Sophocles 498 - 06 92
7 Plays: Antigone, Aias, Oedipus Rex, Elextra,
Trachinian Maidens, Philocetes, Oedipus at Colonus
1 About Me 8
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Body Pages 391.4 Time 5:26:10
Chapters 2,536
Pages per chapter .15 :15
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.4
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.5
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.6
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.5
25		 1.5
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20w
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 9w
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.6
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22
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22
11		 .6
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21
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11
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19
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19
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22
11		 21
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1		 20w
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1:10
.4
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22
11		 11
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15		 11
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63w
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14w
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11
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11		 20w
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.4
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11
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15		 13w
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12w
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11
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55		 .4
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19w
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17w
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.8
40		 1.6
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52w
10		 .4
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.4
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12w
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25		 1
50		 20w
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11
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10w
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13w
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2
20w
4		 .5
25		 1.1
55		 19
4		 55w
11		 1
1		 1.2
60		 38w
8		 20w
4		 1.8
1:30
22
11		 29w
6		 45w
9		 21
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4		 17
3		 21
4		 19
4		 18w
4		 .8
40
18w
4		 11
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2		 22
11		 21
4		 12w
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4		 12w
3		 11
2
11
2		 12w
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2		 26w
5.3		 2.7
2:05		 16w
3		 27w
6		 11
2		 19
4		 13w
3
.5
25		 22
11		 13w
3		 10w
2		 11
2		 10w
2		 11
2		 12w
3		 19
4		 14w
3
44w
9		 .6
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1		 4w
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5
20w
4		 5w
1		 10w
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1		 28w
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2		 11
2
9w
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2		 22
11		 10w
2		 11
2		 5w
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35w
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0		 10w
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17
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4		 12w
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2		 11
2		 10w
2
13w
3		 1.5
0		 19
4		 .7
35		 18w
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8		 21
4		 12w
3		 11
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2
12w
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12w
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3
13w
3		 12w
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11		 27w
6		 32w
16		 1
50		 1
1		 1.5
0
18w
4		 21
4		 11
2		 10w
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2		 11
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2
12w
3		 11
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11
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11
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6w
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30
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4		 27w
6		 20w
4		 30w
6		 11
2
4w
1		 8w
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7		 13w
3		 29w
6		 20w
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2		 17
3		 13w
3
7w
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1		 50w
10		 .4
1		 .7
35		 15w
3		 26w
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1		 11
2		 11
2
11
2		 12w
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3		 22
11		 11
2		 6w
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2		 12w
3		 8w
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3
20w
4		 9w
2		 .3
15		 66w
14		 46w
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14		 .5
25		 17
3		 8w
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3
9w
2		 13w
3		 19
4		 12w
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3		 11
2		 8w
2		 14w
3		 15w
3		 21
4
8w
2		 11
2		 8w
2		 10w
2		 59w
12		 9w
2		 12w
3		 8w
2		 15w
3		 11
2
7w
2		 9w
2		 14w
3		 25w
5		 9w
2		 9w
2		 7w
2		 16w
3		 32w
8.2		 49w
10
20w
4		 10w
2		 9w
2		 10w
2		 12w
3		 11
2		 12w
3		 12w
3		 13w
3		 56w
11
31w
6		 43w
0		 21
4		 21
4		 10w
2		 8w
2		 9w
2		 16w
3		 15w
3		 16w
3
11
2		 11
2		 61w
13		 19
4		 27w
6		 23w
5		 20w
4		 15w
3		 12w
3		 9w
2
5w
1		 7w
2		 9w
2		 46w
9		 26w
5.3		  
1
1.6
1:20
2
.4
20
3
27w
5
4
11w
2
5
20w
4
6
12w
2
7
13w
2
8
21w
4
9
12w
2
10
13w
2
11
11w
2
12
17w
3
13
18w
4
14
11w
2
15
60w
15
16
46w
9
17
24w
5
18
1.3
1:05
19
1.2
1m
20
18w
4
21
36w
9
22
12w
2
23
16w
3
24
10w
2
25
42w
8
26
13w
2
27
53w
11
28
52w
11
29
.6
30
30
41w
8
31
25w
5
32
19w
4
33
17w
3
34
11w
2
35
22w
5
36
11w
2
37
20w
4
38
21w
4
39
20w
4
40
17w
3
41
1.5
75
42
19w
4
43
.7
35
44
20w
4
45
11w
2
46
11w
2
47
11w
2
48
11w
2
49
21w
4
50
56w
11
51
68w
16
52
41w
8
53
12w
3
54
14w
3
55
22w
4
56
13w
2
57
12w
2
58
28w
5
59
18w
4
60
.8
40
33w
7		 29w
6		 18w
3		 18w
3		 20w
4		 8w
2		 15w
3		 20w
4		 21w
4		 20w
4
13w
3		 12w
3		 12w
3		 13w
3		 10w
2		 12w
3		 11w
2		 12w
2		 17w
3		 18w
3
8w
2		 19w
3		 11w
2		 16w
3		 16w
3		 12w
2		 12w
2		 11w
2		 8w
2		 27w
4
15w
2		 16w
2		 19w
3		 17w
3		 20w
3		 36w
7		 17w
3		 1.1
55		 19w
3		 .5
25
69w
14		 .9
45		 2
100		 17w
3		 16w
3		 17w
3		 40w
8		 15w
3		 .7
35		 46w
9
18w
3		 12w
2		 17w
3		 11w
2		 32w
6		 .8
40		 21w
4		 9w
2		 27w
5		 11w
2
17w
3		 13w
2		 1.8
90		 17w
2		 15w
2		 19w
3		 22w
4		 31w
5		 42w
8		 12w
2
22w
4		 13w
2		 19w
3		 22w
4		 18w
3		 13w
2		 2.2
1:50		 18w
3		 55w
11		 1.2
60
20w
4		 18w
3		 22w
4		 18w
3		 14w
2		 21w
4		 5w
1		 7w
1		 6w
1		 9w
2
16w
3		 8w
2		 11w
2		 6w
2		 23w
4		 11w
2		 12w
2		 9w
2		 7w
1		 11w
2
7w
2		 7w
2		 20w
4		 21w
4		 11w
2		 1.5
75		 .8
40		 22w
4		 44w
9		 11w
2
20w
4		 17w
3		 33w
5		 29w
5		 14w
2		 .9
45		 35w
7		 37w
7		 .4
20		 19w
3
2.1
1:45		 19w
3		 50w
10		 21w
4		 17w
3		 18w
3		 11w
2		 12w
2		 13w
2		 11w
2
12w
2		 12w
2		 11w
2		 12w
2		 12w
2		 11w
2		 12w
2		 11w
2		 18w
2		 10w
2
19w
3		 71w
15		 54w
11		 .7
35		 18w
3		 12w
2		 10w
2		 12w
2		 12w
2		 13w
2
12w
2		 13w
2		 12w
2		 13w
2		 11w
2		 15w
3		 13w
2		 83w
17		 11w
2		 17w
3
10w
2		 82w
0		 22w
4		 10w
2		 45w
9		 29w
6		 13w
2		 12w
2		 12w
2		 10w
2
10w
2		 82w
17		 22w
4		 10w
2		 45w
9		 29w
5		 13w
2		 12w
2		 12w
2		 10w
2
10w
2		 11w
2		 11w
2		 11w
2		 30w
6		 52w
10		 20w
4		 36w
6		 78w
16		 37w
6
.8
40		 21w 4 12w 2 17w 3 12w 2 11
2		 9w
2		 12w 2 11w
2		 20w 4
12w 2 17w 3 72w 16 21w 4 35w 7 8w
2		 1
1		 88w 18 39w
8		 12w 2
8w
2		 11
2		 10w 2 10w 2 9w
2		 12w
2		 10w 2 11
2		 12w
3		 12w 2
11
2		 12w 2 11
2		 12w 2 11
2		 13w
2		 12w 2 12w 2 11
2		 13w 3
12w 2 13w 3 .4
1		 74w 15 50w 10 86w 18 16w 3 62w 13 .4
1		 .3
15
8w
2		 5w
1		 49w 10 13w 2 4w
1		 47w
9		 .4
1		 16w 3 46w
9		 21w 4
26w 5 12w 2 21w 4 11
2		 14w 3 14w
3		 16w 3 11
2		 2
1		 17w 3
25w 5 20w 4 28w 6 21w 4 31w 6 20w
4		 17w 3 28w 5 16w
3		 18w 3
1.7
1		 64w 13 74w 15 21w 4 8w
2		 12w
2		 28w 5 18w 3 27w
6		 17w 3
56w 11 18w 3 19w 4 30w 6 29w 6 11
2		 29w 6 12w 2 63w
14		 .4
1
10w 2 14w 3 1.3
65		 68w 15 28w 6 19w 4 57w 11 .3
15		 35w
7		 .5
25
39w 8 17w 3 11
2		 14w 3 21w 4 12w 2 20w 4 20w 4 11
2		 18w 3
11
2		 18w 3 21w 4 20w 4 28w 5 40w 8 9w
2		 7w
2		 7w
2		 6w
1
49w 10 47w 9 .6
1		 35w 7 22w 4 .4
1		 20w 4 13w 2 11
2		 17w 3
26w 5 15w 3 13w 3 23w 5 11
2		 20w
4		 12w 2 12w 2 20w
4		 20w 4
20w 4 .4
1		 6w
1		 23w 5 1.5
75		 18w
3		 5w
1		 4w
1		 9w
2		 11
2
16w 3 12w 2 11
2		 15w 3 65w 14 17w
3		 5w
1		 6w
1		 8w
2		 6w
1
10w2 12w 2 10w 2 7w
2		 21w 4 22w
4		 87w 17 23w
5		 35w
7		 24w 5
.7
35		 12w 2 27w 5 9w
2		 6w
1		 7w
2		 12w 2 11
2		 9w
2		 7w
2
6w
1		 6w
1		 5w
1		 12w2 7w
2		 4w
1		 8w
2		 6w
1		 10w
2		 11
2
20w 4 46w 9 .3
15		 55w 11 .6
1		 19w
4		 .5
25		 51w 10 42w
8		 8w
2
10w 2 15w 3 13w 3 14w 3 11
2		 10w
2		 22w 4 20w 4 17
3		 11
2
14w3 18w 3 20w4 19w 4 19w 10
226
21w
4
 8w
2		 8w
2		 14w
3		 22w 4
8w
2		 12w 2 19w 4 15w 3 1.3
65		 22w 4 20w 4 20w 4 20w
4		 29w 6
11
2		 17w 3 10w 2 11
2		 21w 4 12w
2		 11
2		 22w 4 15w
3		 8w
2
26w 5 20w 4 21w 4 13w 3 10w
2		 7w
2		 18w 3 21w 4 18w
4		 8w
2
16w
3		 15w
3		 1.4
1:10		 15w 3 .6
1		 19w
4		 8w
2		 15w 3 17
3		 16w 3
15w 3 58w 12 .4
1		 49w 10 .4
1		 53w 11 .4
1		 50w 10 .4
1		 48w 10
31w
6		 6w
1		 19w 4 7w
2		 7w
2		 30w
6		 16w 3 8w
2		 7w
2		 7w
2
38w 8 14w 3 24w
5		 10w 2 62w 13 7w
2		 18w
3		 8w
2		 21
4		 4w
1
8w
2		 6w
1		 62w 13 29w 6 18w
3		 11
2		 11
2		 11
2		 11
2		 10w 2
12w 2 12w 2 12w
2		 11
2		 13w
3		 12w
2		 12w 2 12w
2		 11
2		 11
2
13w
3		 11
2		 13w
3		 8w
2		 10w 2 14w
3		 11
2		 11
2		 14w
3		 17w 3
12w 2 12w 2 9w
2		 13w 3 8w
2		 10w
2		 36w 7 31w 6 36w
7		 12w 2
17w 3 9w
2		 22w 5 29w 6 15w
3		 7w
2		 8w
2		 24w 5 51w
10		 15w 3
11
2		 12w 3 12w 3 22w 4 20w
4		 13w 3 24w 5 12w 2 9w
2		 9w
2
8w
2		 15w 3 11
2		 27w 5 21w
4		 36w 7 1.1
55		 .9
:45		 27w
6		 19w 4
22w 4 11
2		 12w 3 13w 3 12w
2		 12w
2		 11
2		 11
2		 10w
2		 13w 3
13w 3 12w 2 11
2		 13w 3 39w 8 48w
10		 10w 2 9w
2		 8w
2		 11
2
11
2		 6w
1		 10w 2 10w
2		 11
2		 12w
2		 13w 3 1.1
55		 17w
3		 8w
2
19w 4 .5
25		 33w 7  
.4
1		 53w
11		 13w
3		 11
2		 14w
3		 11
2		 14w
3		 15w
3		 7w
2		 19
4
12w
3		 22
11		 28w
5.5		 20w
4		 11
2		 21
4		 12w
3		 20w
4		 20w
4		 7w
2
8w
2		 20w
4		 20w
4		 13w
3		 17
3		 .4
1		 10w
2		 11
2		 12w
3		 11
2
12w
3		 10w
2		 10w
2		 10w
2		 14w
3		 48w
0		 11
2		 19
4		 .9
:45		 19
4
45w
9		 .4
1		 14w
3		 15w
3		 11
2		 11
2		 36w
7		 .4
1		 10w
2		 17
3
7w
2		 5w
1		 20w
4		 17
3		 4w
1		 6w
1		 5w
1		 11
2		 19
4		 27w
6
31w
6		 13w
3		 5w
1		 7w
2		 6w
1		 14w
3		 14w
3		 6w
1		 12w
3		 11
2
36w
7		 11
2		 9w
2		 19
4		 7w
2		 7w
2		 6w
1		 13w
3		 10w
2		 10w
2
9w
2		 10w
2		 10w
2		 10w
2		 6w
1		 6w
1		 5w
1		 5w
1		 6w
1		 7w
2
7w
2		 5w
1		 5w
1		 7w
2		 11
2		 12w
3		 49w
10		 .5
25		 34w
7		 1.2
60
35w
7		 12w
3		 20w
4		 19
4		 12w
3		 8w
2		 56w
11		 22
11		 13w
3		 8w
2
76w
0		 7w
2		 17
3		 31w
6		 7w
2		 8w
2		 6w
1		 8w
2		 7w
2		 7w
2
7w
2		 9w
2		 7w
2		 9w
2		 8w
2		 7w
2		 7w
2		 17
3		 22
11		 13w
3
.7
35		 .7
35		 19
4		 11
2		 10w
2		 19
4		 12w
3		 10w
2		 12w
3		 12w
3
13w
3		 20w
4		 12w
3		 20w
4		 12w
3		 9w
2		 11
2		 20w
4		 10w
2		 14w
3
12w
3		 14w
3		 13w
3		 12w
3		 9w
2		 12w
3		 9w
2		 11
2		 7w
2		 9w
2
22
11		 21
4		 1.4
1:10		 31w
6		 15w
3		 18w
4		 11
2		 18w
4		 11
2		 20w
4
13w
3		 11
2		 11
2		 10w
2		 12w
3		 17
3		 12w
3		 14w
3		 13w
3		 25w
5
12w
3		 60w
12		 14w
3		 11
2		 69w
0		 19
4		 19
4		 26w
5.3		 21
4		 6w
1
13w
3		 16w
3		 18w
4		 4w
1		 6w
1		 5w
1		 14w
3		 19
4		 7w
2		 19
4
17
3		 18w
4		 5w
1		 18w
4		 12w
3		 17
3		 5w
1		 11
2		 5w
1		 8w
2
5w
1		 7w
2		 5w
1		 5w
1		 10w
2		 9w
2		 5w
1		 11
2		 7w
2		 14w
3
9w
2		 26w
5.3		 19
4		 .6
1		 44w
9		 8w
2		 28w
5.5		 13w
3		 11
2		 10w
2
12w
3		 16w
3		 12w
3		 11
2		 12w
3		 12w
3		 16w
3		 12w
3		 12w
3		 10w
2
10w
2		 13w
3		 14w
3		 11
2		 12w
3		 17
3		 33w
7		 16w
3		 12w
3		 9w
2
11
2		 13w
3		 .7
35		 18w
4		 .4
1		 8w
2		 15w
3		 12w
3		 12w
3		 10w
2
12w
3		 13w
3		 14w
3		 13w
3		 11
2		 8w
2		 8w
2		 7w
2		 9w
2		 9w
2
10w
2		 8w
2		 8w
2		 8w
2		 .4
1		 1.3
65		 21
4		 8w
2		 11
2		 20w
4
22
11		 1.1
55		 1.4
1:10		 19
4		 20w
4		 19
4		 22
11		 16w
3		 12w
3		 8w
2
19
4		 23w
5		 15w
3		 13w
3		 12w
3		 19
4		 5w
1		 10w
2		 7w
2		 9w
2
22
11		 15w
3		 19
4		 19
4		 7w
2		 14w
3		 11
2		 7w
2		 9w
2		 5w
1
7w
2		 6w
1		 18w
4		 5w
1		 9w
2		 13w
3		 11
2		 8w
2		 8w
2		 7w
2
8w
2		 22
11		 9w
2		 9w
2		 9w
2		 9w
2		 5w
1		 6w
1		 8w
2		 .3
15
8w
2		 7w
2		 12w
3		 25w
5		 7w
2		 10w
2		 6w
1		 16w
3		 13w
3		 8w
2
72w
14		 12w
3		 21
4		 23w
5		 5w
1		 16w
3		 5w
1		 9w
2		 12w
3		 7w
2
12w
3		 9w
2		 7w
2		 7w
2		 19
4		 32w
8.2		 19
4		 12w
3		 20w
4		 7w
2
7w
2		 1.4
1:10		 20w
4		 .7
35		 1.9
1:35		 19
4		 19
4		 13w
3		 .6
1		 22
11
33w
7		 1.4
1:10		 30w
6		 10w
2		 23w
5		 8w
2		 14w
3		 20w
4		 13w
3		 7w
2
7w
2		 9w
2		 8w
2		 7w
2		 9w
2		 64w
13		 20w
4		 .8
40		 .6
1		 18w
4
37
7.4		 9w
2		 22
11		 10w
2		 20w
4		 13w
3		 20w
4		 8w
2		 6w
1		 8w
2
7w
2		 12w
3		 13w
3		 20w
4		 20w
4		 23w
5		 19
4		 .7
35		 36w
7		 27w
6
.9
:45		 21
4		 7w
2		 17
3		 .9
:45		 32w
8.2		 2
1		 21
4		 1.7
1		 23w
5
.5
25		 11
2		 9w
2		 19
4		 19
4		 18w
4		 18w
4		 23w
5		 13w
3		 23w
5
20w
4		 11
2		 67w
14		 5w
1		 6w
1		 18w
4		 10w
2		 9w
2		 8w
2		 9w
2
42w
8		 68w
14		 18w
4		 10w
2		 19
4		 72w
14		 14w
3		 12w
3		 20
4		 69w
14
18w
4		 17
3		 20w
4		 74w
15		 42w
8		 18w
4		 10w
2		 22
11		 14w
3		 18w
4
10w
2		 18w
4		 23w
5		 1.4
1:10		 .6
1		 31w
6		 9w
2		 16w
3		 11
2		 2.7
2:05
11
2		 20w
4		 46w
9		 5w
1		 7w
2		 7w
2		 60w
12		 30w
6		 28w
5.5		 59w
12
7w
2		 10w
2		 6w
1		 71w
14		 15w
3		 25w
5		 11
2		 7w
2		 6w
1		 4w
1
8w
2		 5w
1		 10w
2		 12w
3		 9w
2		 16w
3		 13w
3		 20w
4		 7w
2		 8w
2
10w
2		 5w
1		 8w
2		 6w
1		 8w
2		 10w
2		 7w
2		 6w
1		 9w
2		 10w
2
11
2		 22
11		 28w
5.5		 10w
2		 12w
3		 10w
2		 11
2		 11
2		 65w
13		 33w
7
41w
8		  
     
1 - Preface
In 1869, having read the Antigone with a pupil who at the time had a passion for the stage, I was led to attempt a metrical version of the _Antigone_, and, by and by, of the Electra and Trachiniae.[1] I had the satisfaction of seeing this last very beautifully produced by an amateur company in Scotland in 1877; when Mrs. Fleeming Jenkin may be said to have 'created' the part of Dêanira. Thus encouraged, I completed the translation of the seven plays, which was published by Kegan Paul in 1883 and again by Murray in 1896. I have now to thank Mr. Murray for consenting to this cheaper issue. The seven extant plays of Sophocles have been variously arranged. In the order most frequently adopted by English editors, the three plays of the Theban cycle, Oedipus Tyrannus, Oedipus Coloneus, and Antigone, have been placed foremost. In one respect this is obviously convenient, as appearing to present continuously a connected story. But on a closer view, it is in two ways illusory. 1. The Antigone is generally admitted to be, comparatively speaking, an early play, while the Oedipus Coloneus belongs to the dramatist's latest manner; the first Oedipus coming in somewhere between the two. The effect is therefore analogous to that produced on readers of Shakespeare by the habit of placing Henry VI after Henry IV and V. But tragedies and 'histories' or chronicle plays are not _in pari materia_. 2. The error has been aggravated by a loose way of speaking of 'the Theban Trilogy', a term which could only be properly applicable if the three dramas had been produced in the same year. I have therefore now arranged the seven plays in an order corresponding to the most probable dates of their production, viz. Antigone, Aias, King Oedipus, Electra, Trachiniae, Philoctetes, and Oedipus at Colonos. A credible tradition refers the Antigone to 445 B.C. The Aias appears to be not much later--it may even be earlier--than the Antigone. The Philoctetes was produced in 408 B.C., when the poet was considerably over eighty. The Oedipus at Colonos has always been believed to be a composition of Sophocles' old age. It is said to have been produced after his death, though it may have been composed some years earlier. The tragedy of King Oedipus, in which the poet's art attained its maturity, is plausibly assigned to an early year of the Peloponnesian war (say 427 B.C.), the Trachiniae to about 420 B.C. The time of the Electra is doubtful; but Professor Jebb has shown that, on metrical grounds, it should be placed after, rather than before, King Oedipus. Even the English reader, taking the plays as they are grouped in this volume, may be aware of a gradual change of manner, not unlike what is perceptible in passing from Richard II to Macbeth, and from Macbeth to The Winter's Tale or Cymbeline. For although the supposed date of the Antigone was long subsequent to the poet's first tragic victory, the forty years over which the seven plays are spread saw many changes of taste in art and literature. Footnote: 1 _Three Plays of Sophocles:_ Blackwood, 1873.
 
1 - Preface
PREFATORY NOTE TO THE EDITION OF 1883 I. The Hellenic spirit has been repeatedly characterized as simple Nature-worship. Even the Higher Paganism has been described as 'in other words the purified worship of natural forms.'[1] One might suppose, in reading some modern writers, that the Nymphs and Fauns, the River-Gods and Pan, were at least as prominent in all Greek poetry as Zeus, Apollo, and Athena, or that Apollo was only the sweet singer and not also the prophet of retribution. The fresh and unimpaired enjoyment of the Beautiful is certainly the aspect of ancient life and literature which most attracted the humanists of the sixteenth century, and still most impresses those amongst ourselves who for various reasons desire to point the contrast between Paganism and Judaism. The two great groups of forces vaguely known as the Renaissance and the Revolution have both contributed to this result. Men who were weary of conventionality and of the weight of custom 'heavy as frost and deep almost as life,' have longed for the vision of 'Oread or Dryad glancing through the shade,' or to 'hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.' Meanwhile, that in which the Greeks most resembled us, 'the human heart by which we live,' for the very reason that it lies so near to us, is too apt to be lost from our conception of them. Another cause of this one-sided view is the illusion produced by the contemplation of statuary, together with the unapproachable perfection of form which every relic of Greek antiquity indisputably possesses. But on turning from the forms of Greek art to the substance of Greek literature, we find that Beauty, although everywhere an important element, is by no means the sole or even the chief attribute of the greatest writings, nor is the Hellenic consciousness confined within the life of Nature, unless this term is allowed to comprehend man with all his thoughts and aspirations. It was in this latter sense that Hegel recognized the union of depth with brightness in Greek culture: 'If the first paradise was the paradise of nature, this is the second, the higher paradise of the human spirit, which in its fair naturalness, freedom, depth and brightness here comes forth like a bride out of her chamber. The first wild majesty of the rise of spiritual life in the East is here circumscribed by the dignity of form, and softened into beauty. Its depth shows itself no longer in confusion, obscurity, and inflation, but lies open before us in simple clearness. Its brightness (Heiterkeit) is not a childish play, but covers a sadness which knows the baldness of fate but is not by that knowledge driven out of freedom and measure.' Hegel's Werke, vol. XVI. p. 139 (translated by Prof. Caird). The simplicity of Herodotus, for example, does not exclude far reaching thoughts on the political advantages of liberty, nor such reflections on experience as are implied in the saying of Artabanus, that the transitoriness of human life is the least of its evils. And in what modern writing is more of the wisdom of life condensed than in the History of Thucydides? It is surely more true to say of Greek literature that it contains types of all things human, stamped with the freshness, simplicity, and directness which belong to first impressions, and to the first impressions of genius. Now the 'thoughts and aspirations,' which are nowhere absent from Greek literature, and make a centre of growing warmth and light in its Periclean period--when the conception of human nature for the first time takes definite shape--have no less of Religion in them than underlay the 'creed outworn'. To think otherwise would be an error of the same kind as that 'abuse of the word Atheism' against which the author of the work above alluded to protests so forcibly. Religion, in the sense here indicated, is the mainspring and vital principle of Tragedy. The efforts of Aeschylus and Sophocles were sustained by it, and its inevitable decay through the scepticism which preceded Socrates was the chief hindrance to the tragic genius of Euripides. Yet the inequality of which we have consequently to complain in him is redeemed by pregnant hints of something yet 'more deeply interfused,' which in him, as in his two great predecessors, is sometimes felt as 'modern,' because it is not of an age but for all time. The most valuable part of every literature is something which transcends the period and nation out of which it springs. On the other hand, much that at first sight seems primitive in Greek tragedy belongs more to the subject than to the mode of handling. The age of Pericles was in advance of that in which the legends were first Hellenized and humanized, just as this must have been already far removed from the earliest stages of mythopoeic imagination. The reader of Aeschylus or Sophocles should therefore be warned against attributing to the poet's invention that which is given in the fable. An educated student of Italian painting knows how to discriminate--say in an Assumption by Botticelli--between the traditional conventions, the contemporary ideas, and the refinements of the artist's own fancy. The same indulgence must be extended to dramatic art. The tragedy of King Lear is not rude or primitive, although the subject belongs to prehistoric times in Britain. Nor is Goethe's Faust mediaeval in spirit as in theme. So neither is the Oedipus Rex the product of 'lawless and uncertain thoughts,' notwithstanding the unspeakable horror of the story, but is penetrated by the most profound estimate of all in human life that is saddest, and all that is most precious. Far from being naive naturalists after the Keats fashion, the Greek tragic poets had succeeded to a pessimistic reaction from simple Pagan enjoyment; they were surrounded with gloomy questionings about human destiny and Divine Justice, and they replied by looking steadily at the facts of life and asserting the supreme worth of innocence, equity, and mercy. They were not philosophers, for they spoke the language of feeling; but the civilization of which they were the strongest outcome was already tinged with influences derived from early philosophy-- especially from the gnomic wisdom of the sixth century and from the spirit of theosophic speculation, which in Aeschylus goes far even to recast mythology. The latter influence was probably reinforced, through channels no longer traceable, by the Eleusinian worship, in which the mystery of life and death and of human sorrow had replaced the primitive wonder at the phenomena of the year. And whatever elements of philosophic theory or mystic exaltation the drama may have reflected, it was still more emphatically the repository of some of the most precious traditions of civilized humanity--traditions which philosophy has sometimes tended to extenuate, if not to destroy. Plato's Gorgias contains one of the most eloquent vindications of the transcendent value of righteousness and faithfulness as such. But when we ask, 'Righteousness in what relation?'--'Faithfulness to whom?'-- the Gorgias is silent; and when the vacant outline is filled up in the Republic, we are presented with an ideal of man's social relations, which, although it may be regarded as the ultimate development of existing tendencies, yet has no immediate bearing on any actual condition of the world. The ideal of the tragic poet may be less perfect; or rather he does not attempt to set before us abstractedly any single ideal. But the grand types of character which he presents to the world are not merely imaginary. They are creatures of flesh and blood, men and women, to whom the unsullied purity of their homes, the freedom and power of their country, the respect and love of their fellow-citizens, are inestimably dear. From a Platonic, and still more from a Christian point of view, the best morality of the age of Pericles is no doubt defective. Such counsels of perfection as 'Love your enemies', or 'A good man can harm no one, not even an enemy',--are beyond the horizon of tragedy, unless dimly seen in the person of Antigone. The coexistence of savage vindictiveness with the most affectionate tenderness is characteristic of heroes and heroines alike, and produces some of the most moving contrasts. But the tenderness is no less deep and real for this, and while the chief persons are thus passionate, the Greek lesson of moderation and reasonableness is taught by the event, whether expressed or not by the mouth of sage or prophet or of the 'ideal bystander'. Greek tragedy, then, is a religious art, not merely because associated with the festival of Dionysus, nor because the life which it represented was that of men who believed, with all the Hellenes, in Zeus, Apollo, and Athena, or in the power of Moira and the Erinyes,-- not merely because it represented 'the dread strife Of poor humanity's afflicted will Struggling in vain with ruthless destiny,' but much more because it awakened in the Athenian spectator emotions of wonder concerning human life, and of admiration for nobleness in the unfortunate--a sense of the infinite value of personal uprightness and of domestic purity--which in the most universal sense of the word were truly religious,--because it expressed a consciousness of depths which Plato never fathomed, and an ideal of character which, if less complete than Shakespeare's, is not less noble. It is indeed a 'rough' generalization that ranks the Agamemnon with the Adoniazusae as a religious composition. II. This spiritual side of tragic poetry deserves to be emphasized both as the most essential aspect of it, and as giving it the most permanent claim to lasting recognition. And yet, apart from this, merely as dramas, the works of Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides will never cease to be admired. These poets are teachers, but they teach through art. To ask simply, as Carlyle once did, 'What did they think?' is not the way to understand or learn from them. Considered simply as works of art, the plays of Sophocles stand alone amongst dramatic writings in their degree of concentration and complex unity. 1. The interest of a Sophoclean drama is always intensely personal, and is almost always centred in an individual destiny. In other words, it is not historical or mythical, but ethical. Single persons stand out magnificently in Aeschylus. But the action is always larger than any single life. Each tragedy or trilogy resembles the fragment of a sublime Epic poem. Mighty issues revolve about the scene, whether this is laid on Earth or amongst the Gods, issues far transcending the fate of Orestes or even of Prometheus. In the perspective painting of Sophocles, these vast surroundings fall into the background, and the feelings of the spectator are absorbed in sympathy with the chief figure on the stage, round whom the other characters--the members of the chorus being included--are grouped with the minutest care. 2. In this grouping of the persons, as well as in the conduct of the action, Sophocles is masterly in his use of pathetic contrast. This motive must of course enter into all tragedy--nothing can be finer than the contrast of Cassandra to Clytemnestra in the Agamemnon,--but in Sophocles it is all-pervading, and some of the minor effects of it are so subtle that although inevitably felt by the spectator they are often lost upon the mere reader or student. And every touch, however transient, is made to contribute to the main effect. To recur once more to the much-abused analogy of statuary:--the work of Aeschylus may be compared to a colossal frieze, while that of Sophocles resembles the pediment of a smaller temple. Or if, as in considering the Orestean trilogy, the arrangement of the pediment affords the more fitting parallel even for Aeschylus, yet the forms are so gigantic that minute touches of characterization and of contrast are omitted as superfluous. Whereas in Sophocles, it is at once the finish of the chief figure and the studied harmony of the whole, which have led his work to be compared with that of his contemporary Phidias. Such comparison, however, is useful by way of illustration merely. It must never be forgotten that, as Lessing pointed out to some who thought the Philoctetes too sensational, analogies between the arts are limited by essential differences of material and of scope. All poetry represents successive moments. Its figures are never in repose. And although the action of Tragedy is concentrated and revolves around a single point, yet it is a dull vision that confounds rapidity of motion with rest. 3. Sophocles found the subjects of his dramas already embodied not only in previous tragedies but in Epic and Lyric poetry. And there were some fables, such as that of the death of Oedipus at Colonos, which seem to have been known to him only through oral tradition. For some reason which is not clearly apparent, both he and Aeschylus drew more largely from the Cyclic poets than from 'our Homer'. The inferior and more recent Epics, which are now lost, were probably more episodical, and thus presented a more inviting repertory of legends than the Iliad and Odyssey. Arctinus of Lesbos had treated at great length the story of the House of Thebes. The legend of Orestes, to which there are several allusions, not always consistent with each other, in the Homeric poems, had been a favourite and fruitful subject of tradition and of poetical treatment in the intervening period. Passages of the Tale of Troy, in which other heroes than Achilles had the pre-eminence, had been elaborated by Lesches and other Epic writers of the Post-Homeric time. The voyage of the Argonauts, another favourite heroic theme, supplied the subjects of many dramas which have disappeared. Lastly, the taking of Oechalia by Heracles, and the events which followed it, had been narrated in a long poem, in which one version of that hero's multiform legend was fully set forth. The subjects of the King Oedipus, Oedipus at Colonos, and Antigone, are taken from the Tale of Thebes, the Aias and the Philoctetes are founded on incidents between the end of the Iliad and the taking of Troy, the Electra represents the vengeance of Orestes, the crowning event in the tale of 'Pelops' line', the Trachiniae recounts the last crisis in the life of Heracles. 4. Of the three Theban plays, the Antigone was first composed, although its subject is the latest. Aeschylus in the Seven against Thebes had already represented the young heroine as defying the victorious citizens who forbade the burial of her brother, the rebel Polynices. He allowed her to be supported in her action by a band of sympathizing friends. But in the play of Sophocles she stands alone, and the power which she defies is not that of the citizens generally, but of Creon, whose will is absolute in the State. Thus the struggle is intensified, and both her strength and her desolation become more impressive, while the opposing claims of civic authority and domestic piety are more vividly realized, because either is separately embodied in an individual will. By the same means the situation is humanized to the last degree, and the heart of the spectator, although strained to the uttermost with pity for the heroic maiden whose life when full of brightest hopes was sacrificed to affection and piety, has still some feeling left for the living desolation of the man, whose patriotic zeal, degenerating into tyranny, brought his city to the brink of ruin, and cost him the lives of his two sons and of his wife, whose dying curse, as well as that of Haemon, is denounced upon him. In the Oedipus Tyrannus, Sophocles goes back to the central crisis of the Theban story. And again he fixes our attention, not so much on the fortunes of the city, or of the reigning house, as on the man Oedipus, his glory and his fall.-- 'O mirror of our fickle state Since man on earth unparalleled! The rarer thy example stands, By how much from the top of wondrous glory, Strongest of mortal men, To lowest pitch of abject fortune thou art fallen[2]. The horror and the pity of it are both enhanced by the character of Oedipus--his essential innocence, his affectionateness, his uncalculating benevolence and public spirit;--while his impetuosity and passionateness make the sequel less incredible. The essential innocence of Oedipus, which survives the ruin of his hopes in this world, supplies the chief motive of the Oedipus at Colonos. This drama, which Sophocles is said to have written late in life, is in many ways contrasted with the former Oedipus. It begins with pity and horror, and ends with peace. It is only in part founded on Epic tradition, the main incident belonging apparently to the local mythology of the poet's birthplace. It also implies a later stage of ethical reflection, and in this respect resembles the Philoctetes; it depends more on lyrical and melodramatic effects, and allows more room for collateral and subsidiary motives than any other of the seven. Yet in its principal theme, the vindication or redemption of an essentially noble spirit from the consequences of error, it repeats a note which had been struck much earlier in the Aias with great force, although with some crudities of treatment which are absent from the later drama. 5. In one of the Epic poems which narrated the fall of Troy, the figure of Aias was more prominent than in the Iliad. He alone and unassisted was there said to have repulsed Hector from the ships, and he had the chief share, although in this he was aided by Odysseus, in rescuing the dead body of Achilles. Yet Achilles' arms were awarded by the votes of the chieftains, as the prize of valour, not to Aias, but to Odysseus. This, no doubt, meant that wisdom is better than strength. But the wisdom of Odysseus in these later Epics was often less nobly esteemed than in the Iliad and Odyssey, and was represented as alloyed with cunning. Aias has withdrawn with his Salaminians, in a rage, from the fight, and after long brooding by the ships his wrath has broken forth into a blaze which would have endangered the lives of Odysseus and the Atridae, had not Athena in her care for them changed his anger into madness. Hence, instead of slaying the generals, he makes havoc amongst the flocks and herds, which as the result of various forays were the common property of the whole army. The truth is discovered by Odysseus with the help of Athena, and from being next to Achilles in renown, Aias becomes the object of universal scorn and hatred. The sequel of this hour of his downfall is the subject of the Aias of Sophocles. After lamenting his fate, the hero eludes the vigilance of his captive bride Tecmessa, and of his Salaminian mariners, and, in complete solitude, falls upon his sword. He is found by Tecmessa and by his half-brother Teucer, who has returned too late from a raid in the Mysian highlands. The Atridae would prohibit Aias' funeral; but Odysseus, who has been specially enlightened by Athena, advises generous forbearance, and his counsel prevails. The part representing the disgrace and death of Aias is more affecting to modern readers than the remainder of the drama. But we should bear in mind that the vindication of Aias after death, and his burial with undiminished honours, had an absorbing interest for the Athenian and Salaminian spectator. Philoctetes also is rejected by man and accepted by Destiny. The Argives in his case, as the Thebans in the case of Oedipus, are blind to the real intentions of the Gods. The Philoctetes, like the Oedipus at Colonos, was a work of Sophocles' old age; and while it can hardly be said that the fire of tragic feeling is abated in either of these plays, dramatic effect is modified in both of them by the influence of the poet's contemplative mood. The interest of the action in the Philoctetes is more inward and psychological than in any other ancient drama. The change of mind in Neoptolemus, the stubborn fixity of will in Philoctetes, contrasted with the confiding tenderness of his nature, form the elements of a dramatic movement at once extremely simple and wonderfully sustained. No purer ideal of virtuous youth has been imagined than the son of Achilles, who in this play, though sorely tempted, sets faithfulness before ambition. 6. In the Electra, which, though much earlier than the Philoctetes, is still a work of his mature genius, our poet appears at first sight to be in unequal competition with Aeschylus. If the Theban trilogy of the elder poet had remained entire, a similar impression might have been produced by the Oedipus Tyrannus. It is best to lay such comparisons aside, and to consider the work of Sophocles simply on its own merits. The subject, as he has chosen to treat it, is the heroic endurance of a woman who devotes her life to the vindication of intolerable wrongs done to her father, and the restoration of her young brother to his hereditary rights. Hers is the human agency which for this purpose works together with Apollo. But the divine intention is concealed from her. She suffers countless indignities from her father's enemies, of whom her own mother is the chief. And, at length, all her hopes are shattered by the false tidings that Orestes is no more. Even then she does not relinquish her resolve. And the revulsion from her deep sorrow to extremity of joy, when she finds Orestes at her side and ready to perform the act of vengeance in his own person, is irresistably affecting, even when the play is only read. Sophocles is especially great in the delineation of ideal female characters. The heroic ardour of Antigone, and the no less heroic persistence and endurance of Electra, are both founded on the strength of their affection. And the affection in both cases is what some moderns too have called the purest of human feelings, the love of a sister for a brother. Another aspect of that world-old marvel, 'the love of women,' was presented in Aias' captive bride, Tecmessa. This softer type also attains to heroic grandeur in Dêanira, the wronged wife of Heracles, whose fatal error is caused by the innocent working of her wounded love. It is strange that so acute a critic as A.W. Schlegel should have doubted the Sophoclean authorship of the Trachiniae. If its religious and moral lessons are even less obtrusive than those of either Oedipus and of the Antigone, there is no play which more directly pierces to the very heart of humanity. And it is a superficial judgement which complains that here at all events our sympathies are distracted between the two chief persons, Dêanira and Heracles. To one passion of his, to one fond mistake of hers, the ruin of them both is due. Her love has made their fates inseparable. And the spectator, in sharing Hyllus' grief, is afflicted for them both at once. We may well recognize in this treatment of the death of Heracles the hand of him who wrote-- [Greek: su kai dikaiôn adikous phrenas paraspas epi lôba, ..., ... amachos gar empaizei theos Aphrodita[3].] 7. It is unnecessary to expatiate here on the merits of construction in which these seven plays are generally acknowledged to be unrivalled; the natural way in which the main situation is explained, the suddenness and inevitableness of the complications, the steadily sustained climax of emotion until the action culminates, the preservation of the fitting mood until the end, the subtlety and effectiveness of the minor contrasts of situation and character[4]. But it may not be irrelevant to observe that the 'acting qualities' of Sophocles, as of Shakespeare, are best known to those who have seen him acted, whether in Greek, as by the students at Harvard[5] and Toronto[6], and more recently at Cambridge[7], or in English long ago by Miss Helen Faucit (since Lady Martin[8]), or still earlier and repeatedly in Germany, or in the French version of the Antigone by MM. Maurice and Vacquerie (1845) or of King Oedipus by M. Lacroix, in which the part of OEdipe Roi was finely sustained by M. Geoffroy in 1861, and by M. Mounet Sully in 1881[9]. With reference to the latter performance, which was continued throughout the autumn season, M. Francisque Sarcey wrote an article for the _Temps_ newspaper of August 15, 1881, which is full of just and vivid appreciation. At the risk of seeming absurdly 'modern', I will quote from this article some of the more striking passages. 'Ce troisième et ce quatrième actes, les plus émouvants qui se soient jamais produits sur aucune scène, se composent d'une suite de narrations, qui viennent l'une après l'autre frapper au coeur d'OEdipe, et qui ont leur contrecoup dans l'âme des spectateurs. Je ne sais qu'une pièce au monde qui soit construite de la sorte, c'est l'_École des Femmes_. Ce rapprochement vous paraîtra singulier, sans doute.... Mais ... c'est dans le vieux drame grec comme dans la comédie du maître français une trouvaille de génie.... 'Sophocle a voulu, après des émotions si terribles, après des angoisses si sèches, ouvrir la source des larmes: il a écrit un cinquième acte.... 'Les yeux crevés d'OEdipe ne sont qu'un accident, ou, si vous aimez mieux, un accessoire, Le poète, sans s'arrêter à ce détail, a mis sur les lèvres de son héros toute la gamme des sentiments douloureux qu'excite une si prodigieuse infortune.... 'À la lecture, elle est un pen longue cette scène de lamentations. Au théâtre, on n'a pas le temps de la trouver telle: on pleure de toute son âme et de tous ses yeux. C'est qu'après avoir eu le coeur si longtemps serré comme dans un étau, on épreuve comme un soulagement à sentir en soi jaillir la source des larmes. Sophocle, qui semble avoir été le plus malin des dramaturges, comme il est le plus parfait des écrivains dramatiques, a cherché là un effet de contraste dont l'effet est immanquant sur le public.' These and other like remarks of one of the best-known critics of the Parisian stage show that the dramatic art of Sophocles is still a living power. I am well aware how feeble and inadequate the present attempted reproduction must appear to any reader who knows the Greek original. There is much to be said for the view of an eminent scholar who once declared that he would never think of translating a Greek poet. But the end of translating is not to satisfy fastidious scholars, but to make the classics partially accessible to those whose acquaintance with them would otherwise be still more defective. Part of this version of Sophocles was printed several years ago in an imperfect form. The present volume contains the seven extant plays entire. As the object has been to give the effect of each drama as a whole, rather than to dwell on particular 'beauties' (which only a poet can render), the fragments have not been included. But the reader should bear in mind that the seven plays are less than a tithe of the work produced by the poet in his lifetime. It may very possibly be asked why verse has been employed at all. Why not have listened to Carlyle's rough demand, 'Tell us what they thought; none of your silly poetry'? The present translator can only reply that he began with prose, but soon found that, for tragic dialogue in English, blank verse appeared a more natural and effective vehicle than any prose style which he could hope to frame. And with the dialogue in verse, it was impossible to have the lyric parts in any sort of prose, simply because the reader would then have felt an intolerable incongruity. These parts have therefore been turned into such familiar lyric measures as seemed at once possible and not unsuitable. And where this method was found impracticable, as sometimes in the _Commoi_, blank metres have again been used,--with such liberties as seemed appropriate to the special purpose. The writer's hope throughout has been, not indeed fully to transfuse the poetry of Sophocles into another tongue, but to make the poet's dramatic intention to be understood and felt by English readers. One more such endeavour may possibly find acceptance at a time when many causes have combined to awaken a fresh interest at once in dramatic literature and in Hellenic studies. The reader who is hitherto unacquainted with the Greek drama, should be warned that the parts assigned to the 'Chorus' were often distributed among its several members, who spoke or chanted, singly or in groups, alternately or in succession. In some cases, but not in all, _Ch. 1_, _Ch. 2_, &c., have been prefixed, to indicate such an arrangement.
 
1 Antigone.
1 - Characters.
ANTIGONE,} _Daughters of Oedipus and Sisters of Polynices_ ISMENE, } _and Eteocles._ CHORUS _of Theban Elders._ CREON, _King of Thebes._ _A Watchman._ HAEMON, _Son of Creon, betrothed to Antigone._ TIRESIAS, _the blind Prophet._ _A Messenger._ EURYDICE, _the Wife of Creon._ _Another Messenger._
 
Scene.
SCENE. Before the Cadmean Palace at Thebes. _Note._ The town of Thebes is often personified as Thebè.   Polynices, son and heir to the unfortunate Oedipus, having been supplanted by his younger brother Eteocles, brought an army of Argives against his native city, Thebes. The army was defeated, and the two brothers slew each other in single combat. On this Creon, the brother- in-law of Oedipus, succeeding to the chief power, forbade the burial of Polynices. But Antigone, sister of the dead, placing the dues of affection and piety before her obligation to the magistrate, disobeyed the edict at the sacrifice of her life. Creon carried out his will, but lost his son Haemon and his wife Eurydice, and received their curses on his head. His other son, Megareus, had previously been devoted as a victim to the good of the state. ANTIGONE. ISMENE.
 
1 - 1 ANTIGONE.
Own sister of my blood, one life with me, Ismenè, have the tidings caught thine ear? Say, hath not Heaven decreed to execute On thee and me, while yet we are alive, All the evil Oedipus bequeathed? All horror, All pain, all outrage, falls on us! And now The General's proclamation of to-day-- Hast thou not heard?--Art thou so slow to hear When harm from foes threatens the souls we love?
 
1 - 2 ISMENE.
No word of those we love, Antigone, Painful or glad, hath reached me, since we two Were utterly deprived of our two brothers, Cut off with mutual stroke, both in one day. And since the Argive host this now-past night Is vanished, I know nought beside to make me Nearer to happiness or more in woe.
 
1 - 3 ANT.
I knew it well, and therefore led thee forth The palace gate, that thou alone mightst hear.
 
1 - 4 ISM.
Speak on! Thy troubled look bodes some dark news.
 
1 - 5 ANT.
Why, hath not Creon, in the burial-rite, Of our two brethren honoured one, and wrought On one foul wrong? Eteocles, they tell, With lawful consecration he lays out, And after covers him in earth, adorned With amplest honours in the world below. But Polynices, miserably slain, They say 'tis publicly proclaimed that none Must cover in a grave, nor mourn for him; But leave him tombless and unwept, a store Of sweet provision for the carrion fowl That eye him greedily. Such righteous law Good Creon hath pronounced for thy behoof-- Ay, and for mine! I am not left out!--And now He moves this way to promulgate his will To such as have not heard, nor lightly holds The thing he bids, but, whoso disobeys, The citizens shall stone him to the death. This is the matter, and thou wilt quickly show If thou art noble, or fallen below thy birth.
 
1 - 6 ISM.
Unhappy one! But what can I herein Avail to do or undo?
 
1 - 7 ANT.
Wilt thou share The danger and the labour? Make thy choice.
 
1 - 8 ISM.
Of what wild enterprise? What canst thou mean?
 
1 - 9 ANT.
Wilt thou join hand with mine to lift the dead?
 
1 - 10 ISM.
To bury him, when all have been forbidden? Is that thy thought?
 
1 - 11 ANT.
To bury my own brother And thine, even though thou wilt not do thy part. I will not be a traitress to my kin.
 
1 - 12 ISM.
Fool-hardy girl! against the word of Creon?
 
1 - 13 ANT.
He hath no right to bar me from mine own.
 
1 - 14 ISM.
Ah, sister, think but how our father fell, Hated of all and lost to fair renown, Through self-detected crimes--with his own hand, Self-wreaking, how he dashed out both his eyes: Then how the mother-wife, sad two-fold name! With twisted halter bruised her life away, Last, how in one dire moment our two brothers With internecine conflict at a blow Wrought out by fratricide their mutual doom. Now, left alone, O think how beyond all Most piteously we twain shall be destroyed, If in defiance of authority We traverse the commandment of the King! We needs must bear in mind we are but women, Never created to contend with men; Nay more, made victims of resistless power, To obey behests more harsh than this to-day. I, then, imploring those beneath to grant Indulgence, seeing I am enforced in this, Will yield submission to the powers that rule, Small wisdom were it to overpass the bound.
 
1 - 15 ANT.
I will not urge you! no! nor if now you list To help me, will your help afford me joy. Be what you choose to be! This single hand Shall bury our lost brother. Glorious For me to take this labour and to die! Dear to him will my soul be as we rest In death, when I have dared this holy crime. My time for pleasing men will soon be over; Not so my duty toward the Dead! My home Yonder will have no end. You, if you will, May pour contempt on laws revered on High.
 
1 - 16 ISM.
Not from irreverence. But I have no strength To strive against the citizens' resolve.
 
1 - 17 ANT.
Thou, make excuses! I will go my way To raise a burial-mound to my dear brother.
 
1 - 18 ISM.
Oh, hapless maiden, how I fear for thee!
 
1 - 19 ANT.
Waste not your fears on me! Guide your own fortune.
 
1 - 20 ISM.
Ah! yet divulge thine enterprise to none, But keep the secret close, and so will I.
 
1 - 21 ANT.
O Heavens! Nay, tell! I hate your silence worse; I had rather you proclaimed it to the world.
 
1 - 22 ISM.
You are ardent in a chilling enterprise.
 
1 - 23 ANT.
I know that I please those whom I would please.
 
1 - 24 ISM.
Yes, if you thrive; but your desire is bootless.
 
1 - 25 ANT.
Well, when I fail I shall be stopt, I trow!
 
1 - 26 ISM.
One should not start upon a hopeless quest.
 
1 - 27 ANT.
Speak in that vein if you would earn my hate And aye be hated of our lost one. Peace! Leave my unwisdom to endure this peril; Fate cannot rob me of a noble death.
 
1 - 28 ISM.
Go, if you must--Not to be checked in folly, But sure unparalleled in faithful love! [_Exeunt_
 
1 - 29 CHORUS
(_entering_). Beam of the mounting Sun! I 1 O brightest, fairest ray Seven-gated Thebè yet hath seen! Over the vale where Dircè's fountains run At length thou appearedst, eye of golden Day, And with incitement of thy radiance keen Spurredst to faster flight The man of Argos hurrying from the fight. Armed at all points the warrior came, But driven before thy rising flame He rode, reverting his pale shield, Headlong from yonder battlefield. In snow-white panoply, on eagle wing, [_Half-Chorus_ He rose, dire ruin on our land to bring, Roused by the fierce debate Of Polynices' hate, Shrilling sharp menace from his breast, Sheathed all in steel from crown to heel, With many a plumèd crest. Then stooped above the domes, I 2 With lust of carnage fired, And opening teeth of serried spears Yawned wide around the gates that guard our homes; But went, or e'er his hungry jaws had tired On Theban flesh,--or e'er the Fire-god fierce Seizing our sacred town Besmirched and rent her battlemented crown. Such noise of battle as he fled About his back the War-god spread; So writhed to hard-fought victory The serpent[1] struggling to be free. High Zeus beheld their stream that proudly rolled [_Half-Chorus_ Idly caparisoned[2] with clanking gold: Zeus hates the boastful tongue: He with hurled fire down flung One who in haste had mounted high, And that same hour from topmost tower Upraised the exulting cry. Swung rudely to the hard repellent earth II 1 Amidst his furious mirth He fell, who then with flaring brand Held in his fiery hand Came breathing madness at the gate In eager blasts of hate. And doubtful swayed the varying fight Through the turmoil of the night, As turning now on these and now on those Ares hurtled 'midst our foes, Self-harnessed helper[3] on our right. Seven matched with seven, at each gate one, [_Half-Chorus_ Their captains, when the day was done, Left for our Zeus who turned the scale, The brazen tribute in full tale:-- All save the horror-burdened pair, Dire children of despair, Who from one sire, one mother, drawing breath, Each with conquering lance in rest Against a true born brother's breast, Found equal lots in death. But with blithe greeting to glad Thebe came II 2 She of the glorious name, Victory,--smiling on our chariot throng With eyes that waken song Then let those battle memories cease, Silenced by thoughts of peace. With holy dances of delight Lasting through the livelong night Visit we every shrine, in solemn round, Led by him who shakes the ground, Our Bacchus, Thebe's child of light.
 
1 - 30 LEADER OF CHORUS.
But look! where Creon in his new-made power, Moved by the fortune of the recent hour, Comes with fresh counsel. What intelligence Intends he for our private conference, That he hath sent his herald to us all, Gathering the elders with a general call? _Enter_ CREON.
 
1 - 31 CREON.
My friends, the noble vessel of our State, After sore shaking her, the Gods have sped On a smooth course once more. I have called you hither, By special messengers selecting you From all the city, first, because I knew you Aye loyal to the throne of Laïus; Then, both while Oedipus gave prosperous days, And since his fall, I still beheld you firm In sound allegiance to the royal issue. Now since the pair have perished in an hour, Twinned in misfortune, by a mutual stroke Staining our land with fratricidal blood, All rule and potency of sovereign sway, In virtue of next kin to the deceased, Devolves on me. But hard it is to learn The mind of any mortal or the heart, Till he be tried in chief authority. Power shows the man. For he who when supreme Withholds his hand or voice from the best cause, Being thwarted by some fear, that man to me Appears, and ever hath appeared, most vile. He too hath no high place in mine esteem, Who sets his friend before his fatherland. Let Zeus whose eye sees all eternally Be here my witness. I will ne'er keep silence When danger lours upon my citizens Who looked for safety, nor make him my friend Who doth not love my country. For I know Our country carries us, and whilst her helm Is held aright we gain good friends and true. Following such courses 'tis my steadfast will To foster Thebè's greatness, and therewith In brotherly accord is my decree Touching the sons of Oedipus. The man-- Eteocles I mean--who died for Thebes Fighting with eminent prowess on her side, Shall be entombed with every sacred rite That follows to the grave the lordliest dead. But for his brother, who, a banished man, Returned to devastate and burn with fire The land of his nativity, the shrines Of his ancestral gods, to feed him fat With Theban carnage, and make captive all That should escape the sword--for Polynices, This law hath been proclaimed concerning him: He shall have no lament, no funeral, But he unburied, for the carrion fowl And dogs to eat his corse, a sight of shame. Such are the motions of this mind and will. Never from me shall villains reap renown Before the just. But whoso loves the State, I will exalt him both in life and death.
 
1 - 32 CH.
Son of Menoeceus, we have heard thy mind Toward him who loves, and him who hates our city. And sure, 'tis thine to enforce what law thou wilt Both on the dead and all of us who live.
 
1 - 33 CR.
Then be ye watchful to maintain my word.
 
1 - 34 CH.
Young strength for such a burden were more meet.
 
1 - 35 CR.
Already there be watchers of the dead.
 
1 - 36 CH.
What charge then wouldst thou further lay on us?
 
1 - 37 CR.
Not to give place to those that disobey.
 
1 - 38 CH.
Who is so fond, to be in love with death?
 
1 - 39 CR.
Such, truly, is the meed. But hope of gain Full oft ere now hath been the ruin of men.
 
1 - 40 WATCHMAN
(_entering_). My lord, I am out of breath, but not with speed. I will not say my foot was fleet. My thoughts Cried halt unto me ever as I came And wheeled me to return. My mind discoursed Most volubly within my breast, and said-- Fond wretch! why go where thou wilt find thy bane? Unhappy wight! say, wilt thou bide aloof? Then if the king shall hear this from another, How shalt thou 'scape for 't? Winding thus about I hasted, but I could not speed, and so Made a long journey of a little way. At last 'yes' carried it, that I should come To thee; and tell thee I must needs; and shall, Though it be nothing that I have to tell. For I came hither, holding fast by this-- Nought that is not my fate can happen to me.
 
1 - 41 CR.
Speak forth thy cause of fear. What is the matter?
 
1 - 42 WATCH.
First of mine own part in the business. For I did it not, nor saw the man who did, And 'twere not right that I should come to harm.
 
1 - 43 CR.
You fence your ground, and keep well out of danger; I see you have some strange thing to declare.
 
1 - 44 WATCH.
A man will shrink who carries words of fear.
 
1 - 45 CB.
Let us have done with you. Tell your tale, and go.
 
1 - 46 WATCH.
Well, here it is. The corse hath burial From some one who is stolen away and gone, But first hath strown dry dust upon the skin, And added what religious rites require.
 
1 - 47 CR.
Ha! What man hath been so daring in revolt?
 
1 - 48 WATCH.
I cannot tell. There was no mark to show-- No dint of spade, or mattock-loosened sod,-- Only the hard bare ground, untilled and trackless. Whoe'er he was, the doer left no trace. And, when the scout of our first daylight watch Showed us the thing, we marvelled in dismay. The Prince was out of sight; not in a grave, But a thin dust was o'er him, as if thrown By one who shunned the dead man's curse. No sign Appeared of any hound or beast o' the field Having come near, or pulled at the dead body. Then rose high words among us sentinels With bickering noise accusing each his mate, And it seemed like to come to blows, with none To hinder. For the hand that thus had wrought Was any of ours, and none; the guilty man Escaped all knowledge. And we were prepared To lift hot iron with our bare palms; to walk Through fire, and swear by all the Gods at once That we were guiltless, ay, and ignorant Of who had plotted or performed this thing. When further search seemed bootless, at the last One spake, whose words bowed all our heads to the earth With fear. We knew not what to answer him, Nor how to do it and prosper. He advised So grave a matter must not be concealed, But instantly reported to the King. Well, this prevailed, and the lot fell on me, Unlucky man! to be the ministrant Of this fair service. So I am present here, Against my will and yours, I am sure of that. None love the bringer of unwelcome news.
 
1 - 49 CH.
My lord, a thought keeps whispering in my breast, Some Power divine hath interposed in this.
 
1 - 50 CR.
Cease, ere thou quite enrage me, and appear Foolish as thou art old. Talk not to me Of Gods who have taken thought for this dead man! Say, was it for his benefits to them They hid his corse, and honoured him so highly, Who came to set on fire their pillared shrines, With all the riches of their offerings, And to make nothing of their land and laws? Or, hast thou seen them honouring villany? That cannot be. Long time the cause of this Hath come to me in secret murmurings From malcontents of Thebes, who under yoke Turned restive, and would not accept my sway. Well know I, these have bribed the watchmen here To do this for some fee. For nought hath grown Current among mankind so mischievous As money. This brings cities to their fall: This drives men homeless, and moves honest minds To base contrivings. This hath taught mankind The use of wickedness, and how to give An impious turn to every kind of act. But whosoe'er hath done this for reward Hath found his way at length to punishment. If Zeus have still my worship, be assured Of that which here on oath I say to thee-- Unless ye find the man who made this grave And bring him bodily before mine eye, Death shall not be enough, till ye have hung Alive for an example of your guilt, That henceforth in your rapine ye may know Whence gain is to be gotten, and may learn Pelf from all quarters is not to be loved. For in base getting, 'tis a common proof, More find disaster than deliverance.
 
1 - 51 WATCH.
Am I to speak? or must I turn and go?
 
1 - 52 CR.
What? know you not your speech offends even now?
 
1 - 53 WATCH.
Doth the mind smart withal, or only the ear?
 
1 - 54 CR.
Art thou to probe the seat of mine annoy?
 
1 - 55 WATCH.
If I offend, 'tis in your ear alone, The malefactor wounds ye to the soul.
 
1 - 56 CR.
Out on thee! thou art nothing but a tongue.
 
1 - 57 WATCH.
Then was I ne'er the doer of this deed.
 
1 - 58 CR.
Yea, verily: self-hired to crime for gold.
 
1 - 59 WATCH.
Pity so clear a mind should clearly err!
 
1 - 60 CR.
CR. Gloze now on clearness! But unless ye bring The burier, without glozing ye shall tell, Craven advantage clearly worketh bane.
 
1 - 61 WATCH.
By all means let the man be found; one thing I know right well:--caught or not caught, howe'er Fate rules his fortune, me you ne'er will see Standing in presence here. Even now I owe Deep thanks to Heaven for mine escape, so far Beyond my hope and highest expectancy. [_Exeunt severally_
 
1 - 62 CHORUS.
Many a wonder lives and moves, but the wonder of all is man, I 1 That courseth over the grey ocean, carried of Southern gale, Faring amidst high-swelling seas that rudely surge around, And Earth, supreme of mighty Gods, eldest, imperishable, Eternal, he with patient furrow wears and wears away As year by year the plough-shares turn and turn,-- Subduing her unwearied strength with children of the steed[4]. And wound in woven coils of nets he seizeth for his prey I 2 The aëry tribe of birds and wilding armies of the chase, And sea-born millions of the deep--man is so crafty-wise. And now with engine of his wit he tameth to his will The mountain-ranging beast whose lair is in the country wild; And now his yoke hath passed upon the mane Of horse with proudly crested neck and tireless mountain bull. Wise utterance and wind-swift thought, and city-moulding mind, II 1 And shelter from the clear-eyed power of biting frost, He hath taught him, and to shun the sharp, roof-penetrating rain,-- Full of resource, without device he meets no coming time; From Death alone he shall not find reprieve; No league may gain him that relief; but even for fell disease, That long hath baffled wisest leech, he hath contrived a cure. Inventive beyond wildest hope, endowed with boundless skill, II 2 One while he moves toward evil, and one while toward good, According as he loves his land and fears the Gods above. Weaving the laws into his life and steadfast oath of Heaven, High in the State he moves but outcast he, Who hugs dishonour to his heart and follows paths of crime Ne'er may he come beneath my roof, nor think like thoughts with me.
 
1 - 63 LEADER OF CHORUS
What portent from the Gods is here? My mind is mazed with doubt and fear. How can I gainsay what I see? I know the girl Antigone, O hapless child of hapless sire! Didst thou, then, recklessly aspire To brave kings' laws, and now art brought In madness of transgression caught? _Enter_ Watchman, _bringing in_ ANTIGONE
 
1 - 64 WATCH.
Here is the doer of the deed--this maid We found her burying him. Where is the King?
 
1 - 65 CH.
Look, he comes forth again to meet thy call. _Enter_ CREON.
 
1 - 66 CR.
What call so nearly times with mine approach?
 
1 - 67 WATCH.
My lord, no mortal should deny on oath, Judgement is still belied by after thought When quailing 'neath the tempest of your threats, Methought no force would drive me to this place But joy unlook'd for and surpassing hope Is out of bound the best of all delight, And so I am here again,--though I had sworn I ne'er would come,--and in my charge this maid, Caught in the act of caring for the dead Here was no lot throwing, this hap was mine Without dispute. And now, my sovereign lord, According to thy pleasure, thine own self Examine and convict her. For my part I have good right to be away and free From the bad business I am come upon.
 
1 - 68 CR.
This maiden! How came she in thy charge? Where didst thou find her?
 
1 - 69 WATCH.
Burying the prince. One word hath told thee all.
 
1 - 70 CR.
Hast thou thy wits, and knowest thou what thou sayest?
 
1 - 71 WATCH.
I saw her burying him whom you forbade To bury. Is that, now, clearly spoken, or no?
 
1 - 72 CR.
And how was she detected, caught, and taken?
 
