray, and reflect thy father's
justice; for this is the fairest ornament of children, when the child
of a virtuous sire resembles its parents in character.

LEADER Piteous thy pleading, and a piteous object thou! But I fain
would hear what Menelaus will say to save his life.

MENELAUS I will not deign to throw myself at thy knees, or wet mine
eyes with tears; for were I to play the coward, I should most foully
blur my Trojan fame. And yet men say it shows a noble soul to let
the tear-drop fall in misfortune. But that will not be the honourable
course that I will choose in preference to bravery, if what I shall
say is honourable. Art thou disposed to save a stranger seeking in
mere justice to regain his wife, why then restore her and save us
likewise; if not, this will not be the first by many a time that I
have suffered, though thou wilt get an evil name. All that I deem
worthy of me and honest, all that will touch thy heart most nearly,
will I utter at the tomb of thy sire with regret for his loss. Old
king beneath this tomb of stone reposing, pay back thy trust! I ask
of thee my wife whom Zeus sent hither unto thee to keep for me. I
know thou canst never restore her to me thyself, for thou art dead;
but this thy daughter will never allow her father once so glorious,
whom I invoke in his grave, to bear a tarnished name; for the decision
rests with her now. Thee, too, great god of death, I call to my assistance,
who hast received full many a corpse, slain by me for Helen, and art
keeping thy wage; either restore those dead now to life again, or
compel the daughter to show herself a worthy equal of her virtuous
sire, and give me back my wife. But if ye will rob me of her, I will
tell you that which she omitted in her speech. Know then, maiden,
I by an oath am bound, first, to meet thy brother sword to sword,
when he or I must die-there is no alternative. But if he refuse to
meet me fairly front to front, and seek by famine to chase away us
suppliants twain at this tomb, I am resolved to slay Helen, and then
to plunge this two-edged sword through my own heart, upon the top
of the sepulchre, that our streaming blood may trickle down the tomb;
and our two corpses will be lying side by side upon this polished
slab, a source of deathless grief to thee, and to thy sire reproach.
Never shall thy brother wed Helen, nor shall any other; I will bear
her hence myself, if not to my house, at any rate to death. And why
this stern resolve? Were I to resort to women's ways and weep, I should
be a pitiful creature, not a man of action. Slay me, if it seems thee
good; I will not die ingloriously; but better yield to what I say,
that thou mayst act with justice, and I regain my wife.

LEADER On thee, maiden, it rests to judge between these arguments.
Decide in such a way as to please one and all.

THEONOE My nature and my inclination lean towards piety; myself,
too, I respect, and I will never sully my father's fair name, or gratify
my brother at the cost of bringing myself into open dishonour. For
justice hath her temple firmly founded in my nature, and since I have
this heritage from Nereus I will strive to save Menelaus; wherefore,
seeing it is Hera's will to stand thy friend, I will give my vote
with her. May Cypris be favourable to me! though in me she hath no
part, and I will try to remain a maid alway. As for thy reproaches
against my father at this tomb; lo! I have the same words to utter;
I should be wronging thee, did I not restore thy wife; for my sire,
were he living, would have given her back into thy keeping, and thee
to her. Yea, for there is recompense for these things as well amongst
the dead as amongst all those who breathe the breath of life. The
soul indeed of the dead lives no more, yet hath it a consciousness
that lasts for ever, eternal as the ether into which it takes the
final plunge. Briefly then to end the matter, I will observe strict
silence on all that ye prayed I should, and never with my counsel
will I aid my brother's wanton will. For I am doing him good service,
though he little thinks it, if turn him from his godless life to holiness.
Wherefore devise yourselves some way of escape; my lips are scaled;
I will not cross your path. First with the goddesses begin, and of
the one,-and that one Cypris,-Crave permission to return unto thy
country; and of Hera, that her goodwill may abide in the same quarter,
even her scheme to save thee and thy husband. And thou, my own dead
sire, shalt never, in so far as rests with me, lose thy holy name
to rank with evil-doers. (THEONOE and her attendants enter the palace.)

LEADER No man ever prospered by unjust practices, but in a righteous
cause there is hope of safety.

HELEN Menelaus, on the maiden's side are we quite safe. Thou must
from that point start, and by contributing thy advice, devise with
me a scheme to save ourselves.

MENELAUS Hearken then; thou hast been a long while in the palace,
and art intimate with the king's attendants.

HELEN What dost thou mean thereby? for thou art suggesting hopes,
as if resolved on some plan for our mutual help.

MENELAUS Couldst thou persuade one of those who have charge of cars
and steeds to furnish us with a chariot?

HELEN I might; but what escape is there for us who know nothing of
the country and the barbarian's kingdom?

MENELAUS True; 'tis impossible. Well, supposing I conceal myself
in the palace and slay the king with this two-edged sword?

HELEN His sister would never refrain from telling her brother that
thou wert meditating his death.

MENELAUS We have not so much as a ship to make our escape in; for
the sea. hath swallowed the one we had.

HELEN Hear me, if haply even a woriian can utter words of wisdom.
Dost thou consent to be dead in word, though not really so?

MENELAUS 'Tis a bad omen; still, if by saying so I shall gain aught,
I am ready to be dead in word, though not in deed.

HELEN I, too, will mourn thee with hair cut short and dirges, as
is women's way, before this impious wretch.

MENELAUS What saving remedy doth this afford us twain? There is deception
in thy scheme.

HELEN I will beg the king of this country leave to bury thee in a
cenotaph, as if thou hadst really died at sea.

MENELAUS Suppose he grant it; how, e'en then, are we to escape without
a ship, after having committed me to my empty tomb?

HELEN I will bid him give me a vessel, from which to let drop into
the sea's embrace thy funeral offerings.

MENELAUS A clever plan in truth, save in one particular; suppose
he bid thee rear the tomb upon the strand, thy pretext comes to naught.

HELEN But I shall say it is not the custom in Hellas to bury those
who die at sea upon the shore.

MENELAUS Thou removest this obstacle too; I then will sail with thee
and help stow the funeral garniture in the same ship.

HELEN Above all, it is necessary that thou and all thy sailors who
escaped from the wreck should be at hand.

MENELAUS Be sure if once I find a ship at her moorings, they shall
be there man for man, each with his sword.

HELEN Thou must direct everything; only let there be winds to waft
our rails and a good ship to speed before them!

MENELAUS So shall it be; for the deities will cause my troubles to
cease. But from whom wilt thou say thou hadst tidings of my death?

HELEN From thee; declare thyself the one and only survivor, telling
how thou wert sailing with the son of Atreus, and didst see him perish.

MENELAUS Of a truth the garments I have thrown about me, will bear
out my tale that they were rags collected from the wreckage.

HELEN They come in most opportunely, but they were near being lost
just at the wrong time. Maybe that misfortune will turn to fortune.

MENELAUS Am I to enter the palace with thee, or are we to sit here
at the tomb quietly?

HELEN Abide here; for if the king attempts to do thee any mischief,
this tomb and thy good sword will protect thee. But I will go within
and cut off my hair, and exchange my white robe for sable weeds, and
rend my cheek with this hand's blood-thirsty nail. For 'tis a mighty
struggle, and I see two possible issues; either I must die if detected
in my plot, or else to my country shall I come and save thy soul alive.
O Hera! awful queen, who sharest the couch of Zeus, grant some respite
from their toil to two unhappy wretches; to thee I pray, tossing my
arms upward to heaven, where thou hast thy home in the star-spangled
firmament. Thou, too, that didst win the prize of beauty at the price
of my marriage; O Cypris! daughter of Dione, destroy me not utterly.
Thou hast injured me enough aforetime, delivering up my name, though
not my person, to live amongst barbarians. Oh! suffer me to die, if
death is thy desire, in my native land. Why art thou so insatiate
in mischief, employing every art of love, of fraud, and guileful schemes,
and spells that bring bloodshed on families? Wert thou but moderate,
only that!-in all else thou art by nature man's most well, come deity;
and I have reason so to say. (HELEN enters the palace and MENELAUS
withdraws into the background.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

Thee let me invoke, tearful Philomel, lurking 'neath the leafy covert
in thy place of song, most tuneful of all feathered songsters, oh!
come to aid me in my dirge, trilling through thy tawny throat, as
I sing the piteous woes of Helen, and the tearful fate of Trojan dames
made subject to Achaea's spear, on the day that there came to their
plains one who sped with foreign oar across the dashing billows, bringing
to Priam's race from Lacedaemon thee his hapless bride, Helen,-even
Paris, luckless bridegroom, by the guidance of Aphrodite.

(antistrophe 1)

And many an Achaean hath breathed his last amid the spearmen's thrusts
and hurtling hail of stones, and gone to his sad end; for these their
wives cut off their hair in sorrow, and their houses are left without
a bride; and one of the Achaeans, that had but a single ship, did
light a blazing beacon on sea-girt Euboea, and destroy full many of
them, wrecking them on the rocks of Caphareus and the shores that
front the Aegean main, by the treacherous gleam he kindled; when thou,
O Menelaus, from the very day of thy start, didst drift to harbourless
hills, far from thy country before the breath of the storm, bearing
on thy ship a prize that was no prize, but a phantom made by Hera
out of cloud for the Danai to struggle over.

(strophe 2)

What mortal claims, by searching to the utmost limit, to have found
out the nature of God, or of his opposite, or of that which comes
between, seeing as he doth this world of man tossed to and fro by
waves of contradiction and strange vicissitudes? Thou, Helen, art
the daughter of Zeus; for thy sire was the bird that nestled in Leda's
bosom; and yet for all that art thou become a by-word for wickedness,
through the length and breadth of Hellas, as faithless, treacherous
wife and godless woman; nor can I tell what certainty is, whatever
may pass for it amongst men. That which gods pronounce have I found
true.