1 - 73 WATCH.
It fell in this wise. We were come to the spot, Bearing the dreadful burden of thy threats; And first with care we swept the dust away From round the corse, and laid the dank limbs bare: Then sate below the hill-top, out o' the wind, Where no bad odour from the dead might strike us, Stirring each other on with interchange Of loud revilings on the negligent In 'tendance on this duty. So we stayed Till in mid heaven the sun's resplendent orb Stood high, and the heat strengthened. Suddenly, The Storm-god raised a whirlwind from the ground, Vexing heaven's concave, and filled all the plain, Rending the locks of all the orchard groves, Till the great sky was choked withal. We closed Our lips and eyes, and bore the God-sent evil. When after a long while this ceased, the maid Was seen, and wailed in high and bitter key, Like some despairing bird that hath espied Her nest all desolate, the nestlings gone. So, when she saw the body bare, she mourned Loudly, and cursed the authors of this deed. Then nimbly with her hands she brought dry dust, And holding high a shapely brazen cruse, Poured three libations, honouring the dead. We, when we saw, ran in, and straightway seized Our quarry, nought dismayed, and charged her with The former crime and this. And she denied Nothing;--to my delight, and to my grief. One's self to escape disaster is great joy; Yet to have drawn a friend into distress Is painful. But mine own security To me is of more value than aught else.
 
1 - 74 CR.
Thou, with thine eyes down-fastened to the earth! Dost thou confess to have done this, or deny it?
 
1 - 75 ANT.
I deny nothing. I avow the deed.
 
1 - 76 CR.
(_to_ Watchman). Thou may'st betake thyself whither thou wilt, Acquitted of the grievous charge, and free. (_to_ ANTIGONE) And thou,--no prating talk, but briefly tell, Knew'st thou our edict that forbade this thing?
 
1 - 77 ANT.
I could not fail to know. You made it plain.
 
1 - 78 CR.
How durst thou then transgress the published law?
 
1 - 79 ANT.
I heard it not from Heaven, nor came it forth From Justice, where she reigns with Gods below. They too have published to mankind a law. Nor thought I thy commandment of such might That one who is mortal thus could overbear The infallible, unwritten laws of Heaven. Not now or yesterday they have their being, But everlastingly, and none can tell The hour that saw their birth. I would not, I, For any terror of a man's resolve, Incur the God-inflicted penalty Of doing them wrong. That death would come, I knew Without thine edict;--if before the time, I count it gain. Who does not gain by death, That lives, as I do, amid boundless woe? Slight is the sorrow of such doom to me. But had I suffered my own mother's child, Fallen in blood, to be without a grave, That were indeed a sorrow. This is none. And if thou deem'st me foolish for my deed, I am foolish in the judgement of a fool.
 
1 - 80 CH.
Fierce shows the maiden's vein from her fierce sire; Calamity doth not subdue her will.
 
1 - 81 CR.
Ay, but the stubborn spirit first doth fall. Oft ye shall see the strongest bar of steel, That fire hath hardened to extremity, Shattered to pieces. A small bit controls The fiery steed. Pride may not be endured In one whose life is subject to command. This maiden hath been conversant with crime Since first she trampled on the public law; And now she adds to crime this insolence, To laugh at her offence, and glory in it. Truly, if she that hath usurped this power Shall rest unpunished, she then is a man, And I am none. Be she my sister's child, Or of yet nearer blood to me than all That take protection from my hearth, the pair Shall not escape the worst of deaths. For know, I count the younger of the twain no less Copartner in this plotted funeral: And now I bid you call her. Late I saw her Within the house, beyond herself, and frantic. --Full oft when one is darkly scheming wrong, The disturbed spirit hath betrayed itself Before the act it hides.--But not less hateful Seems it to me, when one that hath been caught In wickedness would give it a brave show.
 
1 - 82 ANT.
Wouldst thou aught more of me than merely death?
 
1 - 83 CR.
No more. 'Tis all I claim. Death closes all.
 
1 - 84 ANT.
Why then delay? No talk of thine can charm me, Forbid it Heaven! And my discourse no less Must evermore sound noisome to thine ear. Yet where could I have found a fairer fame Than giving burial to my own true brother? All here would tell thee they approve my deed, Were they not tongue-tied to authority. But kingship hath much profit; this in chief, That it may do and say whate'er it will.
 
1 - 85 CR.
No Theban sees the matter with thine eye.
 
1 - 86 ANT.
They see, but curb their voices to thy sway
 
1 - 87 CR.
And art thou not ashamed, acting alone?
 
1 - 88 ANT.
A sister's piety hath no touch of shame.
 
1 - 89 CR.
Was not Eteocles thy brother too?
 
1 - 90 ANT.
My own true brother from both parents' blood.
 
1 - 91 CR.
This duty was impiety to him.
 
1 - 92 ANT.
He that is dead will not confirm that word.
 
1 - 93 CR.
If you impart his honours to the vile.
 
1 - 94 ANT.
It was his brother, not a slave, who fell.
 
1 - 95 CR.
But laying waste the land for which he fought.
 
1 - 96 ANT.
Death knows no difference, but demands his due.
 
1 - 97 CR.
Yet not equality 'twixt good and bad.
 
1 - 98 ANT.
Both may be equal yonder; who can tell?
 
1 - 99 CR.
An enemy is hated even in death.
 
1 - 100 ANT.
Love, and not hatred, is the part for me.
 
1 - 101 CR.
Down then to death! and, if you must, there love The dead. No woman rules me while I live.
 
1 - 102 CH.
Now comes Ismenè forth. Ah, see, From clouds above her brow The sister-loving tear Is falling wet on her fair cheek, Distaining all her passion-crimson'd face! _Enter_ ISMENE.
 
1 - 103 CR.
And thou, that like a serpent coiled i' the house Hast secretly been draining my life-blood,-- Little aware that I was cherishing Two curses and subverters of my throne,-- Tell us, wilt thou avouch thy share in this Entombment, or forswear all knowledge of it?
 
1 - 104 ISM.
If her voice go therewith, I did the deed, And bear my part and burden of the blame.
 
1 - 105 ANT.
Nay, justice will not suffer that. You would not, And I refused to make you mine ally.
 
1 - 106 ISM.
But now in thy misfortune I would fain Embark with thee in thy calamity.
 
1 - 107 ANT.
Who did the deed, the powers beneath can tell. I care not for lip-kindness from my kin.
 
1 - 108 ISM.
Ah! scorn me not so far as to forbid me To die with thee, and honour our lost brother.
 
1 - 109 ANT.
Die not with me, nor make your own a deed you never touched! My dying is enough.
 
1 - 110 ISM.
What joy have I in life when thou art gone?
 
1 - 111 ANT.
Ask Creon there. He hath your care and duty.
 
1 - 112 ISM.
What can it profit thee to vex me so?
 
1 - 113 ANT.
My heart is pained, though my lip laughs at thee.
 
1 - 114 ISM.
What can I do for thee now, even now?
 
1 - 115 ANT.
Save your own life. I grudge not your escape.
 
1 - 116 ISM.
Alas! and must I be debarred thy fate?
 
1 - 117 ANT.
Life was the choice you made. Mine was to die.
 
1 - 118 ISM.
I warned thee----
 
1 - 119 ANT.
Yes, your prudence is admired On earth. My wisdom is approved below.
 
1 - 120 ISM.
Yet truly we are both alike in fault.
 
1 - 121 ANT.
Fear not; you live. My life hath long been given To death, to be of service to the dead.
 
1 - 122 CR.
Of these two girls, the one hath lost her wits: The other hath had none since she was born.
 
1 - 123 ISM.
My lord, in misery, the mind one hath Is wont to be dislodged, and will not stay.
 
1 - 124 CR.
You have ta'en leave of yours at any rate, When you cast in your portion with the vile.
 
1 - 125 ISM.
What can life profit me without my sister?
 
1 - 126 CR.
Say not 'my sister'; she is nothing now.
 
1 - 127 ISM.
What? wilt thou kill thy son's espousal too?
 
1 - 128 CR.
He may find other fields to plough upon.
 
1 - 129 ISM.
Not so as love was plighted 'twixt them twain.
 
1 - 130 CR.
I hate a wicked consort for my son.
 
1 - 131 ANT.
O dearest Haemon! how thy father wrongs thee!
 
1 - 132 CR.
Thou and thy marriage are a torment to me.
 
1 - 133 CH.
And wilt thou sever her from thine own son?
 
1 - 134 CR.
'Tis death must come between him and his joy,
 
1 - 135 CH.
All doubt is then resolved: the maid must die,
 
1 - 136 CR.
I am resolved; and so, 'twould seem, are you. In with her, slaves! No more delay! Henceforth These maids must have but woman's liberty And be mewed up; for even the bold will fly When they see Death nearing the house of life. [ANTIGONE _and_ ISMENE _are led into the palace._
 
1 - 137 CHORUS.
Blest is the life that never tasted woe. I 1 When once the blow Hath fallen upon a house with Heaven-sent doom, Trouble descends in ever-widening gloom Through all the number of the tribe to flow; As when the briny surge That Thrace-born tempests urge (The big wave ever gathering more and more) Runs o'er the darkness of the deep, And with far-searching sweep Uprolls the storm-heap'd tangle on the shore, While cliff to beaten cliff resounds with sullen roar. The stock of Cadmus from old time, I know, I 2 Hath woe on woe, Age following age, the living on the dead, Fresh sorrow falling on each new-ris'n head, None freed by God from ruthless overthrow. E'en now a smiling light Was spreading to our sight O'er one last fibre of a blasted tree,-- When, lo! the dust of cruel death, Tribute of Gods beneath, And wildering thoughts, and fate-born ecstasy, Quench the brief gleam in dark Nonentity. What froward will of man, O Zeus! can check thy might? II 1 Not all-enfeebling sleep, nor tireless months divine, Can touch thee, who through ageless time Rulest mightily Olympus' dazzling height. This was in the beginning, and shall be Now and eternally, Not here or there, but everywhere, A law of misery that shall not spare. For Hope, that wandereth wide, comforting many a head, II 2 Entangleth many more with glamour of desire: Unknowing they have trode the fire. Wise was the famous word of one who said, 'Evil oft seemeth goodness to the mind An angry God doth blind.' Few are the days that such as he May live untroubled of calamity.
 
1 - 138 LEADER OF CHORUS.
Lo, Haemon, thy last offspring, now is come, Lamenting haply for the maiden's doom, Say, is he mourning o'er her young life lost, Fiercely indignant for his bridal crossed? _Enter_ HAEMON.
 
1 - 139 CR.
We shall know soon, better than seers could teach us. Can it be so, my son, that thou art brought By mad distemperature against thy sire, On hearing of the irrevocable doom Passed on thy promised bride? Or is thy love Thy father's, be his actions what they may?
 
1 - 140 HAEM.
I am thine, father, and will follow still Thy good directions; nor would I prefer The fairest bride to thy wise government.
 
1 - 141 CR.
That, O my son! should be thy constant mind, In all to bend thee to thy father's will. Therefore men pray to have around their hearths Obedient offspring, to requite their foes With harm, and honour whom their father loves; But he whose issue proves unprofitable, Begets what else but sorrow to himself And store of laughter to his enemies? Make not, my son, a shipwreck of thy wit For a woman. Thine own heart may teach thee this;-- There's but cold comfort in a wicked wife Yoked to the home inseparably. What wound Can be more deadly than a harmful friend? Then spurn her like an enemy, and send her To wed some shadow in the world below! For since of all the city I have found Her only recusant, caught in the act, I will not break my word before the State. I will take her life. At this let her invoke The god of kindred blood! For if at home I foster rebels, how much more abroad? Whoso is just in ruling his own house, Lives rightly in the commonwealth no less: But he that wantonly defies the law, Or thinks to dictate to authority, Shall have no praise from me. What power soe'er The city hath ordained, must be obeyed In little things and great things, right or wrong. The man who so obeys, I have good hope Will govern and be governed as he ought, And in the storm of battle at my side Will stand a faithful and a trusty comrade. But what more fatal than the lapse of rule? This ruins cities, this lays houses waste, This joins with the assault of war to break Full numbered armies into hopeless rout; And in the unbroken host 'tis nought but rule That keeps those many bodies from defeat, I must be zealous to defend the law, And not go down before a woman's will. Else, if I fall, 'twere best a man should strike me; Lest one should say, 'a woman worsted him.'
 
1 - 142 CH.
Unless our sense is weakened by long time, Thou speakest not unwisely.
 
1 - 143 HAEM.
O my sire, Sound wisdom is a God implanted seed, Of all possessions highest in regard. I cannot, and I would not learn to say That thou art wrong in this; though in another, It may be such a word were not unmeet. But as thy son, 'tis surely mine to scan Men's deeds, and words, and muttered thoughts toward thee. Fear of thy frown restrains the citizen In talk that would fall harshly on thine ear. I under shadow may o'erhear, how all Thy people mourn this maiden, and complain That of all women least deservedly She perishes for a most glorious deed. 'Who, when her own true brother on the earth Lay weltering after combat in his gore, Left him not graveless, for the carrion few And raw devouring field dogs to consume-- Hath she not merited a golden praise?' Such the dark rumour spreading silently. Now, in my valuing, with thy prosperous life, My father, no possession can compare. Where can be found a richer ornament For children, than their father's high renown? Or where for fathers, than their children's fame? Nurse not one changeless humour in thy breast, That nothing can be right but as thou sayest. Whoe'er presumes that he alone hath sense, Or peerless eloquence, or reach of soul, Unwrap him, and you'll find but emptiness. 'Tis no disgrace even to the wise to learn And lend an ear to reason. You may see The plant that yields where torrent waters flow Saves every little twig, when the stout tree Is torn away and dies. The mariner Who will not ever slack the sheet that sways The vessel, but still tightens, oversets, And so, keel upward, ends his voyaging. Relent, I pray thee, and give place to change. If any judgement hath informed my youth, I grant it noblest to be always wise, But,--for omniscience is denied to man-- Tis good to hearken to admonishment.
 
1 - 144 CH.
My lord, 'twere wise, if thou wouldst learn of him In reason; and thou, Haemon, from thy sire! Truth lies between you.
 
1 - 145 CR.
Shall our age, forsooth, Be taught discretion by a peevish boy?
 
1 - 146 HAEM.
Only in what is right. Respects of time Must be outbalanced by the actual need.
 
1 - 147 CR.
To cringe to rebels cannot be a need.
 
1 - 148 HAEM.
I do not claim observance for the vile.
 
1 - 149 CR.
Why, is not she so tainted? Is 't not proved?
 
1 - 150 HAEM.
All Thebes denies it.
 
1 - 151 CR.
Am I ruled by Thebes?
 
1 - 152 HAEM.
If youth be folly, that is youngly said.
 
1 - 153 CR.
Shall other men prescribe my government?
 
1 - 154 HAEM.
One only makes not up a city, father.
 
1 - 155 CR.
Is not the city in the sovereign's hand?
 
1 - 156 HAEM.
Nobly you'd govern as the desert's king.
 
1 - 157 CR.
This youngster is the woman's champion.
 
1 - 158 HAEM.
You are the woman, then--for you I care.
 
1 - 159 CR.
Villain, to bandy reasons with your sire!
 
1 - 160 HAEM.
I plead against the unreason of your fault.
 
1 - 161 CR.
What fault is there in reverencing my power?
 
1 - 162 HAEM.
There is no reverence when you spurn the Gods.
 
1 - 163 CR.
Abominable spirit, woman-led!
 
1 - 164 HAEM.
You will not find me following a base guide.
 
1 - 165 CR.
Why, all your speech this day is spent for her.
 
1 - 166 HAEM.
For you and me too, and the Gods below.
 
1 - 167 CR.
She will not live to be your wife on earth.
 
1 - 168 HAEM.
I know, then, whom she will ruin by her death.
 
1 - 169 CR.
What, wilt thou threaten, too, thou audacious boy?
 
1 - 170 HAEM.
It is no threat to answer empty words.
 
1 - 171 CR.
Witless admonisher, thou shalt pay for this!
 
1 - 172 HAEM.
Thou art my sire, else would I call thee senseless.
 
1 - 173 CR.
Thou woman's minion! mince not terms with me,
 
1 - 174 HAEM.
Wouldst thou have all the speaking on thy side?
 
1 - 175 CR.
Is 't possible? By yon heaven! thou'lt not escape, For adding contumely to words of blame. Bring out the hated thing, that she may die Immediately, before her lover's face!
 
1 - 176 HAEM.
HAEM. Nay, dream not she shall suffer in my sight Nor shalt thou ever see my face again Let those stay with you that can brook your rage! [_Exit_
 
1 - 177 CH.
CH. My lord, he is parted swiftly in deep wrath! The youthful spirit offended makes wild work.
 
1 - 178 CR.
Ay, let him do his worst. Let him give scope To pride beyond the compass of a man! He shall not free these maidens from their doom.
 
1 - 179 CH.
CH. Is death thy destination for them both?
 
1 - 180 CR.
Only for her who acted. Thou art right.
 
1 - 181 CH.
CH. And what hast thou determined for her death?
 
1 - 182 CH.
Where human footstep shuns the desert ground, I'll hide her living in a cave like vault, With so much provender as may prevent Pollution from o'ertaking the whole city And there, perchance, she may obtain of Death, Her only deity, to spare her soul, Or else in that last moment she will learn 'Tis labour lost to worship powers unseen. [_Exit_ CREON
 
1 - 183 CHORUS.
Love, never foiled in fight! 1 Warrior Love, that on Wealth workest havoc! Love, who in ambush of young maid's soft cheek All night keep'st watch!--Thou roamest over seas. In lonely forest homes thou harbourest. Who may avoid thee? None! Mortal, Immortal, All are o'erthrown by thee, all feel thy frenzy. Lightly thou draw'st awry 2 Righteous minds into wrong to their ruin Thou this unkindly quarrel hast inflamed 'Tween kindred men--Triumphantly prevails The heart-compelling eye of winsome bride, Compeer of mighty Law Thronèd, commanding. Madly thou mockest men, dread Aphrodite.
 
1 - 184 LEADER OF CHORUS.
Ah! now myself am carried past the bound Of law, nor can I check the rising tear, When I behold Antigone even here Touching the quiet bourne where all must rest. _Enter_ ANTIGONE _guarded._
 
1 - 185 ANT.
Ye see me on my way, I 1 O burghers of my father's land! With one last look on Helios' ray, Led my last path toward the silent strand. Alive to the wide house of rest I go; No dawn for me may shine, No marriage-blessing e'er be mine, No hymeneal with my praises flow! The Lord of Acheron's unlovely shore Shall be mine only husband evermore.
 
1 - 186 CH.
Yea, but with glory and fame,-- Not by award of the sword, Not with blighting disease, But by a law of thine own,-- Thou, of mortals alone, Goest alive to the deep Tranquil home of the dead.
 
1 - 187 ANT.
Erewhile I heard men say, I 2 How, in far Phrygia, Thebè's friend, Tantalus' child, had dreariest end On heights of Sipylus consumed away: O'er whom the rock like clinging ivy grows, And while with moistening dew Her cheek runs down, the eternal snows Weigh o'er her, and the tearful stream renew That from sad brows her stone-cold breast doth steep. Like unto her the God lulls me to sleep.
 
1 - 188 CH.
But she was a goddess born, We but of mortal line; And sure to rival the fate Of a daughter of sires Divine Were no light glory in death.
 
1 - 189 ANT.
O mockery of my woe! II 1 I pray you by our fathers' holy Fear, Why must I hear Your insults, while in life on earth I stand, O ye that flow In wealth, rich burghers of my bounteous land? O fount of Dircè, and thou spacious grove, Where Thebè's chariots move! Ye are my witness, though none else be nigh, By what enormity of lawless doom, Without one friendly sigh, I go to the strong mound of yon strange tomb,-- All hapless, having neither part nor room With those who live or those who die!
 
1 - 190 CH.
Thy boldness mounted high, And thou, my child, 'gainst the great pedestal Of Justice with unmeasured force didst fall. Thy father's lot still presseth hard on thee.
 
1 - 191 ANT.
That pains me more than all. II 2 Ah! thou hast touched my father's misery Still mourned anew, With all the world-famed sorrows on us rolled Since Cadmus old. O cursèd marriage that my mother knew! O wretched fortune of my sire, who lay Where first he saw the day! Such were the authors of my burdened life; To whom, with curses dowered, never a wife, I go to dwell beneath. O brother mine, thy princely marriage-tie Hath been thy downfall, and in this thy death Thou hast destroyed me ere I die.
 
1 - 192 CH.
'Twas pious, we confess, Thy fervent deed. But he, who power would show, Must let no soul of all he rules transgress. A self-willed passion was thine overthrow.
 
1 - 193 ANT.
Friendless, uncomforted of bridal lay, III Unmourned, they lead me on my destined way. Woe for my life forlorn! I may not see The sacred round of yon great light Rising again to greet me from the night; No friend bemoans my fate, no tear hath fallen for me! _Enter_ CREON.
 
1 - 194 CR.
If criminals were suffered to complain In dirges before death, they ne'er would end. Away with her at once, and closing her, As I commanded, in the vaulty tomb, Leave her all desolate, whether to die, Or to live on in that sepulchral cell. We are guiltless in the matter of this maid; Only she shall not share the light of day.
 
1 - 195 ANT.
O grave! my bridal chamber, prison-house Eterne, deep-hollowed, whither I am led To find mine own,--of whom Persephonè Hath now a mighty number housed in death:-- I last of all, and far most miserably, Am going, ere my days have reached their term! Yet lives the hope that, when I go, most surely Dear will my coming be, father, to thee, And dear to thee, my mother, and to thee, Brother! since with these very hands I decked And bathed you after death, and ministered The last libations. And I reap this doom For tending, Polynices, on thy corse. Indeed I honoured thee, the wise will say. For neither, had I children, nor if one I had married were laid bleeding on the earth, Would I have braved the city's will, or taken This burden on me. Wherefore? I will tell. A husband lost might be replaced; a son, If son were lost to me, might yet be born; But, with both parents hidden in the tomb, No brother may arise to comfort me. Therefore above all else I honoured thee, And therefore Creon thought me criminal, And bold in wickedness, O brother mine! And now by servile hands, for all to see, He hastens me away, unhusbanded, Before my nuptial, having never known Or married joy or tender motherhood. But desolate and friendless I go down Alive, O horror! to the vaults of the dead. For what transgression of Heaven's ordinance? Alas! how can I look to Heaven? on whom Call to befriend me? seeing that I have earned, By piety, the meed of impious?-- Oh! if this act be what the Gods approve, In death I may repent me of my deed; But if they sin who judge me, be their doom No heavier than they wrongly wreak on me!
 
1 - 196 CH.
With unchanged fury beats the storm of soul That shakes this maiden.
 
1 - 197 CR.
Then for that, be sure Her warders shall lament their tardiness.
 
1 - 198 ANT.
Alas! I hear Death's footfall in that sound.
 
1 - 199 CR.
I may not reassure thee.--'Tis most true.
 
1 - 200 ANT.
O land of Thebè, city of my sires, Ye too, ancestral Gods! I go--I go! Even now they lead me to mine end. Behold! Founders of Thebes, the only scion left Of Cadmus' issue, how unworthily, By what mean instruments I am oppressed, For reverencing the dues of piety. [_Exit guarded_
 
1 - 201 CHORUS.
Even Danaë's beauty left the lightsome day. I 1 Closed in her strong and brass-bound tower she lay In tomb-like deep confine. Yet she was gendered, O my child! From sires of noblest line, And treasured for the Highest the golden rain. Fated misfortune hath a power so fell: Not wealth, nor warfare wild, Nor dark spray-dashing coursers of the main Against great Destiny may once rebel. He too in darksome durance was compressed, I 2 King of Edonians, Dryas' hasty son[5], In eyeless vault of stone Immured by Dionysus' hest, All for a wrathful jest. Fierce madness issueth in such fatal flower. He found 'twas mad to taunt the Heavenly Power, Chilling the Maenad breast Kindled with Bacchic fire, and with annoy Angering the Muse that in the flute hath joy. And near twin rocks that guard the Colchian sea, II 1 Bosporian cliffs 'fore Salmydessus rise, Where neighbouring Ares from his shrine beheld Phineus' two sons[6] by female fury quelled. With cursèd wounding of their sight-reft eyes, That cried to Heaven to 'venge the iniquity. The shuttle's sharpness in a cruel hand Dealt the dire blow, not struck with martial brand. But chiefly for her piteous lot they pined, II 2 Who was the source of their rejected birth. She touched the lineage of Erechtheus old; Whence in far caves her life did erst unfold, Cradled 'mid storms, daughter of Northern wind, Steed-swift o'er all steep places of the earth. Yet even on her, though reared of heavenly kind, The long-enduring Fates at last took hold. _Enter_ TIRESIAS, _led by a boy._
 
1 - 202 TIRESIAS.
We are come, my lords of Thebes, joint wayfarers, One having eyes for both. The blind must still Thus move in frail dependence on a guide.
 
1 - 203 CR.
. And what hath brought thee, old Tirésias, now?
 
1 - 204 TI.
I will instruct thee, if thou wilt hear my voice.
 
1 - 205 CR.
I have not heretofore rejected thee.
 
1 - 206 TI.
Therefore thy pilotage hath saved this city.
 
1 - 207 CR.
Grateful experience owns the benefit.
 
1 - 208 TI.
Take heed. Again thou art on an edge of peril.
 
1 - 209 CR.
What is it? How I shudder at thy word!
 
1 - 210 TI.
The tokens of mine art shall make thee know. As I was sitting on that ancient seat Of divination, where I might command Sure cognisance of every bird of the air, I heard strange clamouring of fowl, that screeched In furious dissonance; and, I could tell, Talons were bloodily engaged--the whirr Of wings told a clear tale. At once, in fear, I tried burnt sacrifice at the high altar: Where from the offering the fire god refused To gleam; but a dank humour from the bones Dripped on the embers with a sputtering fume. The gall was spirited high in air, the thighs Lay wasting, bared of their enclosing fat. Such failing tokens of blurred augury This youth reported, who is guide to me, As I to others. And this evil state Is come upon the city from thy will: Because our altars--yea, our sacred hearths-- Are everywhere infected from the mouths Of dogs or beak of vulture that hath fed On Oedipus' unhappy slaughtered son. And then at sacrifice the Gods refuse Our prayers and savour of the thigh-bone fat-- And of ill presage is the thickening cry Of bird that battens upon human gore Now, then, my son, take thought. A man may err; But he is not insensate or foredoomed To ruin, who, when he hath lapsed to evil, Stands not inflexible, but heals the harm. The obstinate man still earns the name of fool. Urge not contention with the dead, nor stab The fallen. What valour is 't to slay the slain? I have thought well of this, and say it with care; And careful counsel, that brings gain withal, Is precious to the understanding soul.
 
1 - 211 CR.
I am your mark, and ye with one consent All shoot your shafts at me. Nought left untried, Not even the craft of prophets, by whose crew I am bought and merchandised long since. Go on! Traffic, get gain, electrum from the mine Of Lydia, and the gold of Ind! Yet know, Grey-beard! ye ne'er shall hide him in a tomb. No, not if heaven's own eagle chose to snatch And bear him to the throne supreme for food, Even that pollution should not daunt my heart To yield permission for his funeral. For well know I defilement ne'er can rise From man to God. But, old Tirésias, hear! Even wisest spirits have a shameful fall That fairly speak base words for love of gain.
 
1 - 212 TI.
Ah! where is wisdom? who considereth?
 
1 - 213 CR.
Wherefore? what means this universal doubt?
 
1 - 214 TI.
How far the best of riches is good counsel!
 
1 - 215 CR.
As far as folly is the mightiest bane.
 
1 - 216 TI.
Yet thou art sick of that same pestilence.
 
1 - 217 CR.
I would not give the prophet blow for blow.
 
1 - 218 TI.
What blow is harder than to call me false?
 
1 - 219 CR.
Desire of money is the prophet's plague.
 
1 - 220 TI.
And ill-sought lucre is the curse of kings.
 
1 - 221 CR.
CR. Know'st thou 'tis of thy sovereign thou speak'st this?
 
1 - 222 TI.
Yea, for my aid gives thee to sway this city.
 
1 - 223 CR.
Far seeing art thou, but dishonest too.
 
1 - 224 TI.
Thou wilt provoke the utterance of my tongue To that even thought refused to dwell upon.
 
1 - 225 CR.
Say on, so thou speak sooth, and not for gain.
 
1 - 226 TI.
You think me likely to seek gain from you?
 
1 - 227 CR.
You shall not make your merchandise on me!
 
1 - 228 TI.
Not many courses of the racing sun Shalt thou fulfil, ere of thine own true blood Thou shalt have given a corpse in recompense For one on earth whom thou hast cast beneath, Entombing shamefully a living soul, And one whom thou hast kept above the ground And disappointed of all obsequies, Unsanctified and godlessly forlorn. Such violence the powers beneath will bear Not even from the Olympian gods. For thee The avengers wait. Hidden but near at hand, Lagging but sure, the Furies of the grave Are watching for thee to thy ruinous harm, With thine own evil to entangle thee. Look well to it now whether I speak for gold! A little while, and thine own palace-halls Shall flash the truth upon thee with loud noise Of men and women, shrieking o'er the dead. And all the cities whose unburied sons, Mangled and torn, have found a sepulchre In dogs or jackals or some ravenous bird That stains their incense with polluted breath, Are forming leagues in troublous enmity. Such shafts, since thou hast stung me to the quick, I like an archer at thee in my wrath Have loosed unerringly--carrying their pang, Inevitable, to thy very heart. Now, sirrah! lead me home, that his hot mood Be spent on younger objects, till he learn To keep a safer mind and calmer tongue. [_Exit_
 
1 - 229 CH.
Sire, there is terror in that prophecy. He who is gone, since ever these my locks, Once black, now white with age, waved o'er my brow, Hath never spoken falsely to the state.
 
1 - 230 CR.
I know it, and it shakes me to the core. To yield is dreadful: but resistingly To face the blow of fate, is full of dread.
 
1 - 231 CH.
The time calls loud on wisdom, good my lord.
 
1 - 232 CR.
What must I do? Advise me. I will obey.
 
1 - 233 CH.
Go and release the maiden from the vault, And make a grave for the unburied dead.
 
1 - 234 CR.
Is that your counsel? Think you I will yield?
 
1 - 235 CH.
With all the speed thou mayest: swift harms from heaven With instant doom o'erwhelm the froward man.
 
1 - 236 CR.
Oh! it is hard. But I am forced to this Against myself. I cannot fight with Destiny.
 
1 - 237 CH.
Go now to do it. Trust no second hand.
 
1 - 238 CR.
Even as I am, I go. Come, come, my people. Here or not here, with mattocks in your hands Set forth immediately to yonder hill! And, since I have ta'en this sudden turn, myself, Who tied the knot, will hasten to unloose it. For now the fear comes over me, 'tis best To pass one's life in the accustomed round. [_Exeunt_
 
1 - 239 CHORUS.
O God of many a name! I 1 Filling the heart of that Cadmeian bride With deep delicious pride, Offspring of him who wields the withering flame! Thou for Italia's good Dost care, and 'midst the all-gathering bosom wide[7] Of Dêo dost preside; Thou, Bacchus, by Ismenus' winding waters 'Mongst Thebè's frenzied daughters, Keep'st haunt, commanding the fierce dragon's brood. Thee o'er the forkèd hill I 2 The pinewood flame beholds, where Bacchai rove, Nymphs of Corycian grove, Hard by the flowing of Castalia's rill. To visit Theban ways, By bloomy wine-cliffs flushing tender bright 'Neath far Nyseian height Thou movest o'er the ivy-mantled mound, While myriad voices sound Loud strains of 'Evoe!' to thy deathless praise. For Thebè thou dost still uphold, II 1 First of cities manifold, Thou and the nymph whom lightning made Mother of thy radiant head. Come then with healing for the violent woe That o'er our peopled land doth largely flow, Passing the high Parnassian steep Or moaning narrows of the deep! Come, leader of the starry quire II 2 Quick-panting with their breath of fire! Lord of high voices of the night, Child born to him who dwells in light, Appear with those who, joying in their madness, Honour the sole dispenser of their gladness, Thyiads of the Aegean main Night-long trooping in thy train. _Enter_ Messenger.
 
1 - 240 MESS.
Neighbours of Cadmus and Amphion's halls, No life of mortal, howsoe'er it stand, Shall once have praise or censure from my mouth; Since human happiness and human woe Come even as fickle Fortune smiles or lours; And none can augur aught from what we see. Creon erewhile to me was enviable, Who saved our Thebè from her enemies; Then, vested with supreme authority, Ruled her aright; and flourish'd in his home With noblest progeny. What hath he now? Nothing. For when a man is lost to joy, I count him not to live, but reckon him A living corse. Riches belike are his, Great riches and the appearance of a King; But if no gladness come to him, all else Is shadow of a vapour, weighed with joy.
 
1 - 241 CH.
What new affliction heaped on sovereignty Com'st thou to tell?
 
1 - 242 MESS.
They are dead; and they that live Are guilty of the death.
 
1 - 243 CH.
The slayer, who? And who the slain? Declare.
 
1 - 244 MESS.
Haemon is dead, And by a desperate hand.
 
1 - 245 CH.
His own, or Creon's?
 
1 - 246 MESS.
By his own hand, impelled with violent wrath At Creon for the murder of the maid.
 
1 - 247 CH.
Ah, Seer! how surely didst thou aim thy word!
 
1 - 248 MESS.
So stands the matter. Make of it what ye list.
 
1 - 249 CH.
See, from the palace cometh close to us Creon's unhappy wife, Eurydicè. Is it by chance, or heard she of her son? _Enter_ EURYDICE.
 
1 - 250 EURYDICE.
Ye men of Thebes, the tidings met mine ear As I was coming forth to visit Pallas With prayerful salutation. I was loosening The bar of the closed gate, when the sharp sound Of mine own sorrow smote against my heart, And I fell back astonied on my maids And fainted. But the tale? tell me once more; I am no novice in adversity.
 
1 - 251 MESS.
Dear lady, I will tell thee what I saw, And hide no grain of truth: why should I soothe Thy spirit with soft tales, when the harsh fact Must prove me a liar? Truth is always best. I duly led the footsteps of thy lord To the highest point of the plain, where still was lying, Forlorn and mangled by the dogs, the corse Of Polynices. We besought Persephonè And Pluto gently to restrain their wrath, And wash'd him pure and clean, and then we burned The poor remains with brushwood freshly pulled, And heaped a lofty mound of his own earth Above him. Then we turned us to the vault, The maiden's stony bride-chamber of death. And from afar, round the unhallowed cell, One heard a voice of wailing loud and long, And went and told his lord: who coming near Was haunted by the dim and bitter cry, And suddenly exclaiming on his fate Said lamentably, 'My prophetic heart Divined aright. I am going, of all ways That e'er I went, the unhappiest to-day. My son's voice smites me. Go, my men, approach With speed, and, where the stones are torn away, Press through the passage to that door of death, Look hard, and tell me, if I hear aright The voice of Haemon, or the gods deceive me.' Thus urged by our despairing lord, we made Th' espial. And in the farthest nook of the vault We saw the maiden hanging by the neck With noose of finest tissue firmly tied, And clinging to her on his knees the boy, Lamenting o'er his ruined nuptial-rite, Consummated in death, his father's crime And his lost love. And when the father saw him, With loud and dreadful clamour bursting in He went to him and called him piteously: 'What deed is this, unhappy youth? What thought O'ermaster'd thee? Where did the force of woe O'erturn thy reason? O come forth, my son, I beg thee!' But with savage eyes the youth Glared scowling at him, and without a word Plucked forth his two-edged blade. The father then Fled and escaped: but the unhappy boy, Wroth with himself, even where he stood, leant heavily Upon his sword and plunged it in his side.-- And while the sense remained, his slackening arm Enfolded still the maiden, and his breath, Gaspingly drawn and panted forth with pain, Cast ruddy drops upon her pallid face; Then lay in death upon the dead, at last Joined to his bride in Hades' dismal hall:-- A monument unto mankind, that rashness Is the worst evil of this mortal state. [_Exit_ EURYDICE
 
1 - 252 CH.
What augur ye from this? The queen is gone Without word spoken either good or bad.
 
1 - 253 MESS.
I, too, am struck with dread. But hope consoles me, That having heard the affliction of her son, Her pride forbids to publish her lament Before the town, but to her maids within She will prescribe to mourn the loss of the house. She is too tried in judgement to do ill.
 
1 - 254 CH.
I cannot tell. The extreme of silence, too, Is dangerous, no less than much vain noise.
 
1 - 255 MESS.
Well, we may learn, if there be aught unseen Suppressed within her grief-distempered soul, By going within the palace. Ye say well: There is a danger, even in too much silence.
 
1 - 256 CH.
Ah! look where sadly comes our lord the King, Bearing upon his arm a monument-- If we may speak it--of no foreign woe, But of his own infirmity the fruit. _Enter_ CREON _with the body of_ HAEMON.
 
1 - 257 CR.
O error of my insensate soul, I 1 Stubborn, and deadly in the fateful end! O ye who now behold Slayer and slain of the same kindred blood! O bitter consequence of seeming-wise decree! Alas, my son! Strange to the world wert thou, and strange the fate That took thee off, that slew thee; woe is me! Not for thy rashness, but my folly. Ah me!
 
1 - 258 CH.
Alas for him who sees the right too late!
 
1 - 259 CR.
Alas! I have learnt it now. But then upon my head Some God had smitten with dire weight of doom; And plunged me in a furious course, woe is me! Discomforting and trampling on my joy. Woe! for the bitterness of mortal pain! _Enter_ 2nd Messenger.
 
1 - 260 2ND MESS.
My lord and master. Thou art master here Of nought but sorrows. One within thine arms Thou bear'st with thee, and in thy palace hall Thou hast possession of another grief, Which soon thou shalt behold.
 
1 - 261 CR.
What more of woe, Or what more woeful, sounds anew from thee?
 
1 - 262 2ND MESS.
The honoured mother of that corse, thy queen, Is dead, and bleeding with a new-given wound.
 
1 - 263 CR.
horrible! O charnel gulf I 2 Of death on death, not to be done away, Why harrowest thou my soul? Ill boding harbinger of woe, what word Have thy lips uttered? Oh, thou hast killed me again, Before undone! What say'st? What were thy tidings? Woe is me! Saidst thou a slaughtered queen in yonder hall Lay in her blood, crowning the pile of ruin?
 
1 - 264 CH.
No longer hidden in the house. Behold! [_The Corpse of_ EURYDICE _is disclosed_
 
1 - 265 CR.
Alas! Again I see a new, a second woe. What more calamitous stroke of Destiny Awaits me still? But now mine arms enfold My child, and lo! yon corse before my face! Ah! hapless, hapless mother, hapless son!
 
1 - 266 2ND MESS.
She with keen knife before the altar place[8] Closed her dark orbs; but first lamented loud The glorious bed of buried Megareus[9], And then of Haemon; lastly clamoured forth The curse of murdered offspring upon thee.
 
1 - 267 CR.
Ay me! Ay me! II 1 I am rapt with terror. Is there none to strike me With doubly sharpened blade a mortal blow? Ah! I am plunged in fathomless distress.
 
1 - 268 2ND MESS.
The guilt of this and of the former grief By this dead lady was denounced on thee.
 
1 - 269 CR.
Tell us, how ended she her life in blood?
 
1 - 270 2ND MESS.
Wounding herself to the heart, when she had heard The loud lamented death of Haemon here.
 
1 - 271 CR.
O me! This crime can come On no man else, exempting me. I slew thee--I, O misery! I say the truth, 'twas I! My followers, Take me with speed--take me away, away! Me, who am nothing now.
 
1 - 272 CH.
Thou sayest the best, if there be best in woe. Briefest is happiest in calamity.
 
1 - 273 CR.
Ah! let it come, II 2 The day, most welcome of all days to me, That brings the consummation of my doom. Come! Come! I would not see another sun.
 
1 - 274 CH.
Time will determine that. We must attend To present needs. Fate works her own dread work.
 
1 - 275 CR.
All my desire was gathered in my prayer.
 
1 - 276 CH.
But prayer is bootless. For to mortal men There is no saviour from appointed woe.
 
1 - 277 CR.
Take me away, the vain-proud man that slew Thee, O my son! unwittingly,--and thee! Me miserable, which way shall I turn, Which look upon? Since all that I can touch Is falling,--falling,--round me, and o'erhead Intolerable destiny descends.
 
1 - 278 LEADER OF CHORUS.
Wise conduct hath command of happiness Before all else, and piety to Heaven Must be preserved. High boastings of the proud Bring sorrow to the height to punish pride:-- A lesson men shall learn when they are old.
 
2 Aias.
2 - Introduction 0
THE PERSONS ATHENA. ODYSSEUS. AIAS, _the son of Telamon._ CHORUS _of Salaminian Mariners._ TECMESSA. _A Messenger._ TEUCER, _half brother of Aias._ MENELAUS. AGAMEMNON. EURYSAKÈS, _the child of Aias and Tecmessa, appears, but does not speak._ SCENE. Before the encampment of Aias on the shore of the Troad. Afterwards a lonely place beyond Rhoeteum. Time, towards the end of the Trojan War.   _'A wounded spirit who can bear?'_ After the death of Achilles, the armour made for him by Hephaestus was to be given to the worthiest of the surviving Greeks. Although Aias was the most valiant, the judges made the award to Odysseus, because he was the wisest. Aias in his rage attempts to kill the generals; but Athena sends madness upon him, and he makes a raid upon the flocks and herds of the army, imagining the bulls and rams to be the Argive chiefs. On awakening from his delusion, he finds that he has fallen irrecoverably from honour and from the favour of the Greeks. He also imagines that the anger of Athena is unappeasable. Under this impression he eludes the loving eyes of his captive-bride Tecmessa, and of his Salaminian comrades, and falls on his sword. ('The soul and body rive not more in parting Than greatness going off.') But it is revealed through the prophet Calchas, that the wrath of Athena will last only for a day; and on the return of Teucer, Aias receives an honoured funeral, the tyrannical reclamations of the two sons of Atreus being overcome by the firm fidelity of Teucer and the magnanimity of Odysseus, who has been inspired for this purpose by Athena.
 
2 - 1 ATHENA.
ATHENA (_above_). ODYSSEUS. Oft have I seen thee, Laërtiades, Intent on some surprisal of thy foes; As now I find thee by the seaward camp, Where Aias holds the last place in your line, Lingering in quest, and scanning the fresh print Of his late footsteps, to be certified If he keep house or no. Right well thy sense Hath led thee forth, like some keen hound of Sparta! The man is even but now come home, his head And slaughterous hands reeking with ardent toil. Thou, then, no longer strain thy gaze within Yon gateway, but declare what eager chase Thou followest, that a god may give thee light.
 
2 - 2 ODYSSEUS.
Athena, 'tis thy voice! Dearest in heaven, How well discerned and welcome to my soul From that dim distance doth thine utterance fly In tones as of Tyrrhenian trumpet clang! Rightly hast thou divined mine errand here, Beating this ground for Aias of the shield, The lion-quarry whom I track to day. For he hath wrought on us to night a deed Past thought--if he be doer of this thing; We drift in ignorant doubt, unsatisfied-- And I unbidden have bound me to this toil. Brief time hath flown since suddenly we knew That all our gathered spoil was reaved and slaughtered, Flocks, herds, and herdmen, by some human hand, All tongues, then, lay this deed at Aias' door. And one, a scout who had marked him, all alone, With new-fleshed weapon bounding o'er the plain, Gave me to know it, when immediately I darted on the trail, and here in part I find some trace to guide me, but in part I halt, amazed, and know not where to look. Thou com'st full timely. For my venturous course, Past or to come, is governed by thy will.
 
2 - 3 ATH.
ATH. I knew thy doubts, Odysseus, and came forth Zealous to guard thy perilous hunting-path.
 
2 - 4 OD.
OD. Dear Queen! and am I labouring to an end?
 
2 - 5 ATH.
ATH. Thou schem'st not idly. This is Aias' deed.
 
2 - 6 OD.
OD. What can have roused him to a work so wild?
 
2 - 7 ATH.
ATH. His grievous anger for Achilles' arms.
 
2 - 8 OD.
OD. But wherefore on the flock this violent raid?
 
2 - 9 ATH.
ATH. He thought to imbrue his hands with your heart's blood.
 
2 - 10 0
OD. What? Was this planned against the Argives, then?
 
2 - 11 ATH.
ATH. Planned, and performed, had I kept careless guard.
 
2 - 12 0
OD. What daring spirit, what hardihood, was here!
 
2 - 13 ATH.
ATH. Alone by night in craft he sought your tents.
 
2 - 14 OD.
OD. How? Came he near them? Won he to his goal?
 
2 - 15 ATH.
ATH. He stood in darkness at the generals' gates.
 
2 - 16 OD.
OD. What then restrained his eager hand from murder?
 
2 - 17 ATH.
ATH. I turned him backward from his baleful joy, And overswayed him with blind phantasies, To swerve against the flocks and well-watched herd Not yet divided from the public booty. There plunging in he hewed the horned throng, And with him Havoc ranged: while now he thought To kill the Atreidae with hot hand, now this Now that commander, as the fancy grew. I, joining with the tumult of his mind, Flung the wild victim on the fatal net. Anon, this toil being overpast, he draws The living oxen and the panting sheep With cords to his home, not as a hornèd prey, But as in triumph marshalling his foes: Whom now he tortures in their bonds within. Come, thou shalt see this madness in clear day, And tell to the Argives all I show thee here Only stand firm and shrink not, I will turn His eyes askance, not to distinguish thee, Fear nought--Ho! thou that bindest to thy will The limbs of those thy captives, come thou forth! Aias! advance before thy palace gate!
 
2 - 18 OD.
OD. My Queen! what dost thou? Never call him forth.
 
2 - 19 ATH.
ATH. Hush, hush! Be not so timorous, but endure.
 
2 - 20 OD.
OD. Nay, nay! Enough. He is there, and let him bide.
 
2 - 21 ATH.
ATH. What fear you? Dates his valour from to day?
 
2 - 22 OD.
OD. He was and is my valiant enemy.
 
2 - 23 ATH.
ATH. Then is not laughter sweetest o'er a foe?
 
2 - 24 OD.
OD. No more! I care not he should pass abroad.
 
2 - 25 ATH.
ATH. You flinch from seeing the madman in full view.
 
2 - 26 OD.
OD. When sane, I ne'er had flinched before his face.
 
2 - 27 ATH.
ATH. Well, but even now he shall not know thee near.
 
2 - 28 OD.
OD. How, if his eyes be not transformed or lost?
 
2 - 29 ATH.
ATH. I will confound his sense although he see.
 
2 - 30 OD.
OD. Well, nothing is too hard for Deity.
 
2 - 31 ATH.
ATH. Stand still and keep thy place without a word.
 
2 - 32 OD.
I must. Would I were far away from here!
 
2 - 33 ATH.
ATH. Aias! Again I summon thee. Why pay So scanty heed to her who fights for thee? _Enter_ AIAS _with a bloody scourge._
 
2 - 34 AIAS.
Hail, offspring of the Highest! Pallas, hail! Well hast thou stood by me. Triumphal gold Shall crown thy temple for this lordly prey.
 
2 - 35 ATH.
ATH. A fair intention! But resolve me this: Hast dyed thy falchion deep in Argive blood?
 
2 - 36 AI.
AI. There is my boast; that charge I'll ne'er deny.
 
2 - 37 ATH.
ATH. Have Atreus' sons felt thy victorious might?
 
2 - 38 AI.
AI. They have. No more they'll make a scorn of me!
 
2 - 39 ATH.
ATH. I take it, then, they are dead.
 
2 - 40 AI.
AI. Ay, now they are dead, Let them arise and rob me of mine arms!
 
2 - 41 ATH.
ATH. Good. Next inform us of Laërtes' son; How stands his fortune? Hast thou let him go?
 
2 - 42 AI.
AI. The accursed fox! Dost thou inquire of him?
 
2 - 43 ATH.
ATH. Ay, of Odysseus, thy late adversary.
 
2 - 44 AI.
AI. He sits within, dear lady, to my joy, Bound; for I mean him not just yet to die.
 
2 - 45 ATH.
ATH. What fine advantage wouldst thou first achieve?
 
2 - 46 AI.
AI. First, tie him to a pillar of my hall--
 
2 - 47 ATH.
ATH. Poor wretch! What torment wilt thou wreak on him?
 
2 - 48 AI.
AI. Then stain his back with scourging till he die.
 
2 - 49 ATH.
ATH. Nay, 'tis too much. Poor caitiff! Not the scourge!
 
2 - 50 AI.
AI. Pallas, in all things else have thou thy will, But none shall wrest Odysseus from this doom.
 
2 - 51 ATH.
Well, since thou art determined on the deed, Spare nought of thine intent: indulge thy hand!
 
2 - 52 AI.
AI. (_waving the bloody scourge_). I go! But thou, I charge thee, let thine aid Be evermore like valiant as to-day.
 
2 - 53 ATH.
The gods are strong, Odysseus. Dost thou see? What man than Aias was more provident, Or who for timeliest action more approved?
 
2 - 54 OD.
I know of none. But, though he hates me sore, I pity him, poor mortal, thus chained fast To a wild and cruel fate,--weighing not so much His fortune as mine own. For now I feel All we who live are but an empty show And idle pageant of a shadowy dream.
 
2 - 55 ATH.
Then, warned by what thou seest, be thou not rash To vaunt high words toward Heaven, nor swell thy port Too proudly, if in puissance of thy hand Thou passest others, or in mines of wealth. Since Time abases and uplifts again All that is human, and the modest heart Is loved by Heaven, who hates the intemperate will. [_Exeunt_
 
2 - 56CHORUS
(_entering_). Telamonian child, whose hand Guards our wave-encircled land, Salamis that breasts the sea, Good of thine is joy to me; But if One who reigns above Smite thee, or if murmurs move From fierce Danaäns in their hate Full of threatening to thy state, All my heart for fear doth sigh, Shrinking like a dove's soft eye. Hardly had the darkness waned, [_Half-Chorus I._ When our ears were filled and pained With huge scandal on thy fame. Telling, thine the arm that came To the cattle-browsèd mead, Wild with prancing of the steed, And that ravaged there and slew With a sword of fiery hue All the spoils that yet remain, By the sweat of spearmen ta'en. Such report against thy life, [_Half-Chorus II._ Whispered words with falsehood rife, Wise Odysseus bringing near Shrewdly gaineth many an ear: Since invention against thee Findeth hearing speedily, Tallying with the moment's birth; And with loudly waxing mirth Heaping insult on thy grief, Each who hears it glories more Than the tongue that told before. Every slander wins belief Aimed at souls whose worth is chief: Shot at me, or one so small, Such a bolt might harmless fall. Ever toward the great and high Creepeth climbing jealousy Yet the low without the tall Make at need a tottering wall Let the strong the feeble save And the mean support the brave. CHORUS Ah! 'twere vain to tune such song 'Mid the nought discerning throng Who are clamouring now 'gainst thee Long and loud, and strengthless we, Mighty chieftain, thou away, To withstand the gathering fray Flocking fowl with carping cry Seem they, lurking from thine eye, Till the royal eagle's poise Overawe the paltry noise Till before thy presence hushed Sudden sink they, mute and crushed. Did bull slaying Artemis, Zeus' cruel daughter I 1 (Ah, fearful rumour, fountain of my shame!) Prompt thy fond heart to this disastrous slaughter Of the full herd stored in our army's name! Say, had her blood stained temple[1] missed the kindness Of some vow promised fruit of victory, Foiled of some glorious armour through thy blindness, Or fell some stag ungraced by gift from thee? Or did stern Ares venge his thankless spear Through this night foray that hath cost thee dear! For never, if thy heart were not distracted I 2 By stings from Heaven, O child of Telamon, Wouldst thou have bounded leftward, to have acted Thus wildly, spoiling all our host hath won! Madness might fall some heavenly power forfend it But if Odysseus and the tyrant lords Suggest a forged tale, O rise to end it, Nor fan the fierce flame of their withering words! Forth from thy tent, and let thine eye confound The brood of Sisyphus[2] that would thee wound! Too long hast thou been fixed in grim repose, III Heightening the haughty malice of thy foes, That, while thou porest by the sullen sea, Through breezy glades advanceth fearlessly, A mounting blaze with crackling laughter fed From myriad throats; whence pain and sorrow bred Within my bosom are establishèd. _Enter_ TECMESSA.
 
2 - 57 TECMESSA.
Helpers of Aias' vessel's speed, Erechtheus' earth-derivèd seed, Sorrows are ours who truly care For the house of Telamon afar. The dread, the grand, the rugged form Of him we know, Is stricken with a troublous storm; Our Aias' glory droopeth low.
 
2 - 58 CHORUS.
What burden through the darkness fell Where still at eventide 'twas well? Phrygian Teleutas' daughter, say; Since Aias, foremost in the fray, Disdaining not the spear-won bride, Still holds thee nearest at his side, And thou may'st solve our doubts aright.
 
2 - 59 TEC.
TEC. How shall I speak the dreadful word? How shall ye live when ye have heard? Madness hath seized our lord by night And blasted him with hopeless blight. Such horrid victims mightst thou see Huddled beneath yon canopy, Torn by red hands and dyed in blood, Dread offerings to his direful mood.
 
2 - 60 CH.
CH. What news of our fierce lord thy story showeth, 1 Sharp to endure, impossible to fly! News that on tongues of Danaäns hourly groweth, Which Rumour's myriad voices multiply! Alas! the approaching doom awakes my terror. The man will die, disgraced in open day, Whose dark dyed steel hath dared through mad brained error The mounted herdmen with their herds to slay.
 
2 - 61 TEC.
TEC. O horror! Then 'twas there he found The flock he brought as captives tied, And some he slew upon the ground, And some, side smiting, sundered wide Two white foot rams he backward drew, And bound. Of one he shore and threw The tipmost tongue and head away, The other to an upright stay He tied, and with a harness thong Doubled in hand, gave whizzing blows, Echoing his lashes with a song More dire than mortal fury knows.
 
2 - 62 CH.
CH. Ah! then 'tis time, our heads in mantles hiding, 2 Our feet on some stol'n pathway now to ply, Or with swift oarage o'er the billows gliding, With ordered stroke to make the good ship fly Such threats the Atridae, armed with two fold power, Launch to assail us. Oh, I sadly fear Stones from fierce hands on us and him will shower, Whose heavy plight no comfort may come near.
 
2 - 63 TEC.
TEC. 'Tis changed, his rage, like sudden blast, Without the lightning gleam is past And now that Reason's light returns, New sorrow in his spirit burns. For when we look on self made woe, In which no hand but ours had part, Thought of such griefs and whence they flow Brings aching misery to the heart.
 
2 - 64 CH.
CH. If he hath ceased to rave, he should do well The account of evil lessens when 'tis past.
 
2 - 65 TEC.
TEC. If choice were given you, would you rather choose Hurting your friends, yourself to feel delight, Or share with them in one commingled pain?
 
2 - 66 CH.
CH. The two fold trouble is more terrible.
 
2 - 67 TEC.
TEC. Then comes our torment now the fit is o'er.
 
2 - 68 CH.
CH. How mean'st thou by that word? I fail to see.
 
2 - 69 TEC.
TEC. He in his rage had rapture of delight And knew not how he grieved us who stood near And saw the madding tempest ruining him. But now 'tis over and he breathes anew, The counterblast of sorrow shakes his soul, Whilst our affliction vexeth as before, Have we not double for our single woe?
 
2 - 70 CH.
CH. I feel thy reasoning move me, and I fear Some heavenly stroke hath fallen. How else, when the end Of stormy sickness brings no cheering ray?
 
2 - 71 TEC.
TEC. Our state is certain. Dream not but 'tis so.
 
2 - 72 CH.
CH. How first began the assault of misery? Tell us the trouble, for we share the pain.
 
2 - 73 TEC.
TEC. It toucheth you indeed, and ye shall hear All from the first. 'Twas midnight, and the lamp Of eve had died, when, seizing his sharp blade, He sought on some vain errand to creep forth. I broke in with my word: 'Aias, what now? Why thus uncalled for salliest thou? No voice Of herald summoned thee. No trumpet blew. What wouldst thou when the camp is hushed in sleep?' He with few words well known to women's ears Checked me: 'The silent partner is the best.' I saw how 'twas and ceased. Forth then he fared Alone--What horror passed upon the plain This night, I know not. But he drags within, Tied in a throng, bulls, shepherd dogs, and spoil Of cattle and sheep. Anon he butchers them, Felling or piercing, hacking or tearing wide, Ribs from breast, limb from limb. Others in rage He seized and bound and tortured, brutes for men. Last, out he rushed before the doors, and there Whirled forth wild language to some shadowy form, Flouting the generals and Laërtes' son With torrent laughter and loud triumphing What in his raid he had wreaked to their despite. Then diving back within--the fitful storm Slowly assuaging left his spirit clear. And when his eye had lightened through the room Cumbered with ruin, smiting on his brow He roared; and, tumbling down amid the wreck Of woolly carnage he himself had made, Sate with clenched hand tight twisted in his hair. Long stayed he so in silence. Then flashed forth Those frightful words of threatening vehemence, That bade me show him all the night's mishap, And whither he was fallen I, dear my friends, Prevailed on through my fear, told all I knew. And all at once he raised a bitter cry, Which heretofore I ne'er had heard, for still He made us think such doleful utterance Betokened the dull craven spirit, and still Dumb to shrill wailings, he would only moan With half heard muttering, like an angry bull. But now, by such dark fortune overpowered, Foodless and dry, amid the quivering heap His steel hath quelled, all quietly he broods; And out of doubt his mind intends some harm: Such words, such groans, burst from him. O my friends.-- Therefore I hastened,--enter and give aid If aught ye can! Men thus forgone will oft Grow milder through the counsel of a friend.
 
2 - 74 CH.
CH. Teleutas' child! we shudder at thy tale That fatal frenzy wastes our hero's soul.
 
2 - 75 AIAS
(_within_). Woe's me, me, me!
 
2 - 76 TEC.
TEC. More cause anon! Hear ye not Aias there, How sharp the cry that shrills from him?
 
2 - 77 AI.
AI. Woe! Woe!
 
2 - 78 CH.
CH. Madly it sounds--Or springs it of deep grief For proofs of madness harrowing to his eye?
 
2 - 79 AI.
AI. Boy, boy!
 
2 - 80 TEC.
TEC. What means he? Oh, Eurysakes! He cries on thee. Where art thou? O my heart!
 
2 - 81 AI.
AI. Teucer I call! Where 's Teucer? Will he ne'er Come from the chase, but leave me to my doom?
 
2 - 82 CH.
CH. Not madness now. Disclose him. Let us look. Haply the sight of us may calm his soul.
 
2 - 83 TEC.
TEC. There, then; I open to your view the form Of Aias, and his fortunes as they are. [AIAS _is discovered_
 
2 - 84 AI.
AI. Dear comrades of the deep, whose truth and love I 1 Stand forth alone unbroken in my woe, Behold what gory sea Of storm-lashed agony Doth round and round me flow!
 
2 - 85 CH.
CH. (_to_ TEC.) Too true thy witness: for the fact cries out Wild thoughts were here and Reason's lamp extinct.
 
2 - 86 AI.
AI. Strong helpers of sea-speed, whose nimble hand I 2 Plied hither the salt oar with circling stroke, No shepherd there was found To give the avenging wound. Come, lay me with the flock!
 
2 - 87 CH.
CH. Speak no rash word! nor curing ill with ill Augment the plague of this calamity.
 
2 - 88 AI.
AI. Mark ye the brave and bold, II 1 Whom none could turn of old, When once he set his face to the fierce fight? Now beasts that thought no harm Have felt this puissant arm. O laughter of my foes! O mockery of my might!
 
2 - 89 TEC.
TEC. Aias, my lord! I entreat thee, speak not so!
 
2 - 90 AI.
AI. Thou here! Away! begone, and trouble me not! O! O!
 
2 - 91 CH.
CH. Be softened! bear a steadier mind!
 
2 - 92 AI.
AI. O heaven-accursèd hand That let the ruffians go, But falling 'midst the horn'd and bleating band, Made darkling blood-streams flow!
 
2 - 93 CH.
CH. Why vex thy heart with what is over and done? Do what we may, this ne'er will alter now.
 
2 - 94 AI.
AI. Child of Laërtes old, II 2 Thou that dost still behold And still contrive all shapes of monstrous ill, Winding in foulest ways Through the army's sinful maze,-- Now even for pleasure thou may'st laugh thy fill.
 
2 - 95 CH.
CH. Laughter and tears are in the gift of God.
 
2 - 96 AI.
AI. Ay, might I see him, though thus broken,--ay me! Even yet--
 
2 - 97 CH.
CH. Nay, vaunt not. Look where thou art fallen.
 
2 - 98 AI.
AI. Source where my life-blood springs, O Zeus, might I but slay That crafty plague, with those twin-sceptred kings, Then breathe my life away!
 
2 - 99 TEC.
TEC. Pray thus, and pray that I too be no more! If thou wert gone, what were my life to me?
 
2 - 100 AI.
AI. Darkness! my only light! III 1 O nether gloom, to me Brighter than morning to the wakeful eye! Take me to dwell with thee. Take me! What help? Zeus' daughter with fell might Torments me sore. I may not look on high, Nor to the tribe of momentary men.-- Oh, whither, then, Should it avail to fly? Ah! whither should I go and stay? All here is ruin. This mad prey Shames me for evermore: Vengeance is at the door; Yea, all the Achaean host, with armèd hand, Is ready at command To slay me o'er and o'er.
 
2 - 101 TEC.
TEC. Woe 's me! to hear from one so good and true Words he had scorned to utter in past days.
 
2 - 102 AI.
AI. Grey firths of foaming brine, III 2 And ye, deep groves, that crown The sea-caves and long cliffs upon the shore, Too long did ye confine My life about the walls of Troia's town: But no more now! a breathing man, no more! The wise in heart may duly learn that lore. Let Xanthus know, Whose waters neighbouring flow, And minister to Argive men: One man he ne'er shall see again; One, I will vaunt it forth! Highest in warlike worth Of all Greek forms that Troia's towers have eyed: Now, shorn of all that pride, I lie thus low.
 
2 - 103 CH.
CH. I know not how to let thee speak, nor how To silence thee. Such evils close thee round. AI. Ay me! Could human thought have prophesied My name would thus give echo to mine ill? 'Ai' now for Aias, doubly, trebly said, Sorts all too well to mark my misery; Whose father from this land of Troy, as noblest Of all the host, carrying the fairest prize, Came girt about with glory to his home. But I his son, not less of might than he, Nor poorer in the achievements of my hand, To this same region following in my prime, Am scouted by the Achaeans and destroyed. Yet know I one thing well. Had Peleus' child, Living, adjudged his armour as a meed Of well-tried bravery, no grasp save mine Had clutched it. But the Atridae with mean craft Conveyed his heirloom to a wit-proud knave, Whilst Aias' peerless prowess was despised. And had not this mine eye and mind distraught Glanced from my purpose, ne'er again had they Perverted judgement. But the invincible Stern daughter of the Highest, with baneful eye, Even as mine arm descended, baffled me, And hurled upon my soul a frenzied plague, To stain my hand with these dumb victims' blood. And those mine enemies exult in safety,-- Not with my will; but where a God misguides, Strong arms are thwarted and the weakling lives. Now, what remains? Heaven hates me, 'tis too clear: The Grecian host abhor me: Troy, with all This country round our camp, is my sworn foe. Shall I, across the Aegean sailing home, Leave these Atridae and their fleet forlorn? How shall I dare to front my father's eye? How will he once endure to look on me, Denuded of the prize of high renown, Whose coronal stood sparkling on his brow? No! 'twere too dreadful. Then shall I advance Before the Trojan battlements, and there In single conflict doing valiantly Last die upon their spears? Nay, for by this I might perchance make Atreus' offspring glad. That may not be imagined. I must find Some act to let my grey-haired father feel No heartless recreant once called him sire. Shame on the wight who when beset with ill Cares to live on in misery unrelieved. Can hour outlasting hour make less or more Of death? Whereby then can it furnish joy? That mortal weighs for nothing-worth with me, Whom Hope can comfort with her fruitless fire. Honour in life or honour in the grave Befits the noble heart. You hear my will.
 
2 - 104 CH.
CH. From thine own spirit, Aias, all may tell, That utterance came, and none have prompted thee. Yet stay thy hurrying thought, and by thy friends Be ruled to loose this burden from thy mind.
 