(antistrophe 2)

O fools! all ye who try to win the meed of valour through war and
serried ranks of chivalry, seeking thus to still this mortal coil,
in senselessness; for if bloody contests are to decide, there will
never be any lack of strife in the towns of men; the maidens of the
land of Priam left their bridal bowers, though arbitration might have
put thy quarrel right, O Helen. And now Troy's sons are in Hades'
keeping in the world below, and fire hath darted on her walls, as
darts the flame of Zeus, and thou art bringing woe on woe to hapless
sufferers in their misery. (THEOCLYMENUS and his hunting attendants
enter.)

THEOCLYMENUS All hail, my father's tomb! I buried thee, Proteus,
at the place where men go out, that I might often greet thee; and
so, ever as I go out and in, I, thy son Theoclymenus call on thee,
father. Ho! servants, to the palace take my hounds and hunting nets!
How often have I blamed myself for never punishing those miscreants
with death! I have just heard that son of Hellas has come openly to
my land, escaping the notice of the guard, a spy maybe or a would-be
thief of Helen; death shall be his lot if only I can catch him. Ha!
I find all my plans apparently frustrated, the daughter of Tyndareus
has deserted her seat at the tomb and sailed away from my shores.
Ho! there, undo the bars, loose the horses from their stalls, bring
forth my chariot, servants, that the wife, on whom my heart is set,
may not get away from these shores unseen, for want of any trouble
I can take. Yet stay; for I see the object of my pursuit is still
in the palace, and has not fled. (HELEN enters from the palace, clad
in the garb of mourning.) How now, lady, why hast thou arrayed thee
in sable weeds instead of white raiment, and from thy fair head hast
shorn thy tresses with the steel, bedewing thy cheeks the while with
tears but lately shed? Is it in response to visions of the night that
thou art mourning, or, because thou hast heard some warning voice
within, art thus distraught with grief?

HELEN My lord,-for already I have learnt to say that name,--I am
undone; my luck is gone; I cease to be.

THEOCLYMENUS In what misfortune art thou plunged? What hath happened?

HELEN Menelaus, ah me! how can I say it? is dead, my husband.

THEOCLYMENUS How knowest thou? Did Theonoe tell thee this?

HELEN Both she, and one who was there when he perished.

THEOCLYMENUS What! hath one arrived who actually announces this for
certaint?

HELEN One hath; oh may he come e'en as I wish him to!

THEOCLYMENUS Who and where is he? that I may learn this more surely.

HELEN There he is, sitting crouched beneath the shelter of this tomb,

THEOCLYMENUS Great Apollo! how clad in unseemly rags!

HELEN Ah me! methinks my own husband too is in like plight.

THEOCLYMENUS From what country is this fellow? whence landed he here?

HELEN From Hellas, one of the Achaeans who sailed with my husband.

THEOCLYMENUS What kind of death doth he declare that Menelaus died?

HELEN The most piteous of all; amid the watery waves at sea.

THEOCLYMENUS On what part of the savage ocean was he sailing?

HELEN Cast up on the harbourless rocks of Libya.

THEOCLYMENUS How was it this man did not perish if he was with him
aboard?

HELEN There are times when churls have more luck than their betters.

THEOCLYMENUS Where left he the wreck, on coming hither?

HELEN There, where perdition catch it, but not Menelaus!

THEOCLYMENUS He is lost; but on what vessel came this man?

HELEN According to his story sailors fell in with him and picked
him up.

THEOCLYMENUS Where then is that ill thing that was sent to Troy in
thy stead?

HELEN Dost mean the phantom-form of cloud? It hath passed into the
air.

THEOCLYMENUS O Priam, and thou land of Troy, how fruitless thy ruin!

HELEN I too have shared with Priam's race their misfortunes.

THEOCLYMENUS Did this fellow leave thy husband unburied, or consign
him to the grave?

HELEN Unburied; woe is me for my sad lot!

THEOCLYMENUS Wherefore hast thou shorn the tresses of thy golden
hair?

HELEN His memory lingers fondly in this heart, whate'er his fate.

THEOCLYMENUS Are thy tears in genuine sorrow for this calamity?

HELEN An easy task no doubt to escape thy sister's detection!

THEOCLYMENUS No, surely; impossible. Wilt thou still make this tomb
thy abode?

HELEN Why jeer at me? canst thou not let the dead man be?

THEOCLYMENUS No, thy loyalty to thy husband's memory makes thee fly
from me.

HELEN I will do so no more; prepare at once for my marriage.

THEOCLYMENUS Thou hast been long in bringing thyself to it; still
I do commend the now.

HELEN Dost know thy part? Let us forget the past.

THEOCLYMENUS On what terms? One good turn deserves another.

HELEN Let us make peace; be reconciled to me.

THEOCLYMENUS I relinquish my quarrel with thee; let it take wings
and fly away.

HELEN Then by thy knees, since thou art my friend indeed,-

THEOCLYMENUS What art so bent on winning, that to me thou stretchest
out a suppliant hand?

HELEN My dead husband would I fain bury.

THEOCLYMENUS What tomb can be bestowed on lost bodies? Wilt thou
bury a shade?

HELEN In Hellas we have a custom, whene'er one is drowned at sea-

THEOCLYMENUS What is your custom? The race of Pelops truly hath some
skill in matters such as this.

HELEN To hold a burial with woven robes that wrap no corpse.

THEOCLYMENUS Perform the ceremony; rear the tomb where'er thou wilt.

HELEN 'Tis not thus we give drowned sailors burial.

THEOCLYMENUS How then? I know nothing of your customs in Hellas.

HELEN We unmoor, and carry out to sea all that is the dead man's
due.

THEOCLYMENUS What am I to give thee then for thy dead husband?

HELEN Myself I cannot say; I had no such experience in my previous
happy life.

THEOCLYMENUS Stranger, thou art the bearer of tidings I welcome.

MENELAUS Well, I do not, nor yet doth the dead man.

THEOCLYMENUS How do ye bury those who have been drowned at sea?

MENELAUS Each according to his means.

THEOCLYMENUS As far as wealth goes, name thy wishes for this lady's
sake.

MENELAUS There must be a blood-offering first to the dead.

THEOCLYMENUS Blood of what? Do thou show me and I will comply.

MENELAUS Decide that thyself; whate'er thou givest will suffice.

THEOCLYMENUS Amongst barbarians 'tis customary to sacrifice a horse
or bull,

MENELAUS If thou givest at all, let there be nothing mean in thy
gift.

THEOCLYMENUS I have no lack of such in my rich herds

MENELAUS Next an empty bier is decked and carried in procession.

THEOCLYMENUS It shall be so; what else is it customary to add?

MENELAUS Bronze arms; for war was his delight.

THEOCLYMENUS These will be worthy of the race of Pelops, and these
will we give.

MENELAUS And with them all the fair increase of productive earth.

THEOCLYMENUS And next, how do ye pour these offerings into the billows?

MENELAUS There must be a ship ready and rowers.

THEOCLYMENUS How far from the shore does the ship put out?

MENELAUS So far that the foam in her wake can scarce be seen from
the strand.

THEOCLYMENUS Why so? wherefore doth Hellas observe this custom?

MENELAUS That the billow may not cast up again our expiatory offerings.

THEOCLYMENUS Phoenician rowers will soon cover the distance.

MENELAUS 'Twill be well done, and gratifying to Menelaus, too.

THEOCLYMENUS Canst thou not perform these rites well enough without
Helen?

MENELAUS This task belongs to mother, wife, or children.

THEOCLYMENUS 'Tis her task then, according to thee, to bury her husband.

MENELAUS To be sure; piety demands that the dead be not robbed of
their due.

THEOCLYMENUS Well, let her go; 'tis my interest to foster piety in
a wife. And thou, enter the house and choose adornment for the dead.
Thyself, too, will not send empty-handed away, since thou hast done
her a service. And for the good news thou hast brought me, thou shalt
receive raiment instead of going bare, and food, too, that thou mayst
reach thy country; for as it is, I see thou art in sorry plight. As
for thee, poor lady, waste not thyself in a hopeless case; Menelaus
has met his doom, and thy dead husband cannot come to life.

MENELAUS This then is thy duty, fair young wife; be content with
thy present husband, and forget him who has no existence; for this
is thy best course in face of what is happening. And if ever I come
to Hellas and secure my safety, I will clear thee of thy former ill-repute,
if thou prove a dutiful wife to thy true husband.

HELEN I will; never shall my husband have cause to blame me; thou
shalt thyself attend us and be witness thereto. Now go within, poor
wanderer, and seek the bath, and change thy raiment. I will show my
kindness to thee, and that without delay. For thou wilt perform all
service due with kindlier feeling for my dear lord Menelaus, if at
my hands thou meet with thy deserts. (THEOCLYMENUS, HELEN, MENELAUS
enter the palace.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

Through wooded glen, o'er torrent's flood, and ocean's booming waves
rushed the mountain-goddess, mother of the gods, in frantic haste,
once long ago, yearning for her daughter lost, whose name men dare
not utter; loudly rattled the Bacchic castanets in shrill accord,
what time those maidens, swift as whirlwinds, sped forth with the
goddess on her chariot yoked to wild creatures, in quest of her that
was ravished from the circling choir of virgins; here was Artemis
with her bow, and there the grim-eyed goddess, sheathed in mail, and
spear in hand. But Zeus looked down from his throne in heaven, and
turned the issue otherwhither.