2 - 105 TEC.
TEC. O my great master! heaviest of all woe Is theirs whose life is crushed beyond recall. I, born of one the mightiest of the free And wealthiest in the Phrygian land, am now A captive. So Heaven willed, and thy strong arm Determined. Therefore, since the hour that made My being one with thine, I breathe for thee; And I beseech thee by the sacred fire Of home, and by the sweetness of the night When from thy captive I became thy bride, Leave me not guardless to the unworthy touch And cruel taunting of thine enemies' For, shouldst thou die and leave us, then shall I Borne off by Argive violence with thy boy Eat from that day the bread of slavery. And some one of our lords shall smite me there With galling speech: Behold the concubine Of Aias, first of all the Greeks for might, How envied once, worn with what service now! So will they speak; and while my quailing heart Shall sink beneath its burden, clouds of shame Will dim thy glory and degrade thy race. Oh! think but of thy father, left to pine In doleful age, and let thy mother's grief-- Who, long bowed down with many a careful year, Prays oftentimes thou may'st return alive-- O'er awe thee. Yea, and pity thine own son, Unsheltered in his boyhood, lorn of thee, With bitter foes to tend his orphanhood, Think, O my lord, what sorrow in thy death Thou send'st on him and me. For I have nought To lean to but thy life. My fatherland Thy spear hath ruined. Fate--not thou--hath sent My sire and mother to the home of death What wealth have I to comfort me for thee? What land of refuge? Thou art all my stay Oh, of me too take thought! Shall men have joy, And not remember? Or shall kindness fade? Say, can the mind be noble, where the stream Of gratitude is withered from the spring?
 
2 - 106 CH.
CH. Aias, I would thy heart were touched like mine With pity; then her words would win thy praise.
 
2 - 107 AI.
AI. My praise she shall not miss, if she perform My bidding with firm heart, and fail not here.
 
2 - 108 TEC.
TEC. Dear Aias, I will fail in nought thou bidst me.
 
2 - 109 0
AI. Bring me my boy, that I may see his face.
 
2 - 110 TEC.
TEC. Oh, in my terror I conveyed him hence!
 
2 - 111 AI.
AI. Clear of this mischief, mean'st thou? or for what?
 
2 - 112 TEC.
TEC. Lest he might run to thee, poor child, and die.
 
2 - 113 AI.
AI. That issue had been worthy of my fate!
 
2 - 114 TEC.
TEC. But I kept watch to fence his life from harm.
 
2 - 115 AI.
AI. 'Twas wisely done. I praise thy foresight there.
 
2 - 116 TEC.
TEC. Well, since 'tis so, how can I help thee now?
 
2 - 117 AI.
AI. Give me to speak to him and see him near.
 
2 - 118 TEC.
TEC. He stands close by with servants tending him.
 
2 - 119 AI.
AI. Then why doth he not come, but still delay?
 
2 - 120 TEC.
TEC. Thy father calls thee, child. Come, lead him hither, Whichever of you holds him by the hand.
 
2 - 121 AI.
AI. Moves he? or do thine accents idly fall?
 
2 - 122 TEC.
TEC. See, where thy people bring him to thine eye.
 
2 - 123 AI.
AI. Lift him to me: lift him! He will not fear At sight of this fresh havoc of the sword, If rightly he be fathered of my blood. Like some young colt he must be trained and taught To run fierce courses with his warrior sire. Be luckier than thy father, boy! but else Be like him, and thy life will not be low. One thing even now I envy thee, that none Of all this misery pierces to thy mind. For life is sweetest in the void of sense, Ere thou know joy or sorrow. But when this Hath found thee, make thy father's enemies Feel the great parent in the valiant child. Meantime grow on in tender youthfulness, Nursed by light breezes, gladdening this thy mother. No Greek shall trample thee with brutal harm, That I know well, though I shall not be near-- So stout a warder to protect thy life I leave in Teucer. He'll not fail, though now He follow far the chase upon his foes. My trusty warriors, people of the sea, Be this your charge, no less,--and bear to him My clear commandment, that he take this boy Home to my fatherland, and make him known To Telamon, and Eriboea too, My mother. Let him tend them in their age. And, for mine armour, let not that be made The award of Grecian umpires or of him Who ruined me. But thou, named of the shield[3], Eurysakes, hold mine, the unpierceable Seven-hided buckler, and by the well stitched thong Grasp firm and wield it mightily.--The rest Shall lie where I am buried.--Take him now, Quickly, and close the door. No tears! What! weep Before the tent? How women crave for pity! Make fast, I say. No wise physician dreams With droning charms to salve a desperate sore.
 
2 - 124 CH.
CH. There sounds a vehement ardour in thy words That likes me not. I fear thy sharpened tongue.
 
2 - 125 TEC.
TEC. Aias, my lord, what act is in thy mind?
 
2 - 126 AI.
AI. Inquire not, question not; be wise, thou'rt best.
 
2 - 127 TEC.
TEC. How my heart sinks! Oh, by thy child, by Heaven, I pray thee on my knees, forsake us not!
 
2 - 128 AI.
AI. Thou troublest me. What! know'st thou not that Heaven Hath ceased to be my debtor from to-day?
 
2 - 129 TEC.
TEC. Hush! Speak not so.
 
2 - 130 AI.
AI. Speak thou to those that hear.
 
2 - 131 TEC.
Will you not hear me?
 
2 - 132 AI.
AI. Canst thou not be still?
 
2 - 133 TEC.
TEC. My fears, my fears!
 
2 - 134 AI.
AI. (_to the_ Attendants). Come, shut me in, I say.
 
2 - 135 TEC.
TEC. Oh, yet be softened!
 
2 - 136 AI.
'Tis a foolish hope, If thou deem'st now to mould me to thy will. [Aias _is withdrawn. Exit_ Tecmessa
 
2 - 137 CHORUS.
Island of glory! whom the glowing eyes I 1 Of all the wondering world immortalize, Thou, Salamis, art planted evermore, Happy amid the wandering billows' roar; While I--ah, woe the while!--this weary time, By the green wold where flocks from Ida stray, Lie worn with fruitless hours of wasted prime, Hoping--ah, cheerless hope!--to win my way Where Hades' horrid gloom shall hide me from the day. Aias is with me, yea, but crouching low, I 2 Where Heaven-sent madness haunts his overthrow, Beyond my cure or tendance: woful plight! Whom thou, erewhile, to head the impetuous fight, Sent'st forth, thy conquering champion. Now he feeds His spirit on lone paths, and on us brings Deep sorrow; and all his former peerless deeds Of prowess fall like unremembered things From Atreus' loveless brood, this caitiff brace of kings. Ah! when his mother, full of days and bowed II 1 With hoary eld, shall hear his ruined mind, How will she mourn aloud! Not like the warbler of the dale, The bird of piteous wail, But in shrill strains far borne upon the wind, While on the withered breast and thin white hair Falls the resounding blow, the rending of despair. Best hid in death were he whom madness drives II 2 Remediless; if, through his father's race Born to the noblest place Among the war-worn Greeks, he lives By his own light no more, Self-aliened from the self he knew before. Oh, hapless sire, what woe thine ear shall wound! One that of all thy line no life save this hath found. _Enter_ Aias _with a bright sword, and_ Tecmessa, _severally._
 
2 - 138 AI.
What change will never-terminable Time Not heave to light, what hide not from the day? What chance shall win men's marvel? Mightiest oaths Fall frustrate, and the steely-tempered will. Ay, and even mine, that stood so diamond-keen Like iron lately dipped, droops now dis-edged And weakened by this woman, whom to leave A widow with her orphan to my foes, Dulls me with pity. I will go to the baths And meadows near the cliff, and purging there My dark pollution, I will screen my soul From reach of Pallas' grievous wrath. I will find Same place untrodden, and digging of the soil Where none shall see, will bury this my sword, Weapon of hate! for Death and Night to hold Evermore underground. For, since my hand Had this from Hector mine arch-enemy, No kindness have I known from Argive men. So true that saying of the bygone world, 'A foe's gift is no gift, and brings no good.' Well, we will learn of Time. Henceforth I'll bow To heavenly ordinance and give homage due To Atreus' sons. Who rules, must be obeyed. Since nought so fierce and terrible but yields Place to Authority. Wild Winter's snows Make way for bounteous Summer's flowery tread, And Night's sad orb retires for lightsome Day With his white steeds to illumine the glad sky. The furious storm-blast leaves the groaning sea Gently to rest. Yea, the all-subduer Sleep Frees whom he binds, nor holds enchained for aye. And shall not men be taught the temperate will? Yea, for I now know surely that my foe Must be so hated, as being like enough To prove a friend hereafter, and my friend So far shall have mine aid, as one whose love Will not continue ever. Men have found But treacherous harbour in companionship. Our ending, then, is peaceful. Thou, my girl, Go in and pray the Gods my heart's desire Be all fulfilled. My comrades, join her here, Honouring my wishes; and if Teucer come, Bid him toward us be mindful, kind toward you. I must go--whither I must go. Do ye But keep my word, and ye may learn, though now Be my dark hour, that all with me is well. [_Exit towards the country._ Tecmessa _retires_
 
2 - 139 CHORUS.
A shudder of love thrills through me. Joy! I soar 1 O Pan, wild Pan! [_They dance_ Come from Cyllenè hoar-- Come from the snow drift, the rock-ridge, the glen! Leaving the mountain bare Fleet through the salt sea-air, Mover of dances to Gods and to men. Whirl me in Cnossian ways--thrid me the Nysian maze! Come, while the joy of the dance is my care! Thou too, Apollo, come Bright from thy Delian home, Bringer of day, Fly o'er the southward main Here in our hearts to reign, Loved to repose there and kindly to stay. Horror is past. Our eyes have rest from pain. 2 O Lord of Heaven! [_They dance_ Now blithesome day again Purely may smile on our swift-sailing fleet, Since, all his woe forgot, Aias now faileth not Aught that of prayer and Heaven-worship is meet. Time bringeth mighty aid--nought but in time doth fade: Nothing shall move me as strange to my thought. Aias our lord hath now Cleared his wrath-burdened brow Long our despair, Ceased from his angry feud And with mild heart renewed Peace and goodwill to the high-sceptred pair. _Enter_ Messenger.
 
2 - 140 MESSENGER.
Friends, my first news is Teucer's presence here, Fresh from the Mysian heights; who, as he came Right toward the generals' quarter, was assailed With outcry from the Argives in a throng: For when they knew his motion from afar They swarmed around him, and with shouts of blame From each side one and all assaulted him As brother to the man who had gone mad And plotted 'gainst the host,--threatening aloud, Spite of his strength, he should be stoned, and die. --So far strife ran, that swords unscabbarded Crossed blades, till as it mounted to the height Age interposed with counsel, and it fell. But where is Aias to receive my word? Tidings are best told to the rightful ear.
 
2 - 141 CH.
CH. Not in the hut, but just gone forth, preparing New plans to suit his newly altered mind.
 
2 - 142 MESS.
MESS. Alas! Too tardy then was he who sped me hither; Or I have proved too slow a messenger.
 
2 - 143 CH.
CH. What point is lacking for thine errand's speed?
 
2 - 144 MESS.
MESS. Teucer was resolute the man should bide Close held within-doors till himself should come.
 
2 - 145 CH.
CH. Why, sure his going took the happiest turn And wisest, to propitiate Heaven's high wrath.
 
2 - 146 MESS.
MESS. The height of folly lives in such discourse, If Calchas have the wisdom of a seer.
 
2 - 147 CH.
CH. What knowest thou of our state? What saith he? Tell.
 
2 - 148 MESS.
MESS. I can tell only what I heard and saw. Whilst all the chieftains and the Atridae twain Were seated in a ring, Calchas alone Rose up and left them, and in Teucer's palm Laid his right hand full friendly; then out-spake With strict injunction by all means i' the world To keep beneath yon covert this one day Your hero, and not suffer him to rove, If he would see him any more alive. For through this present light--and ne'er again--- Holy Athena, so he said, will drive him Before her anger. Such calamitous woe Strikes down the unprofitable growth that mounts Beyond his measure and provokes the sky. 'Thus ever,' said the prophet, 'must he fall Who in man's mould hath thoughts beyond a man. And Aias, ere he left his father's door, Made foolish answer to his prudent sire. 'My son,' said Telamon, 'choose victory Always, but victory with an aid from Heaven.' How loftily, how madly, he replied! 'Father, with heavenly help men nothing worth May win success. But I am confident Without the Gods to pluck this glory down.' So huge the boast he vaunted! And again When holy Pallas urged him with her voice To hurl his deadly spear against the foe, He turned on her with speech of awful sound: 'Goddess, by other Greeks take thou thy stand; Where I keep rank, the battle ne'er shall break.' Such words of pride beyond the mortal scope Have won him Pallas' wrath, unlovely meed. But yet, perchance, so be it he live to-day, We, with Heaven's succour, may restore his peace.'-- Thus far the prophet, when immediately Teucer dispatched me, ere the assembly rose, Bearing to thee this missive to be kept With all thy care. But if my speed be lost, And Calchas' word have power, the man is dead.
 
2 - 149 CH.
CH. O trouble-tost Tecmessa, born to woe, Come forth and see what messenger is here! This news bites near the bone, a death to joy. _Enter_ TECMESSA.
 
2 - 150 TEC.
TEC. Wherefore again, when sorrow's cruel storm Was just abating, break ye my repose?
 
2 - 151 CH.
CH. (_pointing to the_ Messenger). Hear what he saith, and how he comes to bring News of our Aias that hath torn my heart.
 
2 - 152 TEC.
TEC. Oh me! what is it, man? Am I undone?
 
2 - 153 MESS.
MESS. Thy case I know not; but of Aias this, That if he roam abroad, 'tis dangerous.
 
2 - 154 TEC.
TEC. He is, indeed, abroad. Oh! tell me quickly!
 
2 - 155 MESS.
MESS. 'Tis Teucer's strong command to keep him close Beneath this roof, nor let him range alone.
 
2 - 156 TEC.
TEC. But where is Teucer? and what means his word?
 
2 - 157 MESS.
MESS. Even now at hand, and eager to make known That Aias, if he thus go forth, must fall.
 
2 - 158 TEC.
TEC. Alas! my misery! Whence learned he this?
 
2 - 159 MESS.
From Thestor's prophet-offspring, who to-day Holds forth to Aias choice of life or death.
 
2 - 160 TEC.
TEC. Woe's me! O friends, this desolating blow Is falling! Oh, stand forward to prevent! And some bring Teucer with more haste, while some Explore the western bays and others search Eastward to find your hero's fatal path! For well I see I am cheated and cast forth From the old favour. Child, what shall I do? [_Looking at_ EURYSAKES We must not stay. I too will fare along, go far as I have power. Come, let us go. Bestir ye! 'Tis no moment to sit still, If we would save him who now speeds to die.
 
2 - 161 CH.
CH. I am ready. Come! Fidelity of foot, And swift performance, shall approve me true. [_Exeunt omnes_ _The scene changes to a lonely wooded spot._
 
2 - 162 AIAS
(_discovered alone_). The sacrificer stands prepared,--and when More keen? Let me take time for thinking, too! This gift of Hector, whom of stranger men I hated most with heart and eyes, is set In hostile Trojan soil, with grinding hone Fresh-pointed, and here planted by my care Thus firm, to give me swift and friendly death. Fine instrument, so much for thee! Then, first, Thou, for 'tis meet, great Father, lend thine aid. For no great gift I sue thee. Let some voice Bear Teucer the ill news, that none but he May lift my body, newly fallen in death About my bleeding sword, ere I be spied By some of those who hate me, and be flung To dogs and vultures for an outcast prey. So far I entreat thee, Lord of Heaven. And thou, Hermes, conductor of the shadowy dead, Speed me to rest, and when with this sharp steel I have cleft a sudden passage to my heart, At one swift bound waft me to painless slumber! But most be ye my helpers, awful Powers, Who know no blandishments, but still perceive All wicked deeds i' the world--strong, swift, and sure, Avenging Furies, understand my wrong, See how my life is ruined, and by whom. Come, ravin on Achaean flesh--spare none; Rage through the camp!--Last, thou that driv'st thy course Up yon steep Heaven, thou Sun, when thou behold'st My fatherland, checking thy golden rein, Report my fall, and this my fatal end, To my old sire, and the poor soul who tends him. Ah, hapless one! when she shall hear this word, How she will make the city ring with woe! 'Twere from the business idly to condole. To work, then, and dispatch. O Death! O Death! Now come, and welcome! Yet with thee, hereafter, I shall find close communion where I go. But unto thee, fresh beam of shining Day, And thee, thou travelling Sun-god, I may speak Now, and no more for ever. O fair light! O sacred fields of Salamis my home! Thou, firm set natal hearth: Athens renowned, And ye her people whom I love; O rivers, Brooks, fountains here--yea, even the Trojan plain I now invoke!--kind fosterers, farewell! This one last word from Aias peals to you: Henceforth my speech will be with souls unseen. [_Falls on his sword_
 
2 - 163 CHORUS.
(_re-entering severally_).
 
2 - 164 CH. A.
CH. A. Toil upon toil brings toil, And what save trouble have I? Which path have I not tried? And never a place arrests me with its tale. Hark! lo, again a sound!
 
2 - 165 CH. B.
'Tis we, the comrades of your good ship's crew.
 
2 - 166 CH. A.
CH. A. Well, sirs?
 
2 - 167 CH. B.
We have trodden all the westward arm o' the bay.
 
2 - 168 CH. A.
Well, have ye found?
 
2 - 169 CH. B.
Troubles enow, but nought to inform our sight.
 
2 - 170 CH. A.
CH. A. Nor yet along the road that fronts the dawn Is any sign of Aias to be seen.
 
2 - 171 CH.
CH. Who then will tell me, who? What hard sea-liver, 1 What toiling fisher in his sleepless quest, What Mysian nymph, what oozy Thracian river, Hath seen our wanderer of the tameless breast? Where? tell me where! 'Tis hard that I, far-toiling voyager, Crossed by some evil wind, Cannot the haven find, Nor catch his form that flies me, where? ah! where?
 
2 - 172 TEC.
TEC. (_behind_). Oh, woe is me! woe, woe!
 
2 - 173 CH.
CH. A. Who cries there from the covert of the grove?
 
2 - 174 TEC.
TEC. O boundless misery!
 
2 - 175 CH.
CH. B. Steeped in this audible sorrow I behold Tecmessa, poor fate-burdened bride of war.
 
2 - 176 TEC.
TEC. Friends, I am spoiled, lost, ruined, overthrown!
 
2 - 177 CH.
CH. A. What ails thee now?
 
2 - 178 TEC.
TEC. See where our Aias lies, but newly slain, Fallen on his sword concealed within the ground,
 
2 - 179 CH.
CH. Woe for my hopes of home! Aias, my lord, thou hast slain Thy ship-companion on the salt sea foam. Alas for us, and thee, Child of calamity!
 
2 - 180 0
TEC. So lies our fortune. Well may'st thou complain.
 
2 - 181 CH.
CH. A. Whose hand employed he for the deed of blood?
 
2 - 182 TEC.
TEC. His own, 'tis manifest. This planted steel, Fixed by his hand, gives verdict from his breast.
 
2 - 183 CH.
CH. Woe for my fault, my loss! Thou hast fallen in blood alone, And not a friend to cross Or guard thee. I, deaf, senseless as a stone, Left all undone. Oh, where, then, lies the stern Aias, of saddest name, whose purpose none might turn?
 
2 - 184 TEC.
TEC. No eye shall see him. I will veil him round With this all covering mantle; since no heart That loved him could endure to view him there, With ghastly expiration spouting forth From mouth and nostrils, and the deadly wound, The gore of his self slaughter. Ah, my lord! What shall I do? What friend will carry thee? Oh, where is Teucer! Timely were his hand, Might he come now to smooth his brother's corse. O thou most noble, here ignobly laid, Even enemies methinks must mourn thy fate!
 
2 - 185 CH.
CH. Ah! 'twas too clear thy firm knit thoughts would fashion, 2 Early or late, an end of boundless woe! Such heaving groans, such bursts of heart-bruised passion, Midnight and morn, bewrayed the fire below. 'The Atridae might beware!' A plenteous fount of pain was opened there, What time the strife was set, Wherein the noblest met, Grappling the golden prize that kindled thy despair!
 
2 - 186 TEC.
TEC. Woe, woe is me!
 
2 - 187 CH.
CH. Deep sorrow wrings thy soul, I know it well.
 
2 - 188 TEC.
TEC. O woe, woe, woe!
 
2 - 189 CH.
CH. Thou may'st prolong thy moan, and be believed, Thou that hast lately lost so true a friend.
 
2 - 190 TEC.
TEC. Thou may'st imagine; 'tis for me to know.
 
2 - 191 CH.
CH. Ay, ay, 'tis true.
 
2 - 192 TEC.
Alas, my child! what slavish tasks and hard We are drifting to! What eyes control our will!
 
2 - 193 CH.
CH. Ay me! Through thy complaint I hear the wordless blow Of two high-throned, who rule without restraint Of Pity. Heaven forfend What evil they intend!
 
2 - 194 0
TEC. The work of Heaven hath brought our life thus low.
 
2 - 195 CH.
CH. 'Tis a sore burden to be laid on men.
 
2 - 196 TEC.
TEC. Yet such the mischief Zeus' resistless maid, Pallas, hath planned to make Odysseus glad.
 
2 - 197 CH.
CH. O'er that dark-featured soul What waves of pride shall roll, What floods of laughter flow, Rudely to greet this madness-prompted woe, Alas! from him who all things dares endure, And from that lordly pair, who hear, and seat them sure!
 
2 - 198 TEC.
TEC. Ay, let them laugh and revel o'er his fall! Perchance, albeit in life they missed him not, Dead, they will cry for him in straits of war. For dullards know not goodness in their hand, Nor prize the jewel till 'tis cast away. To me more bitter than to them 'twas sweet, His death to him was gladsome, for he found The lot he longed for, his self-chosen doom. What cause have they to laugh? Heaven, not their crew, Hath glory by his death. Then let Odysseus Insult with empty pride. To him and his Aias is nothing; but to me, to me, He leaves distress and sorrow in his room!
 
2 - 199 TEUCER
(_within_). Alas, undone!
 
2 - 200 LEADER OF CH.
Hush! that was Teucer's cry. Methought I heard His voice salute this object of dire woe. _Enter_ TEUCER.
 
2 - 201 TEU.
TEU. Aias, dear brother, comfort of mine eye, Hast thou then done even as the rumour holds?
 
2 - 202 CH.
CH. Be sure of that, Teucer. He lives no more.
 
2 - 203 TEU.
TEU. Oh, then how heavy is the lot I bear!
 
2 - 204 CH.
CH. Yes, thou hast cause--
 
2 - 205 TEU.
TEU. O rash assault of woe!--
 
2 - 206 CH.
CH. To mourn full loud.
 
2 - 207 TEU.
TEU. Ay me! and where, oh where On Trojan earth, tell me, is this man's child?
 
2 - 208 CH.
CH. Beside the huts, untended.
 
2 - 209 TEU.
TEU. (_to_ TEC). Oh, with haste Go bring him hither, lest some enemy's hand Snatch him, as from the lion's widowed mate The lion-whelp is taken. Spare not speed. All soon combine in mockery o'er the dead. [_Exit_ TECMESSA
 
2 - 210 CH.
Even such commands he left thee ere he died. As thou fulfillest by this timely care.
 
2 - 211 TEU.
TEU. O sorest spectacle mine eyes e'er saw! Woe for my journey hither, of all ways Most grievous to my heart, since I was ware, Dear Aias, of thy doom, and sadly tracked Thy footsteps. For there darted through the host, As from some God, a swift report of thee That thou wert lost in death. I, hapless, heard, And mourned even then for that whose presence kills me. Ay me! But come, Unveil. Let me behold my misery. [_The corpse of_ AIAS _is uncovered_ O sight unbearable! Cruelly brave! Dying, what store of griefs thou sow'st for me! Where, amongst whom of mortals, can I go, That stood not near thee in thy troublous hour? Will Telamon, my sire and thine, receive me With radiant countenance and favouring brow Returning without thee? Most like! being one Who smiles no more[4], yield Fortune what she may. Will he hide aught or soften any word, Rating the bastard of his spear-won thrall, Whose cowardice and dastardy betrayed Thy life, dear Aias,--or my murderous guile, To rob thee of thy lordship and thy home? Such greeting waits me from the man of wrath, Whose testy age even without cause would storm. Last, I shall leave my land a castaway, Thrust forth an exile, and proclaimed a slave; So should I fare at home. And here in Troy My foes are many and my comforts few. All these things are my portion through thy death. Woe's me, my heart! how shall I bear to draw thee, O thou ill-starr'd! from this discoloured blade, Thy self-shown slayer? Didst thou then perceive Dead Hector was at length to be thine end?-- I pray you all, consider these two men. Hector, whose gift from Aias was a girdle, Tight-braced therewith to the car's rim, was dragged And scarified till he breathed forth his life. And Aias with this present from his foe Finds through such means his death-fall and his doom. Say then what cruel workman forged the gifts, But Fury this sharp sword, Hell that bright band? In this, and all things human, I maintain, Gods are the artificers. My thought is said. And if there be who cares not for my thought, Let him hold fast his faith and leave me mine.
 
2 - 212 CH.
CH. Spare longer speech, and think how to secure Thy brother's burial, and what plea will serve; Since one comes here hath no good will to us And like a villain haply comes in scorn.
 
2 - 213 TEU.
TEU. What man of all the host hath caught thine eye?
 
2 - 214 CH.
CH. The cause for whom we sailed, the Spartan King.
 
2 - 215 TEU.
TEU. Yes; I discern him, now he moves more near. _Enter_ MENELAUS.
 
2 - 216 MENELAUS.
Fellow, give o'er. Cease tending yon dead man! Obey my voice, and leave him where he lies.
 
2 - 217 TEU.
TEU. Thy potent cause for spending so much breath?
 
2 - 218 MEN.
My will, and his whose word is sovereign here.
 
2 - 219 TEU.
TEU. May we not know the reasons of your will?
 
2 - 220 MEN.
MEN. Because he, whom we trusted to have brought To lend us loyal help with heart and hand, Proved in the trial a worse than Phrygian foe; Who lay in wait for all the host by night, And sallied forth in arms to shed our blood; That, had not one in Heaven foiled this attempt, Our lot had been to lie as he doth here Dead and undone for ever, while he lived And flourished. Heaven hath turned this turbulence To fall instead upon the harmless flock. Wherefore no strength of man shall once avail To encase his body with a seemly tomb, But outcast on the wide and watery sand, He'll feed the birds that batten on the shore. Nor let thy towering spirit therefore rise In threatening wrath. Wilt thou or not, our hand Shall rule him dead, howe'er he braved us living, And that by force; for never would he yield, Even while he lived, to words from me. And yet It shows base metal when the subject-wight Deigns not to hearken to the chief in power. Since without settled awe, neither in states Can laws have rightful sway, nor can a host Be governed with due wisdom, if no fear Or wholesome shame be there to shield its safety. And though a man wax great in thews and bulk, Let him be warned: a trifling harm may ruin him. Whoever knows respect and honour both Stands free from risk of dark vicissitude. But whereso pride and licence have their fling, Be sure that state will one day lose her course And founder in the abysm. Let fear have place Still where it ought, say I, nor let men think To do their pleasure and not bide the pain. That wheel comes surely round. Once Aias flamed With insolent fierceness. Now I mount in pride, And loudly bid thee bury him not, lest burying Thy brother thou be burrowing thine own grave.
 
2 - 221 CH.
CH. Menelaüs, make not thy philosophy A platform whence to insult the valiant dead.
 
2 - 222 TEU.
TEU. I nevermore will marvel, sirs, when one Of humblest parentage is prone to sin, Since those reputed men of noble strain Stoop to such phrase of prating frowardness. Come, tell it o'er again,--said you ye brought My brother bound to aid you with his power? Sailed he not forth of his own sovereign will? Where is thy voucher of command o'er him? Where of thy right o'er those that followed him? Sparta, not we, shall buckle to thy sway. 'Twas written nowhere in the bond of rule That thou shouldst check him rather than he thee. Thou sailedst under orders, not in charge Of all, much less of Aias. Then pursue Thy limited direction, and chastise, In haughty phrase, the men who fear thy nod. But I will bury Aias, whether thou Or the other general give consent or no. 'Tis not for me to tremble at your word. Not to reclaim thy wife, like those poor souls Thou flll'st with labour, issued this man forth, But caring for his oath, and not for thee, Or any other nobody. Then come With heralds all arow, and bring the man Called king of men with thee! For thy sole noise I budge not, wert thou twenty times thy name.
 
2 - 223 CH.
The sufferer should not bear a bitter tongue. Hard words, how just soe'er, will leave their sting.
 
2 - 224 MEN.
MEN. Our bowman carries no small pride, I see.
 
2 - 225 TEU.
TEU. No mere mechanic's menial craft is mine.
 
2 - 226 MEN.
MEN. How wouldst thou vaunt it hadst thou but a shield!
 
2 - 227 TEU.
TEU. Unarmed I fear not thee in panoply.
 
2 - 228 MEN.
MEN. Redoubted is the wrath lives on thy tongue.
 
2 - 229 TEU.
TEU. Whose cause is just hath licence to be proud.
 
2 - 230 MEN.
MEN. Just, that my murderer have a peaceful end?
 
2 - 231 TEU.
TEU. Thy murderer? Strange, to have been slain and live!
 
2 - 232 MEN.
MEN. Yea, through Heaven's mercy. By his will, I am dead.
 
2 - 233 TEU.
TEU. If Heaven have saved thee, give the Gods their due.
 
2 - 234 MEN.
MEN. Am I the man to spurn at Heaven's command?
 
2 - 235 TEU.
TEU. Thou dost, to come and frustrate burial.
 
2 - 236 MEN.
MEN. Honour forbids to yield my foe a tomb.
 
2 - 237 TEU.
TEU. And Aias was thy foeman? Where and when?
 
2 - 238 MEN.
MEN. Hate lived between us; that thou know'st full well.
 
2 - 239 TEU.
TEU. For thy proved knavery, coining votes i' the court
 
2 - 240 MEN.
MEN. The judges voted. He ne'er lost through me.
 
2 - 241 TEU.
TEU. Guilt hiding guile wears often fairest front.
 
2 - 242 MEN.
MEN. I know whom pain shall harass for that word.
 
2 - 243 TEU.
TEU. Not without giving equal pain, 'tis clear.
 
2 - 244 MEN.
MEN. No more, but this. No burial for this man!
 
2 - 245 TEU.
TEU. Yea, this much more. He shall have instant burial.
 
2 - 246 MEN.
I have seen ere now a man of doughty tongue Urge sailors in foul weather to unmoor, Who, caught in the sea-misery by and by, Lay voiceless, muffled in his cloak, and suffered Who would of the sailors over trample him Even so methinks thy truculent mouth ere long Shall quench its outcry, when this little cloud Breaks forth on thee with the full tempest's might.
 
2 - 247 TEU.
TEU. I too have seen a man whose windy pride Poured forth loud insults o'er a neighbour's fall, Till one whose cause and temper showed like mine Spake to him in my hearing this plain word: 'Man, do the dead no wrong; but, if thou dost, Be sure thou shalt have sorrow.' Thus he warned The infatuate one: ay, one whom I behold, For all may read my riddle--thou art he.
 
2 - 248 MEN.
I will be gone. 'Twere shame to me, if known, To chide when I have power to crush by force.
 
2 - 249 TEU.
TEU. Off with you, then! 'Twere triple shame in me To list the vain talk of a blustering fool. [_Exit_ MENELAUS
 
2 - 250 LEADER OF CHORUS.
High the quarrel rears his head! Haste thee, Teucer, trebly haste, Grave-room for the valiant dead Furnish with what speed thou mayst, Hollowed deep within the ground, Where beneath his mouldering mound Aias aye shall be renowned. _Re-enter_ TECMESSA _with_ EURYSAKES.
 
2 - 251 TEU.
TEU. Lo! where the hero's housemate and his child, Hitting the moment's need, appear at hand, To tend the burial of the ill fated dead. Come, child, take thou thy station close beside: Kneel and embrace the author of thy life, In solemn suppliant fashion holding forth This lock of thine own hair, and hers, and mine With threefold consecration, that if one Of the army force thee from thy father's corse, My curse may banish him from holy ground, Far from his home, unburied, and cut off From all his race, even as I cut this curl. There, hold him, child, and guard him; let no hand Stir thee, but lean to the calm breast and cling. (_To_ CHORUS) And ye, be not like women in this scene, Nor let your manhoods falter; stand true men To this defence, till I return prepared, Though all cry No, to give him burial. [_Exit_
 
2 - 252 CHORUS.
When shall the tale of wandering years be done? I 1 When shall arise our exile's latest sun? Oh, where shall end the incessant woe Of troublous spear-encounter with the foe, Through this vast Trojan plain, Of Grecian arms the lamentable stain? Would he had gone to inhabit the wide sky, I 2 Or that dark home of death where millions lie, Who taught our Grecian world the way To use vile swords and knit the dense array! His toil gave birth to toil In endless line. He made mankind his spoil. His tyrant will hath forced me to forgo II 1 The garland, and the goblet's bounteous flow: Yea, and the flute's dear noise, And night's more tranquil joys; Ay me! nor only these, The fruits of golden ease, But Love, but Love--O crowning sorrow!-- Hath ceased for me. I may not borrow Sweet thoughts from him to smooth my dreary bed, Where dank night-dews fall ever on my head, Lest once I might forget the sadness of the morrow. Even here in Troy, Aias was erst my rock, II 2 From darkling fears and 'mid the battle-shock To screen me with huge might: Now he is lost in night And horror. Where again Shall gladness heal my pain? O were I where the waters hoary, Round Sunium's pine-clad promontory, Plash underneath the flowery upland height. Then holiest Athens soon would come in sight, And to Athena's self I might declare my story. _Enter_ TEUCER.
 
2 - 253 TEU.
TEU. My steps were hastened, brethren, when I saw Great Agamemnon hitherward afoot. He means to talk perversely, I can tell. _Enter_ AGAMEMNON.
 
2 - 254 AG.
AG. And so I hear thou'lt stretch thy mouth agape With big bold words against us undismayed-- Thou, the she-captive's offspring! High would scale Thy voice, and pert would be thy strutting gait, Were but thy mother noble; since, being naught, So stiff thou stand'st for him who is nothing now, And swear'st we came not as commanders here Of all the Achaean navy, nor of thee; But Aias sailed, thou say'st, with absolute right. Must we endure detraction from a slave? What was the man thou noisest here so proudly? Have I not set my foot as firm and far? Or stood his valour unaccompanied In all this host? High cause have we to rue That prize-encounter for Pelides' arms, Seeing Teucer's sentence stamps our knavery For all to know it; and nought will serve but ye, Being vanquished, kick at the award that passed By voice of the majority in the court, And either pelt us with rude calumnies, Or stab at us, ye laggards! with base guile. Howbeit, these ways will never help to build The wholesome order of established law, If men shall hustle victors from their right, And mix the hindmost rabble with the van. That craves repression. Not by bulky size, Or shoulders' breadth, the perfect man is known; But wisdom gives chief power in all the world. The ox hath a huge broadside, yet is held Right in the furrow by a slender goad; Which remedy, I perceive, will pass ere long To visit thee, unless thy wisdom grow; Who hast uttered forth such daring insolence For the pale shadow of a vanished man. Learn modestly to know thy place and birth, And bring with thee some freeborn advocate To plead thy cause before us in thy room. I understand not in the barbarous tongue, And all thy talk sounds nonsense to mine ear.
 
2 - 255 CH.
CH. Would ye might both have sense to curb your ire! No better hope for either can I frame.
 
2 - 256 TEU.
TEU. Fie! How doth gratitude when men are dead Prove renegade and swiftly pass away! This Agamemnon hath no slightest word Of kind remembrance any more for thee, Aias, who oftentimes for his behoof Hast jeoparded thy life in labour of war. Now all is clean forgotten and out of mind. Thou who hast multiplied words void of sense, Hast thou no faintest memory of the time When who but Aias came and rescued you Already locked within the toils,--all lost, The rout began: when close abaft the ships The torches flared, and o'er the bootless trench Hector was bounding high to board our fleet? Who stayed that onset? Was not Aias he? Whom thou deny'st to have once set foot by thine. Find ye no merit there? And once again When he met Hector singly, man to man, Not by your bidding, but the lottery's choice, His lot, that skulked not low adown i' the heap, A moist earth-clod, but sure to spring in air, And first to clear the plumy helmet's brim. Yes, Aias was the man, and I too there Kept rank, the 'barbarous mother's servile son.' I pity thee the blindness of that word. Who was thy father's father? A barbarian, Pelops, the Phrygian, if you trace him far! And what was Atreus, thine own father? One Who served his brother with the abominable Dire feast of his own flesh. And thou thyself Cam'st from a Cretan mother, whom her sire Caught with a man who had no right in her And gave dumb fishes the polluted prey. Such was thy race. What is the race thou spurnest? My father, Telamon, of all the host Being foremost proved in valour, took as prize My mother for his mate: a princess she, Born of Laomedon; Alcmena's son Gave her to grace him--a triumphant meed. Thus royally descended and thus brave, Shall I renounce the brother of my blood, Or suffer thee to thrust him in his woes Far from all burial, shameless that thou art? Be sure that, if ye cast him forth, ye'll cast Three bodies more beside him in one spot; For nobler should I find it here to die In open quarrel for my kinsman's weal, Than for thy wife--or Menelaüs', was 't? Consider then, not my case, but your own. For if you harm me you will wish some day To have been a coward rather than dare me.
 
2 - 257 CH.
CH. Hail, Lord Odysseus! thou art come in time Not to begin, but help to end, a fray. _Enter_ ODYSSEUS.
 
2 - 258 OD.
OD. What quarrel, sirs? I well perceived from far The kings high-voicing o'er the valiant dead.
 
2 - 259 AG.
AG. Yea, Lord Odysseus, for our ears are full Of this man's violent heart-offending talk.
 
2 - 260 OD.
OD. What words have passed? I cannot blame the man Who meets foul speech with bitterness of tongue.
 
2 - 261 AG.
AG. My speech was bitter, for his deeds were foul.
 
2 - 262 OD.
OD. What deed of his could harm thy sovereign head?
 
2 - 263 AG.
AG. He boldly says this corse shall not be left Unburied, but he'll bury it in our spite.
 
2 - 264 OD.
OD. May I then speak true counsel to my friend, And pull with thee in policy as of yore?
 
2 - 265 AG.
AG. Speak. I were else a madman; for no friend Of all the Argeians do I count thy peer.
 
2 - 266 OD.
OD. Then hear me in Heaven's name! Be not so hard Thus without ruth tombless to cast him forth; Nor be so vanquished by a vehement will, That to thy hate even Justice' self must bow. I, too, had him for my worst enemy, Since I gained mastery o'er Pelides' arms. But though he used me so, I ne'er will grudge For his proud scorn to yield him thus much honour, That, save Achilles' self, I have not seen So noble an Argive on the fields of Troy. Then 'twere not just in thee to slight him now; Nor would thy treatment wound him, but confound The laws of Heaven. No hatred should have scope To offend the noble spirits of the dead.
 
2 - 267 AG.
AG. Wilt thou thus fight against me on his side?
 
2 - 268 OD.
OD. Yea, though I hated him, while hate was comely.
 
2 - 269 AG.
AG. Why, thou shouldst trample him the more, being dead.
 
2 - 270 OD.
OD. Rejoice not, King, in feats that soil thy fame!
 
2 - 271 AG.
AG. 'Tis hard for power to observe each pious rule.
 
2 - 272 OD.
OD. Not hard to grace the good words of a friend.
 
2 - 273 AG.
AG. The 'noble spirit' should hearken to command.
 
2 - 274 OD.
OD. No more! 'Tis conquest to be ruled by love.
 
2 - 275 AG.
AG. Remember what he was thou gracest so.
 
2 - 276 OD.
OD. A noisome enemy; but his life was great.
 
2 - 277 AG.
AG. And wilt thou honour such a pestilent corse?
 
2 - 278 OD.
OD. Hatred gives way to magnanimity.
 
2 - 279 AG.
AG. With addle-pated fools.
 
2 - 280 OD.
OD. Full many are found Friends for an hour, yet bitter in the end.
 
2 - 281 AG.
AG. And wouldst thou have us gentle to such friends?
 
2 - 282 OD.
OD. I would not praise ungentleness in aught.
 
2 - 283 AG.
AG. We shall be known for weaklings through thy counsel.
 
2 - 284 OD.
OD. Not so, but righteous in all Grecian eyes.
 
2 - 285 AG.
AG. Thou bidst me then let bury this dead man?
 
2 - 286 OD.
OD. I urge thee to the course myself shall follow.
 
2 - 287 AG.
AG. Ay, every man for his own line! That holds.
 
2 - 288 OD.
OD. Why not for my own line? What else were natural?
 
2 - 289 AG.
AG. 'Twill be thy doing then, ne'er owned by me.
 
2 - 290 OD.
OD. Own it or not, the kindness is the same.
 
2 - 291 AG.
Well, for thy sake I'd grant a greater boon; Then why not this? However, rest assured That in the grave or out of it, Aias still Shall have my hatred. Do thou what thou wilt. [_Exit_
 
2 - 292 CH.
Whoso would sneer at thy philosophy, While such thy ways, Odysseus, were a fool.
 
2 - 293 OD.
OD. And now let Teucer know that from this hour I am more his friend than I was once his foe, And fain would help him in this burial-rite And service to his brother, nor would fail In aught that mortals owe their noblest dead.
 
2 - 294 TEU.
TEU. Odysseus, best of men, thine every word Hath my heart's praise, and my worst thought of thee Is foiled by thy staunch kindness to the man Who was thy rancorous foe. Thou wast not keen To insult in present of his corse, like these, The insensate general and his brother-king, Who came with proud intent to cast him forth Foully debarred from lawful obsequy. Wherefore may he who rules in yon wide heaven, And the unforgetting Fury-spirit, and she, Justice, who crowns the right, so ruin them With cruellest destruction, even as they Thought ruthlessly to rob him of his tomb! For thee, revered Laërtes' lineal seed, I fear to admit thy hand unto this rite, Lest we offend the spirit that is gone. But for the rest, I hail thy proffered aid; And bring whom else thou wilt, I'll ne'er resent it. This work shall be my single care; but thou, Be sure I love thee for thy generous heart.
 
2 - 295 OD.
I had gladly done it; but, since thou declinest, I bow to thy decision, and depart. [_Exit_
 
2 - 296 TEU.
Speed we, for the hour grows late: Some to scoop his earthy cell, Others by the cauldron wait, Plenished from the purest well. Hoist it, comrades, here at hand, High upon the three-foot stand! Let the cleansing waters flow; Brightly flame the fire below! Others in a stalwart throng From his chamber bear along All the arms he wont to wield Save alone the mantling shield. Thou with me thy strength employ, Lifting this thy father, boy; Hold his frame with tender heed-- Still the gashed veins darkly bleed. Who professes here to love him? Ply your busy cares above him, Come and labour for the man, Nobler none since time began, Aias, while his life-blood ran.
 
2 - 297 LEADER OF CH.
Oft we know not till we see. Weak is human prophecy. Judge not, till the hour have taught thee What the destinies have brought thee.
 
3 Oedipus Rex.
3 - The Persons (People)
OEDIPUS, _King of Thebes._ _ Priest of Zeus._ CREON, _brother of Jocasta._ Chorus. _of Theban Elders._ TIRESIAS, _the Blind Prophet._ JOCASTA, _the Queen, sister to Creon._ _ A Corinthian Shepherd._ _ A Theban Shepherd._ _ Messenger_ The following also appear, but do not speak: _ A Train of Suppliants._ _ The children_ ANTIGONE _and_ ISMENE.
 
Scene.
Before the Royal Palace in the Cadmean citadel of Thebes. Laius, the descendant of Cadmus, and king of Thebes (or Thebè), had been told by an oracle that if a son were born to him by his wife Jocasta the boy would be his father's death. Under such auspices, Oedipus was born, and to elude the prophecy was exposed by his parents on Mount Cithaeron. But he was saved by a compassionate shepherd, and became the adopted son of Polybus, king of Corinth. When he grew up he was troubled by a rumour that he was not his father's son. He went to consult the oracle of Apollo at Delphi, and was told--not of his origin but of his destiny--that he should be guilty of parricide and incest. He was too horror-stricken to return to Corinth, and as he travelled the other way, he met Laius going from Thebes to Delphi. The travellers quarrelled and the son killed his father, but knew not whom he had slain. He went onward till he came near Thebes, where the Sphinx was making havoc of the noblest citizens, devouring all who failed to solve her riddle. But Oedipus succeeded and overcame her, and, as Laius did not return, was rewarded with the regal sceptre,-- and with the hand of the queen. He reigned nobly and prosperously, and lived happily with Jocasta, by whom he had four children. But after some years a plague descended on the people, and Apollo, on being inquired of, answered that it was for Laius' death. The act of regicide must be avenged. Oedipus undertakes the task of discovering the murderer,--and in the same act discovers his own birth, and the fulfilment of both the former prophecies. Jocasta hangs herself, and Oedipus in his despair puts out his eyes.
 
3 - 1 Oedipus.
Priest of Zeus (_with the_ Train of Suppliants _grouped before an altar_). OEDIPUS. Nurslings of Cadmus, children of my care, Why press ye now to kneel before my gate With sacred branches in those suppliant hands, While o'er your city clouds of incense rise And sounds of praise, mingling with sounds of woe? I would not learn of your estate, my sons, Through others, wherefore I myself am come, Your Oedipus,--a name well known to men. Speak, aged friend, whose look proclaims thee meet To be their spokesman--What desire, what fear Hath brought you? Doubt not of my earnest will To lend all succour. Hard would be the heart That looked unmoved on such a kneeling throng.
 
3 - 2 Priest.
Great ruler of my country, thou beholdest The different ages of our flock who here Are gathered round thine altar,--some, whose wing Hath not yet ventured far from home, and some Burdened with many years, priests of the Gods, Myself the arch priest of Zeus, and these fresh youths, A chosen few. Others there are who crowd The holy agora and the temples twain Of Pallas, and Ismenus' hallowed fires, A suppliant host. For, as thyself perceivest, Our city is tempest tost, and all too weak To lift above the waves her weary prow That plunges in a rude and ravenous sea. Earth's buds are nipped, withering the germs within, Our cattle lose their increase, and our wives Have fruitless travail; and that scourge from Heaven, The fiery Pestilence abhorred of men, Descending on our people with dire stroke Lays waste the Home of Cadmus, while dark Death Wins ample tribute of laments and groans. We kneel, then, at thy hearth; not likening thee Unto the gods, I nor these children here, But of men counting thee the first in might Whether to cope with earthly casualty Or visiting of more than earthly Power. Thou, in thy coming to this Theban land, Didst take away the hateful tax we paid To that stern songstress[1],--aided not by us With hint nor counsel, but, as all believe, Gifted from heaven with life-restoring thought. Now too, great Oedipus of matchless fame, We all uplift our suppliant looks to thee, To find some help for us, whether from man, Or through the prompting of a voice Divine. Experienced counsel, we have seen and know, Hath ever prosperous issue. Thou, then, come, Noblest of mortals, give our city rest From sorrow! come, take heed! seeing this our land Now calls thee Saviour for thy former zeal; And 'twere not well to leave this memory Of thy great reign among Cadmean men, 'He raised us up, only again to fall.' Let the salvation thou hast wrought for us Be flawless and assured! As once erewhile Thy lucky star gave us prosperity, Be the same man to-day. Wouldst thou be king In power, as in command, 'tis greater far To rule a people than a wilderness. Since nought avails or city or buttressed wall Or gallant vessel, if unmanned and void.
 
3 - 3 Oedipus.
Ye touch me to the core. Full well I know Your trouble and your desire. Think not, my sons, I have no feeling of your misery! Yet none of you hath heaviness like mine. Your grief is held within the single breast Of each man severally. My burdened heart Mourns for myself, for Thebè, and for you. Your coming hath not roused me from repose: I have watched, and bitterly have wept; my mind Hath travelled many a labyrinth of thought. And now I have tried in act the only plan Long meditation showed me. I have sent The brother of my queen, Menoeceus' son, Creon, to learn, in Phoebus' Delphian Hall, What word or deed of mine may save this city. And when I count the time, I am full of pain To guess his speed; for he is absent long, Beyond the limit of expectancy. But when he shall appear, base then were I In aught to disobey the voice of Heaven.
 
3 - 4 Priest.
Lo, in good time, crowning thy gracious word, 'Tis told me by these youths, Creon draws near.
 
3 - 5 Oedipus.
Apollo! may his coming be as blest With saving fortune, as his looks are bright.
 
3 - 6 Priest.
Sure he brings joyful news; else had he ne'er Worn that full wreath of thickly-berried bay.
 
3 - 7 Oedipus.
We have not long to doubt. He can hear now. _Enter_ CREON. Son of Menoeceus, brother of my queen, What answer from Apollo dost thou bring?
 
3 - 8 CREON.
Good; for my message is that even our woes, When brought to their right issue, shall be well.
 
3 - 9 Oedipus.
What saith the oracle? Thy words so far Neither embolden nor dishearten me.
 
3 - 10 CREON.
Say, must I tell it with these standing by, Or go within? I am ready either way.
 
3 - 11 Oedipus.
Speak forth to all. The burden of their grief Weighs more on me than my particular fear.
 
3 - 12 CE.
My lips shall utter what the God hath said. Sovereign Apollo clearly bids us drive Forth from this region an accursed thing (For such is fostered in the land and stains Our sacred clime), nor cherish it past cure.
 
3 - 13 Oedipus.
What is the fault, and how to be redressed?
 
3 - 14 Creon.
By exile, or by purging blood with blood. Since blood it is that shakes us with this storm.
 
3 - 15 Oedipus.
Whose murder doth Apollo thus reveal?
 
3 - 16 Creon.
My gracious lord, before thy prosperous reign King Laius was the leader of our land.
 
3 - 17 Oedipus.
Though I ne'er saw him, I have heard, and know.
 
3 - 18 Creon.
Phoebus commands us now to punish home, Whoe'er they are, the authors of his death.
 
3 - 19 Oedipus.
But they, where are they? Where shall now be read The fading record of this ancient guilt?
 
3 - 20 Creon.
He saith, 'tis in this land. And what is sought Is found, while things uncared for glide away.
 
3 - 21 Oedipus.
But where did Laius meet this violent end? At home, afield, or on some foreign soil?
 
3 - 22 Creon.
He had left us, as he said, to visit Delphi; But nevermore returned since he set forth.
 
3 - 23 Oedipus.
And was there none, no fellow traveller, To see, and tell the tale, and help our search?
 
3 - 24 Creon.
No, they were slain; save one, who, flying in fear, Had nought to tell us but one only thing.
 
3 - 25 Oedipus.
What was that thing? A little door of hope, Once opened, may discover much to view.
 
3 - 26 Creon.
A random troop of robbers, meeting him, Outnumbered and o'erpowered him. So 'twas told.
 
3 - 27 Oedipus.
What robber would have ventured such a deed, If unsolicited with bribes from hence?
 
3 - 28 Creon.
We thought of that. But Laius being dead, We found no helper in our miseries.
 
3 - 29 Oedipus.
When majesty was fallen, what misery Could hinder you from searching out the truth?
 
3 - 30 CR.
A present trouble had engrossed our care. The riddling Sphinx compelled us to observe The moment's grief, neglecting things unknown.
 
3 - 31 Oedipus.
But I will track this evil to the spring And clear it to the day. Most worthily Doth great Apollo, worthily dost thou Prompt this new care for the unthought of dead. And me too ye shall find a just ally, Succouring the cause of Phoebus and the land. Since, in dispelling this dark cloud, I serve No indirect or distant claim on me, But mine own life, for he that slew the king May one day turn his guilty hand 'gainst me With equal rage. In righting Laius, then, I forward mine own cause.--Now, children, rise From the altar-steps, and lift your suppliant boughs, And let some other summon to this place All Cadmus' people, and assure them, I Will answer every need. This day shall see us Blest with glad fortune through God's help, or fallen.
 
3 - 32 Priest.
Rise then, my children. Even for this we came Which our good lord hath promised of himself. Only may Phoebus, who hath sent this word, With healing power descend, and stay the plague. [_Exeunt severally_
 
3 - 33 Chorus.
(_entering_). Kind voice of Heaven, soft-breathing from the height I 1 Of Pytho's opulent home to Thebè bright, What wilt thou bring to day? Ah, Delian Healer, say! My heart hangs on thy word with trembling awe: What new giv'n law, Or what returning in Time's circling round Wilt thou unfold? Tell us, immortal sound, Daughter of golden Hope, tell us, we pray, we pray! First, child of Zeus, Pallas, to thee appealing, I 2 Then to sweet Artemis, thy sister, kneeling, Who with benignant hand Still guards our sacred land, Throned o'er the circling mart that hears her praise, And thou, whose rays Pierce evil from afar, ho! come and save, Ye mighty three! if e'er before ye drave The threatening fire of woe from Thebè, come to day! For ah! the griefs that on me weigh II 1 Are numberless; weak are my helpers all, And thought finds not a sword to fray This hated pestilence from hearth or hall. Earth's blossoms blasted fall: Nor can our women rise From childbed after pangs and cries; But flocking more and more Toward the western shore, Soul after soul is known to wing her flight, Swifter than quenchless flame, to the far realm of Night. So deaths innumerable abound. II 2 My city's sons unpitied lie around Over the plague-encumbered ground And wives and matrons old on every hand Along the altar-strand Groaning in saddest grief Pour supplication for relief. Loud hymns are sounding clear With wailing voices near. Then, golden daughter of the heavenly sire, Send bright-eyed Succour forth to drive away this fire. And swiftly speed afar, III 1 Windborne on backward car, The viewless fiend who scares me with wild cries, To oarless Thracian tide, Of ocean-chambers wide, About the bed where Amphitritè lies. Day blights what night hath spared. O thou whose hand Wields lightning, blast him with thy thundrous brand. Shower from the golden string III 2 Thine arrows Lycian King! O Phoebus, let thy fiery lances fly Resistless, as they rove Through Xanthus' mountain-grove! O Thoeban Bacchus of the lustrous eye, With torch and trooping Maenads and bright crown Blaze on thee god whom all in Heaven disown. [OEDIPUS _has entered during the Choral song_
 
3 - 34 Oedipus.
Your prayers are answered. Succour and relief Are yours, if ye will heed my voice and yield What help the plague requires. Hear it from me, Who am hitherto a stranger to the tale, As to the crime. Being nought concerned therewith, I could not of myself divine the truth. But now, as one adopted to your state, To all of you Cadmeans I speak this: Whoe'er among you knoweth the murderer Of Laius, son of royal Labdacus, Let him declare the deed in full to me. First, if the man himself be touched with fear, Let him depart, carrying the guilt away; No harm shall follow him:--he shall go free. Or if there be who knows another here, Come from some other country, to have wrought This murder, let him speak. Reward from me And store of kind remembrance shall be his. But if ye are silent, and one present here Who might have uttered this, shall hold his peace, As fearing for himself, or for his friend, What then shall be performed, hear me proclaim. I here prohibit all within this realm Whereof I wield the sceptre and sole sway, To admit the murderer, whosoe'er he be, Within their houses, or to speak with him, Or share with him in vow or sacrifice Or lustral rite. All men shall thrust him forth, Our dark pollution, so to me revealed By this day's oracle from Pytho's cell. So firm is mine allegiance to the God And your dead sovereign in this holy war. Now on the man of blood, whether he lurk In lonely guilt, or with a numerous band, I here pronounce this curse:--Let his crushed life Wither forlorn in hopeless misery. Next, I pray Heaven, should he or they be housed With mine own knowledge in my home, that I May suffer all I imprecate on them. Last, I enjoin each here to lend his aid For my sake, and the God's, and for your land Reft of her increase and renounced by Heaven. It was not right, when your good king had fallen, Although the oracle were silent still, To leave this inquisition unperformed. Long since ye should have purged the crime. But now I, to whom fortune hath transferred his crown, And given his queen in marriage,--yea, moreover, His seed and mine had been one family Had not misfortune trampled on his head Cutting him off from fair posterity,-- All this being so, I will maintain his cause As if my father's, racking means and might To apprehend the author of the death Of Laius, son to Labdacus, and heir To Polydorus and to Cadmus old, And proud Agenor of the eldest time. Once more, to all who disobey in this May Heaven deny the produce of the ground And offspring from their wives, and may they pine With plagues more horrible than this to-day. But for the rest of you Cadmean men, Who now embrace my word, may Righteousness, Strong to defend, and all the Gods for aye Watch over you for blessing in your land.
 
3 - 35 Leader of Chorus.
Under the shadow of thy curse, my lord, I will speak. I slew him not, nor can I show The man who slew. Phoebus, who gave the word, Should name the guilty one.
 
3 - 36 Oedipus.
Thy thought is just, But man may not compel the Gods.
 
3 - 37 Chorus.
Again, That failing, I perceive a second way.
 
3 - 38 Oedipus.
Were there a third, spare not to speak it forth.
 
3 - 39 Chorus.
I know of one alone whose kingly mind Sees all King Phoebus sees--Tirésias,--he Infallibly could guide us in this quest.
 
3 - 40 Oedipus.
That doth not count among my deeds undone. By Creon's counsel I have sent twice o'er To fetch him, and I muse at his delay.
 
3 - 41 Chorus.
The rumour that remains is old and dim.
 
3 - 42 Oedipus.
What rumour? Let no tale be left untried.
 
3 - 43 Chorus.
'Twas said he perished by some wandering band.
 
3 - 44 Oedipus.
But the one witness is removed from ken.
 
3 - 45 Chorus.
Well, if the man be capable of fear, He'll not remain when he hath heard thy curse.
 
3 - 46 Oedipus.
Words have no terror for the soul that dares Such doings.
 
3 - 47 Chorus.
Yet lives one who shall convict him. For look where now they lead the holy seer, Whom sacred Truth inspires alone of men. _Enter_ Tiresias.
 
3 - 48 Oedipus.
O thou whose universal thought commands All knowledge and all mysteries, in Heaven And on the earth beneath, thy mind perceives, Tirésias, though thine outward eye be dark, What plague is wasting Thebè, who in thee, Great Sir, finds her one saviour, her sole guide. Phoebus (albeit the messengers perchance Have told thee this) upon our sending sent This answer back, that no release might come From this disaster, till we sought and found And slew the murderers of king Laius, Or drave them exiles from our land. Thou, then, Withhold not any word of augury Or other divination which thou knowest, But rescue Thebè, and thyself, and me, And purge the stain that issues from the dead. On thee we lean: and 'tis a noble thing To use what power one hath in doing good.
 
3 - 49 Tiresias.
Ah! terrible is knowledge to the man Whom knowledge profits not. This well I knew, But had forgotten. Else I ne'er had come.
 
3 - 50 Oedipus.
Why dost thou bring a mind so full of gloom?
 
3 - 51 Tiresias.
Let me go home. Thy part and mine to-day Will best be borne, if thou obey me in that.
 
3 - 52 Oedipus.
Disloyal and ungrateful! to deprive The state that reared thee of thine utterance now.
 
3 - 53 Tiresias.
Thy speech, I see, is foiling thine intent; And I would shield me from the like mishap. (_Going._)
 
3 - 54 Oedipus.
Nay, if thou knowest, turn thee not away: All here with suppliant hands importune thee.
 
3 - 55 Tiresias.
Yea, for ye all are blind. Never will I Reveal my woe;--mine, that I say not, thine.
 
3 - 56 Oedipus.
So, then, thou hast the knowledge of the crime And wilt not tell, but rather wouldst betray This people, and destroy thy fatherland!
 
3 - 57 Tiresias.
You press me to no purpose. I'll not pain Thee, nor myself. Thou wilt hear nought from me.
 
3 - 58 Oedipus.
How? Miscreant! Thy stubbornness would rouse Wrath in a breast of stone. Wilt thou yet hold That silent, hard, impenetrable mien?
 
3 - 59 Tiresias.
You censure me for my harsh mood. Your own Dwells unsuspected with you. Me you blame!
 
3 - 60 Oedipus.
Who can be mild and gentle, when thou speakest Such words to mock this people?
 
3 - 61 Tiresias.
It will come: Although I bury it in silence here.
 
3 - 62 Oedipus.
Must not the King be told of what will come?
 
3 - 63 Tiresias.
No word from me. At this, an if thou wilt, Rage to the height of passionate vehemence.
 
3 - 64 Oedipus.
Ay, and my passion shall declare my thought. 'Tis clear to me as daylight, thou hast been The arch-plotter of this deed; yea, thou hast done All but the actual blow. Hadst thou thy sight, I had proclaimed thee the sole murderer.
 
3 - 65 Tiresias.
Ay, say'st thou so?--I charge thee to abide By thine own ordinance; and from this hour Speak not to any Theban nor to me. Thou art the vile polluter of the land.
 
3 - 66 Oedipus.
O void of shame! What wickedness is this? What power will give thee refuge for such guilt?
 
3 - 67 Tiresias.
The might of truth is scatheless. I am free.
 
3 - 68 Oedipus.
Whence came the truth to thee? Not from thine art.
 
3 - 69 Tiresias.
From thee, whose rage impelled my backward tongue.
 
3 - 70 Oedipus.
Speak it once more, that I may know the drift.
 
3 - 71 Tiresias.
Was it so dark? Or wouldst thou tempt me further?
 
3 - 72 Oedipus.
I cannot say 'twas clear. Speak it again.
 
3 - 73 Tiresias.
I say thou art the murderer whom thou seekest.
 
3 - 74 Oedipus.
Again that baleful word! But thou shalt rue.
 
3 - 75 Tiresias.
Shall I add more, to aggravate thy wrath?
 
3 - 76 Oedipus.
All is but idleness. Say what thou wilt.
 
3 - 77 Tiresias.
I tell thee thou art living unawares In shameful commerce with thy near'st of blood, Ignorant of the abyss wherein thou liest.
 
3 - 78 Oedipus.
Think you to triumph in offending still?
 
3 - 79 Tiresias.
If Truth have power.
 
3 - 80 Oedipus.
She hath, but not for thee. Blind as thou art in eyes and ears and mind.
 
3 - 81 Tiresias.
O miserable reproach, which all who now Behold thee, soon shall thunder forth on thee!
 
3 - 82 Oedipus.
Nursed in unbroken night, thou canst not harm Or me, or any man who seeth the day.
 
3 - 83 Tiresias.
No, not from me proceeds thy fall; the God, Who cares for this, is able to perform it.
 
3 - 84 Oedipus.
Came this device from Creon or thyself?
 
3 - 85 Tiresias.
Not Creon: thou art thy sole enemy.
 
3 - 86 Oedipus.
O wealth and sovereign power and high success Attained through wisdom and admired of men, What boundless jealousies environ you! When for this rule, which to my hand the State Committed unsolicited and free, Creon, my first of friends, trusted and sure, Would undermine and hurl me from my throne, Meanly suborning such a mendicant Botcher of lies, this crafty wizard rogue, Blind in his art, and seeing but for gain. Where are the proofs of thy prophetic power? How came it, when the minstrel-hound was here, This folk had no deliverance through thy word? Her snare could not be loosed by common wit, But needed divination and deep skill; No sign whereof proceeded forth from thee Procured through birds or given by God, till I, The unknowing traveller, overmastered her, The stranger Oedipus, not led by birds, But ravelling out the secret by my thought: Whom now you study to supplant, and trust To stand as a supporter of the throne Of lordly Creon,--To your bitter pain Thou and the man who plotted this will hunt Pollution forth[2].--But for thy reverend look Thou hadst atoned thy trespass on the spot.
 
3 - 87 Chorus.
Your friends would humbly deprecate the wrath That sounds both in your speech, my lord, and his. That is not what we need, but to discern How best to solve the heavenly oracle.
 
3 - 88 Tiresias.
Though thou art king and lord, I claim no less Lordly prerogative to answer thee. Speech is my realm; Apollo rules my life, Not thou. Nor need I Creon to protect me. Now, then: my blindness moves thy scorn:--thou hast Thy sight, and seest not where thou art sunk in evil, What halls thou dost inhabit, or with whom: Know'st not from whence thou art--nay, to thy kin, Buried in death and here above the ground, Unwittingly art a most grievous foe. And when thy father's and thy mother's curse With fearful tread shall drive thee from the land, On both sides lashing thee,--thine eye so clear Beholding darkness in that day,--oh, then, What region will not shudder at thy cry? What echo in all Cithaeron will be mute, When thou perceiv'st, what bride-song in thy hall Wafted thy gallant bark with nattering gale To anchor,--where? And other store of ill Thou seest not, that shall show thee as thou art, Merged with thy children in one horror of birth. Then rail at noble Creon, and contemn My sacred utterance! No life on earth More vilely shall be rooted out, than thine.
 