(antistrophe 1)

Soon as the mother ceased from her wild wandering toil, in seeking
her daughter stolen so subtly as to baffle all pursuit, she crossed
the snow-capped heights of Ida's nymphs; and in anguish cast her down
amongst the rocks and brushwood deep in snow; and, denying to man
all increase to his tillage from those barren fields, she wasted the
human race; nor would she let the leafy tendrils yield luxuriant fodder
for the cattle, wherefore many a beast lay dying; no sacrifice was
offered to the gods, and on the altars were no cakes to burn; yea,
and she made the dew-fed founts of crystal water to cease their flow,
in her insatiate sorrow for her child.

(strophe 2)

But when for gods and tribes of men alike she made an end to festal
cheer, Zeus spoke out, seeking to soothe the mother's moody soul,
"Ye stately Graces, go banish from Demeter's angry heart the grief
her wanderings bring upon her for her child, and go, ye Muses too,
with tuneful choir." Thereon did Cypris, fairest of the blessed gods,
first catch up the crashing cymbals, native to that land, and the
drum with tight-stretched skin, and then Demeter smiled, and in her
hand. did take the deep-toned flute, well pleased with its loud note.

(antistrophe 2)

Thou hast wedded as thou never shouldst have done in defiance of
all right, and thou hast incurred, my daughter, the wrath of the great
mother by disregarding her sacrifices. Oh! mighty is the virtue in
dress of dappled fawn-skin, in ivy green that twineth round a sacred
thyrsus, in whirling tambourines struck as they revolve in air in
tresses wildly streaming for the revelry of Bromius, and likewise
in the sleepless vigils of the goddess, when the moon looks down and
sheds her radiance o'er the scene. Thou wert confident in thy charms
alone. (HELEN comes out of the palace alone.)

HELEN My friends, within the palace all goes well for us; for the
daughter of Proteus, who is privy to our stealthy scheme, told her
brother nothing when questioned as to my husband's coming, but for
my sake declared him dead and buried. Most fortunate it is my lord
hath had the luck to get these weapons; for he is now himself clad
in the harness he was to plunge into the sea, his stalwart arm thrust
through the buckler's strap, and in his right hand a spear, on pretence
of joining in homage to the dead. He hath girded himself most serviceably
for the fray, as if to triumph o'er a host of barbarian foes when
once we are aboard yon oared ship; instead of his rags from the wreck
hath he donned the robes I gave for his attire, and I have bathed
his limbs in water from the stream, a bath he long hath wanted. But
I must be silent, for from the house comes forth the man who thinks
he has me in his power, prepared to be his bride; and thy goodwill
I also claim and thy strict silence, if haply, when we save ourselves,
we may save thee too some day. (THEOCLYMENUS and MENELAUS enter,
with a train of attendants bearing the offerings for the funeral rites.)

THEOCLYMENUS Advance in order, servants, as the stranger hath directed,
bearing the funeral gifts the sea demands. But thou, Helen, if thou
wilt not misconstrue my words, be persuaded and here abide; for thou
wilt do thy husband equal service whether thou art present or not.
For I am afraid that some sudden shock of fond regret may prompt thee
to plunge into the swollen tide, in an ecstasy of gratitude toward
thy former husband; for thy grief for him, though he is lost, is running
to excess.

HELEN O my new lord, needs must I honour him with whom I first shared
married joys; for I could even die with my husband, so well I loved
him; yet how could he thank me, were I to share death's doom with
him? Still, let me go and pay his funeral rites unto the dead in person.
The gods grant thee the boon I wish and this stranger too, for the
assistance he is lending here! And thou shalt find in me a wife fit
to share thy house, since thou art rendering kindness to Menelaus
and to me; for surely these events are to some good fortune tending.
But now appoint someone to give us a ship wherein to convey these
gifts, that I may find thy kindness made complete.

THEOCLYMENUS (to an attendant) Go thou, and furnish them with a
Sidonian galley of fifty oars and rowers also.

HELEN Shall not he command the ship who is ordering the funeral?

THEOCLYMENUS Most certainly; my sailors are to obey him.

HELEN Repeat the order, that they may clearly understand thee.

THEOCLYMENUS I repeat it, and will do so yet again if that is thy
pleasure.

HELEN Good luck to thee and to me in my designs!

THEOCLYMENUS Oh! waste not thy fair complexion with excessive weeping.

HELEN This day shall show my gratitude to thee.

THEOCLYMENUS The state of the dead is nothingness; to toil for them
is vain.

HELEN In what I say, this world, as well as that, hath share.

THEOCLYMENUS Thou shalt not find in me a husband at all inferior
to Menelaus.

HELEN With thee have I no fault to find; good luck is all I need.

THEOCLYMENUS That rests with thyself, if thou show thyself a loving
wife to me.

HELEN This is not a lesson I shall have to learn now, to love my
friends.

THEOCLYMENUS Is it thy wish that I should escort thee in person with
active aid?

HELEN God forbid! become not thy servant's servant, O king!

THEOCLYMENUS Up and away! I am not concerned with customs which the
race of Pelops holds. My house is pure, for Menelaus did not die here;
go some one now and bid my vassal chiefs bring marriage-offerings
to my palace; for the whole earth must re-echo in glad accord the
hymn of my wedding with Helen, to make men envious. Go, stranger,
and pour into the sea's embrace these offerings to Helen's former
lord, and then speed back again with my bride, that after sharing
with me her marriage-feast thou mayst set out for home, or here abide
in happiness. (THEOCLYMENUS and his retinue enter the palace.)

MENELAUS O Zeus, who art called the father of all and god of wisdom,
look down on us and change our woe to joy! Lend us thy ready help,
as we seek to drag our fortunes up the rugged hill; if with but thy
finger-tip thou touch us, we shall reach our longed-for goal. Sufficient
are the troubles we ere this have undergone. Full oft have I invoked
you gods to near my joys and sorrows; I do not deserve to be for ever
unhappy, but to advance and prosper. Grant me but this one boon, and
so will ye crown my future with blessing. (MENELAUS, HELEN and their
train of attendants depart.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe 1)

Hail! thou swift Phoenician ship of Sidon! dear to the rowers, mother
to the foam, leader of fair dolphins' gambols, what time the deep
is hushed and still, and Ocean's azure child, the queen of calm, takes
up her parable and says: "Away! and spread your canvas to the ocean-breeze.
Ho! sailors, ho! come grip your oars of pine, speeding Helen on her
way to the sheltered beach where Perseus dwelt of yore."

(antistrophe 1)

It may be thou wilt find the daughters of Leucippus beside the brimming
river or before the temple of Pallas, when at last with dance and
revelry thou joinest in the merry midnight festival of Hyacinthus,
him whom Phoebus slew in the lists by a quoit hurled o'er the mark;
wherefore did the son of Zeus ordain that Laconia's land should set
apart that day for sacrifice; there too shalt thou find the tender
maid, whom ye left in your house, for as yet no nuptial torch has
shed its light for her.

(strophe 2)

Oh! for wings to cleave the air in the track of Libyan cranes, whose
serried ranks leave far behind the wintry storm at the shrill summons
of some veteran leader, who raises his exultant cry as he wings his
way o'er plains that know no rain and yet bear fruitful increase.
Ye feathered birds with necks outstretched, comrades of the racing
clouds, on on! till ye reach the Pleiads in their central station
and Orion, lord of the night; and as ye settle on Eurotas' banks proclaim
the glad tidings that Menelaus hath sacked the city of Dardanus, and
will soon be home.

(antistrophe 2)

Ye sons of Tyndareus at length appear, speeding in your chariot through
the sky, denizens of heaven's courts beneath the radiant whirling
stars, guide this lady Helen safely o'er the azure main, across the
foam-flecked billows of the deep-blue sea, sending the mariners a
favouring gale from Zeus; and from your sister snatch the ill-repute
of wedding with a barbarian, even the punishment bequeathed to her
from that strife on Ida's mount, albeit she never went to the land
of Ilium, to the battlements of Phoebus. (The SECOND MESSENGER enters
in haste, as THEOCLYMENUS comes out of the palace.)

SECOND MESSENGER O king, at last have I found thee in the palace;
for new tidings of woe art thou soon to hear from me.

THEOCLYMENUS How now?

MESSENGER Make haste to woo a new wife; for Helen hath escaped.

THEOCLYMENUS Borne aloft on soaring wings, or treading still the
earth?

MESSENGER Menelaus has succeeded in bearing her hence; 'twas he that
brought the news of his own death.

THEOCLYMENUS O monstrous story! what ship conveyed her from these
shores? Thy tale is past belief.

MESSENGER The very ship thou didst thyself give the stranger; and
that thou mayest briefly know all, he is gone, taking thy sailors
with him.

THEOCLYMENUS How was it? I long to know, for I never thought that
a single arm could master all those sailors with whom thou wert despatched.