3 - 89 Oedipus.
Must I endure such words from him? Begone! Off to thy ruin, and with speed! Away, And take thy presence from our palace-hall!
 
3 - 90 Tiresias.
Had you not sent for me, I ne'er had come.
 
3 - 91 OED.
I knew not thou wouldst utter folly here, Else never had I brought thee to my door.
 
3 - 92 Tiresias.
To thee I am foolish, then; but to the pair Who gave thee life, I was wise.
 
3 - 93 Oedipus.
Hold, go not! who? Who gave me being?
 
3 - 94 Tiresias.
To-day shall bring to light Thy birth and thy destruction.
 
3 - 95 Oedipus.
Wilt thou still Speak all in riddles and dark sentences?
 
3 - 96 Tiresias.
Methought thou wert the man to find them out.
 
3 - 97 Oedipus.
Ay! Taunt me with the gift that makes me great.
 
3 - 98 Tiresias.
And yet this luck hath been thy overthrow.
 
3 - 99 Oedipus.
I care not, since I rescued this fair town.
 
3 - 100 Tiresias.
Then I will go. Come, sirrah, guide me forth!
 
3 - 101 Oedipus.
Be it so! For standing here you vex our eye, But, you being gone, our trouble goes with you.
 
3 - 102 Tiresias.
I go, but I will speak. Why should I fear Thy frown? Thou ne'er canst ruin me. The word Wherefore I came, is this: The man you seek With threatening proclamation of the guilt Of Laius' blood, that man is here to-day, An alien sojourner supposed from far, But by-and-by he shall be certified A true-born Theban: nor will such event Bring him great joy; for, blind from having sight And beggared from high fortune, with a staff In stranger lands he shall feel forth his way; Shown living with the children of his loins, Their brother and their sire, and to the womb That bare him, husband-son, and, to his father, Parricide and corrival. Now go in, Ponder my words; and if thou find them false, then say my power is naught in prophecy. [_Exeunt severally_
 
3 - 103 Chorus. .
Whom hath the voice from Delphi's rocky throne I 1 Loudly declared to have done Horror unnameable with murdering hand? With speed of storm-swift car 'Tis time he fled afar With mighty footstep hurrying from the land. For, armed with lightning brand, The son of Zeus assails him with fierce bounds, Hunting with Death's inevitable hounds. Late from divine Parnassus' snow-capped height I 2 This utterance sprang to light, To track by every path the man unknown. Through woodland caverns deep And o'er the rocky steep Harbouring in caves he roams the wild alone, With none to share his moan. Shunning that prophet-voice's central sound, Which ever lives, and haunts him, hovering round. The reverend Seer hath stirred me with strange awe. II 1 Gainsay I cannot, nor yet think him true. I know not how to speak. My fluttering heart In wild expectancy sees nothing clear. Things past and future with the present doubt Are shrouded in one mist. What quarrel lay 'Twixt Cadmus' issue and Corinthus' heir Was never shown me, from old times till now, By one on whose sure word I might rely In running counter to the King's fair fame, To wreak for Laius that mysterious death. Zeus and Apollo scan the ways of men II 2 With perfect vision. But of mortals here That soothsayers are more inspired than I What certain proof is given? A man through wit May pass another's wisdom in the race. But never, till I see the word fulfilled, Will I confirm their clamour 'gainst the King. In open day the female monster came: Then perfect witness made his wisdom clear. Thebè hath tried him and delights in him. Wherefore my heart shall still believe him good. _Enter_ CREON.
 
3 - 104 Creon.
Citizens, hearing of dire calumny Denounced on me by Oedipus the King, I am here to make loud protest. If he think, In this embroilment of events, one word Or deed of mine hath wrought him injury, I am not careful to prolong my life Beneath such imputation. For it means No trifling danger, but disastrous harm, Making my life dishonoured in the state, And meanly thought of by my friends and you.
 
3 - 105 Chorus.
Perchance 'twas but the sudden flash of wrath, Not the deliberate judgement of the soul.
 
3 - 106 Creon.
Who durst declare it[3], that Tirésias spake False prophecies, set on to this by me?
 
3 - 107 Chorus.
Such things were said, I know not how advised.
 
3 - 108 Creon.
And were the eyes and spirit not distraught, When the tongue uttered this to ruin me?
 
3 - 109 Chorus.
I cannot say. To what my betters do I am blind. But see, the King comes forth again. _Enter_ OEDIPUS.
 
3 - 110 Oedipus.
Insolent, art thou here? Hadst thou the face To bring thy boldness near my palace-roof, Proved as thou art to have contrived my death And laid thy robber hands upon my state? Tell me, by heaven, had you seen in me A coward or a fool, when you planned this?-- Deemed you I should be blind to your attempt Craftily creeping on, or, when perceived, Not ward it off? Is't not a silly scheme, To think to compass without troops of friends Power, that is only won by wealth and men?
 
3 - 111 Creon.
Wilt them be counselled? Hear as much in turn As thou hast spoken, and then thyself be judge.
 
3 - 112 Oedipus.
I know thy tongue, but I am slow to learn From thee, whom I have found my grievous foe.
 
3 - 113 Creon.
First on this very point, hear me declare--
 
3 - 114 Oedipus.
I will not hear that thou art not a villain.
 
3 - 115 Creon.
Thine is a shallow judgement, if thou thinkest Self-will without true thought can bring thee gain.
 
3 - 116 Oedipus.
Thine is a shallow judgement, if thou thinkest Thou canst abuse thy kinsman and be free.
 
3 - 117 Creon.
A rightful sentence. But I fain would learn What wrong is that you speak of?
 
3 - 118 Oedipus.
Tell me this; Didst thou, or not, urge me to send and bring The reverend-seeming prophet?
 
3 - 119 Creon.
Yea, and still I hold that counsel firm.
 
3 - 120 Oedipus.
How long is 't now Since Laius--
 
3 - 121 Creon.
What? I do not catch your drift.
 
3 - 122 Oedipus.
Vanished in ruin by a dire defeat?
 
3 - 123 Creon.
'Twere long to count the years that come between.
 
3 - 124 Oedipus.
And did this prophet then profess his art?
 
3 - 125 Creon.
Wise then as now, nor less in reverence.
 
3 - 126 Oedipus.
Then at that season did he mention me?
 
3 - 127 Creon.
Not in my hearing.
 
3 - 128 Oedipus.
But, I may presume, Ye held an inquisition for the dead?
 
3 - 129 Creon.
Yes, we inquired, of course: and could not hear.
 
3 - 130 Oedipus.
Why was he dumb, your prophet, in that day?
 
3 - 131 Creon.
I cannot answer, for I do not know.
 
3 - 132 Oedipus.
This you can answer, for you know it well.
 
3 - 133 Creon.
Say what? I will not gainsay, if I know.
 
3 - 134 Oedipus.
That, but for your advice, he had not dared To talk of Laius' death as done by me.
 
3 - 135 Creon.
You know, that heard him, what he spake. But I Would ask thee too a question in my turn.
 
3 - 136 Oedipus.
No questioning will fasten blood on me.
 
3 - 137 Creon.
Hast thou my sister for thine honoured queen?
 
3 - 138 Oedipus.
The fact is patent, and denial vain.
 
3 - 139 Creon.
And shar'st with her dominion of this realm?
 
3 - 140 Oedipus.
All she desires is given her by my will.
 
3 - 141 Creon.
Then, am not I third-partner with you twain?
 
3 - 142 Oedipus.
There is your villany in breaking fealty.
 
3 - 143 Creon.
Not so, if thou wouldst reason with thyself As I do. First consider one thing well: Who would choose rule accompanied with fear Before safe slumbers with an equal sway? 'Tis not my nature, no, nor any man's, Who follows wholesome thoughts, to love the place Of domination rather than the power. Now, without fear, I have my will from thee; But were I king, I should do much unwillingly. How then can I desire to be a king, When masterdom is mine without annoy? Delusion hath not gone so far with me As to crave more than honour joined with gain. Now all men hail me happy, all embrace me; All who have need of thee, call in my aid; For thereupon their fortunes wholly turn. How should I leave this substance for that show? No man of sense can harbour thoughts of crime. Such vain ambition hath no charm for me, Nor could I bear to lend it countenance. If you would try me, go and ask again If I brought Phoebus' answer truly back. Nay more, should I be found to have devised Aught in collusion with the seer, destroy me, Not by one vote, but two, mine own with thine. But do not on a dim suspicion blame me Of thy mere will. To darken a good name Without clear cause is heinous wickedness; And to cast off a worthy friend I call No less a folly than to fling away What most we love, the life within our breast. The certainty of this will come with time; For time alone can clear the righteous man. An hour suffices to make known the villain.
 
3 - 144 Chorus.
Prudence bids hearken to such words, my lord, For fear one fall. Swift is not sure in counsel.
 
3 - 145 Oedipus.
When he who hath designs on me is swift In his advance, I must bethink me swiftly. Should I wait leisurely, his work hath gained Achievement, while my plans have missed success.
 
3 - 146 Creon.
What would you then? To thrust me from the land?
 
3 - 147 Oedipus.
Nay, death, not exile, is my wish for thee, When all have seen what envy brings on men.
 
3 - 148 Creon.
You'll ne'er relent nor listen to my plea.
 
3 - 149 Oedipus.
You'll ne'er be governed or repent your guilt.
 
3 - 150 Creon.
Because I see thou art blind.
 
3 - 151 Oedipus.
Not to my need.
 
3 - 152 Creon.
Mine must be thought of too.
 
3 - 153 Oedipus.
You are a villain.
 
3 - 154 Creon.
How if thy thought be vain?
 
3 - 155 Oedipus.
Authority Must be maintained.
 
3 - 156 Creon.
Not when authority Declines to evil.
 
3 - 157 Oedipus.
O my citizens!
 
3 - 158 Creon.
I have a part in them no less than you.
 
3 - 159 Leader of Chorus.
Cease, princes. Opportunely I behold Jocasta coming toward you from the palace. Her presence may attune your jarring minds. _Enter_ JOCASTA.
 
3 - 160 JOCASTA.
Unhappy that ye are, why have ye reared Your wordy rancour 'mid the city's harms? Have you no shame, to stir up private broils In such a time as this? Get thee within! (_To_ OED) And thou too, Creon! nor enlarge your griefs To make a mountain out of nothingness.
 
3 - 161 Creon.
Sister, thy husband Oedipus declares One of two horrors he will wreak on me, Banishment from my native land, or death.
 
3 - 162 Oedipus.
Yea, for I caught him practising, my queen, Against our person with malignant guile.
 
3 - 163 Creon.
May comfort fail me, and a withering curse Destroy me, if I e'er planned aught of this.
 
3 - 164 Jocasta.
I pray thee, husband, listen to his plea; Chiefly respecting his appeal to Heaven, But also me, and these who stand by thee.
 
3 - 165 Chorus. 1.
Incline to our request I 1 Thy mind and heart, O King!
 
3 - 166 Oedipus.
What would you I should yield unto your prayer?
 
3 - 167 Chorus. 2.
Respect one ever wise, Whose oath protects him now.
 
3 - 168 Oedipus.
Know ye what thing ye ask?
 
3 - 169 Chorus. 3.
I know.
 
3 - 170 Oedipus.
Then plainly tell.
 
3 - 171 Chorus. 4.
Thy friend, who is rendered sacred by his oath, Rob not of honour through obscure surmise.
 
3 - 172 Oedipus.
In asking that, you labour for my death Or banishment. Of this be well assured.
 
3 - 173 Chorus. 5.
No, by the Sun I swear, II 1 Vaunt-courier of the host of heaven. For may I die the last of deaths, Unblest of God or friend, If e'er such thought were mine. But oh! this pining land Afflicts my sorrow-burdened soul, To think that to her past and present woe She must add this, which springs to her from you.
 
3 - 174 Oedipus.
Then let him range, though I must die outright, Or be thrust forth with violence from the land! --Not for his voice, but thine, which wrings my heart: He, wheresoe'er he live, shall have my hate.
 
3 - 175 Creon.
You show yourself as sullen when you yield, As unendurable in your fury's height. Such natures justly give themselves most pain.
 
3 - 176 Oedipus.
Let me alone, then, and begone!
 
3 - 177 Creon.
I go, Untainted in their sight, though thou art blind. [_Exit_
 
3 - 178 Chorus. 1.
Lady, why tarriest thou I 2 To lead thy husband in?
 
3 - 179 Jocasta.
Not till I learn what mischief is befallen.
 
3 - 180 Chorus. 2.
A dim, unproved debate. Reproach, though unfounded, stings.
 
3 - 181 Jocasta.
From both?
 
3 - 182 Chorus. 3.
From both alike.
 
3 - 183 Jocasta.
How caused?
 
3 - 184 Chorus. 4.
Enough for me, Amply enough it seems, when our poor land Is vexed already, not to wake what sleeps.
 
3 - 185 Oedipus.
(_to_ Leader of Chorus.). See where thine honest zeal hath landed thee, Bating my wrath, and blunting my desire!
 
3 - 186 Chorus. 5.
My prince, I say it again: II 2 Assure thee, I were lost to sense, Infatuate, void of wholesome thought, Could I be tempted now To loose my faith from thee, Who, when the land I love Laboured beneath a wildering load, Didst speed her forth anew with favouring gale. Now, too, if but thou may'st, be her good guide.
 
3 - 187 Jocasta.
Let not thy queen be left in ignorance What cause thou hadst to lift thy wrath so high.
 
3 - 188 Oedipus.
I'll tell thee, lady, for I honour thee More than these citizens. 'Twas Creon there, And his inveterate treason against me.
 
3 - 189 Jocasta.
Accuse him, so you make the quarrel plain.
 
3 - 190 Oedipus.
He saith I am the murderer of the King.
 
3 - 191 Jocasta.
Speaks he from hearsay, or as one who knows?
 
3 - 192 Oedipus.
He keeps his own lips free: but hath suborned A rascal soothsayer to this villany.
 
3 - 193 Jocasta.
Hearken to me, and set your heart at rest On that you speak of, while I make you learn No mortal thing is touched by soothsaying. Of that I'll give thee warrant brief and plain. Word came to Laius once, I will not say From Phoebus' self, but from his ministers, The King should be destroyed by his own son, If son were born to him from me. What followed? Laius was slain, by robbers from abroad, Saith Rumour, in a cross-way! But the child Lived not three days, ere by my husband's hand His feet were locked, and he was cast and left By messengers on the waste mountain wold. So Phoebus neither brought upon the boy His father's murder, nor on Laius The thing he greatly feared, death by his son. Such issue came of prophesying words. Therefore regard them not. God can himself With ease bring forth what for his ends he needs.
 
3 - 194 Oedipus.
What strange emotions overcloud my soul, Stirred to her depths on hearing this thy tale!
 
3 - 195 Jocasta.
What sudden change is this? What cares oppress thee?
 
3 - 196 Oedipus.
Methought I heard thee say, King Laius Was at a cross-road overpowered and slain?
 
3 - 197 Jocasta.
So ran the talk that yet is current here.
 
3 - 198 Oedipus.
Where was the scene of this unhappy blow?
 
3 - 199 Jocasta.
Phocis the land is named. The parted ways Meet in one point from Dauha and from Delphi.
 
3 - 200 Oedipus.
And since the event how much of time hath flown?
 
3 - 201 Jocasta.
'Twas just ere you appeared with prospering speed And took the kingdom, that the tidings came.
 
3 - 202 Oedipus.
What are thy purposes against me, Zeus?
 
3 - 203 Jocasta.
Why broods thy mind upon such thoughts, my king?
 
3 - 204 Oedipus.
Nay, ask me not! But tell me first what height Had Laius, and what grace of manly prime?
 
3 - 205 Jocasta.
Tall, with dark locks just sprinkled o'er with grey: In shape and bearing much resembling thee.
 
3 - 206 Oedipus.
O heavy fate! How all unknowingly I laid that dreadful curse on my own head!
 
3 - 207 Jocasta.
How? I tremble as I gaze on thee, my king!
 
3 - 208 Oedipus.
The fear appals me that the seer can see. Tell one thing more, to make it doubly clear!
 
3 - 209 Jocasta.
I am lothe to speak, but, when you ask, I will.
 
3 - 210 Oedipus.
Had he scant following, or, as princes use, Full numbers of a well-appointed train?
 
3 - 211 Jocasta.
There were but five in all: a herald one; And Laius travelled in the only car.
 
3 - 212 Oedipus.
Woe! woe! 'Tis clear as daylight. Who was he That brought you this dire message, O my queen?
 
3 - 213 Jocasta.
A home-slave, who alone returned alive.
 
3 - 214 Oedipus.
And is he now at hand within the house?
 
3 - 215 Jocasta.
No, truly. When he came from yonder scene And found thee king in room of Laius murdered, He touched my hand, and made his instant prayer That I would send him to o'erlook the flocks And rural pastures, so to live as far As might be from the very thought of Thebes. I granted his desire. No servant ever More richly merited such boon than he.
 
3 - 216 Oedipus.
Can he be brought again immediately?
 
3 - 217 Jocasta.
Indeed he can. But why desire it so?
 
3 - 218 Oedipus.
Words have by me been uttered, O my queen, That give me too much cause to wish him here.
 
3 - 219 Jocasta.
Then come he shall. But I may surely claim To hear what in thy state goes heavily.
 
3 - 220 Oedipus.
Thou shalt not lose thy rights in such an hour, When I am harrowed thus with doubt and fear. To whom more worthy should I tell my grief? --My father was Corinthian Polybus, My mother, Dorian Meropè.--I lived A prince among that people, till a chance Encountered me, worth wonder, but, though strange, Not worth the anxious thought it waked in me. For at a feasting once over the wine One deep in liquor called aloud to me, 'Hail, thou false foundling of a foster-sire!' That day with pain I held my passion down; But early on the morrow I came near And questioned both my parents, who were fierce In anger at the man who broached this word. For their part I was satisfied, but still It galled me, for the rumour would not die. Eluding then my parents I made way To Delphi, where, as touching my desire, Phoebus denied me; but brake forth instead With other oracles of misery And horrible misfortune, how that I Must know my mother's shame, and cause to appear A birth intolerable in human view, And do to death the author of my life. I fled forth at the word, conjecturing now Corinthia's region by the stars of heaven, And wandered, where I never might behold Those dreadful prophecies fulfilled on me. So travelling on, I came even to the place Where, as thou tell'st, the King of Thebè fell. And, O my wife, I will hide nought from thee. When I drew near the cross-road of your tale, A herald, and a man upon a car, Like your description, there encountered me. And he who led the car, and he himself The greybeard, sought to thrust me from the path. Then in mine angry mood I sharply struck The driver-man who turned me from the way; Which when the elder saw, he watched for me As I passed by, and from the chariot-seat Smote full upon my head with the fork'd goad; But got more than he gave; for, by a blow From this right hand, smit with my staff, he fell Instantly rolled out of the car supine. I slew them every one. Now if that stranger Had aught in common with king Laius, What wretch on earth was e'er so lost as I? Whom have the Heavens so followed with their hate? No house of Theban or of foreigner Must any more receive me, none henceforth Must speak to me, but drive me from the door! I, I have laid this curse on mine own head! Yea, and this arm that slew him now enfolds His queen. O cruel stain! Am I not vile? Polluted utterly! Yes, I must flee, And, lost to Thebè, nevermore behold My home, nor tread my country, lest I meet In marriage mine own mother, and bring low His head that gave me life and reared my youth, My father, Polybus. Ah! right were he Who should declare some god of cruel mood Had sent this trouble upon my soul! Ye Powers, Worshipped in holiness, ne'er may I see That day, but perish from the sight of men, Ere sins like these be branded on my name!
 
3 - 221 Chorus.
Thy fear is ours, O king: yet lose not hope, Till thou hast heard the witness of the deed.
 
3 - 222 Oedipus.
Ay, that is all I still have left of hope, To bide the coming of the shepherd man.
 
3 - 223 Jocasta.
What eager thought attends his presence here?
 
3 - 224 Oedipus.
I'll tell thee. Should his speech accord with thine, My life stands clear from this calamity.
 
3 - 225 Jocasta.
What word of mine agreed not with the scene?
 
3 - 226 Oedipus.
You said he spake of robbers in a band As having slain him. Now if he shall still Persist in the same number, I am free. One man and many cannot be the same. But should he tell of one lone traveller, Then, unavoidably, this falls on me.
 
3 - 227 Jocasta.
So 'twas given out by him, be sure of that. He cannot take it back. Not I alone But all the people heard him speak it so. And should he swerve in aught from his first tale, He ne'er can show the murder of the king Rightly accordant with the oracle. For Phoebus said expressly he should fall Through him whom I brought forth. But that poor babe Ne'er slew his sire, but perished long before. Wherefore henceforth I will pursue my way Regardless of all words of prophecy.
 
3 - 228 Oedipus.
Wisely resolved. But still send one to bring The labourer swain, and be not slack in this.
 
3 - 229 Jocasta.
I will, and promptly. Go we now within! My whole desire is but to work thy will. [_Exeunt_
 
3 - 230 Chorus.
O may my life be evermore I 1 Pure in each holy word and deed By those eternal laws decreed That pace the sapphire-paven floor! Children of Heaven, of Ether born, No mortal knew their natal morn, Nor may Oblivion's waters deep E'er lull their wakeful spirit asleep, Nor creeping Age o'erpower the mighty God Who far within them holds his unprofaned abode. Pride breeds the tyrant: monstrous birth! I 2 Insolent Pride, if idly nursed On timeless surfeit, plenty accursed, Spurning the lowlier tract of Earth Mounts to her pinnacle,--then falls, Dashed headlong down sheer mountain walls To dark Necessity's deep ground, Where never foothold can be found. Let wrestlers for my country's glory speed, God, I thee pray! Be God my helper in all need! But if one be, whose bold disdain I 2 Walks in a round of vapourings vain And violent acts, regarding not The Rule of Right, but with proud thought Scorning the place where Gods have set their seat, --Made captive by an Evil Doom, Shorn of that inauspicious bloom, Let him be shown the path of lawful gain And taught in holier ways to guide his feet, Nor with mad folly strain His passionate arms to clasp things impious to retain. Who in such courses shall defend his soul From storms of thundrous wrath that o'er him roll? If honour to such lives be given, What needs our choir to hymn the power of Heaven? No more to Delphi, central shrine II 2 Of Earth, I'll seek, for light divine, Nor visit Abae's mystic fane Nor travel o'er the well-trod plain Where thousands throng to famed Olympia's town, Unless, with manifest accord, The event fulfil the oracular word. Zeus, Lord of all! if to eternity Thou would'st confirm thy kingdom's large renown, Let not their vauntings high Evade the sovereign look of the everlasting eye! They make as though the ancient warning slept By Laius erst with fear and trembling kept; Apollo's glory groweth pale, And holiest rites are prone to faint and fail. _Enter_ JOCASTA.
 
3 - 231 Jocasta.
Princes of Thebes, it came into my thought To stand before some holy altar-place With frankincense and garlands. For the king, Transported by the tempest of his fear, Runs wild in grief, nor like a man of sense Reasons of present things from what hath been. Each tongue o'ermasters him that tells of woe. Then since my counsels are of no avail, To thee, for thou art nearest, Lykian God, I bring my supplication with full hand. O grant us absolution and relief! For seeing him, our pilot, so distraught, Like mariners, we are all amazed with dread. _Enter the_ CORINTHIAN SHEPHERD.
 
3 - 232 Corinthian Shepherd.
Are ye the men to tell me where to find The mansion of the sovereign Oedipus? Or better, where he may himself be found?
 
3 - 233 Chorus.
Here is the roof you seek, and he, our lord, Is there within: and, stranger, thou behold'st The queenly mother of his royal race.
 
3 - 234 Corinthian Shepherd.
May she and hers be alway fortunate! Still may she crown him with the joys of home!
 
3 - 235 Jocasta.
Be thou, too, blest, kind sir! Thy gracious tongue Deserves no less. But tell me what request Or what intelligence thou bring'st with thee?
 
3 - 236 Corinthian Shepherd.
Good tidings for thy house and husband, queen.
 
3 - 237 Jocasta.
What are they? Who hath sent thee to our hall?
 
3 - 238 Corinthian Shepherd.
From Corinth come I, and will quickly tell What sure will please you; though perchance 'twill grieve.
 
3 - 239 Jocasta.
What news can move us thus two ways at once?
 
3 - 240 Corinthian Shepherd.
'Twas rumoured that the people of the land Of Corinth would make Oedipus their king.
 
3 - 241 Jocasta.
Is ancient Polybus not still in power?
 
3 - 242 Corinthian Shepherd.
No. Death confines him in a kingly grave.
 
3 - 243 Jocasta.
Hold there! How say you? Polybus in his grave?
 
3 - 244 Corinthian Shepherd.
May I die for him if I speak not true!
 
3 - 245 Jocasta.
(_To an attendant_). Run thou, and tell this quickly to my lord! Voices of prophecy, where are ye now? Long time hath Oedipus, a homeless man, Trembled with fear of slaying Polybus. Who now lies slain by Fortune, not by him. _Enter_ OEDIPUS.
 
3 - 246 Oedipus.
Jocasta, my dear queen, why didst thou send To bring me hither from our palace-hall?
 
3 - 247 Jocasta.
Hear that man's tale, and then consider well The end of yonder dreadful prophecy.
 
3 - 248 Oedipus.
Who is the man, and what his errand here?
 
3 - 249 Jocasta.
He comes from Corinth, to make known to thee That Polybus, thy father, is no more.
 
3 - 250 Oedipus.
How, stranger? Let me learn it from thy mouth.
 
3 - 251 Corinthian Shepherd.
If my first duty be to make this clear, Know beyond doubt that he is dead and gone.
 
3 - 252 Oedipus.
By illness coming o'er him, or by guile?
 
3 - 253 Corinthian Shepherd.
Light pressure lays to rest the timeworn frame.
 
3 - 254 Oedipus.
He was subdued by sickness then, poor soul!
 
3 - 255 Corinthian Shepherd.
By sickness and the burden of his years.
 
3 - 256 Oedipus.
Ah! my Jocasta, who again will heed The Pythian hearth oracular, and birds Screaming in air, blind guides! that would have made My father's death my deed; but he is gone, Hidden underneath the ground, while I stand hero Harmless and weaponless:--unless, perchance, My absence killed him,--so he may have died Through me. But be that as it may, the grave That covers Polybus, hath silenced, too, One voice of prophecy, worth nothing now.
 
3 - 257 Jocasta.
Did I not tell thee so, long since?
 
3 - 258 Oedipus.
Thou didst. But I was drawn to error by my fear.
 
3 - 259 Jocasta.
Now cast it altogether out of mind.
 
3 - 260 Oedipus.
Must I not fear my mother's marriage-bed?
 
3 - 261 Jocasta.
Why should man fear, seeing his course is ruled By fortune, and he nothing can foreknow? 'Tis best to live at ease as best one may. Then fear not thou thy mother's nuptial hour. Many a man ere now in dreams hath lain With her who bare him. He hath least annoy Who with such omens troubleth not his mind.
 
3 - 262 Oedipus.
That word would be well spoken, were not she Alive that gave me birth. But since she lives, Though you speak well, yet have I cause for fear.
 
3 - 263 Jocasta.
Your father's burial might enlighten you.
 
3 - 264 Oedipus.
It doth. But I am darkened by a life.
 
3 - 265 Corinthian Shepherd.
Whose being overshadows thee with fear?
 
3 - 266 Oedipus.
Queen Meropè, the consort of your king.
 
3 - 267 Corinthian Shepherd.
What in her life should make your heart afraid?
 
3 - 268 Oedipus.
A heaven-sent oracle of dreadful sound.
 
3 - 269 Corinthian Shepherd.
May it be told, or must no stranger know?
 
3 - 270 Oedipus.
Indeed it may. Word came from Phoebus once That I must know my mother's shame, and shed With these my hands my own true father's blood. Wherefore long since my home hath been removed Far from Corinthos:--not unhappily; But still 'tis sweet to see a parent's face.
 
3 - 271 Corinthian Shepherd.
Did fear of this make thee so long an exile?
 
3 - 272 Oedipus.
Of this and parricide, my aged friend.
 
3 - 273 Corinthian Shepherd.
I came with kind intent--and, dear my lord, I fain would rid thee from this haunting dread.
 
3 - 274 Oedipus.
Our gratitude should well reward thy love.
 
3 - 275 Corinthian Shepherd.
Hope of reward from thee in thy return Was one chief motive of my journey hither.
 
3 - 276 Oedipus.
Return? Not to my parents' dwelling-place!
 
3 - 277 Corinthian Shepherd.
Son, 'tis too clear, you know not what you do.
 
3 - 278 Oedipus.
Wherefore, kind sir? For Heaven's sake teach me this.
 
3 - 279 Corinthian Shepherd.
If for these reasons you avoid your home.
 
3 - 280 Oedipus.
The fear torments me, Phoebus may prove true.
 
3 - 281 Corinthian Shepherd.
Lest from your parents you receive a stain?
 
3 - 282 Oedipus.
That is the life-long torment of my soul.
 
3 - 283 Corinthian Shepherd.
Will you be certified your fears are groundless?
 
3 - 284 Oedipus.
How groundless, if I am my parents' child?
 
3 - 285 Corinthian Shepherd.
Because with Polybus thou hast no kin.
 
3 - 286 Oedipus.
Why? Was not he the author of my life?
 
3 - 287 Corinthian Shepherd.
As much as I am, and no more than I.
 
3 - 288 Oedipus.
How can my father be no more to me Than who is nothing?
 
3 - 289 Corinthian Shepherd.
In begetting thee Nor I nor he had any part at all.
 
3 - 290 Oedipus.
Why then did he declare me for his son?
 
3 - 291 Corinthian Shepherd.
Because he took thee once a gift from me.
 
3 - 292 Oedipus.
Was all that love unto a foundling shown?
 
3 - 293 Corinthian Shepherd.
Heirless affection so inclined his heart.
 
3 - 294 Oedipus.
A gift from you! Your purchase, or your child?[5]
 
3 - 295 Corinthian Shepherd.
Found in Cithaeron's hollowy wilderness.
 
3 - 296 Oedipus.
What led your travelling footstep to that ground?
 
3 - 297 Corinthian Shepherd.
The flocks I tended grazed the mountain there.
 
3 - 298 Oedipus.
A shepherd wast thou, and a wandering hind?
 
3 - 299 Corinthian Shepherd.
Whatever else, my son, thy saviour then.
 
3 - 300 Oedipus.
From what didst thou release me or relieve?
 
3 - 301 Corinthian Shepherd.
Thine instep bears memorial of the pain.
 
3 - 302 Oedipus.
Ah! what old evil will thy words disclose?
 
3 - 303 Corinthian Shepherd.
Thy feet were pierced. 'Twas I unfastened them.
 
3 - 304 Oedipus.
So cruel to my tender infancy!
 
3 - 305 Corinthian Shepherd.
From this thou hast received thy name.
 
3 - 306 Oedipus.
By heaven I pray thee, did my father do this thing, Or was't my mother?
 
3 - 307 Corinthian Shepherd.
That I dare not say. He should know best who gave thee to my hand.
 
3 - 308 Oedipus.
Another gave me, then? You did not find me?
 
3 - 309 Corinthian Shepherd.
Another herdsman passed thee on to me.
 
3 - 310 Oedipus.
Can you describe him? Tell us what you know.
 
3 - 311 Corinthian Shepherd.
Methinks they called him one of Laius' people.
 
3 - 312 Oedipus.
Of Laius once the sovereign of this land?
 
3 - 313 Corinthian Shepherd.
E'en so. He was a shepherd of his flock.
 
3 - 314 Oedipus.
And is he still alive for me to see?
 
3 - 315 Corinthian Shepherd.
You Thebans are most likely to know that.
 
3 - 316 Oedipus.
Speak, any one of you in presence here, Can you make known the swain he tells us of, In town or country having met with him? The hour for this discovery is full come.
 
3 - 317 Chorus.
Methinks it is no other than the peasant Whom thou didst seek before to see: but this Could best be told by queen Jocasta there.
 
 
3 - 318 Oedipus.
We lately sought that one should come, my queen. Know'st thou, is this of whom he speaks the same?
 
3 - 319 Jocasta.
What matter who? Regard not, nor desire Even vainly to remember aught he saith.
 
3 - 320 Oedipus.
When I have found such tokens of my birth, I must disclose it.
 
3 - 321 Jocasta.
As you love your life, By heaven I beg you, search no further here! The sickness in my bosom is enough.
 
3 - 322 Oedipus.
Nay, never fear! Were I proved thrice a slave And waif of bondwomen, you still are noble.
 
3 - 323 Jocasta.
J Yet hearken, I implore you: do not so.
 
3 - 324 Oedipus.
I cannot hear you. I must know this through.
 
3 - 325 Jocasta.
With clear perception I advise the best.
 
3 - 326 Oedipus.
Thy 'best' is still my torment.
 
3 - 327 Jocasta.
Wretched one, Never may'st thou discover who thou art!
 
3 - 328 Oedipus.
Will some one go and bring the herdman hither? Leave her to revel in her lordly line!
 
3 - 329 Jocasta.
O horrible! O lost one! This alone I speak to thee, and no word more for ever. [_Exit_
 
3 - 330 Chorus.
Oedipus, wherefore is Jocasta gone, Driven madly by wild grief? I needs must fear Lest from this silence she make sorrow spring.
 
3 - 331 Oedipus.
Leave her to raise what storm she will. But I Will persevere to know mine origin, Though from an humble seed. Her woman's pride Is shamed, it may be, by my lowliness. But I, whilst I account myself the son Of prospering Fortune, ne'er will be disgraced. For she is my true mother: and the months, Coheirs with me of the same father, Time, Have marked my lowness and mine exaltation. So born, so nurtured, I can fear no change, That I need shrink to probe this to the root. [OEDIPUS _remains, and gazes towards the country, while the_ Chorus. _sing_
 
3 - 332 Chorus. .
If I wield a prophet's might, 1 Or have sense to search aright, Cithaeron, when all night the moon rides high, Loud thy praise shall be confessed, How upon thy rugged breast, Thou, mighty mother, nursed'st tenderly Great Oedipus, and gav'st his being room Within thy spacious home. Yea, we will dance and sing Thy glory for thy kindness to our king. Phoebus, unto thee we cry, Be this pleasing in thine eye! Who, dear sovereign, gave thee birth, 2 Of the long lived nymphs of earth? Say, was she clasped by mountain roving Pan? Or beguiled she one sweet hour With Apollo in her bower, Who loves to trace the field untrod by man? Or was the ruler of Cyllene's height The author of thy light? Or did the Bacchic god, Who makes the top of Helicon to nod, Take thee for a foundling care From his playmates that are there? _The_ THEBAN SHEPHERD _is seen approaching, guarded._
 
3 - 333 Oedipus.
If haply I, who never saw his face, Thebans, may guess, methinks I see the hind Whose coming we have longed for. Both his age, Agreeing with this other's wintry locks, Accords with my conjecture, and the garb Of his conductors is well known to me As that of mine own people. But methinks [_to_ Leader of Chorus. ] Thou hast more perfect knowledge in this case, Having beheld the herdman in the past.
 
3 - 334 Chorus.
I know him well, believe me. Laius Had no more faithful shepherd than this man.
 
3 - 335 Oedipus.
Corinthian friend, I first appeal to you: Was't he you spake of?
 
3 - 336 Corinthian.
'Twas the man you see.
 
3 - 337 Oedipus.
Turn thine eyes hither, aged friend, and tell What I shall ask thee. Wast thou Laius' slave?
 
3 - 338 Theban Shepherd.
I was, not bought, but bred within the house.
 
3 - 339 Oedipus.
What charge or occupation was thy care?
 
3 - 340 Theban Shepherd.
Most of my time was spent in shepherding.
 
3 - 341 Oedipus.
And where didst thou inhabit with thy flock?
 
3 - 342 Theban Shepherd.
'Twas now Cithaeron, now the neighbouring tract.
 
3 - 343 Oedipus.
And hadst thou there acquaintance of this man?
 
3 - 344 Theban Shepherd.
Following what service? What is he you mean?
 
3 - 345 Oedipus.
The man you see. Hast thou had dealings with him?
 
3 - 346 Theban Shepherd.
I cannot bring him all at once to mind.
 
3 - 347 Corinthian Shepherd.
No marvel, good my lord. But I will soon Wake to clear knowledge his oblivious sense. For sure I am he can recall the time, When he with his two flocks, and I with one Beside him, grazed Cithaeron's pasture wide Good six months' space of three successive years, From spring to rising of Arcturus; then For the bleak winter season, I drove mine To their own folds, he his to Laius' stalls. Do I talk idly, or is this the truth?
 
3 - 348 Theban Shepherd.
The time is far remote. But all is true.
 
3 - 349 Corinthian Shepherd.
Well, dost remember having given me then A child, that I might nurture him for mine?
 
3 - 350 Theban Shepherd.
What means thy question? Let me know thy drift.
 
3 - 351 Theban Shepherd.
Friend, yonder stands the infant whom we knew.
 
3 - 352 Theban Shepherd.
Confusion seize thee, and thy evil tongue!
 
3 - 353 Oedipus.
Check not his speech, I pray thee, for thy words Call more than his for chastisement, old sir.
 
3 - 354 Theban Shepherd.
O my dread lord, therein do I offend?
 
3 - 355 Oedipus.
Thou wilt not answer him about the child?
 
3 - 356 Theban Shepherd.
He knows not what he speaks. His end is vain.
 
3 - 357 Oedipus.
So! Thou'lt not tell to please us, but the lash Will make thee tell.
 
3 - 358 Theban Shepherd.
By all that's merciful, Scourge not this aged frame!
 
3 - 359 Oedipus.
Pinion him straight!
 
3 - 360 Theban Shepherd.
Unhappy! wherefore? what is't you would know?
 
3 - 361 Oedipus.
Gave you this man the child of whom he asks you?
 
3 - 362 Theban Shepherd.
I gave it him. Would I had died that hour!
 
3 - 363 Oedipus.
Speak rightly, or your wish will soon come true.
 
3 - 364 Theban Shepherd.
My ruin comes the sooner, if I speak.
 
3 - 365 Oedipus.
This man will balk us with his baffling prate.
 
3 - 366 Theban Shepherd.
Not so. I said long since, 'I gave the child.'
 
3 - 367 Oedipus.
Whence? Was't your own, or from another's hand?
 
3 - 368 Theban Shepherd.
'Twas not mine own; another gave it me.
 
3 - 369 Oedipus.
What Theban gave it, from what home in Thebes?
 
3 - 370 Theban Shepherd.
O, I implore thee, master, ask no more!
 
3 - 371 Oedipus.
You perish, if I have to ask again.
 
3 - 372 Theban Shepherd.
The child was of the stock of Laius.
 
3 - 373 Oedipus.
Slave-born, or rightly of the royal line?
 
3 - 374 Theban Shepherd.
Ah me! Now comes the horror to my tongue!
 
3 - 375 Oedipus.
And to mine ear. But thou shalt tell it me!
 
3 - 376 Theban Shepherd.
He was given out for Laius' son: but she, Thy queen, within the palace, best can tell.
 
3 - 377 Oedipus.
How? Did she give it thee?
 
3 - 378 Theban Shepherd.
My lord, she did.
 
3 - 379 Oedipus.
With what commission?
 
3 - 380 Theban Shepherd.
I was to destroy him.
 
3 - 381 Oedipus.
And could a mother's heart be steeled to this?
 
3 - 382 Theban Shepherd.
With fear of evil prophecies.
 
3 - 383 Oedipus.
What were they?
 
3 - 384 Theban Shepherd.
'Twas said the child should be his father's death.
 
3 - 385 Oedipus.
What then possessed thee to give up the child To this old man?
 
3 - 386 Theban Shepherd.
Pity, my sovereign lord! Supposing he would take him far away Unto the land whence he was come. But he Preserved him to great sorrow. For if thou Art he this man hath said, be well assured Thou bear'st a heavy doom.
 
3 - 387 Oedipus.
O horrible! Horrible! All fulfilled, as sunlight clear! Oh may I nevermore behold the day, Since proved accursèd in my parentage, In those I live with, and in him I slew! [_Exeunt_
 
3 - 388 Chorus. .
O mortal tribes of men, I 1 How near to nothingness I count you while your lives remain! What man that lives hath more of happiness Than to seem blest, and, seeming, fade in night? O Oedipus, in this thine hour of gloom, Musing on thee and thy relentless doom, I call none happy who beholds the light. Thou through surpassing skill I 2 Didst rise to wealth and power, When thou the monstrous riddling maid didst kill, And stoodst forth to my country as a tower To guard from myriad deaths this glorious town; Whence thou wert called my king, of faultless fame, In all the world a far-resounded name, Unparagoned in honour and renown. But now to hear of thee, who more distressed? II 1 Who more acquainted with fierce misery, Assaulted by disasters manifest, Than thou in this thy day of agony? Most noble, most renowned!--Yet one same room Heard thy first cry, and in thy prime of power, Received thee, harbouring both bride and groom, And bore it silently till this dread hour. How could that furrowing of thy father's field Year after year continue unrevealed? Time hath detected thine unwitting deed, II 2 Time, who discovers all with eyes of fire, Accusing thee of living without heed In hideous wedlock husband, son, and sire. Ah would that we, thou child of Laius born, Ah would that we had never seen thee nigh! E'er since we knew thee who thou art, we mourn Exceedingly with cries that rend the sky. For, to tell truth, thou didst restore our life And gavest our soul sweet respite after strife. _Enter_ Messenger.
 
3 - 389 Messenger.
O ye who in this land have ever held Chief honour, what an object of dire woe Awaits your eyes, your ears! What piercing grief Your hearts must suffer, if as kinsmen should Ye still regard the house of Laius! Not Phasis, nor the Danube's rolling flood, Can ever wash away the stain and purge This mansion of the horror that it hides. --And more it soon shall give to light, not now Unconsciously enacted. Of all ill, Self-chosen sorrows are the worst to bear.
 
3 - 390 Chorus.
What hast thou new to add? the weight of grief From that we know burdens the heart enough.
 
3 - 391 Messenger.
Soon spoken and soon heard is the chief sum. Jocasta's royal head is sunk in death.
 
3 - 392 Chorus.
The hapless queen! What was the fatal cause?
 
3 - 393 Messenger.
Her own determination. You are spared The worst affliction, not being there to see. Yet to the height of my poor memory's power The wretched lady's passion you shall hear. When she had passed in her hot mood within The vestibule, straight to the bridal room She rushes, tearing with both hands her hair. Then having entered, shutting fast the door, She called aloud on Laius, long dead, With anguished memory of that birth of old Whereby the father fell, leaving his queen To breed a dreadful brood for his own son. And loudly o'er the bed she wailed, where she, In twofold wedlock, hapless, had brought forth Husband from husband, children from a child. We could not know the moment of her death, Which followed soon, for Oedipus with cries Broke in, and would not let us see her end, But held our eyes as he careered the hall, Demanding arms, and where to find his wife,-- No, not his wife, but fatal mother-croft, Cropped doubly with himself and his own seed. And in his rage some god directed him To find her:--'twas no man of us at hand. Then with a fearful shout, as following His leader, he assailed the folding-doors; And battering inward from the mortised bolts The bending boards, he burst into the room: Where high suspended we beheld the queen, In twisted cordage resolutely swung. He all at once on seeing her, wretched king! Undid the pendent noose, and on the ground Lay the ill-starred queen. Oh, then 'twas terrible To see what followed--for he tore away The tiring-pins wherewith she was arrayed, And, lifting, smote his eyeballs to the root, Saying, Nevermore should they behold the evil His life inherited from that past time, But all in dark henceforth should look upon Features far better not beheld, and fail To recognize the souls he had longed to know. Thus crying aloud, not once but oftentimes He drave the points into his eyes; and soon The bleeding pupils moistened all his beard, Nor stinted the dark flood, but all at once The ruddy hail poured down in plenteous shower. Thus from two springs, from man and wife together, Rose the joint evil that is now o'erflowing. And the old happiness in that past day Was truly happy, but the present hour Hath pain, crime, ruin:--whatsoe'er of ill Mankind have named, not one is absent here.
 
3 - 394 Chorus.
And finds the sufferer now some pause of woe?
 
3 - 395 Messenger.
He bids make wide the portal and display To all the men of Thebes the man who slew His father, who unto his mother did What I dare not repeat, and fain would fling His body from the land, nor calmly bide The shock of his own curse on his own hall. Meanwhile he needs some comfort and some guide, For such a load of misery who can bear? Thyself shalt judge: for, lo, the palace-gates Unfold, and presently thine eyes will see A hateful sight, yet one thou needs must pity.
 
3 - 396
_Enter_ OEDIPUS, _blind and unattended._
 
3 - 397 Leader of Chorus.
O horror of the world! Too great for mortal eye! More terrible than all I have known of ill! What fury of wild thought Came o'er thee? Who in heaven Hath leapt against thy hapless life With boundings out of measure fierce and huge? Ah! wretched one, I cannot look on thee: No, though I long to search, to ask, to learn. Thine aspect is too horrible.--I cannot!
 
3 - 398 Oedipus.
Me miserable! Whither am I borne? Into what region are these wavering sounds Wafted on aimless wings? O ruthless Fate! To what a height thy fury hath soared!
 
3 - 399 Chorus.
Too far For human sense to follow, or human thought To endure the horror.
 
3 - 400 Oedipus.
O dark cloud, descending I 1 Unutterably on me! invincible, Abhorred, borne onward by too sure a wind. Woe, woe! Woe! Yet again I voice it, with such pangs Both from these piercing wounds I am assailed And from within through memory of my grief.
 
3 - 401 Chorus.
Nay, 'tis no marvel if thy matchless woe Redouble thine affliction and thy moan!
 
3 - 402 Oedipus.
Ah! Friend, thou art still constant! Thou remainest I 2 To tend me and to care for the blind man. Alas! I know thee well, nor fail I to perceive, Dark though I be, thy kind familiar voice.
 
3 - 403 Chorus.
How dreadful is thy deed! How couldst thou bear Thus to put out thine eyes? What Power impelled thee?
 
3 - 404 Oedipus.
Apollo, dear my friends, Apollo brought to pass II 1 In dreadful wise, this my calamitous woe. But I,--no being else,--I with this hand destroyed them. [_Pointing to his eyes_ For why should I have sight, To whom nought now gave pleasure through the eye?
 
3 - 405 Chorus.
There speak'st thou truly.
 
3 - 406 Oedipus.
What could I see, whom hear With gladness, whom delight in any more? Lead me away out of the land with speed! Be rid of the destroyer, the accursed, Whom most of all the world the Gods abhor.
 
3 - 407 Chorus.
O miserable in thy calamity And not less miserable in thy despair, Would thou wert still in ignorance of thy birth!
 
3 - 408 Oedipus.
My curse on him who from the cruel bond II 2 That held my feet in that high pasture-land Freed me, and rescued me from murder there, And saved my life! Vain kindness! Then to have died Had spared this agony to me and mine.
 
3 - 409 Chorus.
Ay, would it had been so!
 
3 - 410 Oedipus.
Then had I ne'er Been proved a parricide, ne'er borne the shame Of marriage bonds incestuous! But now I am God abandoned, Son of the unholy, Rival of him who gave me being. Ah woe! What sorrow beyond sorrows hath chief place? That sorrow Oedipus must bear!
 
3 - 411 Leader of Chorus.
I know not how to call thee wise in this: Thou wert better dead than to be blind and live.
 
3 - 412 Oedipus.
That this last act hath not been for the best Instruct me not, nor counsel me again. How, if I kept my sight, could I have looked In Hades on my father's countenance, Or mine all hapless mother, when, toward both, I have done deeds no death can e'er atone? Ah! but my children were a sight of joy,-- Offspring of such a marriage! were they so? Never, to eyes of mine! nor town, nor tower, Nor holy shrines o' the gods, which I myself, Dowered with the fairest life of Theban men, Have forfeited, alas, by mine own law, Declaring men should drive from every door One marked by Heaven as impious and impure, Nay worse, of Laius born! And was I then, By mine own edict branded thus, to look On Theban faces with unaltered eye? Nay verily, but had there been a way To stop the hearing fountain through the ear, I had not faltered, but had closed and barred Each gate of this poor body, deaf and blind! So thought might sweetly dwell at rest from ill Cithaeron! Why didst thou receive me? Why Not slay me then and there? So had I not Told to the world the horror of my birth. O foster home of Corinth and her king, How bright the life ye cherished, filming o'er What foulness far beneath! For I am vile, And vile were both my parents. So 'tis proved O cross road in the covert of the glen, O thicket in the gorge where three ways met, Bedewed by these my hands with mine own blood From whence I sprang--have ye forgotten me? Or doth some memory haunt you of the deeds I did before you, and went on to do Worse horrors here? O marriage twice accurst! That gave me being, and then again sent forth Fresh saplings springing from the selfsame seed, To amaze men's eyes and minds with dire confusion Of father, brother, son, bride, mother, wife, Murder of parents, and all shames that are! Silence alone befits such deeds. Then, pray you, Hide me immediately away from men! Kill me outright, or fling me far to sea, Where never ye may look upon me more. Come, lend your hand unto my misery! Comply, and fear not, for my load of woe Is incommunicable to all but me.
 
3 - 413 Chorus.
With timely presence to fulfil thy need With act and counsel, Creon comes, who now Is regent o'er this people in thy room.
 
3 - 414 Oedipus.
Alas, what shall I say to him? What plea For my defence will hold? My evil part Toward him in all the past is clearly proved. _Enter_ CREON.
 
3 - 415 Creon.
I come not, Oedipus, to mock thy woes, Nor to reproach thee for thine evils past. But ye, (_to_ Chorus. ) if all respect of mortal eye Be dead, let awe of the universal flame Of life's great nourisher, our lord the Sun, Forbid your holding thus unveiled to view This huge abomination, which nor Earth Nor sacred Element, nor light of Heaven Can once endure. Convey him in with speed. Religion bids that kindred eyes and ears Alone should witness kindred crime and woe.
 
3 - 416 Oedipus.
By Heaven, since thou hast reft away my fear, So nobly meeting my unworthiness, I pray thee, hear me for thine own behoof.
 
3 - 417 Creon.
What boon dost thou desire so earnestly?
 
3 - 418 Oedipus.
Fling me with speediest swiftness from the land, Where nevermore I may converse with men.
 
3 - 419 Creon.
Doubt not I would have done it, but the God Must be inquired of, ere we act herein.
 
3 - 420 Oedipus.
His sacred utterance was express and clear, The parricide, the unholy, should be slain.
 
3 - 421 Creon.
Ay, so 'twas spoken: but, in such a time, We needs must be advised more perfectly.
 
3 - 422 Oedipus.
Will ye then ask him for a wretch like me?
 
3 - 423 Creon.
Yea. For even thou methinks wilt now believe.
 
3 - 424 Oedipus.
Not only so. But I will charge thee too, With urgent exhortation, to perform The funeral rite for her who lies within-- She is thy kinswoman--howe'er thou wilt. But never let this city of my sires Claim me for living habitant! There, there Leave me to range the mountain, where my nurse, Cithaeron, echoeth with my name,--Cithaeron, Which both my parents destined for my tomb. So my true murderers will be my death. Yet one thing I can tell. Mine end will come Not by disease nor ordinary chance I had not lived when at the point to die, But for some terrible doom. Then let my fate Run out its full career. But for my children Thou, Creon, shalt provide. As for my sons, I pray thee burden not thyself with them. They ne'er will lack subsistence--they are men. But my poor maidens, hapless and forlorn, Who never had a meal apart from mine, But ever shared my table, yea, for them Take heedful care, and grant me, though but once. Yea, I beseech thee, with these hands to feel, Thou noble heart! the forms I love so well, And weep with them our common misery. Oh, if my arms were round them, I might seem To have them as of old when I could see-- What! Am I fooled once more, or do I hear My dear ones weeping! And hath Creon sent, Pitying my sorrows, mine own children to me Whom most I love? Can this be truth I utter?
 
3 - 425 Creon.
Yea, I have done it. For I knew the joy Thou ever hadst in this, thy comfort now.
 
3 - 426 Oedipus.
Fair be thy fortune, and, for this last deed, Heaven guide thee on a better course than mine. Where are ye, O my children? Come, draw near To these my hands of brother blood with you, Hands that have made so piteous to your sight The darkened gaze of his once brilliant eyes, Who all in blindness, with no thought of ill, Became your father at that fount of life, Where he himself took being! Oh! for you I weep, not seeing you, when I but think Of all the bitter passages of fate That must attend you amongst men. For where Can ye find fellowship, what civic throng Shall ye resort unto, what festival, From whence, instead of sight or sound enjoyed, Ye will not come in tears unto your home? And when ye reach the marriageable bloom, My daughters, who will be the man to cast His lot with yours, receiving for his own All those reproaches which have marred the name Of both my parents and your name no less? What evil is not here? Your father slew His father, and then eared the mother field Where he himself was sown, and got you from The source of his own birth. Such taunts will fly. And who will marry you? No man, my daughters; But ye must wither childless and unwed. Son of Menoeceus, who alone art left As father to these maidens, for the pair That gave them birth are utterly undone, Suffer them not, being your kinswomen, To wander desolate and poor, nor make Their lot perforce the counterpart of mine. But look on them with pity, left in youth Forlorn of all protection save from thee. Noble one, seal this promise with thy hand! --For you, my children, were ye of an age To ponder speech, I would have counselled you Full carefully. Now I would have you pray To dwell where 'tis convenient, that your life May find more blessing than your father knew.
 
3 - 427 Creon.
Thou hast had enough of weeping. Close thee in thy chamber walls.
 
3 - 428 Oedipus.
I must yield, though sore against me.
 
3 - 429 Creon.
Yea, for strong occasion calls.
 
3 - 430 Oedipus.
Know'st thou on what terms I yield it?
 
3 - 431 Creon.
Tell me, let us hear and know.
 
3 - 432 Oedipus.
That ye send from the country.
 
3 - 433 Creon.
God alone can let thee go.
 
3 - 434 Oedipus.
But the Gods long since abhor me.
 
 
3 - 435 Creon.
Thou wilt sooner gain that boon.
 
3 - 436 Oedipus.
Then consent.
 
3 - 437 Creon.
'Tis not my wont to venture promises too soon.
 
3 - 438 Oedipus.
Lead me now within the palace.
 
3 - 439 Creon.
Come, but leave thy children.
 
3 - 440 Oedipus.
Nay! Tear not these from my embraces!
 
3 - 441 Creon.
Hope not for perpetual sway: Since the power thou once obtainedst ruling with unquestioned might Ebbing from thy life hath vanished ere the falling of the night.
 
3 - 442 Leader of Chorus. .
Dwellers in our native Thebè, fix on Oedipus your eyes. Who resolved the dark enigma, noblest champion and most wise. Like a star his envied fortune mounted beaming[6] far and wide: Now he sinks in seas of anguish, whelmed beneath a raging tide. Therefore, with the old-world sages, waiting for that final day, I will call no mortal happy, while he holds his house of clay, Till without one pang of sorrow, all his hours have passed away.
 
4 Electra.
Characters. 0
An Old Man, _formerly one of the retainers of Agamemnon._ ORESTES, _son of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra_. ELECTRA, _sister of Orestes_. CHORUS _of Argive Women_. CHRYSOTHEMIS, _sister of Orestes and Electra_. CLYTEMNESTRA. AEGISTHUS. PYLADES _appears with_ ORESTES, _but does not speak_.
 
Scene.
SCENE. Mycenae: before the palace of the Pelopidae. Agamemnon on his return from Troy, had been murdered by his wife Clytemnestra and her paramour Aegisthus, who had usurped the Mycenean throne. Orestes, then a child, had been rescued by his sister Electra, and sent into Phocis with the one servant who remained faithful to his old master. The son of Agamemnon now returns, being of a full age, accompanied by this same attendant and his friend Pylades, with whom he has already concerted a plan for taking vengeance on his father's murderers, in obedience to the command of Apollo. Orestes had been received in Phocis by Strophius, his father's friend. Another Phocian prince, named Phanoteus, was a friend of Aegisthus. ORESTES _and the_ Old Man--PYLADES _is present._
 
4 - 1 OLD MAN.
Son of the king who led the Achaean host Erewhile beleaguering Troy, 'tis thine to day To see around thee what through many a year Thy forward spirit hath sighed for. Argolis Lies here before us, hallowed as the scene Of Io's wildering pain: yonder, the mart Named from the wolf slaying God[1], and there, to our left, Hera's famed temple. For we reach the bourn Of far renowned Mycenae, rich in gold And Pelops' fatal roofs before us rise, Haunted with many horrors, whence my hand, Thy murdered sire then lying in his gore, Received thee from thy sister, and removed Where I have kept thee safe and nourished thee To this bright manhood thou dost bear, to be The avenger of thy father's bloody death. Wherefore, Orestes, and thou, Pylades, Dearest of friends, though from a foreign soil, Prepare your enterprise with speed. Dark night Is vanished with her stars, and day's bright orb Hath waked the birds of morn into full song. Now, then, ere foot of man go forth, ye two Knit counsels. 'Tis no time for shy delay: The very moment for your act is come.
 
4 - 2 OR.
Kind faithful friend, how well thou mak'st appear Thy constancy in service to our house! As some good steed, aged, but nobly bred, Slacks not his spirit in the day of war, But points his ears to the fray, even so dost thou Press on and urge thy master in the van. Hear, then, our purpose, and if aught thy mind, Keenly attent, discerns of weak or crude In this I now set forth, admonish me. I, when I visited the Pythian shrine Oracular, that I might learn whereby To punish home the murderers of my sire, Had word from Phoebus which you straight shall hear: 'No shielded host, but thine own craft, O King! The righteous death-blow to thine arm shall bring.' Then, since the will of Heaven is so revealed, Go thou within, when Opportunity Shall marshal thee the way, and gathering all Their business, bring us certain cognizance. Age and long absence are a safe disguise; They never will suspect thee who thou art. And let thy tale be that another land, Phocis, hath sent thee forth, and Phanoteus, Than whom they have no mightier help in war. Then, prefaced with an oath, declare thy news, Orestes' death by dire mischance, down-rolled From wheel-borne chariot in the Pythian course. So let the fable be devised; while we, As Phoebus ordered, with luxuriant locks Shorn from our brows, and fair libations, crown My father's sepulchre, and thence return Bearing aloft the shapely vase of bronze That's hidden hard by in brushwood, as thou knowest, And bring them welcome tidings, that my form Is fallen ere now to ashes in the fire. How should this pain me, in pretence being dead, Really to save myself and win renown? No saying bodes men ill, that brings them gain. Oft have I known the wise, dying in word, Return with glorious salutation home. So lightened by this rumour shall mine eye Blaze yet like bale-star on mine enemies. O native earth! and Gods that hold the land, Accept me here, and prosper this my way! Thou, too, paternal hearth! To thee I come, Justly to cleanse thee by behest from heaven. Send me not bootless, Gods, but let me found A wealthy line of fair posterity! I have spoken. To thy charge! and with good heed Perform it. We go forth. The Occasion calls, Great taskmaster of enterprise to men.
 
4 - 3 ELECTRA
(_within_). Woe for my hapless lot!
 
4 - 4 OLD M.
Hark! from the doors, my son, methought there came A moaning cry, as of some maid within.
 
4 - 5 OR.
Can it be poor Electra? Shall we stay, And list again the lamentable sound?
 
4 - 6 OLD M.
Not so. Before all else begin the attempt To execute Apollo's sovereign will, Pouring libation to thy sire: this makes Victory ours, and our success assured. [_Exeunt_ _Enter_ ELECTRA.
 
4 - 7 MONODY. EL.
O purest light! And air by earth alone Measured and limitable, how oft have ye Heard many a piercing moan, Many a blow full on my bleeding breast, When gloomy night Hath slackened pace and yielded to the day! And through the hours of rest, Ah! well 'tis known To my sad pillow in yon house of woe, What vigil of scant joyance keeping, Whiles all within are sleeping, For my dear father without stint I groan, Whom not in bloody fray The War-god in the stranger-land Received with hospitable hand, But she that is my mother, and her groom, As woodmen fell the oak, Cleft through the skull with murdering stroke. And o'er this gloom No ray of pity, save from only me, Goes forth on thee, My father, who didst die A cruel death of piteous agony. But ne'er will I Cease from my crying and sad mourning lay, While I behold the sky, Glancing with myriad fires, or this fair day. But, like some brood-bereavèd nightingale, With far-heard wail, Here at my father's door my voice shall sound. O home beneath the ground! Hades unseen, and dread Persephonè, And darkling Hermes, and the Curse revered, And ye, Erinyës, of mortals feared, Daughters of Heaven, that ever see Who die unjustly, who are wronged i' the bed Of those they wed, Avenge our father's murder on his foe! Aid us, and send my brother to my side; Alone I cannot longer bide The oppressive strain of strength-o'ermastering woe.
 
4 - 8 CHORUS
(_entering_). O sad Electra, child I 1 Of a lost mother, why still flow Unceasingly with lamentation wild For him who through her treachery beguiled, Inveigled by a wife's deceit, Fallen at the foul adulterer's feet, Most impiously was quelled long years ago? Perish the cause! if I may lawfully pray so.
 
4 - 9 EL.
EL. O daughters of a noble line, Ye come to soothe me from my troublous woe. I see, I know: Your love is not unrecognized of mine. But yet I will not seem as I forgot, Or cease to mourn my hapless father's lot. Oh, of all love That ever may you move, This only boon I crave-- Leave me to rave!
 
4 - 10 CH.
Lament, nor praying breath I 2 Will raise thy sire, our honoured chief, From that dim multitudinous gulf of death. Beyond the mark, due grief that measureth, Still pining with excess of pain Thou urgest lamentation vain, That from thy woes can bring thee no relief. Why hast thou set thy heart on unavailing grief?
 
4 - 11 EL.
Senseless were he who lost from thought A noble father, lamentably slain! I love thy strain, Bewildered mourner, bird divinely taught, For 'Itys,' 'Itys,' ever heard to pine. O Niobè, I hold thee all divine, Of sorrows queen, Who with all tearful mien Insepulchred in stone Aye makest moan.
 
4 - 12 CH.
Not unto thee alone hath sorrow come, II 1 Daughter, that thou shouldst carry grief so far Beyond those dwellers in the palace-home Who of thy kindred are And own one source with thee. What life hath she, Chrysothemis, and Iphianassa bright, And he whose light Is hidden afar from taste of horrid doom, Youthful Orestes, who shall come To fair Mycenae's glorious town, Welcomed as worthy of his sire's renown, Sped by great Zeus with kindly thought, And to this land with happiest omen brought?
 
4 - 13 EL.
Awaiting him I endlessly endure; Unwed and childless still I go, With tears in constant flow, Girt round with misery that finds no cure. But he forgets his wrong and all my teaching. What message have I sent beseeching, But baffled flies back idly home? Ever he longs, he saith, but, longing, will not come.
 
4 - 14 CH.
Take heart, dear child! still mighty in the sky II 2 Is Zeus who ruleth all things and surveys. Commit to him thy grief that surgeth high, And walk in safer ways, Let not hate vex thee sore, Nor yet ignore The cause of hate and sorrow in thy breast. Time bringeth rest: All is made easy through his power divine. The heir of Agamemnon's line Who dwells by Crisa's pastoral strand Shall yet return unto his native land; And he shall yet regard his own Who reigns beneath upon his Stygian throne.
 
4 - 15 EL.
Meanwhile my life falls from me in despair Years pass and patience nought avails: My heart within me fails: Orphaned I pine without protecting care; And like a sojourner all unregarded At slave-like labour unrewarded I toil within my father's hall Thus meanly attired, and starved, a table-serving thrall.
 
4 - 16 CH.
Sad was thy greeting when he reached the strand, III 1 Piteous thy crying where thy father lay On that fell day When the bronze edge with dire effect was driven. By craft 'twas planned, By frenzied lust the blow was given: Mother and father of a monstrous birth, Whether a God there wrought or mortal of the Earth.
 
4 - 17 EL.
O day beyond all days that yet have rolled Most hateful in thy course of light! O horror of that night! O hideous feast, abhorr'd, not to be told! How could I bear it, when my father's eye Saw death advancing from the ruthless pair, Conjoint in cruel villany, By whom my life was plunged in black despair? Oh, to the workers of such deeds as these May great Olympus' Lord Return of evil still afford, Nor let them wear the gloss of sovran ease!
 
4 - 18 CH.
Take thought to keep thy crying within bound. III 2 Doth not thy sense enlighten thee to see How recklessly Even now thou winnest undeservèd woe? Still art thou found To make thy misery overflow Through self-bred gloomy strife. But not for long Shall one alone prevail who strives against the strong.
 
4 - 19 EL.
'Twas dire oppression taught me my complaint I know my rage a quenchless fire: But nought, however dire, Shall visit this my frenzy with restraint, Or check my lamentation while I live. Dear friends, kind women of true Argive breed, Say, who can timely counsel give Or word of comfort suited to my need? Beyond all cure shall this my cause be known. No counsels more! Ah leave, Vain comforters, and let me grieve With ceaseless pain, unmeasured in my moan.
 
4 - 20 CH.
With kind intent IV Full tenderly my words are meant; Like a true mother pressing heart to heart, I pray thee, do not aggravate thy smart.
 
4 - 21 EL.
But have my miseries a measure? Tell. Can it be well To pour forgetfulness upon the dead? Hath mortal head Conceived a wickedness so bold? O never may such brightness shine for me, Nor let me peaceful be With aught of good my life may still enfold, If from wide echoing of my father's name The wings of keen lament I must withhold. Sure holy shame And pious care would vanish among men, If he, mere earth and nothingness, must lie In darkness, and his foes shall not again Render him blood for blood in amplest penalty.
 
4 - 22 LEADER OF CH.
Less from our own desires, my child, we came, Than for thy sake. But, if we speak amiss, Take thine own course. We still will side with thee.
 
4 - 23 EL.
Full well I feel that too impatiently I seem to multiply the sounds of woe. Yet suffer me, dear women! Mighty force Compels me. Who that had a noble heart And saw her father's cause, as I have done, By day and night more outraged, could refrain? Are my woes lessening? Are they not in bloom?-- My mother full of hate and hateful proved, Whilst I in my own home must dwell with these, My father's murderers, and by them be ruled, Dependent on their bounty even for bread. And then what days suppose you I must pass, When I behold Aegisthus on the throne That was my father's; when I see him wear Such robes, and pour libations by the hearth Where he destroyed him; lastly, when I see Their crowning insolence,--our regicide Laid in my father's chamber beside her, My mother--if she still must bear the name When resting in those arms? Her shame is dead. She harbours with blood-guiltiness, and fears No vengeance, but, as laughing at the wrong, She watches for the hour wherein with guile She killed our sire, and orders dance and mirth That day o' the month, and joyful sacrifice Of thanksgiving. But I within the house Beholding, weep and pine, and mourn that feast Of infamy, called by my father's name, All to myself; for not even grief may flow As largely as my spirit would desire. That so-called princess of a noble race O'ercrows my wailing with loud obloquy: 'Hilding! are you alone in grief? Are none Mourning for loss of fathers but yourself? 'Fore the blest Gods! ill may you thrive, and ne'er Find cure of sorrow from the powers below!' So she insults: unless she hear one say 'Orestes will arrive': then standing close, She shouts like one possessed into mine ear, 'These are your doings, this your work, I trow. You stole Orestes from my gripe, and placed His life with fosterers; but you shall pay Full penalty.' So harsh is her exclaim. And he at hand, the husband she extols, Hounds on the cry, that prince of cowardice, From head to foot one mass of pestilent harm. Tongue-doughty champion of this women's-war. I, for Orestes ever languishing To end this, am undone. For evermore Intending, still delaying, he wears out All hope, both here and yonder. How, then, friends, Can I be moderate, or feel the touch Of holy resignation? Evil fruit Cannot but follow on a life of ill.
 
4 - 24 CH.
Say, is Aegisthus near while thus you speak? Or hath he left the palace? We would know.
 
4 - 25 EL.
Most surely. Never think, if he were by, I could stray out of door. He is abroad.
 
4 - 26 CH.
Then with less fear I may converse with thee.
 
4 - 27 EL.
Ask what you will, for he is nowhere near.
 
4 - 28 CH.
First of thy brother I beseech thee tell, How deem'st thou? Will he come, or still delay?
 
4 - 29 EL.
His promise comes, but still performance sleeps.
 
4 - 30 CH.
Well may he pause who plans a dreadful deed.
 
4 - 31 EL.
I paused not in his rescue from the sword.
 
4 - 32 CH.
Fear not. He will bestead you. He is true.
 
4 - 33 EL.
But for that faith my life had soon gone by.
 
4 - 34 CH.
No more! I see approaching from the house Thy sister by both parents of thy blood, Chrysothemis; in her hand an offering, Such as old custom yields to those below. _Enter_ CHRYSOTHEMIS.
 
4 - 35 CHRYSOTHEMIS.
What converse keeps thee now beyond the gates, Dear sister? why this talk in the open day? Wilt thou not learn after so long to cease From vain indulgence of a bootless rage? I know in my own breast that I am pained By what thou griev'st at, and if I had power, My censure of their deeds would soon be known. But in misfortune I have chosen to sail With lowered canvas, rather than provoke With puny strokes invulnerable foes. I would thou didst the like: though I must own The right is on thy side, and not on mine. But if I mean to dwell at liberty, I must obey in all the stronger will.
 
4 - 36 EL.
'Tis strange and pitiful, thy father's child Can leave him in oblivion and subserve The mother. All thy schooling of me springs From her suggestion, not of thine own wit. Sure, either thou art senseless, or thy sense Deserts thy friends. Treason or dulness then? Choose!--You declared but now, if you had strength, You would display your hatred of this pair. Yet, when I plan full vengeance for my sire, You aid me not, but turn me from the attempt. What's this but adding cowardice to evil? For tell me, or be patient till I show, What should I gain by ceasing this my moan? I live to vex them:--though my life be poor, Yet that suffices, for I honour him, My father,--if affection touch the dead. You say you hate them, but belie your word, Consorting with our father's murderers. I then, were all the gifts in which you glory Laid at my feet, will never more obey This tyrant power. I leave you your rich board And life of luxury. Ne'er be it mine[2] to feed On dainties that would poison my heart's peace! I care not for such honour as thou hast. Nor wouldst thou care if thou wert wise. But now, Having the noblest of all men for sire, Be called thy mother's offspring; so shall most Discern thine infamy and traitorous mind To thy dead father and thy dearest kin.
 
4 - 37 CH.
No anger, we entreat. Both have said well, If each would learn of other, and so do.
 
4 - 38 CH.
For my part, women, use hath seasoned me To her discourse. Nor had I spoken of this, Had I not heard a horror coming on That will restrain her from her endless moan.
 
4 - 39 EL.
Come speak it forth, this terror! I will yield, If thou canst tell me worse than I endure.
 
4 - 40 CH.
I'll tell thee all I know. If thou persist In these thy wailings, they will send thee far From thine own land, and close thee from the day, Where in a rock-hewn chamber thou may'st chant Thine evil orisons in darkness drear. Think of it, while there 's leisure to reflect; Or if thou suffer, henceforth blame me not.
 
4 - 41 EL.
And have they so determined on my life?
 
4 - 42 CH.
'Tis certain; when Aegisthus comes again.
 
4 - 43 EL.
If that be all, let him return with speed!
 
4 - 44 CHR.
Unhappy! why this curse upon thyself?
 
4 - 45 EL.
If this be their intent, why, let him come!
 
4 - 46 CHR.
To work such harm on thee! What thought is this!
 
4 - 47 EL.
Far from mine eye to banish all your brood.
 
4 - 48 CH.
Art not more tender of the life thou hast?
 
4 - 49 EL.
Fair, to a marvel, is my life, I trow!
 
4 - 50 CHR.
It would be, couldst thou be advised for good.
 
4 - 51 EL.
Never advise me to forsake my kin.
 
4 - 52 CH.
I do not: only to give place to power.
 
4 - 53 EL.
Thine be such flattery. 'Tis not my way.
 
4 - 54 CH.
Sure, to be wrecked by rashness is not well.
 
4 - 55 EL.
Let me be wrecked in 'venging my own sire.
 
4 - 56 CH.
I trust his pardon for my helplessness.
 
4 - 57 EL.
Such talk hath commendation from the vile.
 
4 - 58 CH.
Wilt thou not listen? Wilt thou ne'er be ruled?
 
4 - 59 EL.
No; not by thee! Let me not sink so low.
 
4 - 60 CH.
Then I will hie me on mine errand straight.
 
4 - 61 EL.
Stay; whither art bound? For whom to spend those gifts?
 
4 - 62 CH.
Sent by my mother to my father's tomb To pour libations to him.
 
4 - 63 EL.
How? To him? Most hostile to her of all souls that are?
 
4 - 64 CH.
Who perished by her hand--so thou wouldst say.
 
4 - 65 EL.
What friend hath moved her? Who hath cared for this?
 
4 - 66 CH.
Methinks 'twas some dread vision, seen by night.
 
4 - 67 EL.
Gods of my father, O be with me now!
 
4 - 68 CH.
What? art thou hopeful from the fear I spake of?
 
4 - 69 EL.
Tell me the dream, and I will answer thee.
 
4 - 70 CH.
I know but little of it.
 
4 - 71 EL.
Speak but that. A little word hath ofttimes been the cause Of ruin or salvation unto men.
 
4 - 72 CH.
'Tis said she saw our father's spirit come Once more to visit the abodes of light; Then take and firmly plant upon the hearth The sceptre which he bore of old, and now Aegisthus bears: and out of this upsprang A burgeoned shoot, that shadowed all the ground Of loved Mycenae. So I heard the tale Told by a maid who listened when the Queen Made known her vision to the God of Day. But more than this I know not, save that I Am sent by her through terror of the dream. And I beseech thee by the Gods we serve To take my counsel and not rashly fall. If thou repel me now, the time may come When suffering shall have brought thee to my side.
 
4 - 73 EL.
Now, dear Chrysothemis, of what thou bearest Let nothing touch his tomb. 'Tis impious And criminal to offer to thy sire Rites and libations from a hateful wife. Then cast them to the winds, or deep in dust Conceal them, where no particle may reach His resting-place: but lie in store for her When she goes underground. Sure, were she not Most hardened of all women that have been, She ne'er had sent those loveless offerings To grace the sepulchre of him she slew. For think how likely is the buried king To take such present kindly from her hand, Who slew him like an alien enemy, Dishonoured even in death, and mangled him, And wiped the death-stain with his flowing locks-- Sinful purgation! Think you that you bear In those cold gifts atonement for her guilt? It is not possible. Wherefore let be. But take a ringlet from thy comely head, And this from mine, that lingers on my brow[3] Longing to shade his tomb. Ah, give it to him, All I can give, and this my maiden-zone, Not daintily adorned, as once erewhile. Then, humbly kneeling, pray that from the ground He would arise to help us 'gainst his foes, And grant his son Orestes with high hand Strongly to trample on his enemies; That in our time to come from ampler stores We may endow him, than are ours to-day. I cannot but imagine that his will Hath part in visiting her sleep with fears. But howsoe'er, I pray thee, sister mine, Do me this service, and thyself, and him, Dearest of all the world to me and thee, The father of us both, who rests below.
 
4 - 74 CH.
She counsels piously; and thou, dear maid, If thou art wise, wilt do her bidding here.
 
4 - 75 CH.
Yea, when a thing is right, it is not well Idly to wrangle, but to act with speed. Only, dear friends, in this mine enterprise, Let me have silence from your lips, I pray; For should my mother know of it, sharp pain Will follow yet my bold adventurous feat. [_Exit_ CHRYSOTHEMIS
 
4 - 76 CH.
An erring seer am I, I 1 Of sense and wisdom lorn, If this prophetic Power of right, O'ertaking the offender, come not nigh Ere many an hour be born. Yon vision of the night, That lately breathed into my listening ear, Hath freed me, O my daughter, from all fear. Sweet was that bodement. He doth not forget, The Achaean lord that gave thee being, nor yet The bronzen-griding axe, edged like a spear, Hungry and keen, though dark with stains of time, That in the hour of hideous crime Quelled him with cruel butchery: That, too, remembers, and shall testify. From ambush deep and dread I 2 With power of many a hand And many hastening feet shall spring The Fury of the adamantine tread, Visiting Argive land Swift recompense to bring For eager dalliance of a blood-stained pair Unhallowed, foul, forbidden. No omen fair,-- Their impious course hath fixed this in my soul,-- Nought but black portents full of blame shall roll Before their eyes that wrought or aided there. Small force of divination would there seem In prophecy or solemn dream, Should not this vision of the night Reach harbour in reality aright. O chariot-course of Pelops, full of toil[4]! II How wearisome and sore Hath been thine issue to our native soil!-- Since, from the golden oar Hurled to the deep afar, Myrtilus sank and slept, Cruelly plucked from that fell chariot-floor, This house unceasingly hath kept Crime and misfortune mounting evermore. _Enter_ CLYTEMNESTRA.
 
4 - 77 CLYTEMNESTRA.
Again you are let loose and range at will. Ay, for Aegisthus is not here, who barred Your rashness from defaming your own kin Beyond the gates. But now he's gone from home, You heed not me: though you have noised abroad That I am bold in crime, and domineer Outrageously, oppressing thee and thine. I am no oppressor, but I speak thee ill, For thou art ever speaking ill of me-- Still holding forth thy father's death, that I Have done it. So I did: I know it well: That I deny not; for not I alone But Justice slew him; and if you had sense, To side with Justice ought to be your part. For who but he of all the Greeks, your sire, For whom you whine and cry, who else but he Took heart to sacrifice unto the Gods Thy sister?--having less of pain, I trow, In getting her, than I, that bore her, knew! Come, let me question thee! On whose behalf Slew he my child? Was 't for the Argive host? What right had they to traffic in my flesh?-- Menelaüs was his brother. Wilt thou say He slew my daughter for his brother's sake? How then should he escape me? Had not he, Menelaüs, children twain, begotten of her Whom to reclaim that army sailed to Troy? Was Death then so enamoured of my seed, That he must feast thereon and let theirs live? Or was the God-abandoned father's heart Tender toward them and cruel to my child? Doth this not argue an insensate sire? I think so, though your wisdom may demur. And could my lost one speak, she would confirm it. For my part, I can dwell on what I have done Without regret. You, if you think me wrong, Bring reasons forth and blame me to my face!
 
4 - 78 EL.
Thou canst not say this time that I began And brought this on me by some taunting word. But, so you'd suffer me, I would declare The right both for my sister and my sire.
 
4 - 79 CLY.
Thou hast my sufferance. Nor would hearing vex, If ever thus you tuned your speech to me.
 
4 - 80 EL.
Then I will speak. You say you slew him. Where Could there be found confession more depraved, Even though the cause were righteous? But I'll prove No rightful vengeance drew thee to the deed, But the vile bands of him you dwell with now. Or ask the huntress Artemis, what sin She punished, when she tied up all the winds Round Aulis.--I will tell thee, for her voice Thou ne'er may'st hear! 'Tis rumoured that my sire, Sporting within the goddess' holy ground, His foot disturbed a dappled hart, whose death Drew from his lips some rash and boastful word. Wherefore Latona's daughter in fell wrath Stayed the army, that in quittance for the deer My sire should slay at the altar his own child. So came her sacrifice. The Achaean fleet Had else no hope of being launched to Troy Nor to their homes. Wherefore, with much constraint And painful urging of his backward will, Hardly he yielded;--not for his brother's sake. But grant thy speech were sooth, and all were done In aid of Menelaüs; for this cause Hadst thou the right to slay him? What high law Ordaining? Look to it, in establishing Such precedent thou dost not lay in store Repentance for thyself. For if by right One die for one, thou first wilt be destroyed If Justice find thee.--But again observe The hollowness of thy pretended plea. Tell me, I pray, what cause thou dost uphold In doing now the basest deed of all, Chambered with the blood-guilty, with whose aid Thou slewest our father in that day. For him You now bear children--ousting from their right The stainless offspring of a holy sire. How should this plead for pardon? Wilt thou say Thus thou dost 'venge thy daughter's injury? O shameful plea? Where is the thought of honour, If foes are married for a daughter's sake?-- Enough. No words can move thee. Thy rash tongue With checkless clamour cries that we revile Our mother. Nay, no mother, but the chief Of tyrants to us! For my life is full Of weariness and misery from thee And from thy paramour. While he abroad, Orestes, our one brother, who escaped Hardly from thy attempt, unhappy boy! Wears out his life, victim of cross mischance. Oft hast thou taunted me with fostering him To be thy punisher. And this, be sure, Had I but strength, I had done. Now for this word, Proclaim me what thou wilt,--evil in soul, Or loud in cursing, or devoid of shame: For if I am infected with such guilt, Methinks my nature is not fallen from thine.
 
4 - 81 CH.
(_looking at_ CLYTEMNESTRA). I see her fuming with fresh wrath: the thought Of justice enters not her bosom now.
 
4 - 82 CLY.
What thought of justice should be mine for her, Who at her age can so insult a mother? Will shame withhold her from the wildest deed?
 
4 - 83 EL.
Not unashamed, assure thee, I stand here, Little as thou mayest deem it. Well I feel My acts untimely and my words unmeet. But your hostility and treatment force me Against my disposition to this course. Harsh ways are taught by harshness.
 
4 - 84 CLY.
Brazen thing! Too true it is that words and deeds of mine Are evermore informing thy harsh tongue.
 
4 - 85 EL.
The shame is yours, because the deeds are yours. My words are but their issue and effect.
 
4 - 86 CLY.
By sovereign Artemis, whom still I serve, You'll rue this boldness when Aegisthus comes.
 
4 - 87 EL.
See now, your anger bears you off, and ne'er Will let you listen, though you gave me leave.
 
4 - 88 CLY.
Must I not even sacrifice in peace From your harsh clamour, when you've had your say?
 
4 - 89 EL.
I have done. I check thee not. Go, sacrifice! Accuse not me of hindering piety.
 
4 - 90 CLY.
(_to an attendant_). Then lift for me those fruitful offerings, While to Apollo, before whom we stand, I raise my supplication for release From doubts and fears that shake my bosom now. And, O defender of our house! attend My secret utterance. No friendly ear Is that which hearkens for my voice. My thought Must not be blazoned with her standing by, Lest through her envious and wide-babbling tongue She fill the city full of wild surmise. List, then, as I shall speak: and grant the dreams Whose two-fold apparition I to-night Have seen, if good their bodement, be fulfilled: If hostile, turn their influence on my foes. And yield not them their wish that would by guile Thrust me from this high fortune, but vouchsafe That ever thus exempt from harms I rule The Atridae's home and kingdom, in full life, Partaking with the friends I live with now All fair prosperity, and with my children, Save those who hate and vex me bitterly. Lykeian Phoebus, favourably hear My prayer, and grant to all of us our need! More is there, which, though I be silent here, A God should understand. No secret thing Is hidden from the all-seeing sons of Heaven. _Enter the_ Old Man.
 
4 - 91 OLD M.
Kind dames and damsels, may I clearly know If these be King Aegisthus' palace-halls?
 
4 - 92 CH.
They are, sir; you yourself have guessed aright.
 
4 - 93 OLD M.
May I guess further that in yonder dame I see his queen? She looks right royally.
 
4 - 94 CH.
'Tis she,--no other,--whom your eyes behold.
 
4 - 95 OLD M.
Princess, all hail! To thee and to thy spouse I come with words of gladness from a friend.
 
4 - 96 CLY.
That auspice I accept. But I would first Learn from thee who of men hath sent thee forth?
 
4 - 97 OLD M.
Phanoteus the Phocian, with a charge of weight.
 
4 - 98 CLY.
Declare it, stranger. Coming from a friend, Thou bring'st us friendly tidings, I feel sure.
 
4 - 99 OLD M.
Orestes' death. Ye have the sum in brief.
 
4 - 100 EL.
Ah me! undone! This day hath ruined me.
 
4 - 101 CLY.
What? Let me hear again. Regard her not.
 
4 - 102 OLD M.
Again I say it, Orestes is no more.
 
4 - 103 EL.
Undone! undone! Farewell to life and hope!
 
4 - 104 CLY.
(_to_ ELECTRA). See thou to thine own case! (_To_ Old Man) Now, stranger, tell me In true discourse the manner of his death.
 
4 - 105 OLD M.
For that I am here, and I will tell the whole. He, entering on the great arena famed As Hellas' pride, to win a Delphian prize, On hearing the loud summons of the man Calling the foot-race, which hath trial first, Came forward, a bright form, admired by all. And when his prowess in the course fulfilled The promise of his form, he issued forth Dowered with the splendid meed of victory.-- To tell a few out of the many feats Of such a hero were beyond my power. Know then, in brief, that of the prizes set For every customary course proclaimed By order of the judges, the whole sum Victoriously he gathered, happy deemed By all; declared an Argive, and his name Orestes, son of him who levied once The mighty armament of Greeks for Troy. So fared he then: but when a God inclines To hinder happiness, not even the strong Are scatheless. So, another day, when came At sunrise the swift race of charioteers, He entered there with many a rival car:-- One from Achaia, one from Sparta, two Libyan commanders of the chariot-yoke; And he among them fifth, with steeds of price From Thessaly;--the sixth Aetolia sent With chestnut mares; the seventh a Magnete man; The eighth with milk-white colts from Oeta's vale; The ninth from god-built Athens; and the tenth Boeotia gave to make the number full. Then stood they where the judges of the course Had posted them by lot, each with his team; And sprang forth at the brazen trumpet's blare. Shouting together to their steeds, they shook The reins, and all the course was filled with noise Of rattling chariots, and the dust arose To heaven. Now all in a confusèd throng Spared not the goad, each eager to outgo The crowded axles and the snorting steeds; For close about his nimbly circling wheels And stooping sides fell flakes of panted foam. Orestes, ever nearest at the turn, With whirling axle seemed to graze the stone, And loosing with free rein the right-hand steed That pulled the side-rope[5], held the near one in. So for a time all chariots upright moved, But soon the Oetaean's hard-mouthed horses broke From all control, and wheeling as they passed From the sixth circuit to begin the seventh, Smote front to front against the Barcan car. And when that one disaster had befallen, Each dashed against his neighbour and was thrown, Till the whole plain was strewn with chariot-wreck. Then the Athenian, skilled to ply the rein, Drew on one side, and heaving to, let pass The rider-crested surge that rolled i' the midst. Meanwhile Orestes, trusting to the end, Was driving hindmost with tight rein; but now, Seeing him left the sole competitor, Hurling fierce clamour through his steeds, pursued: So drave they yoke by yoke--now this, now that Pulling ahead with car and team. Orestes, Ill-fated one, each previous course had driven Safely without a check, but after this, In letting loose again the left-hand rein[6], He struck the edge of the stone before he knew, Shattering the axle's end, and tumbled prone, Caught in the reins[7], that dragged him with sharp thongs. Then as he fell to the earth the horses swerved, And roamed the field. The people when they saw Him fallen from out the car, lamented loud For the fair youth, who had achieved before them Such glorious feats, and now had found such woe,-- Dashed on the ground, then tossed with legs aloft Against the sky,--until the charioteers, Hardly restraining the impetuous team, Released him, covered so with blood that none,-- No friend who saw--had known his hapless form. Which then we duly burned upon the pyre. And straightway men appointed to the task From all the Phocians bear his mighty frame-- Poor ashes! narrowed in a brazen urn,-- That he may find in his own fatherland His share of sepulture.--Such our report, Painful to hear, but unto us, who saw, The mightiest horror that e'er met mine eye.
 
4 - 106 CH.
Alas! the stock of our old masters, then, Is utterly uprooted and destroyed.
 
4 - 107 CLY.
O heavens! what shall I say? That this is well? Or terrible, but gainful? Hard my lot, To save my life through my calamity!
 
4 - 108 OLD M.
Lady, why hath my speech disheartened thee?
 
4 - 109 CLY.
To be a mother hath a marvellous power: No injury can make one hate one's child.
 
4 - 110 OLD M.
Then it should seem our coming was in vain.
 
4 - 111 CLY.
In vain? Nay, verily; thou, that hast brought Clear evidences of his fate, who, sprung Prom my life's essence, severed from my breast And nurture, was estranged in banishment, And never saw me from the day he went Out from this land, but for his father's blood Threatened me still with accusation dire; That sleep nor soothed at night nor sweetly stole My senses from the day, but, all my time, Each instant led me on the way to death!-- But this day's chance hath freed me from all fear Of him, and of this maid: who being at home Troubled me more, and with unmeasured thirst Kept draining my life-blood; but now her threats Will leave us quiet days, methinks, and peace Unbroken.--How then shouldst thou come in vain?
 
4 - 112 EL.
O misery! 'Tis time to wail thy fate, Orestes, when, in thy calamity, Thy mother thus insults thee. Is it well?
 
4 - 113 CLY.
'Tis well that he is gone, not that you live.
 
4 - 114 EL.
Hear, 'venging spirits of the lately dead!
 
4 - 115 CLY.
The avenging spirits have heard and answered well.
 
4 - 116 EL.
Insult us now, for thou art fortunate!
 
4 - 117 CLY.
You and Orestes are to quench my pride.
 
4 - 118 EL.
Our pride is quenched. No hope of quenching thee!
 
4 - 119 CLY.
A world of good is in thy coming, stranger, Since thou hast silenced this all-clamorous tongue.
 
4 - 120 OLD M.
Then I may go my way, seeing all is well.
 
4 - 121 CLY.
Nay, go not yet! That would disgrace alike Me and the friend who sent you to our land. But come thou in, and leave her out of door To wail her own and loved ones' overthrow. [_Exeunt_ CLYTEMNESTRA _and_ Old Man
 
4 - 122 EL.
Think you the wretch in heartfelt agony Weeps inconsolably her perished son? She left us with a laugh! O misery! How thou hast ruined me, dear brother mine, By dying! Thou hast torn from out my heart The only hope I cherished yet, that thou Living wouldst come hereafter to avenge Thy father's woes and mine. Where must I go? Since I am left of thee and of my sire Bereaved and lonely, and once more must be The drudge and menial of my bitterest foes, My father's murderers. Say, is it well? Nay, nevermore will I consort with these, But sinking here before the palace gate, Thus, friendless, I will wither out my life. Hereat if any in the house be vexed, Let them destroy me; for to take my life Were kindness, and to live is only pain: Life hath not kindled my desires with joy.
 
4 - 123 CH.
1. O ever-blazing sun! I 1 O lightning of the eternal Sire! Can ye behold this done And tamely hide your all-avenging fire?
 
4 - 124 EL.
Ah me!
 
4 - 125 CH.
My daughter, why these tears?
 
4 - 126 EL.
Woe!
 
4 - 127 CH.
Weep not, calm thy fears.
 
4 - 128 EL.
You kill me.
 
4 - 129 CH.
How?
 
4 - 130 EL.
To breathe A hope for one beneath So clearly sunk in death, 'Tis to afflict me more Already pining sore.
 
4 - 131 CH.
One in a woman's toils I 2 Was tangled[8], buried by her glittering coils, Who now beneath--
 
4 - 132 EL.
Ah woe!
 
4 - 133 CH.
Rules with a spirit unimpaired and strong.
 
4 - 134 EL.
O dreadful!
 
4 - 135 CH.
Dreadful was the wrong.
 
4 - 136 EL.
But she was quelled.
 
4 - 137 CH.
Ay.
 
4 - 138 EL.
True! That faithful mourner knew A brother's aid. But I Have no man now. The one I had, is gone, is gone. Rapt into nothingness.
 
4 - 139 CH.
Thou art wrung with sore distress. II 1
 
4 - 140 EL.
I know it. Too well I know, Taught by a life of woe, Where horror dwells without relief.
 
4 - 141 CH.
Our eyes have seen thy grief.
 
4 - 142 EL.
Then comfort not again--
 
4 - 143 CH.
Whither now turns thy strain?
 
4 - 144 EL.
One utterly bereft, Seeing no hope is left, Of help from hands owning the same great sire.
 
4 - 145 CH.
'Tis nature's debt. II 2
 
4 - 146 EL.
To expire On sharp-cut dragging thongs, 'Midst wildly trampling throngs Of swiftly racing hoofs, like him, Poor hapless one?
 
4 - 147 CH.
Vast, dim, And boundless was the harm.
 
4 - 148 EL.
Yea, severed from mine arm, By strangers kept--
 
4 - 149 CH.
O pain!
 
4 - 150 EL.
Hidden he must remain, Of me unsepulchred, unmourned, unwept. _Enter_ CHRYSOTHEMIS.
 
4 - 151 CHR.
Driven by delight, dear sister, I am come, Reckless of dignity, with headlong speed. For news I bear of joy and sweet relief From ills that drew from thee thy ceaseless moan.
 
4 - 152 EL.
Whence couldst thou hear of succour for my woes, That close in darkness without hope of dawn?
 
4 - 153 CH.
Here is Orestes, learn it from my mouth, As certainly as you now look on me.
 
4 - 154 EL.
What? Art thou mad, unhappy one, to laugh Over thine own calamity and mine?
 
4 - 155 CH.
No, by our father's hearth, I say not this In mockery. I tell you he is come.
 
4 - 156 EL.
Me miserable! Who hath given thine ear The word that so hath wrought on thy belief?
 
4 - 157 CH.
Myself am the eyewitness, no one else Gained my belief, but proofs I clearly saw.
 
4 - 158 EL.
What sign hath so engrossed thine eye, poor girl? What sight hath fired thee with this quenchless glow?
 
4 - 159 CH.
But list to me, I pray thee, that henceforth Thou mayest account me clear eyed, or a fool!
 
4 - 160 EL.
By all means, if it pleasure thee, say on.
 
4 - 161 CH.
Well, I will tell thee all I saw:--I came Unto the ancient tomb that holds our sire; And from the topmost mound I marked a stream Of milk fresh-flowing, and his resting place Ringed round with garlands of all flowers that blow. I marvelled at the sight, and peered about, Lest some one might be nearer than we knew. But finding all was quiet in the spot, I ventured closer to the tomb, and there, Hard by the limit, I beheld a curl Of hair new shorn, with all the gloss of youth And straight it struck my heart, as with a sense Of something seen, ah me! long, long ago, And told me that my sight encountered here The token of Orestes, dearest soul Then, clasping it, I did not cry aloud, But straight mine eyes were filled with tears of joy. And now as much as then I feel assured He and none else bestowed this ornament. To whom beyond thyself and me belongs Such consecration? And I know this well, I did it not,--nor thou. Impossible! Thou canst not worship even the blessèd Gods Forth of this roof, unpunished. And, most sure, Our mother is not minded so to act, Nor, had she done it, could we fail to know. This offering comes then of Orestes' hand. Take courage, dear one. Not one fate pursues One house perpetually, but changeth still. Ours was a sullen Genius, but perchance This day begins the assurance of much good.
 
4 - 162 EL.
Oh how I pity thine infatuate mind!
 
4 - 163 CH.
Why? Dost thou find no comfort in my news?
 
4 - 164 EL.
You know not where you roam. Far wide! far wide!
 
4 - 165 CH.
Not know? when I have seen it with mine eyes?
 
4 - 166 EL.
Dear, he is dead. Look not to him, poor girl! Salvation comes to thee no more from him.
 
4 - 167 CH.
Oh me, unfortunate! Who told thee this?
 
4 - 168 EL.
He who stood by and saw his life destroyed.
 
4 - 169 CH.
Amazement seizes me. Where is that man?
 
4 - 170 EL.
Right welcome to the mother there within.
 
4 - 171 CH.
Me miserable! Who then can have decked With all those ceremonies our father's tomb?
 
4 - 172 EL.
I cannot but suppose some hand hath brought These gifts in memory of Orestes dead.
 
4 - 173 CH.
O cruel fate! While I in ecstasy Sped with such news, all ignorant, it seems, Of our dire fortune; and, arriving, find Fresh sorrows added to the former woe.
 
4 - 174 EL.
It is so, sister; yet if thou wilt list To me, thou mayest disperse this heaviness.
 
4 - 175 CH.
What? Shall I raise the dead again to life?
 
4 - 176 EL.
I did not mean so. I am not so fond.
 
4 - 177 CH.
What bid you then that I have power to do?
 
4 - 178 EL.
To endure courageously what I enjoin.
 
4 - 179 CH.
So it make profit, I will not refuse.
 
4 - 180 EL.
Remember, without toil no plan may thrive!
 
4 - 181 CH.
I know it, and will aid thee to my power.
 
4 - 182 EL.
Then hearken my resolve. Thou seëst now, We have no friendly succour in the world; But death has taken all, and we are left Two only. I, so long as I could hear My brother lived and flourished, still had hope He would arise to wreak his father's blood. But now that he is gone, to thee I turn, To help thy sister boldly to destroy The guilty author of our father's death, Aegisthus.--Wherefore hide it from thee now? --Yea, sister! Till what term wilt thou remain Inactive? To what end? What hope is yet Left standing? Surely thou hast cause to grieve, Bobbed of thy father's opulent heritage, And feeling bitterly the creeping years That find thee still a virgin and unwed. Nay, nor imagine thou shalt ever know That blessing. Not so careless of his life Is King Aegisthus, as to risk the birth Of sons from us, to his most certain fall. But if thou wilt but follow my resolve, First thou shalt win renown of piety From our dead father, and our brother too, Who rest beneath the ground, and shalt be free For evermore in station as in birth, And nobly matched in marriage, for the good Draw gazers to them still. Then seest thou not What meed of honour, if thou dost my will, Thou shalt apportion to thyself and me? For who, beholding us, what citizen, What foreigner, will not extend the hand Of admiration, and exclaim, 'See, friends, These scions of one stock, these noble twain, These that have saved their father's house from woe, Who once when foes were mighty, set their life Upon a cast, and stood forth to avenge The stain of blood! Who will not love the pair And do them reverence? Who will not give Honour at festivals, and in the throng Of popular resort, to these in chief, For their high courage and their bold emprise?' Such fame will follow us in all the world. Living or dying, still to be renowned. Ah, then, comply, dear sister; give thy sire This toil--this labour to thy brother give; End these my sufferings, end thine own regret: The well-born cannot bear to live in shame.
 
4 - 183 CH.
In such affairs, for those who speak and hear Wise thoughtfulness is still the best ally.
 
4 - 184 CHR.
True, noble women, and before she spake Sound thought should have prevented the rash talk That now hath proved her reckless. What wild aim Beckons thee forth in arming this design Whereto thou wouldst demand my ministry? Dost not perceive, thou art not man but woman, Of strength inferior to thine enemies,-- Their Genius daily prospering more and more, Whilst ours is dwindling into nothingness? Who then that plots against a life so strong Shall quit him of the danger without harm? Take heed we do not add to our distress Should some one hear of this our colloquy. Small help and poor advantage 'twere for us To win brief praise and then inglorious die. Nay, death is not so hateful as when one Desiring death is balked of that desire. And I beseech thee, ere in utter ruin We perish and make desolate our race, Refrain thy rage. And I will guard for thee In silence these thy words unrealized; If thou wilt learn this wisdom from long time, Having no strength, to bend before the strong.
 
4 - 185 CH.
Comply. Than prudence and a heedful mind, No fairer treasure can be found for men.
 
4 - 186 EL.
Thy words have not surprised me. Well I knew The good I offered would come back with scorn. I, all alone and with a single hand, Must do this. For it shall not rest undone.
 
4 - 187 CHR.
Would thou hadst been thus minded when our sire Lay dying! In one act thou hadst compassed all.
 
4 - 188 EL.
My spirit was the same: my mind was less.
 
4 - 189 CHR.
Be such the life-long temper of thy mind!
 
4 - 190 EL.
Thine admonition augurs little aid.
 
4 - 191 CHR.
Yea. For the attempt would bring me certain bane.
 
4 - 192 EL.
I envy thee thy prudence, hate thy fear.
 
4 - 193 CHR.
Even when thou speak'st me fair, I will endure it.
 
4 - 194 EL.
Take heart. That never will be thine from me.
 
4 - 195 CHR.
Long time remains to settle that account.
 
4 - 196 EL.
I find no profit in thee. Go thy way.
 
4 - 197 CHR.
Profit there is, hadst thou a mind to learn.
 
4 - 198 EL.
Go to thy mother and declare all this!
 
4 - 199 EL.
I am not so in hatred of thy life.
 
4 - 200 EL.
Yet know the shame thou wouldst prepare for me.
 
4 - 201 CHR.
No, no! Not shame, but care for thine estate.
 
4 - 202 EL.
Must I still follow as thou thinkest good?
 
4 - 203 CHR.
When thou hast wisdom, thou shalt be the guide.
 
4 - 204 EL.
'Tis hard when error wears the garb of sense.
 
4 - 205 CHR.
Right. That is the misfortune of your case.
 
4 - 206 EL.
Why? Feel you not the justice of my speech?
 
4 - 207 CHR.
Justice may chance to bring me injury.
 
4 - 208 EL.
I care not, I, to live by such a rule.
 
4 - 209 CHR.
Well, if you do it, you will find me wise.
 
4 - 210 EL.
Well, I will do it, nought dismayed by thee.
 
4 - 211 CHR.
Speak you plain sooth? and will you not be counselled?
 
4 - 212 EL.
No, for bad counsel is of all most hateful.
 
4 - 213 CHR.
You take the sense of nothing that I say.
 
4 - 214 EL.
Long since, not newly, my resolve is firm.
 
4 - 215 CHR.
Then I will go. Thy heart will ne'er be brought To praise my words, nor I thine action here.
 
4 - 216 EL.
Then go within! I will not follow thee, Though thou desire it vehemently. None Would be so fond to hunt on a cold trail.
 
4 - 217 CHR.
If this seem wisdom to thee, then be wise Thy way: but in the hour of misery, When it hath caught thee, thou wilt praise my words. [_Exit_ CHRYSOTHEMIS
 
4 - 218 CHR.
Wise are the birds of air I 1 That with true filial care For those provide convenient food Who gave them birth, who wrought their good. Why will not men the like perfection prove? Else, by the fires above, And heavenly Rectitude, Fierce recompense they shall not long elude. O darkling rumour, world-o'er-wandering voice That piercest to the shades beneath the ground, To dead Atrides waft a sound Of sad reproach, not bidding him rejoice. Stained is the ancestral hall, I 2 Broken the battle-call, That heretofore his children twain In loving concord did sustain. Alone, deserted, vexed, Electra sails, Storm-tossed with rugged gales, Lamenting evermore Like piteous Philomel, and pining sore For her lost father;--might she but bring down That two-fold Fury, caring not for death, But ready to resign her breath, What maid so worthy of a sire's renown? None who inherit from a noble race, II 1 Complying with things base Will let their ancient glory be defiled. So 'twas thy choice, dear child, Through homeless misery[9] to win a two-fold prize, Purging the sin and shame[10] That cloud the Argive name, So to be called most noble and most wise. May'st thou surpass thy foes in wealth and power II 2 As o'er thee now they tower! Since I have found thee, not in bright estate, Nor blessed by wayward fate, But through thy loyalty to Heaven's eternal cause Wearing the stainless crown Of perfectest renown, And richly dowered by the mightiest laws. _Enter_ ORESTES _and_ PYLADES, _with the urn_.
 
4 - 219 OR.
Say, dames and damsels, have we heard aright, And speed we to the goal of our desire? CH. And what desire or quest hath brought thee hither? OR. I seek Aegisthus' dwelling all this while. CH. Welcome. The tongue that told thee hath no blame. OR. Which of you all will signify within Our joint arrival,--not unwelcome here. CH. This maiden, if the nearest should report. OR. Mistress, wilt thou go yonder and make known, That certain Phocians on Aegisthus wait? EL. Oh! can it be that you are come to bring Clear proofs of the sad rumour we have heard? OR. I know not what ye have heard. Old Strophius Charged me with tidings of Orestes' fate. EL. What, stranger? How this terror steals on me! OR. Bearing scant remnants of his body dead In this small vase thou seest, we bring them home. EL. O sorrow! thou art here: I see full well That burden of my heart in present view. OR. If thou hast tears for aught Orestes suffered, Know that he lies within this vessel's room. EL. Ah, sir! by all in Heaven, if yonder urn Hide him, ah! give it once into my hand, That o'er that dust I may lament and mourn Myself and mine own house and all our woe! OR. Bring it and give her, whosoe'er she be. For not an enemy--this petition shows it-- But of his friends or kindred, is this maid. [_The urn is given into_ ELECTRA'S _hands_
 
4 - 220 EL.
O monument of him whom o'er all else I loved! sole relic of Orestes' life, How cold in this thy welcome is the hope Wherein I decked thee as I sent thee forth! Then bright was thy departure, whom I now Bear lightly, a mere nothing, in my hands. Would I had gone from life, ere I dispatched Thee from my arms that saved thee to a land Of strangers, stealing thee from death! For then Thou hadst been quiet on that far off day, And had thy portion in our father's tomb Now thou hast perished in the stranger land Far from thy sister, lorn and comfortless And I, O wretchedness! neither have bathed And laid thee forth, nor from the blazing fire Collected the sad burden, as was meet But thou, when foreign hands have tended thee Com'st a small handful in a narrow shell Woe for the constant care I spent on thee Of old all vainly, with sweet toil! For never Wast thou thy mother's darling, nay, but mine, And I of all the household most thy nurse, While 'sister, sister,' was thy voice to me But now all this is vanished in one day, Dying in thy death. Thou hast carried all away As with a whirlwind, and art gone. No more My father lives, thyself art lost in death, I am dead, who lived in thee. Our enemies Laugh loudly, and she maddens in her joy, Our mother most unmotherly, of whom Thy secret missives ofttimes told me, thou Wouldst be the punisher. But that fair hope The hapless Genius of thy lot and mine Hath reft away, and gives thee thus to me,-- For thy loved form thy dust and fruitless shade O bitterness! O piteous sight! Woe! woe! Oh! sent on thy dire journey, dearest one, How thou hast ruined me! Thou hast indeed, Dear brother! Then receive me to thyself, Hide me in this thy covering, there to dwell, Me who am nothing, with thy nothingness, For ever! Yea, when thou wert here above, I ever shared with thee in all, and now I would not have thee shut me from thy tomb. Oh! let me die and follow thee! the dead, My mind assures me now, have no more pain.
 
4 - 221 CH.
Electra, think! Thou hadst a mortal sire, And mortal was thy brother. Grieve not far.
 
4 - 222 OR.
O me! What shall I speak, or which way turn The desperate word? I cannot hold my tongue.
 
4 - 223 EL.
What pain o'ercomes thee? Wherefore speak'st thou so?
 
4 - 224 OR.
Can this be famed Electra I behold?
 
4 - 225 EL.
No other. In sad case, as you may see
 
4 - 226 OR.
Ah! deep indeed was this calamity!
 
4 - 227 EL.
Is't possible that thou shouldst grieve for me?
 
4 - 228 OR.
O ruined form! abandoned to disgrace!
 
4 - 229 EL.
'Tis me you mean, stranger, I feel it now.
 
4 - 230 OR.
Woe 's me! Untrimmed for bridal, hapless maid!
 
4 - 231 EL.
Why this fixed gaze, O stranger! that deep groan?
 
4 - 232 OR.
How all unknowing was I of mine ill!
 
4 - 233 EL.
What thing hath passed to make it known to thee?
 
4 - 234 OR.
The sight of thee attired with boundless woe.
 
4 - 235 EL.
And yet thine eye sees little of my pain.
 
4 - 236 OR.
Can aught be still more hateful to be seen?
 
4 - 237 EL.
I have my dwelling with the murderers--
 
4 - 238 OR.
Of whom? What evil would thy words disclose?
 
4 - 239 EL.
Of him who gave me birth. I am their slave.
 
4 - 240 OR.
Whose power compels thee to this sufferance?
 
4 - 241 EL.
One called my mother, most unmotherly.
 
4 - 242 OR.
How? by main force, or by degrading shames?
 
4 - 243 EL.
By force and shames, and every kind of evil.
 
4 - 244 OR.
And is there none to succour or prevent?
 
4 - 245 EL.
None. Him I had, you give me here in dust.
 
4 - 246 OR.
How mine eye pities thee this while, poor maid!
 
4 - 247 EL.
Know now, none ever pitied me but you.
 
4 - 248 OR.
None ever came whose heart like sorrow wrung.
 
4 - 249 EL.
Is't possible we have some kinsman here?
 
4 - 250 OR.
I will tell it, if these women here be friendly.
 
4 - 251 EL.
They are. They may be trusted. Only speak.
 
4 - 252 OR.
Let go yon vase, that thou may'st learn the whole.
 
4 - 253 EL.
Nay, by the Gods! be not so cruel, sir!
 
4 - 254 OR.
Obey me and thou shalt not come to harm.
 
4 - 255 EL.
Ah, never rob me of what most I love!
 
4 - 256 OR.
You must not hold it.
 
4 - 257 EL.
O me miserable For thee, Orestes, if I lose thy tomb!
 
4 - 258 OR.
Speak no rash word. Thou hast no right to mourn.
 
4 - 259 EL.
No right to mourn my brother who is gone?
 
4 - 260 OR.
Such utterance belongs not to thy tongue,
 
4 - 261 EL.
Oh, am I thus dishonoured of the dead?
 
4 - 262 OR.
Far from dishonour. But this ne'er was thine.
 
4 - 263 EL.
Is't not Orestes' body that I bear?
 
4 - 264 OR.
Nay, but the idle dressing of a tale.
 
4 - 265 EL.
And where is his poor body's resting-place?
 
4 - 266 OR.
Nowhere. Seek not the living with the dead,
 
4 - 267 EL.
My son, what saidst thou?
 
4 - 268 OR.
Nought but what is true.
 
4 - 269 EL.
Doth he yet live?
 
4 - 270 OR.
If I have life in me.
 
4 - 271 EL.
Art thou Orestes?
 
4 - 272 OR.
Let my signet here, That was our father's, tell thine eyes, I am.
 
4 - 273 EL.
O day of days!
 
4 - 274 OR.
Time hath no happier hour.
 
4 - 275 EL.
Is it thy voice?
 
4 - 276 OR.
Hearken not otherwhere.
 
4 - 277 EL.
Have my arms caught thee?
 
4 - 278 OR.
Hold me so for aye!
 
4 - 279 EL.
O dearest women, Argives of my home! Ye see Orestes, dead in craft, but now By that same craft delivered and preserved.
 
4 - 280 CH.
We see, dear daughter, and the gladsome tear Steals from our eye to greet the bright event.
 
4 - 281 EL.
Offspring of him I loved beyond all telling! I 1 Ah! thou art come,--hast found me, eye to eye Behold'st the face thou didst desire to see.
 
4 - 282 OR.
True, I am here; but bide in silence still.
 
4 - 283 EL.
Wherefore?
 
4 - 284 OR.
Hush! speak not loud, lest one within should hearken.
 
4 - 285 EL.
By ever-virgin Artemis, ne'er will I Think worthy of my fear This useless mass of woman-cowardice Burdening the house within, Not peering out of door.
 
4 - 286 OR.
Yet know that women too have might in war. Of that methinks thou hast feeling evidence.
 
4 - 287 EL.
Ah me! thou hast unveiled And thrust before my gaze That burning load of my distress No time will soothe, no remedy will heal.
 
4 - 288 OR.
I know that too. But when we are face to face With the evildoers,--then let remembrance work.
 
4 - 289 EL.
All times alike are fit with instant pain I 2 Justly to mind me of that dreadful day; Even now but hardly hath my tongue been free.
 
4 - 290 OR.
Yes, that is it. Therefore preserve this boon.
 
4 - 291 EL.
Whereby?
 
4 - 292 OR.
Put limits to unseasonable talk.
 
4 - 293 EL.
Ah! brother, who, when thou art come, Could find it meet to exchange Language for silence, as thou bidst me do? Since beyond hope or thought Was this thy sight to me.
 
4 - 294 OR.
God gave me to your sight when so he willed.
 
4 - 295 EL.
O heaven of grace beyond The joy I knew but now! If God hath brought thee to our roof, A miracle of bounty then is here.
 
4 - 296 OR.
I hate to curb the gladness of thy spirit, But yet I fear this ecstasy of joy.
 
4 - 297 EL.
Oh! after all these years, II Now thou at length hast sped Thy dearest advent on the wished-for way, Do not, in all this woe Thou seest surrounding me--
 
4 - 298 OR.
What means this prayer?
 
4 - 299 EL.
Forbid me not my joy, Nor make me lose the brightness of thy face!
 
4 - 300 OR.
Deep were my wrath at him who should attempt it.
 
4 - 301 EL.
Is my prayer heard?
 
4 - 302 OR.
Why doubt it?
 
4 - 303 EL.
Friends, I learned A tale beyond my thought; and hearing I restrained My passion, voiceless in my misery, Uttering no cry. But now I have thee safe; now, dearest, thou art come, With thy blest countenance, which I Can ne'er forget, even at the worst of woe.
 
4 - 304 OR.
A truce now to unnecessary words. My mother's vileness and Aegisthus' waste, Draining and squandering with spendthrift hand Our patrimony, tell me not anew. Such talk might stifle opportunity. But teach me, as befits the present need, What place may serve by lurking vigilance Or sudden apparition to o'erwhelm Our foes in the adventure of to-day. And, when we pass within, take heedful care Bright looks betray thee not unto our mother. But groan as for the dire calamity Vainly reported:--Let's achieve success, Then with free hearts we may rejoice and laugh.
 
4 - 305 EL.
Dear brother, wheresoe'er thy pleasure leads, My will shall follow, since the joys I know, Not from myself I took them, but from thee. And ne'er would I consent thy slightest grief Should win for me great gain. Ill should I then Serve the divinity of this high hour! Thou knowest how matters in the palace stand. Thou hast surely heard, Aegisthus is from home, And she, our mother, is within. Nor fear She should behold me with a smiling face. Mine ancient hate of her hath sunk too deep. And from the time I saw thee, tears of joy Will cease not. Wherefore should I stint their flow? I, who in this thy coming have beheld Thee dead and living? Strangely hast thou wrought On me;--that should my father come alive, I would not think the sight were miracle, But sober truth. Since such thy presence, then, Lead as thy spirit prompts. For I alone Of two things surely had achieved one, Noble deliverance or a noble death.
 
4 - 306 OR.
Be silent; for I hear within the house A footstep coming forth.
 
4 - 307 EL.
(_loudly_). Strangers, go in! For none within the palace will reject Your burden, nor be gladdened by the event. _Enter the_ Old Man.
 
4 - 308 OLD M.
O lost in folly and bereft of soul! Is't that your care for life hath ebbed away, Or were you born without intelligence, When fallen, not near, but in the midst of ill, And that the greatest, ye perceive it not? Had I not watched the doors this while, your deeds Had gone within the palace ere yourselves. But, as things are, my care hath fenced you round. Now, then, have done with long-protracted talk, And this insatiable outburst of joy, And enter, for in such attempts as these Delay is harmful: and 'tis more than time.
 
4 - 309 OR.
But how shall I find matters there within?
 
4 - 310 OLD M.
Well. You are shielded by their ignorance.
 
4 - 311 OR.
That means you have delivered me as dead.
 
4 - 312 OLD M.
Alone of dead men thou art here above.
 
4 - 313 OR.
Doth this delight them, or how went the talk?
 
4 - 314 OLD M.
I will report, when all is done. Meanwhile, Know, all is well with them, even what is evil.
 
4 - 315 EL.
Who is this, brother? I beseech thee, tell.
 
4 - 316 OR.
Dost not perceive?
 
4 - 317 EL.
I cannot even imagine.
 
4 - 318 OR.
Know'st not into whose hands thou gav'st me once?
 
4 - 319 EL.
Whose hands? How say you?
 
4 - 320 OR.
His, who through thy care Conveyed me secretly to Phocis' plain.
 
4 - 321 EL.
What! is this he, whom I, of all the band, Found singly faithful in our father's death?
 
4 - 322 OR.
He is that man. No more!
 
4 - 323 EL.
O gladsome day! Dear only saviour of our father's house, How earnest thou hither? Art thou he indeed, That didst preserve Orestes and myself From many sorrows? O dear hands, kind feet, Swift in our service,--how couldst thou so long Be near, nor show one gleam, but didst destroy My heart with words, hiding the loveliest deeds? Father!--in thee methinks I see my father. O welcome! thou of all the world to me Most hated and most loved in one short hour.
 
4 - 324 OLD M.
Enough, dear maiden! Many nights and days Are circling hitherward, that shall reveal In clear recountment all that came between. But to you two that stand beside I tell, Now is your moment, with the Queen alone, And none of men within; but if you pause, Know that with others of profounder skill You'll have to strive, more than your present foes.
 
4 - 325 OR.
Then, Pylades, we need no more to dwell On words, but enter on this act with speed, First worshipping the holy shrines o' the Gods That were my father's, harboured at the gate. [_They pass within_. ELECTRA _remains in an attitude of prayer_
 
4 - 326 EL.
O King Apollo! hear them graciously, And hear me too, that with incessant hand Honoured thee richly from my former store! And now, fierce slayer, I importune thee, And woo thee with such gifts as I can give, Be kindly aidant to this enterprise, And make the world take note, what meed of bane Heaven still bestows on man's iniquity. [ELECTRA _goes within_
 
4 - 327 CH.
Lo, where the War-god moves 1 With soft, sure footstep, on to his design, Breathing hot slaughter of an evil feud! Even now the inevitable hounds that track Dark deeds of hideous crime Are gone beneath the covert of the domes. Not long in wavering suspense shall hang The dreaming presage of my wistful soul. For lo! within is led 2 With crafty tread the avenger of the shades, Even to his father's throne of ancient power, And in his hand the bright new-sharpened death! And Hermes, Maia's son, Is leading him, and hath concealed the guile Even to the fatal end in clouds of night. His time of weary waiting all is o'er. _Re-enter_ ELECTRA.
 
4 - 328 EL.
O dearest women! they are even now About it. Only bide in silence still.
 
4 - 329 CH.
What is the present scene?
 
4 - 330 EL.
She decks the vase For burial, and they both are standing by.
 
4 - 331 CH.
And wherefore hast thou darted forth?
 
4 - 332 EL.
To watch Aegisthus' coming, that he enter not At unawares.
 
4 - 333 CLY.
(_within_). Ah! ah! Woe for the house, Desert of friends, and filled with hands of death!
 
4 - 334 EL.
A cry within! Did ye not hear it, friends?
 
4 - 335 CH.
Would I had not! I heard, and shivered through.
 
4 - 336 CLY.
(_within_). Oh me! Alas, Aegisthus! where art thou?
 
4 - 337 EL.
Hark! yet again that sound!
 
4 - 338 CLY.
(_within_). O son, have pity! Pity the womb that bare thee.
 
4 - 339 EL.
Thou hadst none For him, nor for his father, in that day.
 
4 - 340 HALF-CH.
Poor city! hapless race! 1 Thy destiny to-day Wears thee away, away. What morn shall see thy face?
 
4 - 341 CLY.
(_within_). Oh, I am smitten!
 
4 - 342 EL.
Give a second stroke, If thou hast power.
 
4 - 343 CLY.
(_within_). Oh me! again, again!
 
4 - 344 EL.
Would thou wert shrieking for Aegisthus too!
 
4 - 345 CH.
The curse hath found, and they in earth who lie Are living powers to-day. Long dead, they drain away The streaming blood of those who made them die. _Enter_ ORESTES _and_ PYLADES. Behold, they come, they come! His red hand dripping as he moves With drops of sacrifice the War-god loves. My 'wildered heart is dumb.
 
4 - 346 EL.
How is it with you, brother?
 
4 - 347 OR.
If Apollo Spake rightfully, the state within is well.
 
4 - 348 EL.
Wretched one, is she dead?
 
4 - 349 OR.
No more have fear Thou shalt be slighted by thy mother's will.
 
4 - 350 CH.
Cease, for I see Aegisthus near in view.
 
4 - 351 EL.
In, in again, boys!
 
4 - 352 OR.
Where do ye behold The tyrant?
 
4 - 353 EL.
To our hand from yonder gate He comes with beaming look.
 
4 - 354 HALF-CH.
Haste, with what speed ye may, 2 Stand on the doorway stone, That, having thus much done, Ye may do all to-day.
 
4 - 355 OR.
Fear not: we will perform it.
 
4 - 356 EL.
Speed ye now: Follow your thought.
 
4 - 357 OR.
We are already there.
 
4 - 358 EL.
Leave matters here to me. All shall go well. [_Exit_ ORESTES _with_ PYLADES
 
4 - 359 CH.
Few words, as if in gentleness, 'twere good To utter in his ear, That, eager and unware, One step may launch him on the field of blood. _Enter_ AEGISTHUS.
 
4 - 360 AEGISTHUS.
Which of you know where are the Phocian men Who brought the news I hear, Orestes' life Hath suffered shipwreck in a chariot-race? You, you I question, you in former time So fearless! You methinks most feelingly Can tell us, for it touches you most near.
 
4 - 361 EL.
I know: assure thee. Else had I not heard The dearest of all fortunes to my heart.
 
4 - 362 AEG.
Where are the strangers then? Enlighten me.
 
4 - 363 EL.
Yonder. Their hostess entertained them well.
 
4 - 364 AEG.
And did they certainly report him dead?
 
4 - 365 EL.
Not only so. They showed him to our sight.
 
4 - 366 AEG.
May this clear evidence be mine to see?
 
4 - 367 EL.
I envy not the sight that waits you there.
 
4 - 368 AEG.
Against their wont thy words have given me joy.
 
4 - 369 EL.
Much joy be thine, if this be joy to thee!
 
4 - 370 AEG.
Silence, I say! Wide let the gates be flung! For all the Myceneans to behold And all in Argolis, that if but one Hath heretofore been buoyed on empty hopes Fixed in Orestes, seeing him now dead, He may accept my manage, and not wait For our stern chastisement to teach him sense.
 
4 - 371 EL.
My lesson is already learnt: at length I am schooled to labour with the stronger will. [_The body of_ CLYTEMNESTRA _is disclosed under a veil:_ ORESTES _standing by_
 
4 - 372 AEG.
Zeus! Divine envy surely hath laid low The form I here behold. But if the truth Provoke Heaven's wrath, be it unexpressed.--Unveil! Off with all hindrance, that mine eye may see, And I may mourn my kinsman as I should.
 
4 - 373 OR.
Thyself put forth thy hand. Not mine but thine To look and speak with kindness to this corse.
 
4 - 374 AEG.
I will, for thou advisest well; but thou, Call Clytemnestra, if she be within. [AEGISTHUS _lifts the shroud_
 
4 - 375 OR.
She is beside thee, gaze not otherwhere.
 
4 - 376 AEG.
What do I see! oh!
 
4 - 377 OR.
Why so strange? Whom fear you?
 
4 - 378 AEG.
Who are the men into whose midmost toils All hapless I am fallen?
 
4 - 379 OR.
Ha! knowest thou not Thou hast been taking living men for dead?[11]
 
4 - 380 AEG.
I understand that saying. Woe is me! I know, Orestes' voice addresseth me.
 
4 - 381 OR.
A prophet! How wert thou so long deceived?
 
4 - 382 AEG.
Undone, undone! Yet let me speak one word.
 
4 - 383 EL.
Brother, by Heaven, no more! Let him not speak. When death is certain, what do men in woe Gain from a little time? Kill him at once! And, killed, expose him to such burial From dogs and vultures, as beseemeth such, Far from our view. Nought less will solace me For the remembrance of a life of pain.
 
4 - 384 OR.
Go in and tarry not. No contest this Of verbal question, but of life or death.
 
4 - 385 AEG.
Why drive you me within? If this you do Be noble, why must darkness hide the deed? Why not destroy me out of hand?
 
4 - 386 OR.
Command not! Enter, and in the place where ye cut down My father, thou shalt yield thy life to me.
 
4 - 387 AEG.
Is there no help but this abode must see The past and future ills of Pelops' race?
 
4 - 388 OR.
Thine anyhow. That I can prophesy With perfect inspiration to thine ear.
 
4 - 389 AEG.
The skill you boast belonged not to your sire.
 
4 - 390 OR.
You question and delay. Go in!
 
4 - 391 AEG.
Lead on.
 
4 - 392 OR.
Nay, go thou first.
 
4 - 393 AEG.
That I may not escape thee?
 
4 - 394 OR.
No, that thou may'st not have thy wish in death. I may not stint one drop of bitterness. And would this doom were given without reprieve, If any try to act beyond the law, To kill them. Then the wicked would be few.
 
4 - 395 LEADER OF CH.
O seed of Atreus! how triumphantly Through grief and hardness thou hast freedom found, With full achievement in this onset crowned!
 
5 Trachinian Maidens.
5 - 0 Characters.
DÊANIRA: wife of Heracles. An Attendant. HYLLUS: son of Heracles and Dêanira. CHORUS: of Trachinian Maidens. A Messenger. LICHAS: the Herald. A Nurse. An Old Man. HERACLES. IOLE: who does not speak. SCENE. Before the temporary abode of Heracles in Trachis. This tragedy is named from the Chorus. From the subject it might have been called 'Deanira or the Death of Heracles'. The Centaur Nessus, in dying by the arrow of Heracles, which had been dipped in the venom of the Hydra, persuaded the bride Deanira, whose beauty was the cause of his death, to keep some of the blood from the wound as a love-charm for her husband. Many years afterwards, when Heracles was returning from his last exploit of sacking Oechalia, in Euboea, he sent before him, by his herald Lichas, Iole, the king's daughter, whom he had espoused. Deanira, when she had discovered this, commissioned Lichas when he returned to present his master with a robe, which she had anointed with the charm,--hoping by this means to regain her lord's affection. But the poison of the Hydra did its work, and Heracles died in agony, Deanira having already killed herself on ascertaining what she had done. The action takes place in Trachis, near the Mahae Gulf, where Heracles and Deanira, by permission of Ceyx, the king of the country, have been living in exile. At the close of the drama, Heracles, while yet alive, is carried towards his pyre on Mount Oeta.
 
5 - 1 DÊANIRA.
Men say,--'twas old experience gave the word, --'No lot of mortal, ere he die, can once Be known for good or evil.' But I know, Before I come to the dark dwelling-place, Mine is a lot, adverse and hard and sore. Who yet at Pleuron, in my father's home, Of all Aetolian women had most cause To fear my bridal. For a river-god, Swift Achelôüs, was my suitor there And sought me from my father in three forms; Now in his own bull-likeness, now a serpent Of coiling sheen, and now with manlike build But bovine front, while from the shadowy beard Sprang fountain-waters in perpetual spray. Looking for such a husband, I, poor girl! Still prayed that Death might find me, ere I knew That nuptial.--Later, to my glad relief, Zeus' and Alcmena's glorious offspring came, And closed with him in conflict, and released My heart from torment. How the fight was won I could not tell. If any were who saw Unshaken of dread foreboding, such may speak. But I sate quailing with an anguished fear, Lest beauty might procure me nought but pain, Till He that rules the issue of all strife, Gave fortunate end--if fortunate! For since, Assigned by that day's conquest, I have known The couch of Heracles, my life is spent In one continual terror for his fate. Night brings him, and, ere morning, some fresh toil Drives him afar. And I have borne him seed; Which he, like some strange husbandman that farms A distant field, finds but at sowing time And once in harvest. Such a weary life Still tossed him to and fro,--no sooner home But forth again, serving I know not whom. And when his glorious head had risen beyond These labours, came the strongest of my fear. For since he quelled the might of Iphitus, We here in Trachis dwell, far from our home, Dependent on a stranger, but where he Is gone, none knoweth. Only this I know, His going pierced my heart with pangs for him, And now I am all but sure he bears some woe. These fifteen months he hath sent me not one word. And I have cause for fear. Ere he set forth He left a scroll with me, whose dark intent I oft pray Heaven may bring no sorrow down.
 
5 - 2 ATTENDANT.
Queen Dêanira, many a time ere now Have I beheld thee with all tearful moan Bewailing the departure of thy lord. But, if it be permitted that a slave Should tender counsel to the free, my voice May venture this:--Of thy strong band of sons Why is not one commissioned to explore For Heracles? and why not Hyllus first, Whom most it would beseem to show regard For tidings of his father's happiness? Ah! here I see him bounding home, with feet Apt for employment! If you count me wise, He and my words attend upon your will. _Enter_ HYLLUS.
 
5 - 3 Deanira.
Dear child, dear boy! even from the lowliest head Wise counsel may come forth. This woman here, Though a bond-maiden, hath a free-born tongue.
 
5 - 4 Hyllus.
What word is spoken, mother? May I know?
 
5 - 5 Deanira.
That, with thy father lost to us so long, 'Tis shame thou dost not learn his dwelling-place.
 
5 - 6 Hyllus.
Yea, I have learnt, if one may trust report.
 
5 - 7 Deanira.
Where art thou told his seat is fixed, my son?
 
5 - 8 Hyllus.
'Tis said that through the length of this past year He wrought as bondman to a Lydian girl.
 