MESSENGER Soon as the daughter of Zeus had left this royal mansion
and come unto the sea, daintily picking her way, most craftily she
set to mourn her husband, though he was not dead but at her side.
Now when we reached thy docks well walled, we began to launch the
fastest of Sidonian ships, with her full complement of fifty rowers,
and each task in due succession followed; some set up the mast, others
ranged the oars with their blades ready, and stored the white sails
within the hold, and the rudder was let down astern and fastened securely.
While we were thus employed, those Hellenes, who had been fellow-voyagers
with Menelaus, were watching us, it seems, and they drew nigh the
beach, clad in the rags of shipwrecked men,-well built enough, but
squalid to look upon. And the son of Atreus, directly he saw them
approach, bespoke them, craftily introducing the reason for his mourning:
"Ye hapless mariners, how have ye come hither? your Achaean ship where
wrecked? Are ye here to help bury dead Atreus' son, whose missing
body this lady, daughter of Tyndareas, is honouring with a cenotaph?"
Then they with feigned tears proceeded to the ship, bearing aboard
the offerings to be thrown into the deep for Menelaus. Thereat were
we suspicious, and communed amongst ourselves regarding the number
of extra voyagers; but still we kept silence out of respect for thy
orders, for by intrusting the command of the vessel to the stranger
thou didst thus spoil all. Now the other victims gave no trouble,
and we easily put them aboard; only the bull refused to go forward
along the gangway, but rolled his eyes around and kept bellowing,
and, arching his back and glaring askance towards his horns, he would
not let us touch him. But Helen's lord cried out: "O! ye who laid
waste the town of Ilium, come pick up yon bull, the dead man's offering,
on your stout shoulders, as is the way in Hellas, and cast him into
the hold;" and as he spoke he drew his sword in readiness. Then they
at his command came and caught up the bull and carried him bodily
on to the deck. And Menelaus stroked the horse on neck and brow, coaxing
it to go aboard. At length, when the ship was fully freighted, Helen
climbed the ladder with graceful step and took her seat midway betwixt
the rowers' benches, and he sat by her side, even Menelaus who was
called dead; and the rest, equally divided on the right and left side
of the ship, sat them down, each beside his man, with swords concealed
beneath their cloaks, and the billows soon were echoing to the rowers'
song, as we heard the boatswain's note. Now when we were put out a
space, not very far nor very near, the helmsman asked, "Shall we,
sir stranger, sail yet further on our course, or will this serve?
For thine it is to command the ship." And he answered: "'Tis far enough
for me," while in his right hand he gripped his sword and stepped
on to the prow; then standing o'er the bull to slay it, never a word
said he of any dead man, but cut its throat and thus made prayer:
"Poseidon, lord of the sea, whose home is in the deep, and ye holy
daughters of Nereus, bring me and my wife safe and sound to Nauplia's
strand from hence! Anon a gush of blood, fair omen for the stranger,
spouted into the tide. One cried, "There is treachery in this voyage;
why should we now sail to Nauplia? Give the order, helmsman, turn
thy rudder." But the son of Atreus, standing where he slew the bull,
called to his comrades, "Why do ye, the pick of Hellas, delay to smite
and slay the barbarians and fling them from the ship into the waves?"
While to thy crew the boatswain cried the opposite command: "Ho! some
of you catch up chance spars, break up the benches, or snatch the
oar-blade from the thole, and beat out the brains of these our foreign
foes." Forthwith up sprang each man, the one part armed with poles
that sailors use, the other with swords. And the ship ran down with
blood; while Helen from her seat upon the stern thus cheered them
on: "Where is the fame ye won in Troy? show it against these barbarians."
Then as they hasted to the fray, some would fall and some rise up
again, while others hadst thou seen laid low in death. But Menelaus
in full armour, made his way, sword in hand, to any point where his
watchful eye perceived his comrades in distress; so we leapt from
the ship and swam, and he cleared the benches of thy rowers. Then
did the prince set himself to steer, and bade them make a straight
course to Hellas. So they set up the mast, and favouring breezes blew;
and they are clear away, while I, from death escaped, let myself down
by the anchor chain into the sea; and, just as I was spent, one threw
me a rope and rescued me, and drew me to land to bring to thee this
message. Ah! there is naught more serviceable to mankind than a prudent
distrust.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS I would never have believed that Menelaus could
have eluded us and thee, O king, in the way he did on his coming.

THEOCLYMENUS Woe is me! cozened by a woman's tricks! My bride hath
escaped me. If the ship could have been pursued and overtaken, I would
have used every means forthwith to catch the strangers; as it is,
I will avenge myself upon my treacherous sister, in that she saw Menelaus
in my palace and did not tell me. Wherefore shall she nevermore deceive
another by her prophetic art. (A SERVANT comes out of the palace.)

SERVANT Ho, there! whither away so fast, my lord? on what bloody
thought intent?

THEOCLYMENUS Whither justice calls me. Out of my path!

SERVANT I will not loose thy robe, for on grievous mischief art thou
bent.

THEOCLYMENUS Shalt thou, a slave, control thy master?

SERVANT Yea, for I am in my senses.

THEOCLYMENUS I should not say so, if thou wilt not let me

SERVANT Nay, but that I never will.

THEOCLYMENUS Slay my sister most accursed.

SERVANT Say rather, most righteous.

THEOCLYMENUS "Righteous?" She who betrayed me?

SERVANT There is an honourable treachery, which 'tis right to commit.

THEOCLYMENUS By giving my bride to another?

SERVANT Only to those who had a better right.

THEOCLYMENUS Who hath any rights o'er mine?

SERVANT He that received her from her father.

THEOCLYMENUS Nay, but fortune gave her to me.

SERVANT And destiny took her away.

THEOCLYMENUS "Tis not for thee to decide my affairs.

SERVANT Only supposing mine be the better counsel.

THEOCLYMENUS So I am thy subject, not thy ruler.

SERVANT Aye, a subject bound to do the right, and eschew the wrong.