5 - 9 Deanira.
Hath he borne that? Then nothing can be strange!
 
5 - 10 Hyllus.
Well, that is over, I am told. He is free.
 
5 - 11 Deanira.
Where is he rumoured, then, alive or dead?
 
5 - 12 Hyllus.
In rich Euboea, besieging, as they tell, The town of Eurytus, or offering siege.
 
5 - 13 Deanira.
Child, hast thou heard what holy oracles He left with me, touching that very land?
 
5 - 14 Hyllus.
What were they, mother, for I never knew?
 
5 - 15 Deanira.
That either he must end his being there, Or, this one feat performed, his following time Should grace his life with fair prosperity. Wilt thou not then, my child, when he is held In such a crisis of uncertain peril, Run to his aid?--since we must perish with him, Or owe our lasting safety to his life.
 
5 - 16 Hyllus.
I will go, motHeracles. Had I heard this voice Of prophecy, long since I had been there. Fear is unwonted for our father's lot. But now I know, my strength shall all be spent To learn the course of these affairs in full.
 
5 - 17 Deanira.
Go then, my son. Though late, to learn and do What wisdom bids, hath certainty of gain. [_Exit_ HYLLUS. DÊANIRA _withdraws_
 
5 - 18 Chorus.
(_entering and turning towards the East_). Born of the starry night in her undoing, I 1 Lulled in her bosom at thy parting glow, O Sun! I bid thee show, What journey is Alcmena's child pursuing? What region holds him now, 'Mong winding channels of the deep, Or Asian plains, or rugged Western steep? Declare it, thou Peerless in vision of thy flashing ray That lightens on the world with each new day. Sad Dêanira, bride of battle-wooing[1], I 2 Ne'er lets her tearful eyelids close in rest, But in love-longing breast, Like some lorn bird its desolation rueing, Of her great husband's way Still mindful, worn with harrowing fear Lest some new danger for him should be near, By night and day Pines on her widowed couch of ceaseless thought, With dread of evil destiny distraught: [_Enter_ DÊANIRA. For many as are billows of the South II 1 Blowing unweariedly, or Northern gale, One going and another coming on Incessantly, baffling the gazer's eye, Such Cretan ocean of unending toil Cradles our Cadmus-born, and swells his fame. But still some power doth his foot recall From stumbling down to Hades' darkling hall. Wherefore, in censure of thy mood, I bring II 2 Glad, though opposing, counsel. Let not hope Grow weary. Never hath a painless life Been cast on mortals by the power supreme Of the All-disposer, Cronos' son. But joy And sorrow visit in perpetual round All mortals, even as circleth still on high The constellation of the Northern sky. What lasteth in the world? Not starry night, III Nor wealth, nor tribulation; but is gone All suddenly, while to another soul The joy or the privation passeth on. These hopes I bid thee also, O my Queen! Hold fast continually, for who hath seen Zeus so forgetful of his own? How can his providence forsake his son?
 
5 - 19 Deanira.
I see you have been told of my distress, And that hath brought you. But my inward woe, Be it evermore unknown to you, as now! Such the fair garden of untrammeled ease Where the young life grows safely. No fierce heat, No rain, no wind disturbs it, but unharmed It rises amid airs of peace and joy, Till maiden turn to matron, and the night Inherit her dark share of anxious thought, Haunted with fears for husband or for child. Then, imaged through her own calamity, Some one may guess the burden of my life. Full many have been the sorrows I have wept, But one above the rest I tell to-day. When my great husband parted last from home, He left within the house an ancient scroll Inscribed with characters of mystic note, Which Heracles had never heretofore, In former labours, cared to let me see,-- As bound for bright achievement, not for death. But now, as though his life had end, he told What marriage-portion I must keep, what shares He left his sons out of their father's ground: And set a time, when fifteen moons were spent, Counted from his departure, that even then Or he must die, or if that date were out And he had run beyond it, he should live Thenceforth a painless and untroubled life. Such by Heaven's fiat was the promised end Of Heracles' long labours, as he said; So once the ancient oak-tree had proclaimed In high Dodona through the sacred Doves. Of which prediction on this present hour In destined order of accomplishment The veritable issue doth depend. And I, dear friends, while taking rest, will oft Start from sweet slumbers with a sudden fear, Scared by the thought, my life may be bereft Of the best husband in the world of men.
 
5 - 20 Chorus.
Hush! For I see approaching one in haste, Garlanded, as if laden with good news.
 
5 - 21 Messenger.
_Enter_ Messenger. MESSENGER. Queen Dêanira, mine shall be the tongue To free thee first from fear. Alcmena's child Is living, be assured, and triumphing, And bringing to our Gods the fruits of war.
 
5 - 22 Deanira.
What mean'st thou, aged sir, by what thou sayest?
 
5 - 23 Messenger.
That soon thy husband, envied all around, Will come, distinguished with victorious might.
 
5 - 24 Deanira.
What citizen or stranger told thee this?
 
5 - 25 Messenger.
Your herald Lichas, where the oxen graze The summer meadow, cries this to a crowd. I, hearing, flew off hither, that being first To bring thee word thereof, I might be sure To win reward and gratitude from thee.
 
5 - 26 Deanira.
And how is he not here, if all be well?
 
5 - 27 Messenger.
Crossed by no light impediment, my Queen. For all the Maliac people, gathering round, Throng him with question, that he cannot move. But he must still the travail of each soul, And none will be dismissed unsatisfied. Such willing audience he unwillingly Harangues, but soon himself will come in sight.
 
5 - 28 Deanira.
O Zeus! who rulest Oeta's virgin wold, At last, though late, thou hast vouchsafed us joy. Lift up your voices, O my women! ye Within the halls, and ye beyond the gate! For now we reap the gladness of a ray, That dawns unhoped for in this rumour's sound.
 
5 - 29 CHORUS
With a shout by the hearth let the palace roof ring From those that are dreaming of bridal, and ye, Young men, let your voices in harmony sing To the God of the quiver, the Lord of the free! And the Paean withal from the maiden band To Artemis, huntress of many a land, Let it rise o'er the glad roof tree, To Phoebus' own sister, with fire in each hand, And the Nymphs that her co-mates be! My spirit soars. O sovereign of my soul! I will accept the thrilling flute's control. [_They dance_ The ivy-crownèd thyrsus, see! With Bacchic fire is kindling me, And turns my emulous tread Where'er the mazy dance may lead. Euoî! Euoî! O Paean! send us joy. See, dearest Queen, behold! Before thy gaze the event will now unfold.
 
5 - 30 Deanira.
Think not mine eye hath kept such careless guard, Dear maids, that I could miss this moving train. Herald, I bid thee hail, although so late Appearing, if thou bringest health with thee! _Enter_ LICHAS, _with_ Captive Women.
 
5 - 31 LICHAS.
A happy welcome on a happy way, As prosperous our achievement. Meet it is Good words should greet bright actions, mistress mine!
 
5 - 32 Deanira.
Kind friend, first tell me what I first would know-- Shall I receive my Heracles alive?
 
5 - 33 Lichas..
I left him certainly alive and strong: Blooming in health, not with disease oppressed.
 
5 - 34 Deanira.
In Greece, or in some barbarous country? Tell!
 
5 - 35 Lichas..
Euboea's island hath a promontory, Where to Cenaean Zeus he consecrates Rich altars and the tribute of the ground.
 
5 - 36 Deanira.
Moved by an oracle, or from some vow?
 
5 - 37 Lichas..
So vowed he when he conquered with the spear The country of these women whom you see.
 
5 - 38 Deanira.
And who, by Heaven, are they? Who was their sire? Their case is piteous, or eludes my thought.
 
5 - 39 Lichas..
He took them for the service of the Gods And his own house, when high Oechalia fell.
 
5 - 40 Deanira.
Was't then before that city he was kept Those endless ages of uncounted time?
 
5 - 41 Lichas..
Not so. The greater while he was detained Among the Lydians, sold, as he declares, To bondage. Nor be jealous of the word, Since Heaven, my Queen, was author of the deed. Enthrallèd so to Asian Omphalè, He, as himself avers, fulfilled his year. The felt reproach whereof so chafed his soul, He bound fierce curses on himself and sware That,--children, wife and all,--he yet would bring In captive chains the mover of this harm. Nor did this perish like an idle word, But, when the stain was off him, straight he drew Allied battalions to assault the town Of Eurytus, whom, sole of earthly powers, He had noted as the source of his annoy, Because, having received him in his hall A guest of ancient days, he burst on him With outrage of loud voice and villanous mind, Saying, 'with his hand upon the unerring bow, Oechalia's princes could o'ershoot his skill; And born to bondage, he must quail beneath His overlord'; lastly, to crown this cry, When at a banquet he was filled with wine, He flung him out of door. Whereat being wroth, When Iphitus to the Tirynthian height Followed the track where his brood-mares had strayed, He, while the thought and eye of the man by chance Were sundered, threw him from the tower-crowned cliff. In anger for which deed the Olympian King, Father of Gods and men, delivered him To be a bond-slave, nor could brook the offence, That of all lives he vanquished, this alone Should have been ta'en by guile. For had he wrought In open quittance of outrageous wrong, Even Zeus had granted that his cause was just. The braggart hath no favour even in Heaven. Whence they, o'erweening with their evil tongue, Are now all dwellers in the house of death, Their ancient city a captive;--but these women Whom thou beholdest, from their blest estate Brought suddenly to taste of piteous woe, Come to thy care. This task thy wedded lord Ordained, and I, his faithful minister, Seek to perform. But, for his noble self, When with pure hands he hath done sacrifice To his Great Father for the victory given, Look for his coming, lady. This last word Of all my happy speech is far most sweet.
 
5 - 42 Chorus.
Now surety of delight is thine, my Queen, Part by report and part before thine eye.
 
5 - 43 Deanira.
Yea, now I learn this triumph of my lord, Joy reigns without a rival in my breast. This needs must run with that in fellowship. Yet wise consideration even of good Is flecked with fear of what reverse may come. And I, dear friends, when I behold these maids, Am visited with sadness deep and strange. Poor friendless beings, in a foreign land Wandering forlorn in homeless orphanhood! Erewhile, free daughters of a freeborn race, Now, snared in strong captivity for life. O Zeus of battles, breaker of the war, Ne'er may I see thee[2] turn against my seed So cruelly; or, if thou meanest so, Let me be spared that sorrow by my death! Such fear in me the sight of these hath wrought. Who art thou, of all damsels most distressed? Single or child-bearing? Thy looks would say, A maid, of no mean lineage. Lichas, tell, Who is the stranger-nymph? Who gave her birth? Who was her sire? Mine eye hath pitied her O'er all, as she o'er all hath sense of woe.
 
5 - 44 Lichas..
What know I? Why should'st thou demand? Perchance Not lowest in the list of souls there born.
 
5 - 45 Deanira.
How if a princess, offspring of their King?
 
5 - 46 Lichas..
I cannot tell. I did not question far.
 
5 - 47 Deanira.
Have none of her companions breathed her name?
 
5 - 48 Lichas..
I brought them silently. I did not hear.
 
5 - 49 Deanira.
Yet speak it to us of thyself, poor maid! 'Tis sorrow not to know thee who thou art.
 
5 - 50 Lichas..
She'll ne'er untie her tongue, if she maintain An even tenor, since nor more nor less Would she disclose; but, poor unfortunate! With agonizing sobs and tears she mourns This crushing sorrow, from the day she left Her wind-swept home. Her case is cruel, sure,-- And claims a privilege from all who feel.
 
5 - 51 Deanira.
Well, let her go, and pass beneath the roof In peace, as she desires; nor let fresh pain From me be added to her previous woe. She hath enough already. Come, away! Let's all within at once, that thou mayest speed Thy journey, and I may order all things here. [_Exit_ LICHAS, _with_ Captives, _into the house_. DÊANIRA _is about to follow them_ _Re-enter_ Messenger.
 
5 - 52 Messenger.
Pause first there on the threshold, till you learn (Apart from those) who 'tis you take within, And more besides that you yet know not of, Which deeply imports your knowing. Of all this I throughly am informed.
 
5 - 53 Deanira.
What cause hast thou Thus to arrest my going?
 
5 - 54 Messenger.
Stand, and hear. Not idle was my former speech, nor this.
 
5 - 55 Deanira.
Say, must we call them back in presence here, Or would'st thou tell thy news to these and me?
 
5 - 56 Messenger.
To thee and these I may, but let those be.
 
5 - 57 Deanira.
Well, they are gone. Let words declare thy drift.
 
5 - 58 Messenger.
That man, in all that he hath lately said, Hath sinned against the truth: or now he's false, Or else unfaithful in his first report.
 
5 - 59 Deanira.
What? Tell me thy full meaning clearly forth. That thou hast uttered is all mystery.
 
5 - 60 Messenger.
I heard this herald say, while many thronged To hearken, that this maiden was the cause, Why lofty-towered Oechalia and her lord Fell before Heracles, whom Love alone Of heavenly powers had warmed to this emprise, And not the Lydian thraldom or the tasks Of rigorous Omphalè, nor that wild fate Of rock-thrown Iphitus. Now he thrusts aside The Love-god, contradicting his first tale. When he that was her sire could not be brought To yield the maid for Heracles to hold In love unrecognized, he framed erelong A feud about some trifle, and set forth In arms against this damsel's fatherland (Where Eurytus, the herald said, was king) And slew the chief her father; yea, and sacked Their city. Now returning, as you see, He sends her hither to his halls, no slave, Nor unregarded, lady,--dream not so! Since all his heart is kindled with desire. I, O my Queen! thought meet to show thee all The tale I chanced to gather from his mouth, Which many heard as well as I, i' the midst Of Trachis' market-place, and can confirm My witness. I am pained if my plain speech Sound harshly, but the honest truth I tell.
 
5 - 61 Deanira.
Ah me! Where am I? Whither am I fallen? What hidden woe have I unwarily Taken beneath my roof? O misery! Was she unknown, as he that brought her sware?
 
5 - 62 Messenger.
Nay, most distinguished both in birth and mien; Called in her day of freedom Iolè, Eurytus' daughter,--of whose parentage, Forsooth as ignorant, he ne'er would speak.
 
5 - 63 Chorus.
I curse not all the wicked, but the man Whose secret practices deform his life.
 
5 - 64 Deanira.
Say, maidens, how must I proceed? The words Now spoken have bewildered all my mind.
 
5 - 65 Chorus.
Go in and question Lichas, who perchance Will tell the truth if you but tax him home.
 
5 - 66 Deanira.
I will; you counsel reasonably.
 
5 - 67 Messenger.
And I, Shall I bide here till thou com'st forth? Or how?
 
5 - 68 Deanira.
Remain. For see, without my sending for him, He issueth from the palace of himself. _Enter_ LICHAS.
 
5 - 69 Lichas..
What message must I carry to my lord? Tell me, my Queen. I am going, as thou seest.
 
5 - 70 Deanira.
So slow in coming, and so quickly flown, Ere one have time to talk with thee anew!
 
5 - 71 Lichas..
What wouldst thou ask me? I am bent to hear.
 
5 - 72 Deanira.
And art thou bent on truth in the reply?
 
5 - 73 Lichas..
By Heaven! in all that I have knowledge of.
 
5 - 74 Deanira.
Then tell me, who is she thou brought'st with thee?
 
5 - 75 Lichas..
An islander. I cannot trace her stock.
 
5 - 76 Messenger.
Look hither, man. Who is't to whom thou speakest?
 
5 - 77 Lichas..
Why such a question? What is thine intent?
 
5 - 78 Messenger.
Nay, start not, but make answer if thou knowest.
 
5 - 79 Lichas..
To Dêanira, Oeneus' queenly child, Heracles' wife,--if these mine eyes be true,-- My mistress.
 
5 - 80 Messenger.
Ay, that is the very word I longed to hear thee speak. Thy mistress, sayest?
 
5 - 81 Lichas..
To whom I am bound.
 
5 - 82 Messenger.
Hold there! What punishment Wilt thou accept, if thou art found to be Faithless to her?
 
5 - 83 Lichas..
I faithless! What dark speech Hast thou contrived?
 
5 - 84 Messenger.
Not I at all. 'Tis thou Dost wrap thy thoughts i' the dark.
 
5 - 85 Lichas..
Well, I will go. 'Tis folly to have heard thee for so long.
 
5 - 86 Messenger.
You go not till you answer one word more.
 
5 - 87 Lichas..
One, or a thousand! You'll not stint, I see.
 
5 - 88 Messenger.
Thou knowest the captive maid thou leddest home?
 
5 - 89 Lichas..
I do. But wherefore ask?
 
5 - 90 Messenger.
Did you not say That she, on whom you look with ignorant eye, Was Iolè, the daughter of the King, Committed to your charge?
 
5 - 91 Lichas..
Where? Among whom? What witness of such words will bear thee out?
 
5 - 92 Messenger.
Many and sound. A goodly company In Trachis' market-place heard thee speak this.
 
5 - 93 Lichas..
Ay. I said 'twas rumoured. But I could not give My vague impression for advised report.
 
5 - 94 Messenger.
Impression, quotha! Did you not on oath Proclaim your captive for your master's bride?
 
5 - 95 Lichas..
My master's bride! Dear lady, by the Gods, Who is the stranger? for I know him not.
 
5 - 96 Messenger.
One who was present where he heard thee tell, How that whole city was subdued and taken, Not for the bondage to the Lydian girl, But through the longing passion for this maid.
 
5 - 97 Lichas..
Dear lady, let the fellow be removed. To prate with madmen is mere foolishness.
 
5 - 98 Deanira.
Nay, I entreat thee by His name, whose fire Lightens down Oeta's topmost glen, be not A niggard of the truth. Thou tell'st thy tale To no weak woman, but to one who knows Mankind are never constant to one joy. Whoso would buffet Love, aspires in vain. For Love leads even Immortals at his will, And me. Then how not others, like to me? 'Twere madness, sure, in me to blame my lord When this hath caught him, or the woman there, His innocent accomplice in a thing, No shame to either, and no harm to me. It is not so. But if from him thou learnest The lore of falsehood, it were best unlearnt; Or if the instruction comes of thine own thought, Such would-be kindness doth not prove thee kind. Then tell me all the truth. To one free-born The name of liar is a hateful lot. And thou canst not be hid. Thy news was heard By many, who will tell me. If thou fearest, Thou hast no cause--for doubtfulness is pain, But to know all, what harm? His loves ere now Were they not manifold? And none hath borne Reproach or evil word from me. She shall not, Though his new passion were as strong as death; Since most mine eye hath pitied her, because Her beauty was the ruin of her life, And all unweeting, she her own bright land, Poor hapless one! hath ravaged and enslaved.-- Let that be as it must. But for thy part, Though false to others, be still true to me.
 
5 - 99 Chorus.
'Tis fairly said. Comply. Thou ne'er wilt blame Her faithfulness, and thou wilt earn our loves.
 
5 - 100 Lichas..
Yea, dear my Queen, now I have seen thee hold Thy mortal wishes within mortal bound So meekly, I will freely tell thee all. It is as he avers. This maiden's love, Piercing through Heracles, was the sole cause, Why her Oechalia, land of plenteous woe, Was made the conquest of his spear. And he-- For I dare so far clear him--never bade Concealment or denial. But myself, Fearing the word might wound thy queenly heart, Sinned, if thou count such tenderness a sin. But now that all is known, for both your sakes, His, and thine own no less, look favouringly Upon the woman, and confirm the word Thou here hast spoken in regard to her:-- For he, whose might is in all else supreme, Is wholly overmastered by her love.
 
5 - 101 Deanira.
Yea, so my mind is bent. I will do so. I will not, in a bootless strife 'gainst Heaven, Augment my misery with self-sought ill. Come, go we in, that thou may'st bear from me Such message as is meet, and also carry Gifts, such as are befitting to return For gifts new-given. Thou ought'st not to depart Unladen, having brought so much with thee. [_Exeunt_
 
5 - 102 Chorus.
Victorious in her might, I 1 The Queen of soft delight Still ranges onward with triumphant sway. What she from Kronos' son And strong Poseidon won, And Pluto, King of Night, I durst not say. But who, to earn this bride, Came forth in sinewy pride To strive, or e'er the nuptial might be known With fearless heart I tell What heroes wrestled well, With showering blows, and dust in clouds upthrown. One was a river bold, I 2 Horn-crowned, with tramp fourfold, Bull Achelôüs, Acarnania's Fear; And one from Bacchus' town, Own son of Zeus, came down, With brandished mace, bent bow, and barbèd spear. Who then in battle brunt, Together, front to front, Hurled, eager both to win the beauteous prize; And Cypris 'mid the fray Alone, that dreadful day, Sate umpire, holding promise in her eyes. Then clashed the fist, then clanged the bow; II Then horns gave crashing blow for blow, Whilst, as they clung, The twining hip throw both essay And hurtling foreheads' fearful play, And groans from each were wrung. But the tender fair one far away Sate watching with an eye of piteous cheer (A mother's heart will heed the thing I say,) Till won by him who freed her from her fear. Sudden she leaves her mother's gentle side, Borne through the waste, our hero's tender briDeanira. _Enter_ DÊANIRA.
 
5 - 103 Deanira.
Dear friends, while yonder herald in the house Holds converse with the captives ere he go, I have stol'n forth to you, partly to tell The craft my hand hath compassed, and in part, To crave your pity for my wretchedness. For I have taken to my hearth a maid,-- And yet, methinks, no maiden any more, Like some fond shipmaster, taking on board A cargo fraught with treason to my heart. And now we two are closed in one embrace Beneath one coverlet. Such generous meed For faith in guarding home this dreary while Hath the kind Heracles our trusty spouse, Sent in return! Yet, oft as he hath caught This same distemperature, I know not how To harbour indignation against him. But who that is a woman could endure To dwell with her, both married to one man? One bloom is still advancing, one doth faDeanira. The budding flower is cropped, the full-blown head Is left to wither, while love passeth by Unheeding. Wherefore I am sore afraid He will be called my husband, but her mate, For she is younger. Yet no prudent wife Would take this angerly, as I have said. But, dear ones, I will tell you of a way, Whereof I have bethought me, to prevent This heart-break. I had hidden of long time In a bronze urn the ancient Centaur's gift, Which I, when a mere girl, culled from the wound Of hairy-breasted Nessus in his death. He o'er Evenus' rolling depths, for hire, Ferried wayfarers on his arm, not plying Or rowing-boat, or canvas-wingèd bark. Who, when with Heracles, a new-made bride, I followed by my father's sending forth, Shouldering me too, in the mid-stream, annoyed With wanton touChorus. And I cried out; and he, Zeus' son, turned suddenly, and from his bow Sent a wing'd shaft, that whizzed into his chest To the lungs. Then the weird Thing, with dying voice Spake to me:--'Child of aged Oeneüs, Since thou wert my last burden, thou shalt win Some profit from mine act, if thou wilt do What now I bid thee. With a careful hand Collect and bear away the clotted gore That clogs my wound, e'en where the monster snake Had dyed the arrow with dark tinct of gall; And thou shalt have this as a charm of soul For Heracles, that never through the eye Shall he receive another love than thine.' Whereof bethinking me, for since his death I kept it in a closet locked with care, I have applied it to this robe, with such Addition as his living voice ordained.-- The thing is done. No criminal attempts Could e'er be mine. Far be they from my thought, As I abhor the woman who conceives them! But if by any means through gentle spells And bonds on Heracles' affection, we May triumph o'er this maiden in his heart, My scheme is perfected. Unless you deem Mine action wild. If so, I will desist.
 
5 - 104 Chorus.
If any ground of confidence approve Thine act, we cannot check thy counsel here.
 
5 - 105 Deanira.
My confidence is grounded on belief, Though unconfirmed as yet by actual proof.
 
5 - 106 Chorus.
Well, do it and try. Assurance cannot come Till action bring experience after it.
 
5 - 107 Deanira.
Deanira. The truth will soon be known. The man e'en now Is coming forth, and quickly will be there. Screen ye but well my counsel. Doubtful deeds, Wrapt close, will not deliver us to shame. _Enter_ LICHAS.
 
5 - 108 Lichas..
Daughter of Oeneus, tell me thy commands. Already time rebukes our tardiness.
 
5 - 109 Deanira.
Even that hath been my care, Lichas, while thou Wert talking to the stranger-maids within, That thou shouldst take for me this finewoven web, A present from these fingers to my lord. And when thou giv'st it, say that none of men Must wear it on his shoulders before him; And neither light of sun may look upon it, Nor holy temple-court, nor household flame, Till he in open station 'fore the Gods Display it on a day when bulls are slaughtered. So once I vowed, that should I ever see Or hear his safe return, I would enfold His glorious person in this robe, and show To all the Gods in doing sacrifice Him a fresh worshipper in fresh array.-- The truth hereof he will with ease descry Betokened on this treasure-guarding seal.-- Now go, and be advised, of this in chief, To act within thine office; then of this, To bear thee so, that from his thanks and mine Meeting in one, a twofold grace may spring.
 
5 - 110 Lichas..
If this my Hermes-craft be firm and sure, Then never will I fail thee, O my Queen! But I will show the casket as it is To whom I bear it, and in faithfulness Add all the words thou sendest in fit place.
 
5 - 111 Deanira.
Go, then, at once. Thou hast full cognizance How things within the palace are preserved?
 
5 - 112 Lichas..
I know, and will declare. There is no flaw.
 
5 - 113 Deanira.
Methinks thou knowest too, for thou hast seen, My kind reception of the stranger-maid?
 
5 - 114 Lichas..
I saw, and was amazed with heart-struck joy.
 
5 - 115 Deanira.
. What more is there to tell?--Too rash, I fear, Were thy report of longing on my part, Till we can learn if we be longed for there. [_Exeunt severally_
 
5 - 116 Chorus.
O ye that haunt the strand I 1 Where ships in quiet land Near Oeta's height and the warm rock-drawn well, And ye round Melis' inland gulf who dwell, Worshipping her who wields the golden wand,-- (There Hellas' wisest meet in council strong): Soon shall the flute arise With sound of glad surprise, Thrilling your sense with no unwelcome song, But tones that to the harp of Heavenly Muse belong. Zeus' and Alcmena's son,-- I 2 All deeds of glory done,-- Speeds now triumphant to his home, whom we Twelve weary months of blind expectancy Lost in vast distance, from our country gone. While, sadly languishing, his loving wife, Still flowing down with tears, Pined with unnumbered fears. But Ares, lately stung to furious strife, Frees him for ever[3] from the toilsome life. O let him come to-day! II Ne'er may his vessel stay, But glide with feathery sweep of many an oar, Till from his altar by yon island shore Even to our town he wind his prosperous way, In mien returning mild, And inly reconciled, With that anointing in his heart ingrained, Which the dark Centaur's wizard lips ordained. _Enter_ DÊANIRA.
 
5 - 117 Deanira.
O how I fear, my friends, lest all too far I have ventured in my action of to-day!
 
5 - 118 Chorus.
What ails thee, Dêanira, Oeneus' child?
 
5 - 119 Deanira.
I know not, but am haunted by a dread, Lest quickly I be found to have performed A mighty mischief, through bright hopes betrayed.
 
5 - 120 Chorus.
Thou dost not mean thy gift to Heracles?
 
5 - 121 Deanira.
Indeed I do. Now I perceive how fond Is eagerness, where actions are obscure.
 
5 - 122 Chorus.
Tell, if it may be told, thy cause of fear.
 
5 - 123 Deanira.
A thing is come to pass, which should I tell, Will strike you with strange wonder when you learn. For, O my friends, the stuff wherewith I dressed That robe, a flock of soft and milkwhite wool, Is shrivelled out of sight, not gnawn by tooth Of any creature here, but, self-consumed, Frittered and wasting on the courtyard-stones. To let you know the circumstance at full, I will speak on. Of all the Centaur-Thing, When labouring in his side with the fell point O' the shaft, enjoined me, I had nothing lost, But his vaticination in my heart Remained indelible, as though engraved With pen of iron upon brass. 'Twas thus:-- I was to keep this unguent closely hid In dark recesses, where no heat of fire Or warming ray might reach it, till with fresh Anointing I addressed it to an end. So I had done. And now this was to do, Within my chamber covertly I spread The ointment with piece of wool, a tuft Pulled from a home-bred sheep; and, as ye saw, I folded up my gift and packed it close In hollow casket from the glaring sun. But, entering in, a fact encounters me Past human wit to fathom with surmise. For, as it happened, I had tossed aside The bit of wool I worked with, carelessly, Into the open daylight, 'mid the blaze Of Helios' beam. And, as it kindled warm, It fell away to nothing, crumbled small, Like dust in severing wood by sawyers strewn. So, on the point of vanishing, it lay. But, from the place where it had lain, brake forth A frothy scum in clots of seething foam, Like the rich draught in purple vintage poured From Bacchus' vine upon the thirsty ground. And I, unhappy, know not toward what thought To turn me, but I see mine act is dire. For wherefore should the Centaur, for what end, Show kindness to the cause for whom he died? That cannot be. But seeking to destroy His slayer, he cajoled me. This I learn Too late, by sad experience, for no good. And, if I err not now, my hapless fate Is all alone to be his murderess. For, well I know, the shaft that made the wound Gave pain to Cheiron, who was more than man; And wheresoe'er it falls, it ravageth All the wild creatures of the world. And now This gory venom blackly spreading bane From Nessus' angry wound, must it not cause The death of Heracles? I think it must. Yet my resolve is firm, if aught harm him, My death shall follow in the self-same hour. She cannot bear to live in evil fame, Who cares to have a nature pure from ill.
 
5 - 124 Chorus.
Horrid mischance must needs occasion fear. But Hope is not condemned before the event.
 
5 - 125 Deanira.
In ill-advised proceeding not even Hope Remains to minister a cheerful mind.
 
5 - 126 Chorus.
Yet to have erred unwittingly abates The fire of wrath; and thou art in this case.
 
5 - 127 Deanira.
So speaks not he who hath a share of sin, But who is clear of all offence at home.
 
5 - 128 Chorus.
'Twere well to say no more, unless thou hast aught To impart to thine own son: for he is here, Who went erewhile to find his father forth.
 
5 - 129 HYLLUS
_(re-entering)_. O mother, mother! I would to heaven one of three things were true: Either that thou wert dead, or, living, wert No mother to me, or hadst gained a mind Furnished with better thoughts than thou hast now!
 
5 - 130 Deanira.
My son! what canst thou so mislike in me?
 
5 - 131 Hyllus.
I tell thee thou this day hast been the death Of him that was thy husband and my sire.
 
5 - 132 Deanira.
What word hath passed thy lips? my child, my child!
 
5 - 133 Hyllus.
A word that must be verified. For who Can make the accomplished fact as things undone?
 
5 - 134 Deanira.
Alas, my son! what saidst thou? Who hath told That I have wrought a deed so full of woe?
 
5 - 135 Hyllus.
'Twas I myself that saw with these mine eyes My father's heavy state:--no hearsay word.
 
5 - 136 Deanira.
And where didst thou come near him and stand by?
 
5 - 137 Hyllus.
Art thou to hear it? On, then, with my tale! When after sacking Eurytus' great city He marched in triumph with first-fruits of war,-- There is a headland, last of long Euboea, Surf-beat Cenaeum,--where to his father Zeus He dedicates high altars and a grove. There first I saw him, gladdened from desire. And when he now addressed him to the work Of various sacrifice, the herald Lichas Arrived from home, bearing thy fatal gift, The deadly robe: wherewith invested straight, As thou hadst given charge, he sacrificed The firstlings of the spoil, twelve bulls entire, Each after eaChorus. But the full count he brought Was a clear hundred of all kinds of head. Then the all-hapless one commenced his prayer In solemn gladness for the bright array. But presently, when from the holy things, And from the richness of the oak-tree core, There issued flame mingled with blood, a sweat Rose on his flesh, and close to every limb Clung, like stone-drapery from the craftsman's hand, The garment, glued unto his siDeanira. Then came The tearing pangs within his bones, and then The poison feasted like the venomed tooth Of murderous basilisk.--When this began, He shouted on poor Lichas, none to blame For thy sole crime, 'What guile is here, thou knave? What was thy fraud in fetching me this robe?' He, all-unknowing, in an evil hour Declared his message, that the gift was thine. Whereat the hero, while the shooting spasm Had fastened on the lungs, seized him by the foot Where the ankle turns i' the socket, and, with a thought, Hurl'd on a surf-vex'd reef that showed i' the sea: And rained the grey pulp from the hair, the brain Being scattered with the blood. Then the great throng Saddened their festival with piteous wail For one in death and one in agony. And none had courage to approach my sire,-- Convulsed upon the ground, then tossed i' the air With horrid yells and crying, till the cliffs Echoed round, the mountain-promontories Of Locris, and Euboea's rugged shore. Wearied at length with flinging on the earth, And shrieking oft with lamentable cry, Cursing the fatal marriage with thyself The all-wretched, and the bond to Oeneus' house, That prize that was the poisoner of his peace, He lifted a wild glance above the smoke That hung around, and 'midst the crowd of men Saw me in tears, and looked on me and said, 'O son, come near; fly not from my distress, Though thou shouldst be consumèd in my death, But lift and bear me forth; and, if thou mayest, Set me where no one of mankind shall see me. But if thy heart withhold thee, yet convey me Out of this land as quickly as ye may. Let me not die where I am now.' We then, Thus urgently commanded, laid him down Within our bark, and hardly to this shore Rowed him convulsed and roaring.--Presently, He will appear, alive or lately dead. Such, mother, is the crime thou hast devised And done against our sire, wherefore let Right And Vengeance punish thee!--May I pray so? I may: for thou absolv'st me by thy deed, Thou that hast slain the noblest of the Earth, Thy spouse, whose like thou ne'er wilt see again. [_Exit_ DÊANIRA.
 
5 - 138 Chorus.
Why steal'st thou forth in silence? Know'st thou not Thy silence argues thine accuser's plea?
 
5 - 139 Hyllus.
Let her go off. Would that a sudden flood Might sweep her far and swiftly from mine eye! Why fondle vainly the fair-sounding name Of mother, when her acts are all unmotherly? Let her begone for me: and may she find Such joy as she hath rendered to my sire! [_Exit_ HYLLUS
 
5 - 140 Chorus.
See where falls the doom, of old I 1 By the unerring Voice foretold,-- 'When twelve troublous years have rolled, Then shall end your long desire: Toil on toil no more shall tire The offspring of the Eternal Sire.' Lo! the destined Hour is come! Lo! it hath brought its burden home. For when the eyes have looked their last How should sore labour vex again? How, when the powers of will and thought are past, Should life be any more enthralled to pain? And if Nessus' withering shroud, I 2 Wrought by destiny and craft, Steep him in a poisonous cloud. Steaming from the venomed shaft, Which to Death in hideous lair The many-wreathed Hydra bare, How shall he another day Feel the glad warmth of Helios' ray?-- Enfolded by the Monster-Thing Of Lerna, while the cruel sting Of the shagg'd Centaur's murderous-guileful tongue Breaks forth withal to do him painful wrong. And she, poor innocent, who saw II 1 Checkless advancing to the gate A mighty harm unto her state,-- This rash young bridal without fear of law,-- Gave not her will to aught that caused this woe, But since it came through that strange mind's conceiving,-- That ruined her in meeting,--deeply grieving, She mourns with dewy tears in tenderest flow. The approaching hour appeareth great with woe: Some guile-born misery doth Fate foreshow. The springs of sorrow are unbound, II 2 And such an agony disclose, As never from the hands of foes To afflict the life of Heracles was found. O dark with battle-stains, world-champion spear, That from Oechalia's highland leddest then This bride that followed swiftly in thy train, How fatally overshadowing was thy fear! But these wild sorrows all too clearly come From Love's dread minister[4], disguised and dumb.
 
5 - 141 Chorus. 1
Am I a fool, or do I truly hear Lament new-rising from our master's home? Tell!
 
5 - 142 Chorus. 2
Clearly from within a wailing voice Peals piteously. The house hath some fresh woe.
 
5 - 143 Chorus. 3
Mark! How strangely, with what cloud upon her brow, Yon aged matron with her tidings moves! _Enter_ Nurse.
 
5 - 144 NUR.
Ah! mighty, O my daughters! was the grief Sprung from the gift to Heracles conveyed!
 
5 - 145 LEADER OF Chorus.
What new thing is befallen? Why speak'st thou so?
 
5 - 146 NUR.
Our Queen hath found her latest journey's end. Even now she is gone, without the help of feet.
 
5 - 147 Chorus.
Not dead?
 
5 - 148 NUR.
You know the whole.
 
5 - 149 Chorus.
Dead! hapless Queen!
 
5 - 150 NUR.
The truth hath twice been told.
 
5 - 151 Chorus.
O tell us how! What was her death, poor victim of dire woe?
 
5 - 152 NUR.
Most ruthless was the deed.
 
5 - 153 Chorus.
Say, woman, say! What was the sudden end?
 
5 - 154 NUR.
Herself she slew.
 
5 - 155 Chorus.
What rage, what madness, clutched The mischief-working brand? How could her single thought Contrive the accomplishment of death on death?
 
5 - 156 NUR.
Chill iron stopped the sources of her breath.
 
5 - 157 Chorus.
And thou, poor helpless crone, didst see this done?
 
5 - 158 NUR.
Yea, I stood near and saw.
 
5 - 159 Chorus.
How was it? Tell!
 
5 - 160 NUR.
With her own hand this violence was given.
 
5 - 161 Chorus.
What do I hear?
 
5 - 162 NUR.
The certainty of truth.
 
5 - 163 Chorus.
A child is come, From this new bridal that hath rushed within, A fresh-born Fury of woe!
 
5 - 164 NUR.
Too true. But hadst thou been at hand to see Her action, pity would have wrung thy soul.
 
5 - 165 Chorus.
Could this be ventured by a woman's hand?
 
5 - 166 NUR.
Ay, and in dreadful wise, as thou shalt hear. When all alone she had gone within the gate, And passing through the court beheld her boy Spreading the couch that should receive his sire, Ere he returned to meet him,--out of sight She hid herself, and fell at the altar's foot, And loudly cried that she was left forlorn; And, taking in her touch each household thing That formerly she used, poor lady, wept O'er all; and then went ranging through the rooms, Where, if there caught her eye the well-loved form Of any of her household, she would gaze And weep aloud, accusing her own fate And her abandoned lot, childless henceforth! When this was ended, suddenly I see her Fly to the hero's room of genial rest. With unsuspected gaze o'ershadowed near, I watched, and saw her casting on the bed The finest sheets of all. When that was done, She leapt upon the couch where they had lain And sat there in the midst. And the hot flood Burst from her eyes before she spake:--'Farewell, My bridal bed, for never more shalt thou Give me the comfort I have known thee give.' Then with tight fingers she undid her robe, Where the brooch lay before the breast, and bared All her left arm and siDeanira. I, with what speed Strength ministered, ran forth to tell her son The act she was preparing. But meanwhile, Ere we could come again, the fatal blow Fell, and we saw the wound. And he, her boy, Seeing, wept aloud. For now the hapless youth Knew that himself had done this in his wrath, Told all too late i' the house, how she had wrought Most innocently, from the Centaur's wit. So now the unhappy one, with passionate words And cries and wild embracings of the dead, Groaned forth that he had slain her with false breath Of evil accusation, and was left Orphaned of both, his mother and his sire. Such is the state within. What fool is he That counts one day, or two, or more to come? To-morrow is not, till the present day In fair prosperity have passed away. [_Exit_
 
5 - 167 Chorus.
  Which shall come first in my wail, I 1 Which shall be last to prevail, Is a doubt that will never be done. Trouble at home may be seen, I 2 Trouble is looked for with teen; And to have and to look for are one. Would some fair wind II 1 But waft me forth to roam Far from the native region of my home, Ere death me find, oppressed with wild affright Even at the sudden sight Of him, the valiant son of Zeus most High! Before the house, they tell, he fareth nigh, A wonder beyond thought, With torment unapproachable distraught. Hark! ... II 2 The cause then of my cry Was coming all too nigh: (Doth the clear nightingale lament for nought?) Some step of stranger folk is this way brought. As for a friend they love Heavy and slow with noiseless feet they move. Which way? which way? Ah me! behold him come. His pallid lips are dumb. Dead, or at rest in sleep? What shall I say? [HERACLES _is brought in on a litter, accompanied by_ HYLLUS _and an_ Old Man
 
5 - 168 Hyllus.
Oh, woe is me! My father, piteous woe for thee! Oh, whither shall I turn my thought! Ah me!
 
5 - 169 Old Man.
Hush! speak not, O my child, Lest torment fierce and wild Rekindle in thy father's rugged breast, And break this rest Where now his life is held at point to fall. With firm lips clenched refrain thy voice through all.
 
5 - 170 Hyllus.
Yet tell me, doth he live, Old sir?
 
5 - 171 Old Man.
Wake not the slumberer, Nor kindle and revive The terrible recurrent power of pain, My son!
 
5 - 172 Hyllus.
My foolish words are done, But my full heart sinks 'neath the heavy strain.
 
5 - 173 Heracles.
O Father, who are these? What countrymen? Where am I? What far land Holds me in pain that ceaseth not? Ah me! Again that pest is rending me. Pain, pain!
 
5 - 174 Old Man.
Now thou may'st know 'Twas better to have lurked in silent shade And not thus widely throw The slumber from his eyelids and his head.
 
5 - 175 Hyllus.
I could not brook All speechless on his misery to look.
 
5 - 176 Heracles.
MONODY. O altar on the Euboean strand, High-heaped with offerings from my hand, What meed for lavish gifts bestowed From thy new sanctuary hath flowed! Father of Gods! thy cruel power Hath foiled me with an evil blight. Ah! would mine eyes had closed in night Ere madness in a fatal hour Had burst upon them with a blaze, No help or soothing once allays! What hand to heal, what voice to charm, Can e'er dispel this hideous harm? Whose skill save thine, Monarch Divine? Mine eyes, if such I saw, Would hail him from afar with trembling awe. Ah! ah! O vex me not, touch me not, leave me to rest, To sleep my last sleep on Earth's gentle breast. You touch me, you press me, you turn me again, You break me, you kill me! O pain! O pain! You have kindled the pang that had slumbered still. It comes, it hath seized me with tyrannous will! Where are ye, men, whom over Hellas wide This arm hath freed, and o'er the ocean-tide, And through rough brakes, from every monstrous thing? Yet now in mine affliction none will bring A sword to aid, a fire to quell this fire, O most unrighteous! nor to my desire Will come and quench the hateful life I hold With mortal stroke! Ah! is there none so bold?
 
5 - 177 Old Man.
Son of our hero, this hath mounted past My feeble force to cope with. Take him thou! Fresher thine eye and more the hope thou hast Than mine to save him.
 
5 - 178 Hyllus.
I support him now Thus with mine arm: but neither fleshly vest Nor inmost spirit can I lull to rest From torture. None may dream To wield this power, save he, the King supreme.
 
5 - 179 Heracles.
Son! Where art thou to lift me and hold me aright? It tears me, it kills me, it rushes in might, This cruel, devouring, unconquered pain Shoots forth to consume me. Again! again! O Fate! O Athena!--O son, at my word Have pity and slay me with merciful sword! Pity thy father, boy; with sharp relief Smite on my breast, and heal the wrathful grief Wherewith thy mother, God-abandoned wife, Hath wrought this ruin on her husband's life. O may I see her falling, even so As she hath thrown me, to like depth of woe! Sweet Hades, with swift death, Brother of Zeus, release my suffering breath!
 
5 - 180 Chorus.
Horror hath caught me as I hear this, woe, Racking our mighty one with mightier pain.
 
5 - 181 Heracles.
Many hot toils and hard beyond report, With sturdy thews and sinews I have borne, But no such labour hath the Thunderer's wife Or sour Eurystheus ever given, as this, Which Oeneus' daughter of the treacherous eye Hath fastened on my back, this amply-woven Net of the Furies, that is breaking me. For, glued unto my side, it hath devoured My flesh to the bone, and lodging in the lungs It drains the vital channels, and hath drunk The fresh life-blood, and ruins all my frame, Foiled in the tangle of a viewless bond. Yet me nor War-host, nor Earth's giant brood, Nor Centaur's monstrous violence could subdue, Nor Hellas, nor the Stranger, nor all lands Where I have gone, cleansing the world from harms. But a soft woman without manhood's strain Alone and weaponless hath conquered me. Son, let me know thee mine true-born, nor rate Thy mother's claim beyond thy sire's, but bring Thyself from out the chambers to my hand Her body that hath borne thee, that my heart May be assured, if lesser than my pain It will distress thee to behold her limbs With righteous torment agonized and torn. Nay, shrink not, son, but pity me, whom all May pity--me, who, like a tender girl, Am heard to weep aloud! This none could say He knew in me of old; for, murmuring not, I went with evil fortune, silent still. Now, such a foe hath found the woman in me! Ay, but come near; stand by me, and behold What cause I have for crying. Look but here! Here is the mystery unveiled. O see! Ye people, gaze on this poor quivering flesh, Look with compassion on my misery! Ah me! Ah! ah! Again! Even now the hot convulsion of disease Shoots through my side, and will not let me rest From this fierce exercise of wearing woe. Take me, O King of Night! O sudden thunderstroke. Smite me! O sire, transfix me with the dart Of thy swift lightning! Yet again that fang Is tearing; it hath blossomed forth anew, It soars up to the height! O breast and back, O shrivelling arms and hands, ye are the same That crushed the dweller of the Némean wild, The lion unapproachable and rude, The oxherd's plague, and Hydra of the lake Of Lerna, and the twi-form prancing throng Of Centaurs,--insolent, unsociable, Lawless, ungovernable:--the tuskèd pest Of Erymanthine glades; then underground Pluto's three-headed cur--a perilous fear, Born from the monster-worm; and, on the verge Of Earth, the dragon, guarding fruits of gold. These toils and others countless I have tried, And none hath triumphed o'er me. But to-day, Jointless and riven to tatters, I am wrecked Thus utterly by imperceptible woe; I, proudly named Alcmena's child, and His Who reigns in highest heaven, the King supreme! Ay, but even yet, I tell ye, even from here, Where I am nothingness and cannot move, She who hath done this deed shall feel my power. Let her come near, that, mastered by my might, She may have this to tell the world, that, dying, As living, I gave punishment to wrong.
 
5 - 182Chorus.
O Hellas, how I grieve for thy distress! How thou wilt mourn in losing him we see!
 
5 - 183 Hyllus.
My father, since thy silence gives me leave, Still hear me patiently, though in thy pain! For my request is just. Lend me thy mind Less wrathfully distempered than 'tis now; Else thou canst never know, where thou art keen With vain resentment and with vain desire
 
5 - 184 Heracles.
Speak what thou wilt and cease, for I in pain Catch not the sense of thy mysterious talk
 
5 - 185 Hyllus.
I come to tell thee of my mother's case, And her involuntary unconscious fault.
 
5 - 186 Heracles.
Base villain! hast thou breathed thy mother's name, Thy father's murderess, in my hearing too!
 
5 - 187 Hyllus.
Her state requires not silence, but full speeChorus.
 
5 - 188 Heracles.
Her faults in former time might well be told.
 
5 - 189 Hyllus.
So might her fault to day, couldst thou but know.
 
5 - 190 Heracles.
Speak, but beware base words disgrace thee not.
 
5 - 191 Hyllus.
List! She is dead even now with new-given wound.
 
5 - 192 Heracles.
By whom? Thy words flash wonder through my woe.
 
5 - 193 Hyllus.
Her own hand slaughtered her, no foreign stroke.
 
5 - 194 Heracles.
Wretch! to have reft this office from my hands.
 
5 - 195 Hyllus.
Even your rash spirit were softened, if you knew.
 
5 - 196 Heracles.
This bodes some knavery. But declare thy thought!
 
5 - 197 Hyllus.
She erred with good intent. The whole is said.
 
5 - 198 Heracles.
Good, O thou villain, to destroy thy sire!
 
5 - 199 Hyllus.
When she perceived that marriage in her home, She erred, supposing to enchain thy love.
 
5 - 200 Heracles.
Hath Trachis a magician of such might?
 
5 - 201 Hyllus.
Long since the Centaur Nessus moved her mind To work this charm for heightening thy desire.
 
5 - 202 Heracles.
O horror, thou art here! I am no more. My day is darkened, boy! Undone, undone! I see our plight too plainly. woe is me! Come, O my son! --thou hast no more a father,-- Call to me all the brethren of thy blood, And poor Alcmena, wedded all in vain Unto the Highest, that ye may hear me tell With my last breath what prophecies I know.
 
5 - 203 Hyllus.
Thy mother is not here, but by the shore Of Tiryns hath obtained a dwelling-place; And of thy sons, some she hath with her there, And some inhabit Thebè's citadel. But we who are with thee, sire, if there be aught That may by us be done, will hear, and do.
 
5 - 204 Heracles.
Then hearken thou unto this task, and show If worthily thou art reputed mine. Now is time to prove thee. My great father Forewarned me long ago that I should die By none who lived and breathed, but from the will Of one now dwelling in the house of death. And so this Centaur, as the voice Divine Then prophesied, in death hath slain me living. And in agreement with that ancient word I now interpret newer oracles Which I wrote down on going within the grove Of the hill-roving and earth-couching Selli,-- Dictated to me by the mystic tongue Innumerous, of my Father's sacred tree; Declaring that my ever instant toils Should in the time that new hath being and life End and release me. And I look'd for joy. But the true meaning plainly was my death.-- No labour is appointed for the dead.-- Then, since all argues one event, my son, Once more thou must befriend me, and not wait For my voice goading thee, but of thyself Submit and second my resolve, and know Filial obedience for thy noblest rule.
 
5 - 205 Hyllus.
I will obey thee, father, though my heart Sinks heavily in approaching such a theme.
 
5 - 206 Heracles.
Before aught else, lay thy right hand in mine.
 
5 - 207 Hyllus.
Why so intent on this assurance, sire?
 
5 - 208 Heracles.
Give it at once and be not froward, boy.
 
5 - 209 Hyllus.
There is my hand: I will gainsay thee nought.
 
5 - 210 Heracles.
Swear by the head of him who gave me life.
 
5 - 211 Hyllus.
Tell me the oath, and I will utter it.
 
5 - 212 Heracles.
Swear thou wilt do the thing I bid thee do.
 
5 - 213 Hyllus.
I swear, and make Zeus witness of my troth.
 
5 - 214 Heracles.
But if you swerve, pray that the curse may come.
 
5 - 215 Hyllus.
It will not come for swerving:--but I pray.
 
5 - 216 Heracles.
Now, dost thou know on Oeta's topmost height The crag of Zeus?
 
5 - 217 Hyllus.
I know it, and full oft Have stood there sacrificing.
 
5 - 218 Heracles.
Then even there, With thine own hand uplifting this my body, Taking what friends thou wilt, and having lopped Much wood from the deep-rooted oak and rough Wild olive, lay me on the gathered pile, And burn all with the touch of pine-wood flame. Let not a tear of mourning dim thine eye; But silent, with dry gaze, if thou art mine, Perform it. Else my curse awaits thee still To weigh thee down when I am lost in night.
 
5 - 219 Hyllus.
How cruel, O my father, is thy tongue!
 
5 - 220 Heracles.
'Tis peremptory. Else, if thou refuse, Be called another's and be no more mine.
 
5 - 221 Hyllus.
Alas that thou shouldst challenge me to this, To be thy murderer, guilty of thy blood!
 
5 - 222 Heracles.
Not I, in sooth: but healer of my pain, And sole preserver from a life of woe.
 
5 - 223 Hyllus.
How can it heal to burn thee on the pyre?
 
5 - 224 Heracles.
If this act frighten thee, perform the rest.
 
5 - 225 Hyllus.
Mine arms shall not refuse to carry thee.
 
5 - 226 Heracles.
And wilt thou gather the appointed wood?
 
5 - 227 Hyllus.
So my hand fire it not. In all but this, Not scanting labour, I will do my part.
 
5 - 228 Heracles.
Enough. 'Tis well. And having thus much given Add one small kindness to a list so full.
 
5 - 229 Hyllus.
How great soe'er it were, it should be done.
 
5 - 230 Heracles.
The maid of Eurytus thou knowest, I ween.
 
5 - 231 Hyllus.
Of Iolè thou speak'st, or I mistake.
 
5 - 232 Heracles.
Of Heracles. This then is all I urge, my son. When I am dead, if thou wouldst show thy duty, Think of thine oath to me, and, on my word, Make her thy wife: nor let another man Take her, but only thou; since she hath lain So near this heart. Obey me, O my boy! And be thyself the maker of this bond. To spurn at trifles after great things given, Were to confound the meed already won.
 
5 - 233 Hyllus.
Oh, anger is not right, when men are ill! But who could bear to see thee in this mind?
 
5 - 234 Heracles.
You murmur, as you meant to disobey.
 
5 - 235 Hyllus.
How can I do it, when my mother's death And thy sad state sprang solely from this girl? Who, not possessed with furies, could choose this? Far better, father, for me too to die, Than to live still with my worst enemy.
 
5 - 236 Heracles.
This youth withdraws his reverence in my death. But, if thou yield'st not to thy father's best, The curse from Heaven shall dog thy footsteps still.
 
5 - 237 Hyllus.
Ah! thou wilt tell me that thy pain is come.
 
5 - 238 Heracles.
Yea, for thou wak'st the torment that had slept.
 
5 - 239 Hyllus.
Ay me! how cross and doubtful is my way!
 
5 - 240 Heracles.
Because you will reject your father's word.
 
5 - 241 Hyllus.
Must I be taught impiety from thee?
 
5 - 242 Heracles.
It is not impious to content my heart.
 
5 - 243 Hyllus.
Then you require this with an absolute will?
 
5 - 244 Heracles.
And bid Heaven witness to my strong command.
 
5 - 245 Hyllus.
Then I will do it, for the act is thine. I will not cast it off. Obeying thee, My sire, the Gods will ne'er reprove my deed.
 
5 - 246 Heracles.
Thou endest fairly. Now, then, O my son, Add the performance swiftly, that, before Some spasm or furious onset of my pain Have seized me, ye may place me on the pyre. Come, loiter not, but lift me. Now my end Is near, the last cessation of my woe.
 
5 - 247 Hyllus.
Since thy command is urgent, O my sire! We tarry not, but bear thee to the pyre.
 
5 - 248 Heracles.
Stubborn heart, ere yet again Wakes the fierce rebound of pain, While the evil holds aloof, Thou, with bit of diamond proof, Curb thy cry, with forcèd will Seeming to do gladly still!
 
5 - 249 Hyllus.
Lift him, men, and hate not me For the evil deeds ye see, Since the Heavens' relentless sway Recks not of the righteous way. He who gave life and doth claim From his seed a Father's name Can behold this hour of blame. Though the future none can tell, Yet the present is not well: Sore for him who bears the blow, Sad for us who feel his woe, Shameful to the Gods, we trow.
 
5 - 250 Chorus.
Maidens from the palace-hall, Come ye forth, too, at our call! Mighty deaths beyond belief, Many an unknown form of grief, Ye have seen to-day; and nought But the power of Zeus hath wrought.
 
6 Philocetes.
Characters.
ODYSSEUS. NEOPTOLEMUS. CHORUS _of Mariners_. PHILOCTETES. Messenger, _disguised as a Merchantman_. HERACLES, _appearing from the sky_. SCENE. A desert shore of the Island of Lemnos.   It was fated that Troy should be taken by Neoptolemus, the son of Achilles, assisted by the bow of Heracles in the hands of Philoctetes. Now Philoctetes had been rejected by the army because of a trouble in his foot, which made his presence with them insufferable; and had been cast away by Odysseus on the island of Lemnos. But when the decree of fate was revealed by prophecy, Odysseus undertook to bring Philoctetes back, and took with him Neoptolemus, whose ambition could only be gratified through the return of Philoctetes with the bow. Philoctetes was resolutely set against returning, and at the opening of the drama Neoptolemus is persuaded by Odysseus to take him with guile. But when Philoctetes appears, the youth's ingenuous nature is so wrought upon through pity and remorse, that his sympathy and native truthfulness at length overcome his ambition. When the inward sacrifice is complete, Heracles appears from heaven, and by a few words changes the mind of Philoctetes, so that all ends well.
 
6 - 1 OD.
NEOPTOLEMUS. ODYSSEUS. This coast of sea-girt Lemnos, where we stand, Is uninhabited, untrodden of men. And here, O noble son of noblest sire, Achilles-born Neoptolemus, I erewhile,-- Ordered by those who had command,--cast forth Trachinian Philoctetes, Poeas' son, His foot dark-dripping with a rankling wound; When with wild cries, that frighted holy rest, Filling the camp, he troubled every rite, That none might handle sacrifice, or pour Wine-offering, but his noise disturbed our peace. But why these words? No moment this for talk, Lest he discern my coming, and I lose The scheme, wherewith I think to catch him soon. Now most behoves thy service, to explore This headland for a cave with double mouth, Whose twofold aperture, on wintry days, Gives choice of sunshine, and in summer noons The breeze wafts slumber through the airy cell. Then, something lower down, upon the left, Unless 'tis dried, thine eye may note a spring. Go near now silently, and make me know If still he persevere, and hold this spot, Or have roamed elsewhere, that informed of this I may proceed with what remains to say, And we may act in concert.
 
6 - 2 NEO.
Lord Odysseus, Thy foremost errand will not task me far. Methinks I see the cave whereof thou speakest.
 
6 - 3 OD.
Where? let me see it. Above there, or below?
 
6 - 4 NEO.
Yonder, above. And yet I hear no tread. [NEOPTOLEMUS _climbs up to the cave_
 
6 - 5 OD.
Look if he be not lodged in slumber there.
 
6 - 6 NEO.
I find no inmate, but an empty room.
 
6 - 7 OD.
What? no provision for a dwelling-place?
 
6 - 8 NEO.
A bed of leaves for some one harbouring here.
 
6 - 9 OD.
Nought else beneath the roof? Is all forlorn?
 
6 - 10 NEO.
A cup of wood, some untaught craftsman's skill, And, close at hand, these embers of a fire.
 
6 - 11 OD.
That store is his. I read the token clear.
 
6 - 12 NEO.
Oh! and these festering rags give evidence, Steeped as with dressing some malignant sore.
 
6 - 13 OD.
The man inhabits here: I know it now. And sure he's not far off. How can he range, Whose limb drags heavy with an ancient harm? But he's gone, either to bring forage home, Or where he hath found some plant of healing power. Send therefore thine attendant to look forth, Lest unawares he find me. All our host Were not so fair a prize for him as I.
 
6 - 14 NEO.
My man is going, and shall watch the path. What more dost thou require of me? Speak on.
 
6 - 15 OD.
Son of Achilles, know that thou art come To serve us nobly, not with strength alone, But, faithful to thy mission, if so be, To do things strange, unwonted to thine ear.
 
6 - 16 NEO.
What dost thou bid me?
 
6 - 17 OD.
'Tis thy duty now To entrap the mind of Poeas' son with words. When he shall ask thee, who and whence thou art, Declare thy name and father. 'Tis not that I charge thee to conceal. But for thy voyage, 'Tis homeward, leaving the Achaean host, With perfect hatred hating them, because They who had drawn thee with strong prayers from home, Their hope for taking Troy, allowed thee not Thy just demand to have thy father's arms, But, e'er thy coming, wrongly gave them o'er Unto Odysseus: and thereon launch forth With boundless execration against me. That will not pain me, but if thou reject This counsel, thou wilt trouble all our host, Since, if his bow shall not be ta'en, thy life Will ne'er be crowned through Troy's discomfiture. Now let me show, why thine approach to him Is safe and trustful as mine cannot be Thou didst sail forth, not to redeem thine oath, Nor by constraint, nor with the foremost band. All which reproaches I must bear: and he, But seeing me, while master of his bow, Will slay me, and my ruin will be thine. This point then craves our cunning, to acquire By subtle means the irresistible bow-- Thy nature was not framed, I know it well, For speaking falsehood, or contriving harm. Yet, since the prize of victory is so dear, Endure it--We'll be just another day But now, for one brief hour, devote thyself To serve me without shame, and then for aye Hereafter be the pearl of righteousness.
 
6 - 18 NEO.
The thing that, being named, revolts mine ear, Son of Laërtes, I abhor to do 'Tis not my nature, no, nor, as they tell, My father's, to work aught by craft and guile. I'll undertake to bring him in by force, Not by deceit. For, sure, with his one foot, He cannot be a match for all our crew Being sent, my lord, to serve thee, I am loth To seem rebellious. But I rather choose To offend with honour, than to win by wrong.
 
6 - 19 OD.
Son of a valiant sire, I, too, in youth, Had once a slow tongue and an active hand. But since I have proved the world, I clearly see Words and not deeds give mastery over men.
 
6 - 20 NEO.
What then is thy command? To lie? No more?
 
6 - 21 OD.
To entangle Philoctetes with deceit.
 
6 - 22 NEO.
Why through deceit? May not persuasion fetch him?
 
6 - 23 OD.
Never. And force as certainly will fail.
 
6 - 24 NEO.
What lends him such assurance of defence?
 
6 - 25 OD.
Arrows, the unerring harbingers of Death.
 
6 - 26 NEO.
Then to go near him is a perilous thing.
 
6 - 27 OD.
Unless with subtlety, as I have said.
 
6 - 28 NEO.
And is not lying shameful to thy soul?
 
6 - 29 OD.
Not if by lying I can save my soul.
 
6 - 30 NEO.
How must one look in speaking such a word?
 
6 - 31 OD.
Where gain invites, this shrinking is not good.
 
6 - 32 NEO.
What gain I through his coming back to Troy?
 
6 - 33 OD.
His arms alone have power to take Troy-town.
 
6 - 34 NEO.
Then am not I the spoiler, as ye said?
 
6 - 35 OD.
Thou without them, they without thee, are powerless.
 
6 - 36 NEO.
If it be so, they must be sought and won.
 
6 - 37 OD.
Yea, for in this two prizes will be thine.
 
6 - 38 NEO.
What? When I learn them, I will not refuse.
 
6 - 39 OD.
Wisdom and valour joined in one good name.
 
6 - 40 NEO.
Shame, to the winds! Come, I will do this thing.
 
6 - 41 OD.
Say, dost thou bear my bidding full in mind?
 
6 - 42 NEO.
Doubt not, since once for all I have embraced it.
 
6 - 43 OD.
Thou, then, await him here. I will retire, For fear my hated presence should be known, And take back our attendant to the ship. And then once more, should ye appear to waste The time unduly, I will send again This same man hither in disguise, transformed To the strange semblance of a merchantman; From dark suggestion of whose crafty tongue, Thou, O my son, shalt gather timely counsel. Now to my ship. This charge I leave to thee. May secret Hermes guide us to our end, And civic Pallas, named of victory, The sure protectress of my devious way.
 
6 - 44 CH.
(_entering_). Strange in the stranger land, I 1 What shall I speak? What hide From a heart suspicious of ill? Tell me, O master mine! Wise above all is the man, Peerless in searching thought, Who with the Zeus-given wand Wieldeth a Heaven-sent power. This unto thee, dear son, Fraught with ancestral might, This to thy life hath come. Wherefore I bid thee declare, What must I do for thy need?
 
6 - 45 NEO.
Even now methinks thou longest to espy Near ocean's marge the place where he doth lie. Gaze without fear. But when the traveller stern, Who from this roof is parted, shall return, Advancing still as I the signal give, To serve each moment's mission thou shalt strive.
 
6 - 46 CH.
That, O my son, from of old I 2 Hath been my care, to take note What by thy beck'ning is told; Still thy success to promote. But for our errand to-day Behoves thee, master, to say Where is the hearth of his home; Or where even now doth he roam? O tell me, lest all unaware He spring like a wolf from his lair And I by surprise should be ta'en, Where doth he move or remain, Here lodging, or wandering away?
 
6 - 47 NEO.
Thou seëst yon double doorway of his cell, Poor habitation of the rock.
 
6 - 48 CH.
But tell Where is the pain-worn wight himself abroad? NEO. To me 'tis clear, that, in his quest for food, Here, not far off, he trails yon furrowed path. For, so 'tis told, this mode the sufferer hath Of sustenance, oh hardness! bringing low Wild creatures with wing'd arrows from his bow; Nor findeth healer for his troublous woe.
 
6 - 49 CH.
feel his misery. II 1 With no companion eye, Far from all human care, He pines with fell disease; Each want he hourly sees Awakening new despair. How can he bear it still? O cruel Heavens! O pain Of that afflicted mortal train Whose life sharp sorrows fill! Born in a princely hall, II 2 Highest, perchance, of all, Now lies he comfortless Alone in deep distress, 'Mongst rough and dappled brutes, With pangs and hunger worn; While from far distance shoots, On airy pinion borne, The unbridled Echo, still replying To his most bitter crying.
 