THEOCLYMENUS It seems thou art eager to be slain.

SERVANT Slay me; thy sister shalt thou never slay with my consent,
but me perchance; for to die for their masters is the fairest death
that noble slaves can find. (THE DIOSCURI appear from above.)

DIOSCURI Restrain those bursts of rage that hurry thee to undue lengths,
Theoclymenus, king of this country. We are the twin sons of Zeus that
call to thee by name, whom Leda bore one day, with Helen too who hath
fled from thy palace. For thou art wroth for a marriage never destined
for thee; nor is thy sister Theonoe, daughter of a Nereid goddess,
wronging thee because she honours the word of God and her father's
just behests. For it was ordained that Helen should abide within thy
halls up till the present time, but since Troy is razed to the ground
and she hath lent her name to the goddesses, no longer need she stay,
now must she be united in the self-same wedlock as before, and reach
her home and share it with her husband. Withhold then thy malignant
blade from thy sister, and believe that she herein is acting with
discretion. Long, long ago had we our sister saved, seeing that Zeus
has made us gods, but we were too weak for destiny as well as the
deities, who willed these things to be. This is my bidding to thee;
while to my sister I say, "Sail on with thy husband; and ye shall
have a prosperous breeze; for we, thy brethren twain, will course
along the deep and bring you safely to your fatherland. And when at
last thy goal is reached and thy life ended, thou shalt be famous
as a goddess, and with thy twin brethren share the drink-offering,
and like us receive gifts from men, for such is the will of Zeus.
Yea, and that spot where the son o Maia first appointed thee a home
when from Sparta he removed thee, after stealing an image of thee
from Heaven's mansions to prevent thy marriage with Paris, even the
isle that lies like a sentinel along the Attic coast, shall henceforth
be called by thy name amongst men, for that it welcomed thee when
stolen from thy home. Moreover, Heaven ordains that the wanderer Menelaus
shall find a home within an island of the blest; for to noble souls
hath the deity no dislike, albeit these oft suffer more than those
of no account."

THEOCLYMENUS Ye sons of Leda and of Zeus, I will forego my former
quarrel about your sister, nor no longer seek to slay mine own. Let
Helen to her home repair, if such is Heaven's pleasure. Ye know that
ye are sprung of the same stock as your sister, best of women, chastest
too; hail then for the true nobility of Helen's soul, a quality too
seldom found amongst her sex!

CHORUS (chanting) Many are the forms the heavenly will assumes;
and many a thing God brings to pass contrary to expectation: that
which was looked for is not accomplished, while Heaven finds out a
way for what we never hoped; e'en such has been the issue here.

THE END

The Heracleidae
By Euripides

Translated by E. P. Coleridge

Dramatis Personae

IOLAUS, friend of Heracles
COPREUS, herald of EURYSTHEUS
DEMOPHON, King of Athens
MACARIA, daughter of Heracles
SERVANT, of Hyllus, son of Heracles
ALCMENA, mother of Heracles
MESSENGER
EURYSTHEUS; King of Argos
CHORUS OF AGED ATHENIANS
Acamas, the brother of DEMOPHON, younger sons of Heracles,

Before the altar and temple of Zeus at Marathon. IOLAUS, an old man,
and the children of Heracles are seen on the steps of the
altar.

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. For I, from pure regard and reverence
for my kith and kin, though 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 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 meal 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 Hvllus 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 the 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, the herald of EURYSTHEUS, enters.)

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 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. (He
throws IOLAUS to the ground.)

IOLAUS Help, ye who long have 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.
(The CHORUS OF AGED ATHENIANS enters.)

LEADER OF THE 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!

LEADER 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 (chanting) 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 (chanting) 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 (chanting) 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 (chanting) 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 torn 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 (chanting) 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 (chanting) '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.

LEADER 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?

LEADER 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.

LEADER Lo! here he comes in person, in hot haste, and Acamas his
brother, to hear what thou hast to say. (DEMOPHON, Acamas, and their
retinue enter.)

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.

LEADER 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?

LEADER (turning to COPREUS) This fellow caused the uproar by trying
to drag them forcibly from this altar, and he hurled down 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 camest 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 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 near 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.

LEADER 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 have
myself felt vexed at praise that knows no bounds. But to thee, as
ruler of this land, 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. In pity 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.

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

DEMOPHON Three aspects of the circumstance 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. (to COPREUS) Get
thee 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 Mycenae.

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.

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

DEMOPHON Strike I will, unless that herald learn discretion.

LEADER 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.
(COPREUS departs.)

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 (singing) '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 the what a tale he will tell his master of his dreadful treatment,
how he came 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; for we, 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.

LEADER OF THE 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.
(DEMOPHON and his retinue go out.)

CHORUS (singing, strophe)

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,

(antistrophe)

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?

(epode)

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. (DEMOPHON re-enters.)

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 at hand. 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 do what is just, just will my treatment be.

LEADER OF THE 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.