6 - 50 NEO.
At nought of this I marvel--for if I Judge rightly, there assailed him from on high That former plague through Chrysa's cruel sting[1]: And if to-day he suffer anything With none to soothe, it must be from the will Of some great God, so caring to fulfil The word of prophecy, lest he should bend On Troy the shaft no mortal may forfend, Before the arrival of Troy's destined hour, When she must fall, o'er-mastered by their power.
 
6 - 51 CH.
Hush, my son! III 1
 
6 - 52 NEO.
Why so?
 
6 - 53 CH.
A sound Gendered of some mortal woe, Started from the neighbouring ground. Here, or there? Ah! now I know. Hark! 'tis the voice of one in pain, Travelling hardly, the deep strain Of human anguish, all too clear, That smites my heart, that wounds mine ear.
 
6 - 54 CH.
From far it peals. But thou, my son! III 2
 
6 - 55 NEO.
What?
 
6 - 56 CH.
Think again. He moveth nigh: He holds the region: not with tone Of piping shepherd's rural minstrelsy, But belloweth his far cry, Stumbling perchance with mortal pain, Or else in wild amaze, As he our ship surveys Unwonted on the inhospitable main. _Enter_ PHILOCTETES.
 
6 - 57 PHI.
Ho! What men are ye that to this desert shore, Harbourless, uninhabited, are come On shipboard? Of what country or what race Shall I pronounce ye? For your outward garb Is Grecian, ever dearest to this heart That hungers now to hear your voices' tune. Ah! do not fear me, do not shrink away From my wild looks: but, pitying one so poor, Forlorn and desolate in nameless woe, Speak, if with friendly purpose ye are come. Oh answer! 'Tis not meet that I should lose This kindness from your lips, or ye from mine.
 
6 - 58 NEO.
Then know this first, O stranger, as thou wouldest, That we are Greeks.
 
6 - 59 PHI.
O dear, dear name! Ah me! In all these years, once, only once, I hear it! My son, what fairest gale hath wafted thee? What need hath brought thee to the shore? What mission? Declare all this, that I may know thee well.
 
6 - 60 NEO.
The sea-girt Scyros is my native home. Thitherward I make voyage:--Achilles' son, Named Neoptolemus.--I have told thee all.
 
6 - 61 PHI.
Dear is that shore to me, dear is thy father O ancient Lycomedes' foster-child, Whence cam'st thou hither? How didst thou set forth?
 
6 - 62 NEO.
From Troy we made our course in sailing hither.
 
6 - 63 PHI.
How? Sure thou wast not with us, when at first We launched our vessels on the Troyward way?
 
6 - 64 NEO.
Hadst thou a share in that adventurous toil?
 
6 - 65 PHI.
And know'st thou not whom thou behold'st in me, Young boy?
 
6 - 66 NEO.
How should I know him whom I ne'er Set eye on?
 
6 - 67 PHI.
Hast not even heard my name, Nor echoing rumour of my ruinous woe?
 
6 - 68 NEO.
Nay, I know nought of all thy questioning.
 
6 - 69 PHI.
How full of griefs am I, how Heaven-abhorred, When of my piteous state no faintest sound Hath reached my home, or any Grecian land! But they, who pitilessly cast me forth, Keep silence and are glad, while this my plague Blooms ever, and is strengthened more and more. Boy, great Achilles' offspring, in this form Thou seest the man, of whom, methinks, erewhile Thou hast been told, to whom the Hercúlean bow Descended, Philoctetes, Poeas' son; Whom the two generals and the Ithacan king Cast out thus shamefully forlorn, afflicted With the fierce malady and desperate wound Made by the cruel basilisk's murderous tooth. With this for company they left me, child! Exposed upon this shore, deserted, lone. From seaward Chrysa came they with their fleet And touched at Lemnos. I had fallen to rest From the long tossing, in a shadowy cave On yonder cliff by the shore. Gladly they saw, And left me, having set forth for my need, Poor man, some scanty rags, and a thin store Of provender. Such food be theirs, I pray! Imagine, O my son, when they were gone, What wakening, what arising, then was mine; What weeping, what lamenting of my woe! When I beheld the ships, wherewith I sailed, Gone, one and all! and no man in the place, None to bestead me, none to comfort me In my sore sickness. And where'er I looked, Nought but distress was present with me still. No lack of that, for one thing!--Ah! my son, Time passed, and there I found myself alone Within my narrow lodging, forced to serve Each pressing need. For body's sustenance This bow supplied me with sufficient store, Wounding the feathered doves, and when the shaft, From the tight string, had struck, myself, ay me! Dragging this foot, would crawl to my swift prey. Then water must be fetched, and in sharp frost Wood must be found and broken,--all by me. Nor would fire come unbidden, but with flint From flints striking dim sparks, I hammered forth The struggling flame that keeps the life in me. For houseroom with the single help of fire Gives all I need, save healing for my sore. Now learn, my son, the nature of this isle. No mariner puts in here willingly. For it hath neither moorage, nor sea-port, For traffic or kind shelter or good cheer. Not hitherward do prudent men make voyage. Perchance one may have touched against his will. Many strange things may happen in long time. These, when they come, in words have pitied me, And given me food, or raiment, in compassion. But none is willing, when I speak thereof, To take me safely home. Wherefore I pine Now this tenth year, in famine and distress, Feeding the hunger of my ravenous plague. Such deeds, my son, the Atridae, and the might Of sage Odysseus, have performed on me. Wherefore may all the Olympian gods, one day, Plague them with stern requital for my wrong!
 
6 - 70 CH.
Methinks my feeling for thee, Poeas' child, Is like that of thy former visitants.
 
6 - 71 NEO.
I, too, a witness to confirm his words, Know them for verities, since I have found The Atridae and Odysseus evil men.
 
6 - 72 PHI.
Art thou, too, wroth with the all-pestilent sons Of Atreus? Have they given thee cause to grieve?
 
6 - 73 NEO.
Would that my hand might ease the wrath I feel! Then Sparta and Mycenae should be ware That Scyros too breeds valiant sons for war.
 
6 - 74 PHI.
Brave youth! I love thee. Tell me the great cause Why thou inveighest against them with such heat?
 
6 - 75 NEO.
O son of Poeas, hardly shall I tell What outrage I endured when I had come; Yet I will speak it. When the fate of death O'ertook Achilles--
 
6 - 76 PHI.
Out, alas! no more! Hold, till thou first hast made me clearly know, Is Peleus' offspring dead?
 
6 - 77 NEO.
Alas! he is, Slain by no mortal, felled by Phoebus' shaft: So men reported--
 
6 - 78 PHI.
Well, right princely was he! And princely is he who slew him. Shall I mourn Him first, or wait till I have heard thy tale?
 
6 - 79 NEO.
Methinks thou hast thyself enough to mourn, Without the burden of another's woe.
 
6 - 80 PHI.
Well spoken. Then renew thine own complaint, And tell once more wherein they insulted thee.
 
6 - 81 NEO.
There came to fetch me, in a gallant ship, Odysseus and the fosterer of my sire[2], Saying, whether soothly, or in idle show, That, since my father perished, it was known None else but I should take Troy's citadel. Such words from them, my friend, thou may'st believe, Held me not long from making voyage with speed, Chiefly through longing for my father's corse, To see him yet unburied,--for I ne'er Had seen him[3]. Then, besides, 'twas a fair cause, If, by my going, I should vanquish Troy. One day I had sailed, and on the second came To sad Sigeum with wind-favoured speed, When straightway all the host, surrounding me As I set foot on shore, saluted me, And swore the dead Achilles was in life, Their eyes being witness, when they looked on me. He lay there in his shroud: but I, unhappy, Soon ending lamentation for the dead, Went near to those Atridae, as to friends, To obtain my father's armour and all else That had been his. And then,--alas the while, That men should be so hard!--they spake this word: 'Seed of Achilles, thou may'st freely take All else thy father owned, but for those arms, Another wields them now, Laërtes' son.' Tears rushed into mine eyes, and in hot wrath I straightway rose, and bitterly outspake: 'O miscreant! What? And have ye dared to give Mine arms to some man else, unknown to me?' Then said Odysseus, for he chanced to be near, 'Yea, child, and justly have they given me these. I saved them and their master in the field.' Then in fierce anger all at once I launched All terms of execration at his head, Bating no word, being maddened by the thought That I should lose this heirloom,--and to him! He, at this pass, though not of wrathful mood, Stung by such utterance, made rejoinder thus: 'Thou wast not with us here, but wrongfully Didst bide afar. And, since thou mak'st so bold, I tell thee, never shalt thou, as thou sayest, Sail with these arms to Scyros.'--Thus reviled, With such an evil echo in mine ear, I voyage homeward, robbed of mine own right By that vile offset of an evil tree[4]. Yet less I blame him than the men in power. For every multitude, be it army or state, Takes tone from those who rule it, and all taint Of disobedience from bad counsel springs. I have spoken. May the Atridae's enemy Be dear to Heaven, as he is loved by me!
 
6 - 82 CH.
Mother of mightiest Zeus, 1 Feeder of all that live, Who from thy mountainous breast Rivers of gold dost give! To thee, O Earth, I cried that shameful day, When insolence from Atreus' sons went forth Full on our lord: when they bestowed away His father's arms to crown Odysseus' worth; Thou, whom bull-slaughtering lions yoked bear, O mighty mother, hear!
 
6 - 83 PHI.
Your coming is commended by a grief That makes you kindly welcome. For I feel A chord that vibrates to your voice, and tells, Thus have Odysseus and the Atridae wrought. Full well I know, Odysseus' poisoned tongue Shrinks from no mischief nor no guileful word That leads to bad achievement in the end. This moves not my main marvel, but if one Saw this and bore it,--Aias of the shield.
 
6 - 84 NEO.
Ah, friend, he was no more. Had he but lived, This robbery had ne'er been wrought on me.
 
6 - 85 PHI.
What? Is he too departed?
 
6 - 86 NEO.
He is dead. The light no more beholds him.
 
6 - 87 PHI.
Oh! alas! But Tydeus' offspring, and the rascal birth Laërtes bought of Sisyphus, they live: I know it. For their death were to be wished.
 
6 - 88 NEO.
Yea, be assured, they live and flourish high Exalted in the host of Argive men.
 
6 - 89 PHI.
And Nestor, my old friend, good aged man, Is he yet living? Oft he would prevent Their evils, by the wisdom of his thought.
 
6 - 90 NEO.
He too is now in trouble, having lost Antilochus, the comfort of his age.
 
6 - 91 PHI.
There, there! In one brief word thou hast revealed The mournful case of twain, whom I would last Have chosen to hear of as undone. Ah me! Where must one look? when these are dead, and he, Odysseus, lives,--and in a time like this, That craves their presence, and his death for theirs.
 
6 - 92 NEO.
He wrestles cleverly; but, O my friend, Even ablest wits are ofttimes snared at last.
 
6 - 93 PHI.
Tell me, I pray, what was become of him, Patroclus, whom thy father loved so well?
 
6 - 94 NEO.
He, too, was gone. I'll teach thee in a word One truth for all. War doth not willingly Snatch off the wicked, but still takes the good.
 
6 - 95 PHI.
True! and to prove thy saying, I will inquire The fate of a poor dastard, of mean worth, But ever shrewd and nimble with his tongue.
 
6 - 96 NEO.
Whom but Odysseus canst thou mean by this?
 
6 - 97 PHI.
I meant not him. But there was one Thersites, Who ne'er made conscience to stint speech, where all Cried 'Silence!' Is he living, dost thou know?
 
6 - 98 NEO.
I saw him not, but knew he was alive.
 
6 - 99 PHI.
He must be: for no evil yet was crushed. The Heavens will ever shield it. 'Tis their sport To turn back all things rancorous and malign From going down to the grave, and send instead The good and true. Oh, how shall we commend Such dealings, how defend them? When I praise Things god-like, I find evil in the Gods.
 
6 - 100 NEO.
I, O thou child of a Trachinian sire, Henceforth will take good care, from far away To look on Troy and Atreus' children twain. Yea, where the trickster lords it o'er the just, And goodness languishes and rascals rule, --Such courses I will nevermore endure. But rock-bound Scyros henceforth shall suffice To yield me full contentment in my home. Now, to my vessel! And thou, Poeas' child, Farewell, right heartily farewell! May Heaven Grant thy desire, and rid thee of thy plague! Let us be going, that when God shall give Fair voyage, that moment we may launch away.
 
6 - 101 PHI.
My son, are ye now setting forth?
 
6 - 102 NEO.
Our time Bids us go near and look to sail erelong.
 
6 - 103 PHI.
Now, by thy father, by thy mother,--nay, By all thy love e'er cherished in thy home, Suppliant I beg thee, leave me not thus lone, Forlorn in all my misery which thou seest, In all thou hast heard of here surrounding me! Stow me with other freightage. Full of care, I know, and burdensome the charge may prove. Yet venture! Surely to the noble mind All shame is hateful and all kindness blest. And shame would be thy meed, didst thou fail here But, doing this, thou shalt have glorious fame, When I return alive to Oeta's vale. Come, 'tis the labour not of one whole day. So thou durst take me, fling me where thou wilt O' the ship, in hold, prow, stern, or wheresoe'er I least may trouble those on board with me. Ah! by great Zeus, the suppliant's friend, comply, My son, be softened! See, where I am fall'n Thus on my knees before thee, though so weak, Crippled and powerless. Ah! forsake me not Thus far from human footstep. Take me, take me! If only to thy home, or to the town Of old Chalcodon[5] in Euboea.--From thence I have not far to Oeta, and the ridge Of Trachis, and Spercheius' lordly flood. So thou shalt bless my father with my sight. And yet long since I fear he may be gone. For oft I sent him suppliant prayers by men Who touched this isle, entreating him to fetch And bear me safely home with his own crew. But either he is dead, or else, methinks, It well may be, my messengers made light Of my concerns, and hastened onward home. But now in thee I find both messenger And convoy, thou wilt pity me and save. For, well thou knowest, danger never sleeps, And fear of dark reverse is always nigh. Mortals, when free, should look where mischief lurks, And in their happiest hour consider well Their life, lest ruin unsuspected come.
 
6 - 104 CH.
Pity him, O my king! 2 Many a crushing woe He telleth, such as I pray None of my friends may know. And if, dear master, thou mislikest sore Yon cruel-hearted lordly pair, I would, Turning their plan of evil to his good, On swift ship bear him to his native shore, Meeting his heart's desire; and free thy path From fear of heavenly wrath.
 
6 - 105 NEO.
Thou mak'st small scruple here; but be advised: Lest, when this plague on board shall weary thee, Thy voice should alter from this liberal tone.
 
6 - 106 CH.
No, truly! Fear not thou shalt ever have Just cause to utter such reproach on me.
 
6 - 107 NEO.
Then sure 'twere shame, should I more backward prove Than thou, to labour for the stranger's need. Come, if thou wilt, let us make voyage, and he, Let him set forth with speed. Our ship shall take him. He shall not be refused. Only may Heaven Lead safely hence and to our destined port!
 
6 - 108 PHI.
O morning full of brightness! Kindest friend, Sweet mariners, how can I make you feel, In act, how dearly from my heart I love you! Ye have won my soul. Let us be gone, my son,-- First having said farewell to this poor cave, My homeless dwelling-place, that thou may'st know, How barely I have lived, how firm my heart! Methinks another could not have endured The very sight of what I bore. But I Through strong necessity have conquered pain.
 
6 - 109 CH.
Stay: let us understand. There come two men A stranger, with a shipmate of thy crew. When ye have heard them, ye may then go in. _Enter_ Messenger, _disguised as a merchantman_.
 
6 - 110 MER.
Son of Achilles, my companion here, Who with two more remained to guard thy ship, Agreed to help me find thee where thou wert, Since unexpectedly, through fortune's will, I meet thee, mooring by the self-same shore. For like a merchantman, with no great sail, Making my course from Ilion to my home, Grape-clustered Peparethos, when I heard The mariners declare that one and all Were of thy crew, I would not launch again, Without a word, till we had told our news.-- Methinks thou knowest nought of thine own case, What new devices of the Argive chiefs Surround thee; nor devices only now, But active deeds, no longer unperformed.
 
6 - 111 NEO.
Well, stranger, for the kindness thou hast shown,-- Else were I base,--my heart must thank thee still. But tell me what thou meanest, that I may learn What new-laid plot thou bring'st me from the camp.
 
6 - 112 MER.
Old Phoenix, Acamas and Demophon Are gone in thy pursuit with ships and men.
 
6 - 113 NEO.
To bring me back with reasons or perforce?
 
6 - 114 MER.
I know not. What I heard, I am here to tell.
 
6 - 115 NEO.
How? And is this in act? Are they set forth To please the Atridae, Phoenix and the rest?
 
6 - 116 MER.
The thing is not to do, but doing now.
 
6 - 117 NEO.
What kept Odysseus back, if this be so, From going himself? Had he some cause for fear?
 
6 - 118 MER.
He and the son of Tydeus, when our ship Hoist sail, were gone to fetch another man.
 
6 - 119 NEO.
For whom could he himself be sailing forth?
 
6 - 120 MER.
For some one,--but first tell me, whispering low Whate'er thou speakest,--who is this I see?
 
6 - 121 NEO.
(_speaking aloud_). This, sir, is Philoctetes the renowned.
 
6 - 122 MER.
(_aside to_ NEOPTOLEMUS). Without more question, snatch thyself away And sail forth from this land.
 
6 - 123 PHI.
What saith he, boy? Through what dark traffic is the mariner Betraying me with whispering in thine ear?
 
6 - 124 NEO.
I have not caught it, but whate'er he speaks He must speak openly to us and thee.
 
6 - 125 MER.
Seed of Achilles, let me not offend The army by my words! Full many a boon, Being poor, I reap from them for service done.
 
6 - 126 NEO.
The Atridae are my foes; the man you see Is my fast friend, because he hates them sore. Then, if you come in kindness, you must hide Nothing from him or me of all thou hast heard.
 
6 - 127 MER.
Look what thou doest, my son!
 
6 - 128 NEO.
I mark it well.
 
6 - 129 MER.
Thou shalt be answerable.
 
6 - 130 NEO.
Content: but speak.
 
6 - 131 MER.
Then hear me. These two men whom I have named, Diomedes and Odysseus, are set forth Engaged on oath to bring this man by force If reasons fail. The Achaeans every one Have heard this plainly from Odysseus' mouth. He was the louder and more confident.
 
6 - 132 NEO.
Say, for what cause, after so long a time, Can Atreus' sons have turned their thoughts on him, Whom long they had cast forth? What passing touch Of conscience moved them, or what stroke from Heaven, Whose wrath requites all wicked deeds of men?
 
6 - 133 MER.
Methinks thou hast not heard what I will now Unfold to thee. There was a princely seer, A son of Priam, Helenus by name, Whom he for whom no word is bad enough, Crafty Odysseus, sallying forth alone One night, had taken, and in bonds displayed 'Fore all the Achaeans, a right noble prey. He, 'mid his other prophecies, foretold No Grecian force should sack Troy's citadel, Till with fair reasons they had brought this man From Lemnos isle, his lonely dwelling-place. When thus the prophet spake, Laërtes' son Straight undertook to fetch this man, and show him To all the camp:--he hoped, with fair consent: But else, perforce.--And, if he failed in this, Whoever would might smite him on the head. My tale is told, dear youth. I counsel speed To thee and to the friend for whom thou carest.
 
6 - 134 PHI.
Ah me, unhappy! has that rascal knave Sworn to fetch me with reasons to their camp? As likely might his reasons bring me back, Like his begetter, from the house of death.
 
6 - 135 MER.
You talk of what I know not. I will go Shipward. May God be with you for all good.
 
6 - 136 PHI.
Is not this terrible, Laërtes' son Should ever think to bring me with soft words And show me from his deck to all their host? No! Sooner will I listen to the tongue Of the curs'd basilisk that thus hath maim'd me. Ay, but he'll venture anything in word Or deed. And now I know he will be here. Come, O my son, let us be gone, while seas And winds divide us from Odysseus' ship. Let us depart. Sure timely haste brings rest And quiet slumber when the toil is done.
 
6 - 137 NEO.
Shall we not sail when this south-western wind Hath fallen, that now is adverse to our course?
 
6 - 138 PHI.
All winds are fair to him who flies from woe.
 
6 - 139 NEO.
Nay, but this head-wind hinders them no less.
 
6 - 140 PHI.
No head-wind hinders pirates on their way, When violence and rapine lead them on.
 
6 - 141 NEO.
Well, then, let us be going, if you will; When you have taken from within the cave What most you need and value.
 
6 - 142 PHI.
Though my all Be little, there is that I may not lose.
 
6 - 143 NEO.
What can there be that we have not on board?
 
6 - 144 PHI.
A leaf I have found, wherewith I still the rage Of my sore plague, and lull it quite to rest.
 
6 - 145 NEO.
Well, bring it forth.--What? Is there something more?
 
6 - 146 PHI.
If any of these arrows here are fallen, I would not leave them for a casual prey.
 
6 - 147 NEO.
How? Do I see thee with the marvellous bow?
 
6 - 148 PHI.
Here in my hand. The world hath only one.
 
6 - 149 NEO.
And may one touch and handle it, and gaze With reverence, as on a thing from Heaven?
 
6 - 150 PHI.
Thou mayest, my son. This and whate'er of mine May stead thee, 'tis thy privilege to enjoy.
 
6 - 151 NEO.
In very truth I long for it, but so, That longing waits on leave. Am I permitted?
 
6 - 152 PHI.
Thou art, my son,--and well thou speakest,--thou art. Thou, that hast given me light and life, the joy Of seeing Mount Oeta and my father's home, With all I love there, and his aged head,-- Thou that hast raised me far above my foes Who triumphed! Thou may'st take it in thine hand, And,--when thou hast given it back to me,--may'st vaunt Alone of mortals for thine excellence To have held this in thy touch. I, too, at first, Received it as a boon for kindness done.
 
6 - 153 NEO.
Well, go within.
 
6 - 154 PHI.
Nay, I must take thee too. My sickness craves thee for its comforter. [PHILOCTETES _and_ NEOPTOLEMUS _go into the cave_
 
6 - 155 CHORUS.
In fable I have heard, I 1 Though sight hath ne'er confirmed the word, How he who attempted once the couch supreme, To a whirling wheel by Zeus the all-ruler bound, Tied head and heel, careering ever round, Atones his impious unsubstantial dream. Of no man else, through eye or ear, Have I discerned a fate more full of fear Than yonder sufferer's of the cureless wound: Who did no violence, defrauded none:-- A just man, had he dwelt among the just Unworthily behold him thrust Alone to hear the billows roar That break around a rugged shore! How could he live, whose life was thus consumed with moan? Where neighbour there was none: I 2 No arm to stay him wandering lone, Unevenly, with stumbling steps and sore; No friend in need, no kind inhabitant, To minister to his importunate want, No heart whereto his pangs he might deplore. None who, whene'er the gory flow Was rushing hot, might healing herbs bestow, Or cull from teeming Earth some genial plant To allay the anguish of malignant pain And soothe the sharpness of his poignant woe. Like infant whom the nurse lets go, With tottering movement here and there, He crawled for comfort, whensoe'er His soul-devouring plague relaxed its cruel strain. Not fed with foison of all-teeming Earth II 1 Whence we sustain us, ever-toiling men, But only now and then With wingèd things, by his wing'd shafts brought low, He stayed his hunger from his bow. Poor soul, that never through ten years of dearth Had pleasure from the fruitage of the vine, But seeking to some standing pool, Nor clear nor cool, Foul water heaved to head for lack of heartening wine. But now, consorted with the hero's child, II 2 He winneth greatness and a joyful change; Over the water wild Borne by a friendly bark beneath the range Of Oeta, where Spercheius fills Wide channels winding among lovely hills Haunted of Melian nymphs, till he espies The roof-tree of his father's hall, And high o'er all Shines the bronze shield of him, whose home is in the skies[6]. [NEOPTOLEMUS _comes out of the cave, followed by_ PHILOCTETES _in pain_
 
6 - 156 NEO.
Prithee, come on! Why dost thou stand aghast, Voiceless, and thus astonied in thine air?
 
6 - 157 PHI.
Oh! oh!
 
6 - 158 NEO.
What?
 
6 - 159 PHI.
Nothing. Come my son, fear nought.
 
6 - 160 NEO.
Is pain upon thee? Hath thy trouble come?
 
6 - 161 PHI.
No pain, no pain! 'Tis past; I am easy now. Ye heavenly powers!
 
6 - 162 NEO.
Why dost thou groan aloud, And cry to Heaven?
 
6 - 163 PHI.
To come and save. Kind Heaven! Oh, oh!
 
6 - 164 NEO.
What is 't? Why silent? Wilt not speak? I see thy misery.
 
6 - 165 PHI.
Oh! I am lost, my son! I cannot hide it from you. Oh! it shoots, It pierces. Oh unhappy! Oh! my woe! I am lost, my son, I am devoured. Oh me! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Pain! pain! Oh pain! oh pain! Child, if a sword be to thine hand, smite hard, Shear off my foot! heed not my life! Quick, come!
 
6 - 166 NEO.
What hath so suddenly arisen, that thus Thou mak'st ado and groanest o'er thyself?
 
6 - 167 PHI.
Thou knowest.
 
6 - 168 NEO.
What know I?
 
6 - 169 PHI.
O! thou knowest, my son!
 
6 - 170 NEO.
I know not.
 
6 - 171 PHI.
How? Not know? Ah me! Pain, pain!
 
6 - 172 NEO.
Thy plague is a sore burden, heavy and sore.
 
6 - 173 PHI.
Sore? 'Tis unutterable. Have pity on me!
 
6 - 174 NEO.
What shall I do?
 
6 - 175 PHI.
Do not in fear forsake me. This wandering evil comes in force again, Hungry as ere it fed.
 
6 - 176 NEO.
O hapless one! Thrice hapless in thy manifold distress! What wilt thou? Shall I raise thee on mine arm?
 
6 - 177 PHI.
PHI. Nay, but receiving from my hand the bow, As late thou didst desire me, keep it safe And guard it, till the fury of my pain Pass over me and cease. For when 'tis spent, Slumber will seize me, else it ne'er would end. I must sleep undisturbed. But if meanwhile They come,--by Heaven I charge thee, in no wise, Willingly nor perforce, let them have this! Else thou wilt be the slayer of us both; Of me thy suppliant, and of thyself.
 
6 - 178 NEO.
Fear not my care. No hand shall hold these arms But thine and mine. Give, and Heaven bless the deed!
 
6 - 179 PHI.
I give them; there, my son! But look to Heaven And pray no envy smite thee, nor such bane In having them, as fell on me and him Who bore them formerly.
 
6 - 180 NEO.
O grant it, Gods! And grant us fair and happy voyage, where'er Our course is shaped and righteous Heaven shall guide.
 
6 - 181 PHI.
Ah! but I fear, my son, thy prayer is vain: For welling yet again from depths within, This gory ooze is dripping. It will come! I know it will. O, foot, torn helpless thing, What wilt thou do to me? Ah! ah! It comes, It is at hand. 'Tis here! Woe's me, undone! I have shown you all. Stay near me. Go not far: Ah! ah! O island king, I would this agony Might cleave thy bosom through and through! Woe, woe! Woe! Ah! ye two commanders of the host, Agamemnon, Menelaüs, O that ye, Another ten years' durance in my room Might nurse this malady! O Death, Death, Death! I call thee daily--wilt thou never come? Will it not be?--My son, thou noble boy, If thou art noble, take and burn me there Aloft in yon all-worshipped Lemnian fire! Yea, when the bow thou keep'st was my reward, I did like service for the child of Heaven. How now, my son? What say'st? Art silent? Where--where art thou, boy?
 
6 - 182 NEO.
My heart is full, and groaning o'er thy woes.
 
6 - 183 PHI.
Nay, yet have comfort. This affliction oft Goes no less swiftly than it came. I pray thee, Stand fast and leave me not alone!
 
6 - 184 NEO.
Fear nought. We will not stir.
 
6 - 185 PHI.
Wilt thou remain?
 
6 - 186 NEO.
Be sure of it.
 
6 - 187 PHI.
I'll not degrade thee with an oath, my son.
 
6 - 188 NEO.
Rest satisfied. I may not go without thee.
 
6 - 189 PHI.
Thy hand, to pledge me that!
 
6 - 190 NEO.
There, I will stay.
 
6 - 191 PHI.
Now, now, aloft!
 
6 - 192 NEO.
Where mean'st thou?
 
6 - 193 PHI.
Yonder aloft!
 
6 - 194 NEO.
Whither? Thou rav'st. Why starest thou at the sky?
 
6 - 195 PHI.
Now, let me go.
 
6 - 196 NEO.
Where?
 
6 - 197 PHI.
Let me go, I say!
 
6 - 198 NEO.
I will not.
 
6 - 199 PHI.
You will kill me. Let me go!
 
6 - 200 NEO.
Well, thou know'st best I hold thee not.
 
6 - 201 PHI.
O Earth, I die. receive me to thy breast! This pain Subdues me utterly, I cannot stand.
 
6 - 202 NEO.
Methinks he will be fast in slumber soon That head sinks backward, and a clammy sweat Bathes all his limbs, while from his foot hath burst A vein, dark bleeding. Let us leave him, friends, In quietness, till he hath fallen to sleep.
 
6 - 203 CHORUS
Lord of the happiest life, I Sleep, thou that know'st not strife, That know'st not grief, Still wafting sure relief, Come, saviour now! Thy healing balm is spread Over this pain worn head, Quench not the beam that gives calm to his brow. Look, O my lord, to thy path, Either to go or to stay How is my thought to proceed? What is our cause for delay? Look! Opportunity's power, Fitting the task to the hour, Giveth the race to the swift.
 
6 - 204 NEO.
He hears not. But I see that to have ta'en His bow without him were a bootless gain He must sail with us. So the god hath said Heaven hath decreed this garland for his head: And to have failed with falsehood were a meed Of shameful soilure for a shameless deed.
 
6 - 205 CH.
God shall determine the end-- II But for thine answer, friend, Waft soft words low! All sick men's sleep, we know, Hath open eye; Their quickly ruffling mind Quivers in lightest wind, Sleepless in slumber new danger to spy. Think, O my lord, of thy path, Secretly look forth afar, What wilt thou do for thy need? How with the wise wilt thou care? If toward the nameless thy heart Chooseth this merciful part, Huge are the dangers that drift. The wind is fair, my son, the wind is fair, The man is dark and helpless, stretched in night. (O kind, warm sleep that calmest human care!) Powerless of hand and foot and ear and sight, Blind, as one lying in the house of death. (Think well if here thou utterest timely breath.) This, O my son, is all my thought can find, Best are the toils that without frightening bind.
 
6 - 206 NEO.
Hush! One word more were madness. He revives. His eye hath motion. He uplifts his head.
 
6 - 207 PHI.
Fair daylight following sleep, and ye, dear friends, Faithful beyond all hope in tending me! I never could have dreamed that thou, dear youth, Couldst thus have borne my sufferings and stood near So full of pity to relieve my pain. Not so the worthy generals of the host;-- This princely patience was not theirs to show. Only thy noble nature, nobly sprung, Made light of all the trouble, though oppressed With fetid odours and unceasing cries. And now, since this my plague would seem to yield Some pause and brief forgetfulness of pain, With thine own hand, my son, upraise me here, And set me on my feet, that, when my strength After exhaustion shall return again, We may move shoreward and launch forth with speed.
 
6 - 208 NEO.
I feel unhoped-for gladness when I see Thy painless gaze, and hear thy living breath, For thine appearance and surroundings both Were deathlike. But arise! Or, if thou wilt, These men shall raise thee. For they will not shrink From toil which thou and I at once enjoin.
 
6 - 209 PHI.
Right, right, my son! But lift me thine own self, As I am sure thou meanest. Let these be, Lest they be burdened with the noisome smell Before the time. Enough for them to bear The trouble on board.
 
6 - 210 NEO.
I will; stand up, endure!
 
6 - 211 PHI.
Fear not. Old habit will enable me.
 
6 - 212 NEO.
O me! What shall I do? Now 'tis my turn to exclaim!
 
6 - 213 PHI.
What canst thou mean? What change is here, my son?
 
6 - 214 NEO.
I know not how to shift the troublous word. 'Tis hopeless.
 
6 - 215 PHI.
What is hopeless? Speak not so, Dear child!
 
6 - 216 NEO.
But so my wretched lot hath fallen.
 
6 - 217 PHI.
Ah! Can it be, the offence of my disease Hath moved thee not to take me now on board?
 
6 - 218 NEO.
All is offence to one who hath forced himself From the true bent to an unbecoming deed.
 
6 - 219 PHI.
Nought misbecoming to thyself or sire Doest thou or speak'st, befriending a good man.
 
6 - 220 NEO.
My baseness will appear. That wrings my soul.
 
6 - 221 PHI.
Not in thy deeds. But for thy words, I fear me!
 
6 - 222 NEO.
O Heaven! Must double vileness then be mine Both shameful silence and most shameful speech?
 
6 - 223 PHI.
Or my discernment is at fault, or thou Mean'st to betray me and make voyage without me.
 
6 - 224 NEO.
Nay, not without thee, there is my distress! Lest I convey thee to thy bitter grief.
 
6 - 225 PHI.
How? How, dear youth? I do not understand.
 
6 - 226 NEO.
Here I unveil it. Thou art to sail to Troy, To join the chieftains and the Achaean host.
 
6 - 227 PHI.
What do I hear? Ah!
 
6 - 228 NEO.
Grieve not till you learn.
 
6 - 229 PHI.
Learn what? What wilt thou make of me? What mean'st thou?
 
6 - 230 NEO.
First to release thee from this plague, and then With thee to go and take the realm of Troy.
 
6 - 231 PHI.
And is this thine intent?
 
6 - 232 NEO.
'Tis so ordained Unchangeably. Be not dismayed! 'Tis so.
 
6 - 233 PHI.
Me miserable! I am betrayed, undone! What guile is here? My bow! give back my bow!
 
6 - 234 NEO.
I may not. Interest, and duty too, Force me to obey commandment.
 
6 - 235 PHI.
O thou fire, Thou terror of the world! Dark instrument Of ever-hateful guile!--What hast thou done? How thou hast cheated me! Art not ashamed To look on him that sued to thee for shelter? O heart of stone, thou hast stolen my life away With yonder bow!--Ah, yet I beg of thee, Give it me back, my son, I entreat thee, give! By all thy father worshipped, rob me not Of life!--Ah me! Now he will speak no more, But turns away, obdúrate to retain it. O ye, my comrades in this wilderness, Rude creatures of the rocks, O promontories, Creeks, precipices of the hills, to you And your familiar presence I complain Of this foul trespass of Achilles' son. Sworn to convey me home, to Troy he bears me. And under pledge of his right hand hath ta'en And holds from me perforce my wondrous bow, The sacred gift of Zeus-born Heracles, Thinking to wave it midst the Achaean host Triumphantly for his. In conquering me He vaunts as of some valorous feat, and knows not He is spoiling a mere corse, an empty dream, The shadow of a vapour. In my strength He ne'er had vanquished me. Even as I am, He could not, but by guile. Now, all forlorn, I am abused, deceived. What must I do? Nay, give it me. Nay, yet be thy true self! Thou art silent. I am lost. O misery! Rude face of rock, back I return to thee And thy twin gateway, robbed of arms and food, To wither in thy cave companionless:-- No more with these mine arrows to destroy Or flying bird or mountain-roving beast. But, all unhappy! I myself must be The feast of those on whom I fed, the chase Of that I hunted, and shall dearly pay In bloody quittance for their death, through one Who seemed all ignorant of sinful guile. Perish,--not till I am certain if thy heart Will change once more,--if not, my curse on thee!
 
6 - 236 CH.
What shall we do, my lord? We wait thy word Or to sail now, or yield to his desire.
 
6 - 237 NEO.
My heart is pressed with a strange pity for him, Not now beginning, but long since begun.
 
6 - 238 PHI.
Ay, pity me, my son! by all above, Make not thy name a scorn by wronging me!
 
6 - 239 NEO.
O! I am troubled sore. What must I do? Would I had never left mine island home!
 
6 - 240 PHI.
Thou art not base, but seemest to have learnt Some baseness from base men. Now, as 'tis meet, Be better guided--leave me mine arms, and go.
 
6 - 241 NEO.
(_to Chorus_). What shall we do? _Enter_ ODYSSEUS.
 
6 - 242 OD.
What art thou doing, knave? Give me that bow, and haste thee back again.
 
6 - 243 PHI.
Alas! What do I hear? Odysseus' voice?
 
6 - 244 OD.
Be sure of that, Odysseus, whom thou seest.
 
6 - 245 PHI.
Oh, I am bought and sold, undone! 'Twas he That kidnapped me, and robbed me of my bow.
 
6 - 246 OD.
Yea. I deny it not. Be sure, 'twas I.
 
6 - 247 PHI.
Give back, my son, the bow; release it!
 
6 - 248 OD.
That, Though he desire it, he shall never do. Thou too shalt march along, or these shall force thee.
 
6 - 249 PHI.
They force me! O thou boldest of bad men! They force me?
 
6 - 250 OD.
If thou com'st not willingly.
 
6 - 251 PHI.
O Lemnian earth and thou almighty flame, Hephaestos' workmanship, shall this be borne, That he by force must drag me from your care?
 
6 - 252 OD.
'Tis Zeus, I tell thee, monarch of this isle, Who thus hath willed. I am his minister.
 
6 - 253 PHI.
Wretch, what vile words thy wit hath power to say! The gods are liars when invoked by thee.
 
6 - 254 OD.
OD. Nay, 'tis their truth compels thee to this voyage.
 
6 - 255 PHI.
PHI. I will not have it so.
 
6 - 256 OD.
I will. Thou shalt.
 
6 - 257 PHI.
Woe for my wretchedness! My father, then, Begat no freeman, but a slave in me.
 
6 - 258 OD.
Nay, but the peer of noblest men, with whom Thou art to take and ravage Troy with might.
 
6 - 259 PHI.
Never,--though I must suffer direst woe,-- While this steep Lemnian ground is mine to tread!
 
6 - 260 OD.
What now is thine intent?
 
6 - 261 PHI.
Down from the crag This head shall plunge and stain the crag beneath.
 
6 - 262 OD.
(_to the Attendants_.) Ay, seize and bind him. Baffle him in this.
 
6 - 263 PHI.
Poor hands, for lack of your beloved string, Caught by this craven! O corrupted soul! How thou hast undermined me, having taken To screen thy quest this youth to me unknown, Far worthier of my friendship than of thine, Who knew no better than to obey command. Even now 'tis manifest he burns within With pain for his own error and my wrong. But, though unwilling and mapt for ill, Thy crafty, mean, and cranny spying soul Too well hath lessoned him in sinful lore. Now thou hast bound me, O thou wretch, and thinkest To take me from this coast, where thou didst cast me Outlawed and desolate, a corpse 'mongst men. Oh! I curse thee now, as ofttimes in the past: But since Heaven yields me nought but bitterness, Thou livest and art blithe, while 'tis my pain To live on in my misery, laughed to scorn By thee and Atreus' sons, those generals twain Whom thou art serving in this chase. But thou With strong compulsion and deceit was driven Troyward, whilst I, poor victim, of free will Took my seven ships and sailed there, yet was thrown Far from all honour,--as thou sayest, by them, But, as they turn the tale, by thee.--And now Why fetch me hence and take me? To what end? I am nothing, dead to you this many a year. How, O thou Heaven-abhorred! am I not now Lame and of evil smell? how shall ye vaunt Before the gods drink-offering or the fat Of victims, if I sail among your crew? For this, as ye professed, was the chief cause Why ye disowned me. Perish!--So ye shall, For the wrong done me, if the Heavens be just. And that they are, I know. Else had ye ne'er Sailed on this errand for an outcast wretch, Had they not pricked your heart with thoughts of me. Oh, if ye pity me, chastising powers, And thou, the Genius of my land, revenge, Revenge this crime on all their heads at once! My life is pitiable; but if I saw Their ruin, I would think me well and strong.
 
6 - 264 CH.
How full of bitterness is his resolve, Wrathfully spoken with unbending will!
 
6 - 265 OD.
I might speak long in answer, did the time Give scope, but now one thing is mine to say. I am known to vary with the varying need; And when 'tis tried, who can be just and good, My peer will not be found for piety. But though on all occasions covetous Of victory, this once I yield to thee, And willingly. Unhand him there. Let go! Leave him to stay. What further use of thee, When we have ta'en these arms? Have we not Teucer, Skilled in this mystery? Yea, I may boast Myself thine equal both in strength and aim To wield them. Fare thee well, then! Thou art free To roam thy barren isle. We need thee not. Let us be going! And perchance thy gift May bring thy destined glory to my brow.
 
6 - 266 PHI.
What shall I do? Alas, shalt thou be seen Graced with mine arms amongst Achaean men?
 
6 - 267 OD.
No more! I am going.
 
6 - 268 PHI.
O Achilles' child! Wilt thou, too, vanish? Must I lose thy voice?
 
6 - 269 OD.
Come on, and look not, noble though thou be, Lest thou undo our fortune.
 
6 - 270 PHI.
Mariners, Must ye, too, leave me thus disconsolate? Will ye not pity me?
 
6 - 271 CH.
Our captain's here. Whate'er he saith to thee, that we too speak.
 
6 - 272 NEO.
My chief will call me weakling, soft of heart; But go not yet, since our friend bids you stay. Till we have prayed, and all be ready on board. Meanwhile, perchance, he may conceive some thought That favours our design. We two will start; And ye, be swift to speed forth at our call. [_Exit_
 
6 - 273 PHI.
O cavern of the hollow rock, I 1 Frosty and stifling in the seasons' change! How I seem fated never more to range From thy sad covert, that hath felt the shock Of pain on pain, steeped with my wretchedness. Now thou wilt be my comforter in death! Grief haunted harbour, choked with my distress! Tell me, what hope is mine of daily food, Who will be careful for my good? I fail. Ye cowering creatures of the sky, Oh, as ye fly, Snatch me, borne upward on the blast's sharp breath!
 
6 - 274 CH.
Thou child of misery! No mightier power hath this decreed, But thine own will and deed Hath bound thee thus in grief, Since, when kind Heaven had sent relief And shown the path of wisdom firm and sure, Thou still hast chosen this evil to endure.
 
6 - 275 PHI.
O hapless life, sore bruised with pain! I 2 No more with living mortal may I dwell, But ever pining in this desert cell With lonely grief, all famished must remain And perish; for what food is mine to share, When this strong arm no longer wields my bow, Whose fleet shafts flew to smite the birds of air I was o'erthrown by words, words dark and blind, Low-creeping from a traitorous mind! O might I see him, whose unrighteous thought This ruin wrought, Plagued for no less a period with like woe!
 
6 - 276 CH.
Not by our craft thou art caught, But Destiny divine hath wrought The net that holds thee bound. Aim not at us the sound Of thy dread curse with dire disaster fraught. On others let that light! 'Tis our true care Thou should'st not scorn our love in thy despair.
 
6 - 277 PHI.
Now, seated by the shore II 1 Of heaving ocean hoar, He mocks me, waving high The sole support of my precarious being, The bow which none e'er held but I. O treasure of my heart, torn from this hand, That loved thy touch,--if thou canst understand, How sad must be thy look in seeing Thy master destined now no more, Like Heracles of yore, To wield thee with an archer's might! But in the grasp of an all-scheming wight, O bitter change! thou art plied; And swaying ever by his side, Shalt view his life of dark malignity, Teeming with guileful shames, like those he wrought on me.
 
6 - 278 CH.
Nobly to speak for the right Is manly and strong; But not with an envious blight To envenom the tongue; He to serve all his friends of the fleet, One obeying a many-voiced word, Through the minist'ring craft of our lord Hath but done what was meet.
 
6 - 279 PHI.
Come, legions of the wild, II 2 Of aspect fierce or mild, Fowl from the fields of air, And beasts that roam with bright untroubled gaze, No longer bounding from my lair Fly mine approach! Now freely without fear Ye may surround my covert and come near, Treading the savage rock-strewn ways. The might I had is no more mine, Stolen with those arms divine. This fort hath no man to defend. Come satisfy your vengeful jaws, and rend These quivering tainted limbs! Already hovering death bedims My fainting sense. Who thus can live on air, Tasting no gift of earth that breathing mortals share?
 
6 - 280 CH.
Ah! do not shrink from thy friend, If love thou reverest, But know 'tis for thee to forfend The fate which thou fearest. The lot thou hast here to deplore, Is sad evermore to maintain, And hardship in sickness is sore, But sorest in pain.
 
6 - 281 PHI.
Kindest of all that e'er before III Have trod this shore, Again thou mind'st me of mine ancient woe! Why wilt thou ruin me? What wouldst thou do?
 
6 - 282 CH.
How mean'st thou?
 
6 - 283 PHI.
If to Troy, of me abhorred Thou e'er hast hoped to lead me with thy lord.
 
6 - 284 CH.
So I judge best.
 
6 - 285 PHI.
Begone at once, begone!
 
6 - 286 CH.
Sweet is that word, and swiftly shall be done! Let us be gone, each to his place on board. [The Chorus _make as if they were going_
 
6 - 287 PHI.
Nay, by dear Zeus, to whom all suppliants moan Leave me not yet!
 
6 - 288 CH.
Keep measure in thy word.
 
6 - 289 PHI.
Stay, by Heaven, stay!
 
6 - 290 CH.
What wilt thou say?
 
6 - 291 PHI.
O misery! O cruel power That rul'st this hour! I am destroyed. Ah me! O poor torn limb, what shall I do with thee Through all my days to be? Ah, strangers, come, return, return!
 
6 - 292 CH.
What new command are we to learn Crossing thy former mind?
 
6 - 293 PHI.
Ah! yet be kind. Reprove not him, whose tongue, with grief distraught, Obeys not, in dark storms, the helm of thought!
 
6 - 294 CH.
Come, poor friend, the way we call.
 
6 - 295 PHI.
Never, learn it once for all! Not though he, whom Heaven obeys, Blast me with fierce lightning's blaze! Perish Troy, and all your host, That have chosen, to their cost, To despise and cast me forth, Since my wound obscured my worth! Ah, but, strangers, if your sense Hath o'er-mastered this offence, Yield but one thing to my prayer!
 
6 - 296 CH.
What wouldst thou have?
 
6 - 297 PHI.
Some weapon bare, Axe or sword or sharpened dart, Bring it to content my heart.
 
6 - 298 CH.
What is thy new intent?
 
6 - 299 PHI.
PHI. To sever point by point This body, joint from joint. On bloody death my mind is bent.
 
6 - 300 CH.
Wherefore?
 
6 - 301 PHI.
To see my father's face.
 
6 - 302 CH.
Where upon earth?
 
6 - 303 PHI.
He hath no place Where sun doth shine, but in the halls of night. O native country, land of my delight, Would I were blest one moment with thy sight! Why did I leave thy sacred dew And loose my vessels from thy shore, To join the hateful Danaän crew And lend them succour? Oh, I am no more!
 
6 - 304 LEADER OF CH.
Long since thou hadst seen me nearing yonder ship, Had I not spied Odysseus and the son Of great Achilles hastening to our side.
 
6 - 305 OD.
Wilt thou not tell me why thou art hurrying This backward journey with reverted speed?
 
6 - 306 NEO.
To undo what I have wrongly done to-day.
 
6 - 307 OD.
Thy words appal me. What is wrongly done?
 
6 - 308 NEO.
When in obeying thee and all the host--
 
6 - 309 OD.
Thou didst what deed that misbecame thy life?
 
6 - 310 NEO.
I conquered with base stratagem and fraud--
 
6 - 311 OD.
Whom? What new plan is rising in thy mind?
 
6 - 312 NEO.
Not new. But to the child of Poeas here--
 
6 - 313 OD.
What wilt thou do? I quake with strange alarm.
 
6 - 314 NEO.
From whom I took these weapons, back again----
 
6 - 315 OD.
O Heaven! thou wilt not give them! Mean'st thou this?
 
6 - 316 NEO.
Yea, for I have them through base sinful means.
 
6 - 317 OD.
I pray thee, speak'st thou thus to anger me?
 
6 - 318 NEO.
If the truth anger thee, the truth is said.
 
6 - 319 OD.
Achilles' son! What word is fallen from thee?
 
6 - 320 NEO.
Must the same syllables be thrice thrown forth?
 
6 - 321 OD.
Once was too much. Would they had ne'er been said!
 
6 - 322 NEO.
Enough. Thou hast heard my purpose clearly told.
 
6 - 323 OD.
I know what power shall thwart thee in the deed.
 
6 - 324 NEO.
Whose will shall hinder me?
 
6 - 325 OD.
The Achaean host And I among them.
 
6 - 326 NEO.
Thou'rt sharp-witted, sure! But little wit or wisdom show'st thou here.
 
6 - 327 OD.
Neither thy words nor thy design is wise.
 
6 - 328 NEO.
But if 'tis righteous, that is better far.
 
6 - 329 OD.
How righteous, to release what thou hast ta'en By my device?
 
6 - 330 NEO.
I sinned a shameful sin, And I will do mine utmost to retrieve it.
 
6 - 331 OD.
How? Fear'st thou not the Achaeans in this act?
 
6 - 332 NEO.
In doing right I fear not them nor thee.
 
6 - 333 OD.
I call thy power in question.
 
6 - 334 NEO.
Then I'll fight, Not with Troy's legions, but with thee.
 
6 - 335 OD.
Come on! Let fortune arbitrate.
 
6 - 336 NEO.
Thou seest my hand Feeling the hilt.
 
6 - 337 OD.
And me thou soon shalt see Doing the like and dallying not!--And yet I will not touch thee, but will go and tell The army, that shall wreak this on thy head. [_Exit_
 
6 - 338 NEO.
Thou show'st discretion: which if thou preserve, Thou may'st maintain a path exempt from pain. Ho! son of Poeas, Philoctetes, come And leave thy habitation in the rock.
 
6 - 339 PHI.
What noise again is troubling my poor cave? Why do ye summon me? What crave ye, sirs? Ha! 'tis some knavery. Are ye come to add Some monster evil to my mountainous woe?
 
6 - 340 NEO.
Fear not, but hearken to what now I speak.
 
6 - 341 PHI.
I needs must fear thee, whose fair words erewhile Brought me to bitter fortune.
 
6 - 342 NEO.
May not men Repent and change?
 
6 - 343 PHI.
Such wast thou in thy talk, When thou didst rob me of my bow,--so bright Without, so black within.
 
6 - 344 NEO.
Ah, but not now, Assure thee! Only let me hear thy will, Is 't constant to remain here and endure, Or to make voyage with us?
 
6 - 345 PHI.
Stop, speak no more! Idle and vain will all thine utterance be.
 
6 - 346 NEO.
Thou art so resolved?
 
6 - 347 PHI.
More firmly than I say.
 
6 - 348 NEO.
I would I might have brought thee to my mind, But since my words are out of tune, I have done.
 
6 - 349 PHI.
Thou wert best. No word of thine can touch my soul Or win me to thy love, who by deceit Hast reft my life away. And then thou com'st To school me,--of noblest father, basest son! Perish, the Atridae first of all, and then Laërtes' child, and thou!
 
6 - 350 NEO.
Curse me no more, But take this hallowed weapon from my hand.
 
6 - 351 PHI.
What words are these? Am I again deceived?
 
6 - 352 NEO.
No, by the holiest name of Zeus on high!
 
6 - 353 PHI.
O voice of gladness, if thy speech be true!
 
6 - 354 NEO.
The deed shall prove it. Only reach thy hand, And be again sole master of thy bow. [ODYSSEUS _appears_
 
6 - 355 OD.
But I make protest, in the sight of Heaven, For Atreus' sons, and all the Achaean host.
 
6 - 356 PHI.
Dear son, whose voice disturbs us? Do I hear Odysseus?
 
6 - 357 OD.
Ay, and thou behold'st him nigh, And he shall force thee to the Trojan plain, Howe'er Achilles' offspring make or mar.
 
6 - 358 PHI.
This shaft shall bear thee sorrow for that boast.
 
6 - 359 NEO.
Let it not fly, by Heaven!
 
6 - 360 PHI.
Dear child, let go Mine arm!
 
6 - 361 NEO.
I will not. [_Exit_ ODYSSEUS
 
6 - 362 PHI.
Ah! Why hast thou robbed My bow of bringing down mine enemy?
 
6 - 363 NEO.
This were ignoble both for thee and me.
 
6 - 364 PHI.
One thing is manifest, the first o' the host Lying forerunners of the Achaean band, Are brave with words, but cowards with the steel.
 
6 - 365 NEO.
Well, now the bow is thine. Thou hast no cause For blame or anger any more 'gainst me.
 
6 - 366 PHI.
None. Thou hast proved thy birthright, dearest boy. Not from the loins of Sisyphus thou earnest, But from Achilles, who in life was held Noblest of men alive, and now o' the dead.
 
6 - 367 NEO.
It gladdens me that thou shouldst speak in praise Both of my sire and me. But hear me tell The boon for which I sue thee.--Mortal men Must bear such evils as high Heaven ordains; But those afflicted by self-chosen ills, Like thine to-day, receive not from just men Or kind indulgence or compassionate thought. And thou art restive grown, and wilt not hearken, But though one counsel thee with kind'st intent, Wilt take him for a dark malignant foe. Yet, calling Zeus to witness for my soul, Once more I will speak. Know this, and mark it well: Thou bear'st this sickness by a heavenly doom, Through coming near to Chrysa's sentinel, The lurking snake, that guards the sky-roofed fold[7]. And from this plague thou ne'er shall find reprieve While the same Sun god rears him from the east And droops to west again, till thou be come Of thine own willing mind to Troia's plain, Where our physicians, sons of Phoebus' child[8], Shall soothe thee from thy sore, and thou with me And with this bow shalt take Troy's citadel. How do I know this? I will tell thee straight We have a Trojan captive, Helenus, Both prince and prophet, who hath clearly told This must be so, yea, and ere harvest time This year, great Troy must fall, else if his words Be falsified, who will may slay the seer. Now, since thou know'st of this, yield thy consent; For glorious is the gain, being singled forth From all the Greeks as noblest, first to come To healing hands, and then to win renown Unrivalled, vanquishing all tearful Troy.
 
6 - 368 PHI.
Oh how I hate my life! Why must it keep This breathing form from sinking to the shades? How can I prove a rebel to his mind Who thus exhorts me with affectionate heart? And yet, oh misery! must I give way? Then how could I endure the light of heaven? With whom could I exchange a word? Ay me! Eyes that have seen each act of my sad life, How could ye bear it, to behold the sons Of Atreus, my destroyers, comrades now And friends! Laërtes' wicked son, my friend! And less I feel the grief of former wrong Than shudder with expectance of fresh harm They yet may work on me. For when the mind Hath once been mother of an evil brood, It nurses nought but evils. Yea, at thee I marvel. Thou should'st ne'er return to Troy, Nor suffer me to go, when thou remember'st What insult they have done thee, ravishing Thy father's rights from thee. And wilt thou then Sail to befriend them, pressing me in aid? Nay, do not, son; but, even as thou hast sworn, Convey me home, and thou, in Scyros dwelling, Leave to their evil doom those evil men. So thou shalt win a twofold gratitude From me and from my father, and not seem, Helping vile men, to be as vile as they.
 
6 - 369 NEO.
'Tis fairly spoken. Yet I would that thou Relying on my word and on Heaven's aid, Would'st voyage forth from Lemnos with thy friend.
 
6 - 370 PHI.
Mean'st thou to Troy, and to the hateful sons Of Atreus, me, with this distressful limb?
 
6 - 371 NEO.
Nay, but to those that will relieve the pain Of thy torn foot and heal thee of thy plague.
 
6 - 372 PHI.
Thy words are horrible. What mean'st thou, boy?
 
6 - 373 NEO.
The act I deem the noblest for us both.
 
6 - 374 PHI.
Wilt thou speak so? Where is thy fear of Heaven?
 
6 - 375 NEO.
Why should I fear, when I see certain gain?
 
6 - 376 PHI.
Gain for the sons of Atreus, or for me?
 
6 - 377 NEO.
Methinks a friend should give thee friendly counsel.
 
6 - 378 PHI.
Friendly, to hand me over to my foes?
 
6 - 379 NEO.
Ah, be not hardened in thy misery!
 
6 - 380 PHI.
I know thou wilt ruin me by what thou speakest.
 
6 - 381 NEO.
Not I. The case is dark to thee, I see.
 
6 - 382 PHI.
I know the Atreidae cast me on this rock.
 
6 - 383 NEO.
But how, if they should save thee afterward?
 
6 - 384 PHI.
They ne'er shall make me see Troy with my will.
 
6 - 385 NEO.
Hard is my fortune, then, if by no sleight Of reasoning I can draw thee to my mind. For me, 'twere easiest to end speech, that thou Might'st live on as thou livest in hopeless pain.
 
6 - 386 PHI.
Then leave me to my fate!--But thou hast touched My right hand with thine own, and given consent To bear me to my home. Do this, dear son! And do not linger to take thought of Troy. Enough that name hath echoed in my groans.
 
6 - 387 NEO.
If thou wilt, let us be going.
 
6 - 388 PHI.
Nobly hast thou said the word.
 
6 - 389 NEO.
Lean thy steps on mine.
 
6 - 390 PHI.
As firmly as my foot will strength afford.
 
6 - 391 NEO.
Ah! but how shall I escape Achaean anger?
 
6 - 392 PHI.
Do not care!
 
6 - 393 NEO.
Ah! but should they spoil my country!
 
6 - 394 PHI.
I to shield thee will be there.
 
6 - 395 NEO.
How to shield me, how to aid me?
 
6 - 396 PHI.
With the shafts of Heracles I will scare them.
 
6 - 397 NEO.
Give thy blessing to this isle, and come in peace.
 
6 - 398 HERACLES
_appears from above._ HERACLES. First, son of Poeas, wait till thou hast heard The voice of Heracles, and weighed his word. Him thou beholdest from the Heavenly seat Come down, for thee leaving the blest retreat, To tell thee all high Zeus intends, and stay Thy purpose in the journey of to-day. Then hear me, first how after my long toils By strange adventure I have found and won Immortal glory, which thine eyes perceive; And the like lot, I tell thee, shall be thine, After these pains to rise to glorious fame. Sailing with this thy comrade to Troy-town, First thou shalt heal thee from thy grievous sore, And then, being singled forth from all the host As noblest, thou shalt conquer with that bow Paris, prime author of these years of harm, And capture Troy, and bear back to thy hall The choicest guerdon, for thy valour's meed, To Oeta's vale and thine own father's home. But every prize thou tak'st be sure thou bear Unto my pyre, in memory of my bow. This word, Achilles' offspring, is for thee No less. For, as thou could'st not without him, So, without thee, he cannot conquer Troy. Then, like twin lions hunting the same hill, Guard thou him, and he thee! and I will send Asclepius Troyward to relieve thy pain. For Ilion now a second time must fall Before the Herculean bow. But, take good heed, Midst all your spoil to hold the gods in awe. For our great Father counteth piety Far above all. This follows men in death, And fails them not when they resign their breath.
 
6 - 399 PHI.
Thou whom I have longed to see, Thy dear voice is law to me.
 
6 - 400 NEO.
I obey with gladdened heart.
 
6 - 401 HER.
Lose no time: at once depart! Bright occasion and fair wind Urge your vessel from behind.
 
6 - 402 PHI.
Come, let me bless the region ere I go. Poor house, sad comrade of my watch, farewell! Ye nymphs of meadows where soft waters flow Thou ocean headland, pealing thy deep knell, Where oft within my cavern as I lay My hair was moist with dashing south-wind's spray, And ofttimes came from Hermes' foreland high Sad replication of my storm-vext cry; Ye fountains and thou Lycian water sweet,-- I never thought to leave you, yet my feet Are turning from your paths,--we part for aye. Farewell! and waft me kindly on my way, O Lemnian earth enclosed by circling seas, To sail, where mighty Fate my course decrees, And friendly voices point me, and the will Of that heroic power, who doth this act fulfil.
 
6 - 403 CH.
Come now all in one strong band; Then, ere loosing from the land, Pray we to the nymphs of sea Kind protectresses to be, Till we touch the Trojan strand.
 
7 Oedipus at Colonus.
Characters. 0
OEDIPUS, old and blind. ANTIGONE, his daughter, a young girl. ISMENE, his daughter, a young girl. CHORUS of Village Guardians. An Athenian. THESEUS, King of Athens CREON, _Envoy from Thebes POLYNICES, the elder son of Oedipus. Messenger.
 
0 - Scene. 0
Colonos. Oedipus had remained at Thebes for some time after his fall. But he was afterwards banished by the command of Creon, with the consent of his own sons. Their intention at first was to lay no claim to the throne. But by-and-by ambition prevailed with Eteocles, the younger- born, and he persuaded Creon and the citizens to banish his elder brother. Polynices took refuge at Argos, where he married the daughter of Adrastus, and levied an army of auxiliaries to support his pretensions to the throne of Thebes. Before going into exile Oedipus had cursed his sons. Antigone after a while fled forth to join her father and support him in his wanderings. Ismenè also once brought him secret intelligence. Years have now elapsed, and the Delphian oracle proclaims that if Oedipus dies in a foreign land the enemies of Thebes shall overcome her. In ignorance of this fact, Oedipus, now aged as well as blind, and led by his daughter Antigone, appears before the grove of the Eumenides, at Colonos, in the neighbourhood of Athens. He has felt an inward intimation, which is strengthened by some words of the oracle received by him long since at Delphi, that his involuntary crimes have been atoned for, and that the Avenging Deities will now receive him kindly and make his cause their own. After some natural hesitation on the part of the village-councillors of Colonos, Oedipus is received with princely magnanimity by Theseus, who takes him under the protection of Athens, and defends him against the machinations of Creon. Thus the blessing of the Gods, which Oedipus carried with him, is secured to Athens, and denied to Thebes. The craft of Creon and the prayers of Polynices alike prove unavailing. Then the man of many sorrows, whose essential nobleness has survived them all, passes away mysteriously from the sight of men. The scene is laid at Colonos, a suburb of Athens much frequented by the upper classes, especially the Knights (see Thuc. viii. 67); and before the sacred grove of the Eumenides, or Gentle Goddesses, a euphemistic title for the Erinyes, or Goddesses of Vengeance.
 
7 - 1 OED.
ANTIGONE. OEDIPUS. Antigone, child of the old blind sire, What land is here, what people? Who to-day Shall dole to Oedipus, the wandering exile, Their meagre gifts? Little I ask, and less Receive with full contentment; for my woes, And the long years ripening the noble mind, Have schooled me to endure.--But, O my child, If thou espiest where we may sit, though near Some holy precinct, stay me and set me there, Till we may learn where we are come. 'Tis ours To hear the will of strangers and to obey.
 
7 - 2 ANT.
Woe-wearied father, yonder city's wall That shields her, looks far distant; but this ground Is surely sacred, thickly planted over With olive, bay and vine, within whose bowers Thick-fluttering song-birds make sweet melody. Here then repose thee on this unhewn stone. Thou hast travelled far to-day for one so old.
 
7 - 3 OED.
Seat me, my child, and be the blind man's guard.
 
7 - 4 ANT.
Long time hath well instructed me in that.
 
7 - 5 OED.
Now, canst thou tell me where we have set our feet?
 
7 - 6 ANT.
Athens I know, but not the nearer ground.
 
7 - 7 OED.
Ay, every man that met us in the way Named Athens.
 
7 - 8 ANT.
Shall I go, then, and find out The name of the spot?
 
7 - 9 OED.
Yes, if 'tis habitable.
 
7 - 10 ANT.
It is inhabited. Yet I need not go. I see a man even now approaching here.
 
7 - 11 OED.
How? Makes he towards us? Is he drawing nigh?
 
7 - 12 ANT.
He is close beside us. Whatsoe'er thou findest Good to be spoken, say it. The man is here. _Enter an_ Athenian.
 
7 - 13 OED.
O stranger, learning from this maid, who sees Both for herself and me, that thou art come With timely light to clear our troubled thought--
 
7 - 14 ATH.
Ere thou ask more, come forth from where thou sittest! Ye trench on soil forbidden human tread.
 
7 - 15 OED.
What soil? And to what Power thus consecrate?
 
7 - 16 ATH.
None may go near, nor dwell there. 'Tis possessed By the dread sisters, children of Earth and Night.
 
7 - 17 OED.
What holy name will please them, if I pray?
 
7 - 18 ATH.
'All seeing Gentle Powers' the dwellers here Would call them. But each land hath its own rule.
 
7 - 19 OED.
And gently may they look on him who now Implores them, and will never leave this grove!
 
7 - 20 ATH.
What saying is this?
 
7 - 21 OED.
The watchword of my doom.
 
7 - 22 ATH.
Yet dare I not remove thee, till the town Have heard my purpose and confirm the deed.
 
7 - 23 OED.
By Heaven, I pray thee, stranger, scorn me not, Poor wanderer that I am, but answer me.
 
7 - 24 ATH.
Make clear thy drift. Thou'lt get no scorn from me.
 
7 - 25 OED.
Then, pray thee, tell me how ye name the place Where now I sit.
 
7 - 26 ATH.
The region all around Is sacred. For 'tis guarded and possessed By dread Poseidon, and the Titan mind That brought us fire--Prometheus. But that floor Whereon thy feet are resting, hath been called The brazen threshold of our land, the stay Of glorious Athens, and the neighbouring fields Are fain to honour for their patron-god Thee, O Colonos, first of Knights, whose name [_Pointing to a statue_ They bear in brotherhood and own for theirs. Such, friend, believe me, is this place, not praised In story, but of many a heart beloved.
 
7 - 27 OED.
Then is the land inhabited of men?
 
7 - 28 ATH.
By men, who name them from Colonos there.
 
7 - 29 OED.
Have they a lord, or sways the people's voice?
 
7 - 30 ATH.
Lord Theseus, child of Aegeus, our late king.
 
7 - 31 OED.
Will some one of your people bring him hither?
 
7 - 32 ATH.
Wherefore? What urgent cause requires his presence?
 
7 - 33 OED.
He shall gain mightily by granting little.
 
7 - 34 ATH.
Who can gain profit from the blind?
 
7 - 35 OED.
The words These lips shall utter, shall be full of sight.
 
7 - 36 ATH.
Well, thou look'st nobly, but for thy hard fate. This course is safe. Thus do. Stay where I found thee, Till I go tell the neighbour townsmen here Not of the city, but Colonos. They Shall judge for thee to abide or to depart. [_Exit_
 
7 - 37 OED.
Tell me, my daughter, is the man away?
 
7 - 38 ANT.
He is gone, father. I alone am near. Speak what thou wilt in peace and quietness.
 
7 - 39 OED.
Dread Forms of holy Fear, since in this land Your sanctuary first gave my limbs repose, Be not obdurate to my prayer, nor spurn The voice of Phoebus, who that fateful day, When he proclaimed my host of ills to come, Told me of rest after a weary time, Where else but here? 'When I should reach my bourne, And find repose and refuge with the Powers Of reverend name, my troubled life should end With blessing to the men who sheltered me, And curses on their race who banished me and sent me wandering forth.' Whereof he vouched me Sure token, or by earthquake, or by fire From heaven, or thundrous voices. And I know Some aëry message from your shrine hath drawn me With wingèd whisper to this grove. Not else Had ye first met me coming, nor had I Sate on your dread unchiselled seat of stone, With dry cold lips greeting your sober shrine. Then give Apollo's word due course, and give Completion to my life, if in your sight These toils and sorrows past the human bound Seem not too little. Kindly, gentle powers, Offspring of primal darkness, hear my prayer! Hear it, Athenai, of all cities queen, Great Pallas' foster-city! Look with ruth On this poor shadow of great Oedipus, This fading semblance of his kingly form.
 
7 - 40 ANT.
Be silent now. There comes an aged band With jealous looks to know thine errand here.
 
7 - 41 OED.
I will be silent, and thine arm shall guide My footstep under covert of the grove Out of the path, till I make sure what words These men will utter. Warily to observe Is the prime secret of the prudent mind. [_Exeunt_
 
7 - 42 CHORUS
(_entering_). Keep watch! Who is it? Look! 1 Where is he? Vanished! Gone! Oh where? Most uncontrolled of men! Look well, inquire him out, Search keenly in every nook! --Some wanderer is the aged wight, A wanderer surely, not a native here. Else never had he gone within The untrodden grove Of these--unmarried, unapproachable in might, --Whose name we dare not breathe, But pass their shrine Without a look, without a word, Uttering the unheard voice of reverential thought. But now, one comes, they tell, devoid of awe, Whom, peering all around this grove I find not, where he abideth.
 
7 - 43 OED.
(_behind_). Behold me! For I 'see by sound,' As mortals say.
 
7 - 44 CH.
Oh, Oh! With horror I see him, with horror hear him speak.
 
7 - 45 OED.
Pray you, regard me not as a transgressor!
 
7 - 46 CH.
Defend us, Zeus! Who is that aged wight?
 
7 - 47 OED.
Not one of happiest fate, Or enviable, O guardians of this land! 'Tis manifest; else had I not come hither Led by another's eyes, not moored my bark On such a slender stay.
 
7 - 48 CH.
Alas! And are thine eyes 2 Sightless? O full of misery, As thou look'st full of years! But not, if I prevail, Shalt thou bring down this curse. Thou art trespassing. Yet keep thy foot From stumbling in that verdant, voiceless dell, Where running water as it fills The hallowed bowl, Mingles with draughts[1] of honey. Stranger, hapless one! Avoid that with all care. Away! Remove! Distance impedes the sound. Dost hear, Woe-burdened wanderer? If aught thou carest to bring Before our council, leave forbidden ground, And there, where all have liberty, Speak,--but till then, avaunt thee!
 
7 - 49 OED.
Daughter, what must I think, or do?
 
7 - 50 ANT.
My sire! We must conform us to the people's will, Yielding ere they compel.
 
7 - 51 OED.
Give me thy hand.
 
7 - 52ANT.
Thou hast it.
 
7 - 53 OED.
Strangers, let me not Be wronged, when I have trusted you And come from where I stood!
 
7 - 54 CH.
Assure thee, from this seat No man shall drag thee off against thy will.
 
7 - 55 OED.
Farther?
 
7 - 56 CH.
Advance thy foot.
 
7 - 57 OED.
Yet more?
 
7 - 58 CH.
Assist him onward Maiden, thou hast thy sight.
 
7 - 59 ANT.
Come, follow, this way follow with thy darkened steps, Father, the way I am leading thee.
 
7 - 60 CH.
Content thee, sojourning in a strange land, O man of woe! To eschew whate'er the city holds in hate, And honour what she loves!
 
7 - 61 OED.
Then do thou lead me, child, Where with our feet secure from sin We may be suffered both to speak and hear. Let us not war against necessity.
 
7 - 62 CH.
There! From that bench of rock Go not again astray.
 
7 - 63 OED.
Even here?
 
7 - 64 CH.
Enough, I tell thee.
 
7 - 65 OED.
May I sit?
 
7 - 66 CH.
Ay, crouch thee low adown Crooking thy limbs, upon the stone.
 
7 - 67 ANT.
Father, this task is mine-- Sink gently down into thy resting-place,
 
7 - 68 OED.
Woe is me!
 
7 - 69 ANT.
Supporting on this loving hand Thy reverend aged form.
 
7 - 70 OED.
Woe, for my cruel fate! [OEDIPUS _is seated_
 
7 - 71 CH.
Now thou unbendest from thy stubborn ways, O man of woe! Declare, what mortal wight thou art, That, marked by troublous fortune, here art led. What native country, shall we learn, is thine?
 
7 - 72 OED.
O strangers, I have none! But do not--
 
7 - 73 CH.
What dost thou forbid, old sir?
 
7 - 74 OED.
Do not, oh, do not ask me who I am, Nor probe me with more question.
 
7 - 75 CH.
What dost thou mean?
 
7 - 76 OED.
My birth is dreadful.
 
7 - 77 CH.
Tell it forth.
 
7 - 78 OED.
What should I utter, O my child? Woe is me!
 
7 - 79 CH.
Thy seed, thy father's name, stranger, pronounce!
 
7 - 80 OED.
Alas! What must I do? My child!
 
7 - 81 ANT.
Since no resource avails thee, speak!
 
7 - 82 OED.
I will. I cannot hide it further.
 
7 - 83 CH.
Ye are long about it. Haste thee!
 
7 - 84 OED.
Know ye of one Begotten of Laius?
 
7 - 85 CH.
Horror! Horror! Oh!
 
7 - 86 OED.
Derived from Labdacus?
 
7 - 87 CH.
O Heaven!
 
7 - 88 OED.
Fate-wearied Oedipus?
 
7 - 89 CH.
Art thou he?
 
7 - 90 OED.
Fear not my words.
 
7 - 91 CH.
Oh! Oh!
 
7 - 92 OED.
Unhappy me!
 
7 - 93 CH.
Oh!
 
7 - 94 OED.
Daughter, what is coming?
 
7 - 95 CH.
Away! Go forth. Leave ye the land. Begone!
 
7 - 96 OED.
And where, then, is the promise thou hast given?
 
7 - 97 CH.
No doom retributive attends the deed That wreaks prevenient wrong. Deceit, matched with deceit, makes recompense Of evil, not of kindness. Get thee forth! Desert that seat again, and from this land Unmooring speed thee away, lest on our state Thou bring some further bale! MONODY.
 
7 - 98 ANT.
O strangers, full of reverent care! Since ye cannot endure my father here, Aged and blind, Because ye have heard a rumour of the deeds He did unknowingly,--yet, we entreat you. Strangers, have pity on me, the hapless girl, Who pray for mine own sire and for none else, --Pray, looking in your eyes with eyes not blind. As if a daughter had appeared to you. Pleading for mercy to the unfortunate. We are in your hands as in the hand of God, Helpless. O then accord the unhoped for boon! By what is dear to thee, thy veriest own, I pray thee,--chattel or child, or holier name! Search through the world, thou wilt not find the man Who could resist the leading of a God.
 
7 - 99 CH.
Daughter of Oedipus, be well assured We view with pity both thy case and his, But fear of Heavenly wrath confines our speech To that we have already said to you.
 
7 - 100 OED.
What profit lives in fame and fair renown By unsubstantial rumour idly spread? When Athens is extolled with peerless praise For reverence, and for mercy!--She alone The sufferer's shield, the exile's comforter! What have I reaped hereof? Ye have raised me up From yonder seat, and now would drive me forth Fearing a name! For there is nought in me Or deeds of mine to make you fear. My life Hath more of wrong endured than of wrong done, Were it but lawful to disclose to you Wherefore ye dread me,--not my sin but theirs, My mother's and my sire's. I know your thought. Yet never can ye fasten guilt on me, Who, though I had acted with the clear'st intent, Were guiltless, for my deed requited wrong. But as it was, all blindly I went forth On that dire road, while they who planned my death Planned it with perfect knowledge. Therefore, sirs, By Heaven I pray you, as ye have bid me rise, Protect your suppliant without fail; and do not In jealous reverence for the blessed Gods Rob them of truest reverence, but know this:-- God looks upon the righteousness of men And their unrighteousness, nor ever yet Hath one escaped who wrought iniquity. Take part, then, with the Gods, nor overcloud The golden fame of Athens with dark deeds; But as ye have pledged your faith to shelter me, Defend me and rescue, not rejecting me Through mere abhorrence of my ruined face. For on a holy mission am I come, Sent with rich blessings for your neighbours here. And when the head and sovereign of your folk Is present, ye shall learn the truth at full. Till then, be gracious to me, and not perverse.
 
7 - 101 CH.
Thy meaning needs must strike our hearts with awe, Old wanderer! so weighty are the words That body it forth. Therefore we are content The Lord of Athens shall decide this case.
 
7 - 102 OED.
And where is he who rules this country, sirs?
 
7 - 103 CH.
He keeps his father's citadel. But one Is gone to fetch him, he who brought us hither.
 
7 - 104 OED.
Think you he will consider the blind man, And come in person here to visit him?
 
7 - 105 CH.
Be sure he will,--when he hath heard thy name.
 
7 - 106 OED.
And who will carry that?
 
7 - 107 CH.
'Tis a long road; But rumour from the lips of wayfarers Flies far and wide, so that he needs must hear; And hearing, never doubt but he will come. So noised in every land hath been thy name, Old sovereign,--were he sunk in drowsiness, That sound would bring him swiftly to thy side.
 
7 - 108 OED.
Well, may he come to bless his city and me! When hath not goodness blessed the giver of good?
 
7 - 109 ANT.
O Heavens! What shall I say, what think, my father?
 
7 - 110 OED.
Daughter Antigone, what is it?
 
7 - 111 ANT.
I see A woman coming toward us, mounted well On a fair Sicilian palfrey, and her face With brow-defending hood of Thessaly Is shadowed from the sun. What must I think? Is it she or no? Can the eye so far deceive? It is. 'Tis not. Unhappy that I am, I know not.--Yes, 'tis she. For drawing near She greets me with bright glances, and declares Beyond a doubt, Ismene's self is here.
 
7 - 112 OED.
What say'st thou, daughter?
 
7 - 113 ANT.
That I see thy child, My sister. Soon her voice will make thee sure.
 
7 - 114 ISMENE.
_Enter_ ISMENE. Father and sister!--names for ever dear! Hard hath it been to find you, yea, and hard I feel it now to look on you for grief.
 
7 - 115 OED.
Child, art thou here?
 
7 - 116 ISM.
Father! O sight of pain!
 
7 - 117 OED.
Offspring and sister!
 
7 - 118 ISM.
Woe for thy dark fate!
 
7 - 119 OED.
Hast thou come, daughter?
 
7 - 120 ISM.
On a troublous way.
 
7 - 121 OED.
Touch me, my child!
 
7 - 122 ISM.
I give a hand to both.
 
7 - 123 OED.
To her and me?
 
7 - 124 ISM.
Three linked in one sad knot.
 
7 - 125 OED.
Child, wherefore art thou come?
 
7 - 126 ISM.
In care for thee.
 
7 - 127 OED.
Because you missed me?
 
7 - 128 ISM.
Ay, and to bring thee tidings, With the only slave whom I could trust.
 
7 - 129 OED.
And they, Thy brethren, what of them? Were they not there To take this journey for their father's good?
 
7 - 130 ISM.
Ask not of them. Dire deeds are theirs to day.
 
7 - 131 OED.
How in all points their life obeys the law Of Egypt, where the men keep house and weave Sitting within doors, while the wives abroad Provide with ceaseless toil the means of life. So in your case, my daughters, they who should Have ta'en this burden on them, bide at home Like maidens, while ye take their place, and lighten My miseries by your toil. Antigone, E'er since her childhood ended, and her frame Was firmly knit, with ceaseless ministry Still tends upon the old man's wandering, Oft in the forest ranging up and down Fasting and barefoot through the burning heat Or pelting rain, nor thinks, unhappy maid, Of home or comfort, so her father's need Be satisfied. And thou, that camest before, Eluding the Cadmeans, and didst tell me What words Apollo had pronounced on me. And when they banished me, stood'st firm to shield me, What news, Ismene, bring'st thou to thy sire To day? What mission sped thee forth? I know Thou com'st not idly, but with fears for me.
 
7 - 132 ISM.
Father, I will not say what I endured In searching out the place that sheltered thee. To tell it o'er would but renew the pain. But of the danger now encompassing Thine ill starred sons,--of that I came to speak. At first they strove with Creon and declared The throne should be left vacant and the town Freed from pollution,--paying deep regard In their debate to the dark heritage Of ruin that o'ershadowed all thy race. Far different is the strife which holds them now, Since some great Power, joined to their sinful mind, Incites them both to seize on sovereign sway. Eteocles, in pride of younger years, Robbed elder Polynices of his right, Dethroned and banished him. To Argos then Goes exiled Polynices, and obtains Through intermarriage a strong favouring league, Whose word is, 'Either Argos vanquishes The seed of Cadmus or exalts their fame' This, father, is no tissue of empty talk, But dreadful truth, nor can I tell where Heaven Is to reveal his mercy to thy woe.
 
7 - 133 OED.
And hadst thou ever hoped the Gods would care For mine affliction, and restore my life?
 
7 - 134 ISM.
I hope it now since this last oracle.
 
7 - 135 OED.
What oracle hath been declared, my child?
 
7 - 136 ISM.
That they shall seek thee forth, alive or dead, To bring salvation to the Theban race.
 
7 - 137 OED.
Who can win safety through such help as mine?
 
7 - 138 ISM.
'Tis said their victory depends on thee.
 
7 - 139 OED.
When shrunk to nothing, am I indeed a man?
 
7 - 140 ISM.
Yea, for the Gods uphold thee, who then destroyed.
 
7 - 141 OED.
Poor work, to uphold in age who falls when young!
 
7 - 142 ISM.
Know howsoe'er that Creon will be here For this same end, ere many an hour be spent.
 
7 - 143 OED.
For what end, daughter? Tell me in plain speech.
 
7 - 144 ISM.
To set thee near their land, that thou may'st be Beyond their borders, but within their power.
 
7 - 145 OED.
What good am I, thus lying at their gate?
 
7 - 146 ISM.
Thine inauspicious burial brings them woe.
 
7 - 147 OED.
There needs no oracle to tell one that.
 
7 - 148 ISM.
And therefore they would place thee near their land, Where thou may'st have no power upon thyself.
 
7 - 149 OED.
Say then, shall Theban dust o'ershadow me?
 
7 - 150 ISM.
The blood of kindred cleaving to thy hand, Father, forbids thee.
 
7 - 151 OED.
Never, then, henceforth, Shall they lay hold on me!
 
7 - 152 ISM.
If that be true, The brood of Cadmus shall have bale.
 
7 - 153 OED.
What cause Having appeared, will bring this doom to pass?
 
7 - 154 ISM.
Thy wrath, when they are marshalled at thy tomb.
 
7 - 155 OED.
From whom hast thou heard this?
 
7 - 156 ISM.
Sworn messengers Brought such report from Delphi's holy shrine.
 
7 - 157 OED.
Hath Phoebus so pronounced my destiny?
 
7 - 158 ISM.
So they declare who brought the answer back.
 
7 - 159 OED.
Did my sons hear?
 
7 - 160 ISM.
They know it, both of them.
 
7 - 161 OED.
Villains, who, being informed of such a word, Turned not their thoughts toward me, but rather chose Ambition and a throne!
 
7 - 162 ISM.
It wounds mine ear To hear it spoken, but the news I bring Is to that stern effect.
 
7 - 163 OED.
Then I pray Heaven The fury of their fate-appointed strife May ne'er be quenched, but that the end may come According to my wish upon them twain To this contention and arbitrament Of battle which they now assay and lift The threatening spear! So neither he who wields The sceptred power should keep possession still, Nor should his brother out of banishment Ever return:--who, when their sire--when I Was shamefully thrust from my native land, Checked not my fall nor saved me, but, for them, I was driven homeless and proclaimed an exile. Ye will tell me 'twas in reason that the State Granted this boon to my express desire. Nay; for in those first hours of agony, When my heart raged, and it seemed sweetest to me To die the death, and to be stoned with stones, No help appeared to yield me that relief. But after lapse of days, when all my pain Was softened, and I felt that my hot spirit Had run to fierce excess of bitterness In wreaking mine offence--then, then the State Drove me for ever from the land, and they, Their father's sons, who might have saved their father, Cared not to help him, but betrayed by them, For lack of one light word, I wandered forth To homeless banishment and beggary. But these weak maidens to their nature's power Have striven to furnish me with means to live And dwell securely, girded round with love. My sons have chosen before their father's life A lordly throne and sceptred sovereignty. But never shall they win me to their aid, Nor shall the Theban throne for which they strive Bring them desired content. That well I know, Comparing with my daughter's prophecies Those ancient oracles which Phoebus once Spake in mine ear. Then let them send to seek me Creon, or who is strongest in their State. For if ye, strangers, will but add your might To the protection of these awful Powers, The guardians of your soil, to shelter me, Ye shall acquire for this your State a saviour Mighty to save, and ye shall vex my foes.
 
7 - 164 CH.
Thou art worthy of all compassion, Oedipus, Thyself and these thy daughters. Now, moreover Since thou proclaim'st thyself our country's saviour I would advise thee for the best.
 
7 - 165 OED.
Kind sir, Be my good guide. I will do all thou biddest.
 
7 - 166 CH.
Propitiate then these holy powers, whose grove Received thee when first treading this their ground.
 
7 - 167 OED.
What are the appointed forms? Advise me, sirs.
 
7 - 168 CH.
First see to it that from some perennial fount Clean hands provide a pure drink-offering.
 
7 - 169 OED.
And when I have gotten this unpolluted draught?
 
7 - 170 CH.
You will find bowls, formed by a skilful hand, Whose brims and handles you must duly wreathe.
 
7 - 171 OED.
With leaves or flocks of wool, or in what way?
 
7 - 172 CH.
With tender wool ta'en from a young ewe-lamb.
 
7 - 173 OED.
Well, and what follows to complete the rite?
 
7 - 174 CH.
Next, make libation toward the earliest dawn.
 
7 - 175 OED.
Mean'st thou from those same urns whereof thou speakest?
 
7 - 176 CH.
From those three vessels pour three several streams, Filling the last to the brim.
 
7 - 177 OED.
With what contents Must this be filled? Instruct me.
 
7 - 178 CH.
Not with wine, But water and the treasure of the bee.
 
7 - 179 OED.
And when leaf-shadowed Earth has drunk of this, What follows?
 
7 - 180 CH.
Thou shalt lay upon her then From both thy hands a row of olive-twigs-- Counting thrice nine in all--and add this prayer--
 
7 - 181 OED.
That is the chief thing,--that I long to hear.
 
7 - 182 CH.
As we have named them Gentle, so may they From gentle hearts accord their suppliant aid;-- Be this thy prayer, or whoso prays for thee, Spoken not aloud, but so that none may hear; And in departing, turn not. This being done, I can stand by thee without dread. But else, I needs must fear concerning thee.
 
7 - 183 OED.
My daughters, Have ye both heard our friends who inhabit here?
 
7 - 184 ANT.
Yea, father; and we wait for thy command.
 
7 - 185 OED.
I cannot go. Two losses hinder me, Two evils, want of strength and want of sight. Let one of you go and perform this service. One soul, methinks, in paying such a debt May quit a million, if the heart be pure. Haste, then, to do it. Only leave me not Untended. For I cannot move alone Nor without some one to support me and guide.
 
7 - 186 ISM.
I will be ministrant. But let me know Where I must find the place of offering.
 
7 - 187 CH.
Beyond this grove. And, stranger maid, if aught Seem wanting, there is one at hand to show it.
 
7 - 188 ISM.
Then to my task. Meantime, Antigone, Watch by our sire. We must not make account Of labour that supplies a parent's need. [_Exit_
 
7 - 189 CH.
Thy long since slumbering woe I would not wake again, I 1 But yet I long to learn.
 
7 - 190 OED.
What hidden lore?
 
7 - 191 CH.
The pain That sprang against thy life with spirit-mastering force.
 
7 - 192 OED.
Ah, sirs, as ye are kind, re-open not that source Of unavoided shame.
 
7 - 193 CH.
Friend, we would hear the tale Told truly, whose wide voice doth hourly more prevail.
 
7 - 194 OED.
Misery!
 
7 - 195 CH.
Be not loth!
 
7 - 196 OED.
O bitterness!
 
7 - 197 CH.
Consent. For all thou didst require we gave to thy content.
 
7 - 198 OED.
Oh, strangers, I have borne an all-too-willing brand, I 2 Yet not of mine own choice.
 
7 - 199 CH.
Whence? We would understand.
 
7 - 200 OED.
Nought knowing of the curse she fastened on my head Thebè in evil bands bound me.
 
7 - 201 CH.
Thy mother's bed, Say, didst thou fill? mine ear still echoes to the noise.
 
7 - 202 OED.
'Tis death to me to hear, but, these, mine only joys, Friends, are my curse.
 
7 - 203 CH.
O Heaven!
 
7 - 204 OED.
The travail of one womb Hath gendered all you see, one mother, one dark doom.
 
7 - 205 CH.
How? Are they both thy race, and-- II 1
 
7 - 206 OED.
Sister branches too, Nursed at the self-same place with him from whom they grew.
 
7 - 207 CH.
O horror!
 
7 - 208 OED.
Ay, not one, ten thousand charged me then!
 
7 - 209 CH.
O sorrow!
 
7 - 210 OED.
Never done, an ever-sounding strain.
 
7 - 211 CH.
O crime!
 
7 - 212 OED.
By me ne'er wrought.
 
7 - 213 CH.
But how?
 
7 - 214 OED.
The guerdon fell. Would I had earned it not from those I served too well.
 
7 - 215 CH.
But, hapless, didst thou slay-- II 2
 
7 - 216 OED.
What seek ye more to know?
 
7 - 217 CH.
Thy father?
 
7 - 218 OED.
O dismay! Ye wound me, blow on blow.
 
7 - 219 CH.
Thy hand destroyed him.
 
7 - 220 OED.
Yes. Yet lacks there not herein A plea for my redress.
 
7 - 221 CH.
How canst thou clear that sin?
 
7 - 222 OED.
I'll tell thee. For the deed, 'twas proved mine,--Oh 'tis true! Yet by Heaven's law I am freed:--I wist not whom I slew.
 
7 - 223 CH.
Enough. For lo! where Aegeus' princely son, Theseus, comes hither, summoned at thy word. _Enter_ THESEUS.
 
7 - 224 THE.
From many voices in the former time Telling thy cruel tale of sight destroyed I have known thee, son of Laius, and to-day I know thee anew, in learning thou art here. Thy raiment, and the sad change in thy face, Proclaim thee who thou art, and pitying thee, Dark-fated Oedipus, I fain would hear What prayer or supplication thou preferrest To me and to my city, thou and this Poor maid who moves beside thee. Full of dread Must be that fortune thou canst name, which I Would shrink from, since I know of mine own youth, How in strange lands a stranger as thou art I bore the brunt of perilous circumstance Beyond all others; nor shall any man, Like thee an alien from his native home, Find me to turn my face from succouring him. I am a man and know it. To-morrow's good Is no more mine than thine or any man's.
 
7 - 225 OED.
Thy noble spirit, Theseus, in few words Hath made my task of utterance brief indeed. Thou hast told aright my name and parentage And native city. Nought remains for me But to make known mine errand, and our talk Is ended.
 
7 - 226 THE.
Tell me plainly thy desire.
 
7 - 227 OED.
I come to offer thee this woe-worn frame, As a free boon,--not goodly in outward view. A better gift than beauty is that I bring.
 
7 - 228 THE.
What boon dost thou profess to have brought with thee?
 
7 - 229 OED.
Thou shalt know by and by,--not yet awhile.
 
7 - 230 THE.
When comes the revelation of thine aid?
 
7 - 231 OED.
When I am dead, and thou hast buried me.
 
7 - 232 THE.
Thou cravest the last kindness. What's between Thou dost forget or else neglect.
 
7 - 233 OED.
Herein One word conveys the assurance of the whole.
 
7 - 234 THE.
You sum up your petition in brief form.
 
7 - 235 OED.
Look to it. Great issues hang upon this hour.
 
7 - 236 THE.
Mean'st thou in this the fortune of thy sons Or mine?
 
7 - 237 OED.
I mean the force of their behest Compelling my removal hence to Thebes.
 
7 - 238 THE.
So thy consent were sought, 'twere fair to yield.
 
7 - 239 OED.
Once I was ready enough. They would not then.
 
7 - 240 THE.
Wrath is not wisdom in misfortune, man!
 
7 - 241 OED.
Nay, chide not till thou knowest.
 
7 - 242 THE.
Inform me, then! I must not speak without just grounds.
 
7 - 243 OED.
O Theseus, I am cruelly harassed with wrong heaped on wrong.
 
7 - 244 THE.
Mean'st thou that prime misfortune of thy birth?
 
7 - 245 OED.
No. That hath long been rumoured through the world.
 
7 - 246 THE.
What, then, can be thy grief? If more than that, 'Tis more than human.
 
7 - 247 OED.
Here is my distress:-- I am made an outcast from my native land By mine own offspring. And return is barred For ever to the man who slew his sire.
 
7 - 248 THE.
How then should they require thee to go near, And yet dwell separate?
 
7 - 249 OED.
The voice of Heaven Will drive them to it.
 
7 - 250 THE.
As fearing what reverse Prophetically told?
 
7 - 251 OED.
Destined defeat By Athens in the Athenian land.
 
7 - 252 THE.
What source Of bitterness 'twixt us and Thebes can rise?
 
7 - 253 OED.
Dear son of Aegeus, to the Gods alone Comes never Age nor Death. All else i' the world Time, the all subduer, merges in oblivion. Earth and men's bodies weaken, fail, and perish. Faith withers, breach of faith springs up and glows And neither men nor cities that are friends Breathe the same spirit with continuing breath. Love shall be turned to hate, and hate to love With many hereafter, as with some to-day. And though, this hour, between great Thebes and thee No cloud be in the heaven, yet moving Time Enfolds a countless brood of days to come, Wherein for a light cause they shall destroy Your now harmonious league with severing war, Even where my slumbering form, buried in death, Coldly shall drink the life blood of my foes, If Zeus be Zeus, and his son Phoebus true. I would not speak aloud of mysteries. Then let me leave where I began. Preserve Thine own good faith, and thou shalt never say, Unless Heaven's promise fail me, that for nought Athens took Oedipus to dwell with her.
 
7 - 254 CH.
My lord, long since the stranger hath professed Like augury of blessings to our land.
 
7 - 255 THE.
And who would dare reject his proffered good? Whose bond with us of warrior amity Hath ne'er been sundered,--and to day he comes A God-sent suppliant, whose sacred hand Is rich with gifts for Athens and for me. In reverent heed whereof I ne'er will scorn The boon he brings, but plant him in our land. And if it please our friend to linger here, Ye shall protect him:--if to go with me Best likes thee, Oedipus,--ponder, and use Thy preference. For my course shall join with thine.
 
7 - 256 OED.
Ye Heavens, reward such excellence!
 
7 - 257 THE.
How, then? Is it thy choice now to go home with me?
 
7 - 258 OED.
Yea, were it lawful. But in this same spot--
 
7 - 259 THE.
What wouldst thou do? I'll not withstand thy will.
 
7 - 260 OED.
I must have victory o'er my banishers.
 
7 - 261 THE.
Thy dwelling with us, then, is our great gain?
 
7 - 262 OED.
Yes, if thou fail me not, but keep thy word.
 
7 - 263 THE.
Nay, fear not me! I will aye be true to thee.
 
7 - 264 OED.
I will not bind thee, like a knave, with oaths.
 
7 - 265 THE.
Oaths were no stronger than my simple word.
 
7 - 266 OED.
What will ye do, then?
 
7 - 267 THE.
What is that thou fearest?
 
7 - 268 OED.
They will come hither.
 
7 - 269 THE.
Thy guards will see to that.
 
7 - 270 OED.
Beware, lest, if you leave me--
 
7 - 271 THE.
Tell not me, I know my part.
 
7 - 272 OED.
Terror will have me speak.
 
7 - 273 THE.
Terror and I are strangers.
 
7 - 274 OED.
But their threats! Thou canst not know--
 
7 - 275 THE.
I know that none shall force Thee from this ground against thy will. Full oft Have threatening words in wrath been voluble, Yet, when the mind regained her place again, The threatened evil vanished. So to-day Bold words of boastful meaning have proclaimed Thy forcible abduction by thy kin. Yet shall they find (I know it) the voyage from Thebes, On such a quest, long and scarce navigable. Whate'er my thought, if Phoebus sent thee forth, I would bid thee have no fear. And howsoe'er, My name will shield thee from all injury.
 
7 - 276 CH.
Friend! in our land of conquering steeds thou art come I 1 To this Heaven-fostered haunt, Earth's fairest home, Gleaming Colonos, where the nightingale In cool green covert warbleth ever clear, True to the clustering ivy and the dear Divine, impenetrable shade, From wildered boughs and myriad fruitage made, Sunless at noon, stormless in every gale. Wood-roving Bacchus there, with mazy round, And his nymph nurses range the unoffended ground. And nourished day by day with heavenly dew I 2 Bright flowers their never-failing bloom renew, From eldest time Dêo and Cora's crown Full-flowered narcissus, and the golden beam Of crocus, while Cephisus' gentle stream In runnels fed by sleepless springs Over the land's broad bosom daily brings His pregnant waters, never dwindling down. The quiring Muses love to seek the spot And Aphroditè's golden car forsakes it not. Here too a plant, nobler than e'er was known II 1 On Asian soil, grander than yet hath grown In Pelops' mighty Dorian isle, unsown, Free, self-create, the conquering foeman's fear, The kind oil-olive, silvery-green, Chief nourisher of childish life, is seen To burgeon best in this our mother-land. No warrior, young, nor aged in command, Shall ravage this, or scathe it with the spear; For guardian Zeus' unslumbering eye Beholds it everlastingly, And Athens' grey-eyed Queen, dwelling for ever near. Yet one more praise mightier than all I tell II 2 O'er this my home, that Ocean loves her well, And coursers love her, children of the wave To grace these roadways Prince Poseidon first Framed for the horse, that else had burst From man's control, the spirit taming bit And the trim bark, rowed by strong arms, doth flit O'er briny seas with glancing motion brave Lord of the deep! by that thy glorious gift Thou hast established our fair town For ever in supreme renown-- The Sea nymphs' plashing throng glide not more smoothly swift.
 
7 - 277 ANT.
O land exalted thus in blessing and praise, Now is thy time to prove these brave words true.
 
7 - 278 OED.
What hath befallen, my daughter?
 
7 - 279 ANT.
Here at hand, Not unaccompanied, is Creon, father.
 
7 - 280 OED.
Dear aged friends, be it yours now to provide My safety and the goal of my desire!
 
7 - 281 CH.
It shall be so. Fear nought. I am old and weak, But Athens in her might is ever young. _Enter_ CREON.
 
7 - 282 CREON.
Noble inhabiters of Attic ground I see as 'twere conceived within your eyes At mine approach some new engendered fear Nay, shrink not, nor let fall one fretful word. I bring no menace with me, for mine age Is feeble, and the state whereto I come Is mighty,--none in Hellas mightier,-- That know I well. But I am sent to bring By fair persuasion to our Theban plain The reverend form of him now present here. Nor came this mission from one single will, But the commands of all my citizens Are on me, seeing that it becomes my birth To mourn his sorrows most of all the state Thou, then, poor sufferer, lend thine ear to me And come. All Cadmus' people rightfully Invite thee with one voice unto thy home, I before all,--since I were worst of men, Were I not pained at thy misfortunes, sir, --To see thee wandering in the stranger's land Aged and miserable, unhoused, unfed, Singly attended by this girl, whose fall To such a depth of undeservèd woe I could not have imagined! Hapless maid! Evermore caring for thy poor blind head, Roving in beggary, so young, with no man To marry her,--a mark for all mischance. O misery, what deep reproach I have laid On thee and me and our whole ill-starred race! But who can hide evil that courts the day? Thou, therefore, Oedipus, without constraint, (By all the Gods of Cadmus' race I pray thee) Remove this horror from the sight of men By coming to the ancestral city and home Of thy great sires,--bidding a kind farewell To worthiest Athens, as is meet. But Thebes, Thy native land, yet more deserves thy love.
 
7 - 283 OED.
Thou unabashed in knavery, who canst frame For every cause the semblance of a plea Pranked up with righteous seeming, why again Would'st thou contrive my ruin, and attempt To catch me where I most were grieved being caught? Beforetime, when my self-procurèd woes Were plaguing me, and I would fain have rushed To instant banishment, thou wouldst not then Grant this indulgence to my keen desire. But when I had fed my passion to the full, And all my pleasure was to live at home, Then 'twas thy cue to expel and banish me, Nor was this name of kindred then so dear. Now once again, when thou behold'st this city And people joined in friendly bands with me, Thou wouldst drag me from my promised resting-place, Hiding hard policy with courtly show. Strange kindness, to love men against their will! Suppose, when thou wert eager in some suit, No grace were granted thee, but all denied, And when thy soul was sated, then the boon Were offered, when such grace were graceless now; --Poor satisfaction then were thine, I ween! Even such a gift thou profferest me to-day, Kind in pretence, but really full of evil. These men shall hear me tell thy wickedness. Thou comest to take me, not unto my home, But to dwell outlawed at your gate, that so Your Thebè may come off untouched of harm From her encounter with Athenian men. Ye shall not have me thus. But you shall have My vengeful spirit ever in your land Abiding for destruction,--and my sons Shall have this portion in their father's ground, To die thereon. Know I not things in Thebes Better than thou? Yea, for 'tis mine to hear Safer intelligencers,--Zeus himself, And Phoebus, high interpreter of Heaven. Thou bring'st a tongue suborned with false pretence, Sharpened with insolence;--but in shrewd speech Thou shalt find less of profit than of bane. This thou wilt ne'er believe. Therefore begone! Let me live here. For even such life as mine Were not amiss, might I but have my will.
 
7 - 284 CR.
Which of us twain, believ'st thou, in this talk Hath more profoundly sinned against thy peace?
 
7 - 285 OED.
If thou prevail'st with these men present here Even as with me, I shall be well content.
 
7 - 286 CR.
Unhappy man, will not even Time bring forth One spark of wisdom to redeem thine age?
 
7 - 287 OED.
Thou art a clever talker. But I know No just man who in every cause abounds With eloquent speech.
 
7 - 288 CR.
'Tis not to abound in speech, When one speaks fitting words in season.
 
7 - 289 OED.
Oh! As if thy words were few and seasonable!
 
7 - 290 CR.
Not in the dotard's judgement.
 
7 - 291 OED.
Get thee gone! I speak their mind as well--and dog not me Beleaguering mine appointed dwelling-place!
 
7 - 292CR.
These men shall witness--for thy word is naught; And for thy spiteful answer to thy friends, If once I seize thee--
 
7 - 293 OED.
Who shall seize on me Without the will of my protectors here?
 
7 - 294 CR.
Well, short of that, thou shalt have pain, I trow.
 
7 - 295 OED.
What hast thou done, that thou canst threaten thus?
 
7 - 296 CR.
One of thy daughters I have sent in charge. This other, I myself will quickly take.
 
7 - 297 OED.
Oh, cruel!
 
7 - 298 CR.
Soon thou'lt have more cause to cry.
 
7 - 299 OED.
Hast thou my child?
 
7 - 300 CR.
I will have both ere long.
 
7 - 301 OED.
Dear friends, what will ye do? Will ye forsake me? Will you not drive the offender from your land?
 
7 - 302 CH.
Stranger, depart at once! Thou hast done wrong, And wrong art doing.
 
7 - 303 CR.
(_to attendants_). Now then, lead her away By force, if she refuse to go with you.
 
7 - 304 ANT.
Ah me! unhappy! Whither shall I flee? What aid of God or mortal can I find?
 
7 - 305 CH.
What dost thou, stranger?
 
7 - 306 CR.
I will lay no hand On him, but on my kinswoman.
 
7 - 307 OED.
Alas! Lords of Colonos, will ye suffer it?
 
7 - 308 CH.
Thou art transgressing, stranger.
 
7 - 309 CR.
Nay, I stand Within my right.
 
7 - 310 CH.
How so?
 
7 - 311 CR.
I take mine own.
 
7 - 312 OED.
Athens to aid!
 
7 - 313 CH.
Stranger, forbear! What dost thou? Let go, or thou shalt try thy strength with us.
 
7 - 314 CR.
Unhand me!
 
7 - 315 CH.
Not while this intent is thine.
 
7 - 316 CR.
If you harm me, you will have war with Thebes.
 
7 - 317 OED.
Did I not tell you this would come?
 
7 - 318 CH.
Release The maid with speed.
 
7 - 319 CR.
Command where you have power.
 
7 - 320 CH.
Leave hold, I say!
 
7 - 321 CR.
Away with her, say I!
 
7 - 322 CH.
Come hither, neighbours, come! My city suffers violence. Wrongful men Are hurting her with force. Come hither to me!
 
7 - 323 ANT.
Unhappy, I am dragged away,--O strangers!
 
7 - 324 OED.
Where art thou, O my child?
 
7 - 325 ANT.
I go away Against my will.
 
7 - 326 OED.
Reach forth thy hands, my daughter!
 
7 - 327 ANT.
I cannot.
 
7 - 328 CR.
Off with her!
 
7 - 329 OED.
Alas, undone! [_Exit_ ANTIGONE, _guarded_
 
7 - 330 CR.
Thou shalt not have these staves henceforth to prop Thy roaming to and fro. Take thine own way! Since thou hast chosen to thwart thy nearest kin,-- Beneath whose orders, though a royal man, I act herein,--and thine own native land. The time will surely come when thou shalt find That in this deed and all that thou hast done In opposition to their friendly will, Thou hast counselled foolishly against thy peace, Yielding to anger, thy perpetual bane. [_Going_
 
7 - 331 CH.
Stranger, stand where thou art!
 
7 - 332 CR.
Hands off, I say!
 
7 - 333 CH.
Thou shalt not go, till thou restore the maids.
 
7 - 334 CR.
Soon, then, my city shall retain from you A weightier cause of war. I will lay hands Not on the maidens only.
 
7 - 335 CH.
What wilt thou do?
 
7 - 336 CR.
Oedipus I will seize and bear away.
 
7 - 337 CH.
Great Heaven forfend!
 
7 - 338 CR.
It shall be done forthwith, Unless the ruler of this land prevent me.
 
7 - 339 OED.
O shameless utterance! Wilt thou lay thy hold On me?
 
7 - 340 CR.
Be silent! Speak no more!
 
7 - 341 OED.
No more? May these dread Goddesses not close my lips To this one prayer of evil against thee, Thou villain, who, when I have lost mine eyes, Bereavest me of all that I had left To make my darkness light! Therefore I pray, For this thy wrongful act, may He in heaven Whose eye sees all things, Helios, give to thee Slowly to wither in an age like mine!
 
7 - 342 CR.
Men of this land, bear witness to his rage!
 
7 - 343 OED.
They see us both, and are aware that I Repay thee but with words for deeds of wrong.
 
7 - 344 CR.
No longer will I curb my wrath. Though lonely And cumbered by mine age, I will bear off This man!
 
7 - 345 OED.
Me miserable!
 
7 - 346 CH.
How bold thou art, If standing here thou think'st to do this thing!
 
7 - 347 CR.
I do.
 
7 - 348CH.
Then Athens is to me no city.
 
7 - 349 CR.
Slight men prevail o'er strength in a just cause.
 
7 - 350 OED.
Hear ye his words?
 
7 - 351 CH.
He shall not make them good. Be witness, Zeus!
 
7 - 352 CR.
Zeus knows more things than thou.
 
7 - 353 OED.
Is not this violence?
 
7 - 354 CR.
Violence you must bear.
 
7 - 355 CH.
Come, chieftain of our land! Come hither with all speed. They pass the bound. _Enter_ THESEUS.
 
7 - 356 THE.
Wherefore that shouting? Daunted by what fear Stayed ye me sacrificing to the God[2] Who guards this deme Colonos? Let me know What cause so hastened my reluctant foot.
 
7 - 357 OED.
Dear friend (I know thy voice addressing us), One here hath lately done me cruel wrong.
 
7 - 358 THE.
Who is the wrong-doer, say, and what the deed?
 
7 - 359 OED.
This Creon, whom thou seest, hath torn away Two children that were all in all to me.
 
7 - 360 THE.
Can this be possible?
 
7 - 361 OED.
Thou hear'st the truth.
 
7 - 362 THE.
Then one of you run to the altar-foot Hard by, and haste the people from the rite, Horsemen and footmen at the height of speed To race unto the parting of the roads Where travellers from both gorges wont to meet. Lest there the maidens pass beyond our reach And I be worsted by this stranger's might And let him laugh at me. Be swift! Away! --For him, were I as wroth as he deserves, He should not go unpunished from my hand. But now he shall be ruled by the same law He thought to enforce. Thou goest not from this ground Till thou hast set these maids in presence here; Since by thine act thou hast disgraced both me And thine own lineage and thy native land, Who with unlicensed inroad hast assailed An ancient city, that hath still observed Justice and equity, and apart from law Ratifies nothing; and, being here, hast cast Authority to the winds, and made thine own Whate'er thou wouldst, bearing it off perforce,-- Deeming of me forsooth as nothing worth, And of my city as one enslaved to foes Or void of manhood. Not of Thebe's will Come such wild courses. It is not her way To foster men in sin, nor would she praise Thy doing, if she knew that thou hast robbed Me and the gods, dragging poor suppliant wights From their last refuge at thy will--I would not, Had I perchance set foot within thy land, Even were my cause most righteous, have presumed, Without consent of him who bore chief sway, To seize on any man, but would have known How men should act who tread on foreign soil. Thou bring'st disgrace on thine own mother state All undeservedly, and the lapse of years Hath left thee aged, but not wise--Again I bid those maids now to be brought with speed, Unless thou would'st be made a sojourner In Athens by compulsion. This I speak Not with my lips alone, but from my will.
 
7 - 363 CH.
Stranger, dost thou perceive? Thy parentage Is owned as noble, but thine evil deeds Are blazoned visibly.
 
7 - 364 CR.
Great Aegeus' son! Not as misprising this thy city's strength In arms, or wisdom in debate, I dared This capture, but in simple confidence Thy citizens would not so envy me My blood relations, as to harbour them Against my will,--nor welcome to their hearths A man incestuous and a parricide, The proved defiler of his mother's bed Such was the mount of Ares that I knew, Seat of high wisdom, planted in their soil, That suffers no such lawless runaways To haunt within the borders of your realm. Relying on that I laid my hands upon This quarry, nor had done so, were it not That bitterly he cursed myself and mine. That moved me to requital, since even Age Still bears resentment, till the power of death Frees men from anger, as from all annoy. Being sovereign here thou wilt do thy pleasure. I, Though I have justice on my side, am weak Through being alone. Yet if you meddle with me, Old as I am, you'll find me dangerous.
 
7 - 365 OED.
O boldness void of shame! Whom dost thou think Thy obloquy most harms, this agèd head Or thine, who hast thus let pass thy lips the crimes I have borne unwittingly. So Heaven was pleased To wreak some old offence upon our race. Since in myself you will find no stain of sin For which such ruinous error 'gainst myself And mine own house might be the recompense. Tell me, I pray thee, if a word from Heaven Came to my father through the oracle That he should die by his son's hand,--what right Hast thou to fasten that reproach on me, The child not yet begotten of my sire, An unborn nothing, unconceived? Or if, Born as I was to misery, I encountered And killed my father in an angry fray, Nought knowing of what I did or whom I slew, What reason is't to blame the unwitting deed? And, oh, thou wretch! art not ashamed to force me To speak that of my mother, thine own sister, Which I will speak, for I will not keep silence, Since thou hast been thus impious with thy tongue. She was my mother, oh, the bitter word! Though neither knew it, and having borne me, she Became the mother of children to her son, An infamous birth! Yet this I know, thy crime Of speech against us both is voluntary. But all involuntary was my deed In marriage and is this mine utterance now. No,--that shall not be called a bosom-sin, Nor shall my name be sullied with the deed, Thy tongue would brand on me, against my sire. For answer me one question. If to-day, Here, now, one struck at thee a murderous stroke,-- At thee, the righteous person,--wouldst thou ask If such assailant were thy sire, or strike Forthwith? Methinks, as one who cares to live, You would strike before you questioned of the right, Or reasoned of his kindred whom you slew. Such was the net that snared me: such the woes Heaven drew me to fulfil. My father's spirit, Came he to life, would not gainsay my word. But thou, to whom, beneath the garb of right, No matter is too dreadful or too deep For words, so rail'st on me, in such a presence. Well thou dost flatter the great name of Theseus, And Athens in her glory stablished here, But midst thy fulsome praises thou forgettest How of all lands that yield the immortal Gods Just homage of true piety, this land Is foremost. Yet from hence thou would'st beguile Me, the aged suppliant. Nay, from hence thou would'st drag Myself with violence, and hast reft away My children. Wherefore I conjure these powers, With solemn invocation and appeal, To come and take my part, that thou may'st know What men they are who guard this hallowed realm.
 
7 - 366 CH.
My lord, the stranger deserves well. His fate Is grievous, but the more demands our aid.
 
7 - 367 THE.
Enough of words. The captors and their prey Are hasting;--we, they have wronged, are standing still.
 
7 - 368 CR.
I am powerless here. What dost thou bid me do?
 
7 - 369 THE.
Lead us the way they are gone. I too must be Thine escort, that if hereabout thou hast Our maidens, thou mayest show them to my sight. But if men flee and bear them, we may spare Superfluous labour. Others hotly urge That business, whom those robbers shall not boast Before their Gods to have 'scaped out of this land. Come, be our guide! Thou hast and hast not. Fortune Hath seized thee seizing on thy prey. So quickly Passes the gain that's got by wrongful guile. Nay, thou shalt have no helper. Well I wot Thou flew'st not to this pitch of truculent pride Alone, or unsupported by intrigue; But thy bold act hath some confederate here. This I must look into, nor let great Athens Prove herself weaker than one single man. Hast caught my drift? Or is my voice as vain Now, as you thought it when you planned this thing?
 
7 - 370 CR.
I will gainsay nought of what thou utterest here. But once in Thebes, I too shall know my course.
 
7 - 371 THE.
Threaten, but go! Thou, Oedipus, remain In quietness and perfect trust that I, If death do not prevent me, will not rest Till I restore thy children to thy hand.
 
7 - 372 CHORUS.
Soon shall the wheeling foes I 1 Clash with the din of brazen-throated War. Would I were there to see them close, Be the onset near or far! Whether at Daphnè's gorge to Phoebus dear, Or by the torch-lit shore Where kind maternal powers for evermore Guard golden mysteries of holy fear To nourish mortal souls Whose voice the seal of silent awe controls Imprinted by the Eumolpid minister. There, on that sacred way, Shall the divinest head Of royal Theseus, rouser of the fray, And those free maids, in their two squadrons led, Meet in the valorous fight That conquers for the right. Else, by the snow-capped rock, I 2 Passing to westward, they are drawing nigh The tract beyond the pasture high Where Oea feeds her flock. The riders ride, the rattling chariots flee At racing speed.--'Tis done! He shall be vanquished. Our land's chivalry Are valiant, valiant every warrior son Of Theseus.--On they run? Frontlet and bridle glancing to the light, Forward each steed is straining to the fight, Forward each eye and hand Of all that mounted band, Athena's knighthood, champions of her name And his who doth the mighty waters tame, Rhea's son that from of old Doth the Earth with seas enfold. Strive they? Or is the battle still to be? II 1 An eager thought in me Is pleading, 'Soon must they restore The enduring maid, whose kinsmen vex her sore!' To-day shall Zeus perform his will. The noble cause wins my prophetic skill. Oh! had I wings, and like a storm-swift dove Poised on some aery cloud might there descry The conflict from above, Scouring the region with mine eye! Sovran of Heaven, all-seeing Zeus, afford II 2 Unto this nation's lord Puissance to crown the fair emprise, Thou, and all-knowing Pallas, thy dread child! Apollo, huntsman of the wild, --Thou and thy sister, who doth still pursue Swift many-spotted stags,--arise, arise, With love we pray you, be our champions true! Yea, both together come To aid our people and our home!
 
7 - 373 LEADER OF CH.
Ah! wanderer friend, thou wilt not have to accuse Thy seer of falsehood. I behold the maids This way once more in safe protection brought.
 
7 - 374 OED.
Where? Is it true? How say you?
 
7 - 375 ANT.
Father, father! Oh that some God would give thee once to see The man whose royal virtue brings us hither!
 
7 - 376 OED.
My daughters, are ye there?
 
7 - 377 ANT.
Saved by the arm Of Theseus and his most dear ministers.
 
7 - 378 OED.
Come near me, child, and let your father feel The treasure he had feared for ever gone.
 
7 - 379 ANT.
Not hard the boon which the heart longs to give.
 
7 - 380 OED.
Where are ye, where?
 
7 - 381 ANT.
Together we draw near.
 
7 - 382 OED.
Loved saplings of a solitary tree!
 
7 - 383 ANT.
A father's heart hides all.
 
7 - 384 OED.
Staves of mine age!
 
7 - 385 ANT.
Forlorn supporters of an ill-starred life!
 
7 - 386 OED.
I have all I love; nor would the stroke of death Be wholly bitter, with you standing by. Press close to either side of me, my children; Grow to your sire, and ye shall give me rest From mine else lonely, hapless, wandering life. And tell your tale as briefly as ye may, Since at your age short speaking is enough.
 
7 - 387 ANT.
Here is our saviour. He shall tell thee all, And shorten labour both for us and thee.
 
7 - 388 OED.
Think it not strange, dear friend, that I prolong The unhoped-for greeting with my children here. Full well I know, the joy I find in them Springs from thee only, and from none beside. Thou, thou alone hast saved them. May the Gods Fulfil my prayer for thee and for thy land! Since only in Athens, only here i' the world, Have I found pious thought and righteous care, And truth in word and deed. From a full heart And thankful mind I thus requite thy love, Knowing all I have is due to none but thee. Extend to me, I pray thee, thy right hand, O King, that I may feel thee, and may kiss, If that be lawful, thy dear head! And yet What am I asking? How can one like me Desire of thee to touch an outlawed man, On whose dark life all stains of sin and woe Are fixed indelibly? I will not dare-- No, nor allow thee!--None but only they Who have experience of such woes as mine May share their wretchedness. Thou, where thou art Receive my salutation, and henceforth Continue in thy promised care of me As true as to this moment thou hast proved.
 
7 - 389 THE.
I marvel not at all if mere delight In these thy daughters lengthened thy discourse, Or led thee to address them before me. That gives me not the shadow of annoy. Nor am I careful to adorn my life With words of praise, but with the light of deeds. And thou hast proof of this. For I have failed In nought of all I promised, agèd King! Here stand I with thy children in full life Unharmed in aught the foe had threatened them. And now why vaunt the deeds that won the day, When these dear maids will tell them in thine ear? But let me crave thy counsel on a thing That crossed me as I came. Small though it seem When told, 'tis worthy of some wonder, too. Be it small or great, men should not let things pass.
 
7 - 390 OED.
What is it, O son of Aegeus? Let me hear, I am wholly ignorant herein.
 
7 - 391 THE.
We are told One, not thy townsman, but of kin to thee, Hath come in unawares, and now is found Kneeling at great Poseidon's altar, where I sacrificed, what time ye called me hither.
 
7 - 392 OED.
What countryman, and wherefore suppliant there?
 
7 - 393 THE.
One thing alone I know. He craves of thee Some speech, they say, that will not hold thee long.
 
7 - 394 OED.
His kneeling there imports no trivial suit.
 
7 - 395 THE.
All he desires, they tell me, is to come, Have speech with thee, and go unharmed away.
 
7 - 396 OED.
Who can he be that kneels for such a boon?
 
7 - 397 THE.
Think, if at Argos thou a kinsman hast Who might desire to obtain so much of thee.
 
7 - 398OED.
Dear friend! Hold there! No more!
 
7 - 399 THE.
What troubles thee?
 
7 - 400 OED.
Ask it not of me!
 
7 - 401 THE.
What? Speak plainly forth.
 
7 - 402 OED.
Thy words have shown me who the stranger is.
 
7 - 403 THE.
And who is he that I should say him nay?
 
7 - 404 OED.
My son, O King,--hateful to me, whose tongue Least of the world I could endure to hear.
 
7 - 405 THE.
What pain is there in hearing? Canst thou not Hear, and refuse to do what thou mislikest?
 
7 - 406 OED.
My Lord, I have come to loathe his very voice. I pray thee, urge me not to yield in this.
 
7 - 407 THE.
Think that the God must be considered too, The right of suppliants may compel thy care.
 
7 - 408 ANT.
Father, give ear, though I be young that speak. Yield to the scruple of the King, who claims This reverence for his people's God, and yield To us who beg our brother may come near. Take heart! He will not force thee from thy will. What harm can come of hearkening? Wisdom's ways Reveal themselves through words. He is thy son. Whence, were his heartless conduct against thee Beyond redemption impious, O my sire, Thy vengeance still would be unnatural. Oh let him!--Others have had evil sons And passionate anger, but the warning voice Of friends hath charmed their mood. Then do not thou Look narrowly upon thy present griefs, But on those ancient wrongs thou didst endure From father and from mother. Thence thou wilt learn That evil passion ever ends in woe. Thy sightless eyes are no light argument To warn thee through the feeling of thy loss. Relent and hear us! 'Tis a mere disgrace To beg so long for a just boon. The King Is kind to thee. Be generous in return.
 
7 - 409 OED.
Child, your dear pleading to your hard request Hath won me. Let this be as ye desire. Only, my lord, if he is to come near, Let no man's power molest my liberty.
 
7 - 410 THE.
I need no repetition, aged friend, Of that request. Vaunt will I not, but thou Be sure, if Heaven protect me, thou art free.
 
7 - 411 CHORUS.
Who, loving life, hath sought I 1 To outlive the appointed span, Shall be arraigned before my thought For an infatuate man. Since the added years entail Much that is bitter,--joy Flies out of ken, desire doth fail, The longed-for moments cloy. But when the troublous life, Be it less or more, is past, With power to end the strife Comes rescuing Death at last. Lo! the dark bridegroom waits! No festal choir Shall grace his destined hour, no dance, no lyre! Far best were ne'er to be, I 2 But, having seen the day, Next best by far for each to flee As swiftly as each may, Yonder from whence he came: For once let Youth be there With her light fooleries, who shall name The unnumbered brood of Care? No trial spared, no fall! Feuds, battles, murders, rage, Envy, and last of all, Despised, dim, friendless age! Ay, there all evils, crowded in one room, Each at his worst of ill, augment the gloom. Such lot is mine, and round this man of woe, II --As some grey headland of a northward shore Bears buffets of all-wintry winds that blow,-- New storms of Fate are bursting evermore In thundrous billows, borne Some from the waning light, Some through mid-noon, some from the rising morn, Some from the realm of Night.
 
7 - 412 ANT.
Ah! Who comes here? Sure 'tis the Argive man Approaching hitherward, weeping amain. And, father, it is he!
 
7 - 413 OED.
Whom dost thou mean?
 
7 - 414 ANT.
The same our thoughts have dwelt on all this while, Polynices. He is here.
 
7 - 415 POL.
What shall I do? I stand in doubt which first I should lament, My own misfortune or my father's woe, Whom here I find an outcast in his age With you, my sisters, in the stranger land, Clothed in such raiment, whose inveterate filth Horridly clings, wasting his reverend form, While the grey locks over the eye-reft brow Wave all unkempt upon the ruffling breeze. And likewise miserable appears the store He bears to nourish that time-wasted frame. Wretch that I am! Too late I learn the truth, And here give witness to mine own disgrace, Which is as deep as thy distress. Myself Declare it. Ask not others of my guilt. But seeing that Zeus on his almighty throne Keeps Mercy in all he doth to counsel him, Thou, too, my father, let her plead with thee! The evil that is done may yet be healed; It cannot be augmented. Art thou silent? O turn not from me, father! Speak but once! Wilt thou not answer, but with shame dismiss me Voiceless, nor make known wherefore thou art wroth? O ye his daughters, one with me in blood, Say, will not ye endeavour to unlock The stern lips of our unrelenting sire? Let him not thus reject in silent scorn Without response the suppliant of Heaven!
 
7 - 416 ANT.
Thyself, unhappy one, say why thou camest. Speech ofttimes, as it flows, touching some root Of pity or joy, or even of hate, hath stirred The dumb to utterance.
 
7 - 417 POL.
I will tell my need:-- First claiming for protector the dread God From whose high altar he who rules this land Hath brought me under safe-guard of his power, Scatheless to speak and hear and go my way. His word, I am well assured, will be made good, Strangers, by you, and by my sisters twain, And by our sire.--Now let me name mine errand. I am banished, father, from our native land, Because, being elder-born, I claimed to sit Upon thy sovereign throne. For this offence Eteocles, thy younger son, exíled me, Not having won the advantage in debate Or trial of manhood, but through guileful art Gaining the people's will. Whereof I deem Thy Fury the chief author; and thereto Prophetic voices also testify. For when I had come to Dorian Argolis, I raised, through marriage with Adrastus' child, An army bound in friendly league with me, Led by the men who in the Apian land Hold first pre-eminence and honour in war, With whose aid levying all that mighty host Of seven battalions, I have deeply sworn Either to die, or drive from Theban ground Those who such wrongs have wrought. So far, so well. But why come hither? Father, to crave thine aid With earnest supplication for myself And for my firm allies, who at this hour, Seven leaders of seven bands embattled there, Encompass Thebè's plain. Amphiaráus, Foremost in augury, foremost in war, First wields his warlike spear. Next, Oeneus' son, Aetolian Tydeus; then Etéoclus Of Argive lineage; fourth, Hippomedon, Sent by his father Tálaüs, and the fifth Is Capancus, who brags he will destroy Thebè with desolating fire. The sixth, Parthonopaeus, from the Arcadian glen Comes bravely down, swift Atalanta's child, Named from his mother's lingering maidenhood Ere she conceived him. And the seventh am I, Thy son, or if not thine, but the dire birth Of evil Destiny, yet named thy son, Who lead this dauntless host from Argolis Against the Theban land. Now one and all We pray thee on our knees, conjuring thee As thou dost love these maids and thine own life, My father, to forgive me, ere I go To be revenged upon my brother there Who drave me forth and robbed me of my throne. If aught in prophecy deserves belief, 'Tis certain, whom thou favourest, those shall win. Now by the wells whereof our fathers drank And by the Gods they worshipped, hear our prayer, Grant this petition: since alike in woe, Alike in poverty and banishment, Partakers of one destiny, thou and I Cringe to the stranger for a dwelling place. Whilst he at home, the tyrant, woe is me, Laughs at us both in soft luxurious pride. Whose might, so thou wilt favour my design, I will lightly scatter in one little hour; And plant thee in thy Theban palace home Near to myself, hurling the usurper forth. All this with thy consent I shall achieve, But without thee, I forfeit life and all.
 
7 - 418 CH.
For his sake who hath brought him, Oedipus, Say what is meet, and let him go in peace.
 
7 - 419 OED.
Ay, were it not the lord of all this land Theseus, that brought him to me and desired He might hear words from me,--never again Had these tones fallen upon his ear. But now That boon is granted him: he shall obtain, Ere he depart, such utterance of my tongue, As ne'er shall give him joy,--ne'er comfort thee, Villain, who when possessed of the chief power Which now thy brother holds o'er Theban land, Didst banish me, thy father, who stand here, To live in exile, clothed with such attire, That moves thy tears now that thine own estate Is fallen into like depth of struggling woe. But tears are bootless. Howsoe'er I live, I must endure, and hold thee still my murderer. 'Tis thou hast girt me round with misery, 'Tis thou didst drive me forth, and driven by thee I beg my bread, a wandering sojourner. Yea, had these daughters not been born to me To tend me, I were dead, for all thou hast done. They have rescued, they have nursed me. They are men, Not women, in the strength of ministry. Ye are another's, not my sons--For this The eye of Destiny pursues thee still Eager to light on thee with instant doom If once that army move toward the town Of ancient Thebes,--the _town_, no dearer name, 'City' or 'Country' shall beseem thy lip Till ye both fall, stained with fraternal gore Long since I launched that curse against you twain Which here again I summon to mine aid, That ye may learn what duty children owe To a parent, nor account it a light thing That ye were cruel sons to your blind sire. These maidens did not so. Wherefore my curse Prevails against thy prayer for Thebe's throne, If ancient Zeus, the eternal lawgiver, Have primal Justice for his counsellor. Begone, renounced and fatherless for me, And take with thee, vilest of villanous men, This imprecation:--Vain be thine attempt In levying war against thy father's race, Frustrate be thy return to Argos' vale: Die foully by a fratricidal hand And foully slay him who hath banished thee! Further, I bid the horror breathing gloom Tartarean, of the vault that holds my sire, To banish thee from that last home: I invoke The Spirits who haunt this ground, and the fierce God Who hath filled you both with this unnatural hate.-- Go now with all this in thine ears, and tell The people of Cadmus and thy firm allies In whom thou trustest, what inheritance Oedipus hath divided to his sons.
 
7 - 420 CH.
'Tis pity for thee, prince, to have come at all; And now we bid thee go the way thou camest.
 
7 - 421 POL.
Alas! Vain enterprise, and hope undone! Oh, my poor comrades! To what fatal end I led you forth from Argos, woe is me! I may not tell it you,--no, nor return. In silence I must go to meet my doom. Daughters of this inexorable sire, Since now ye have heard his cruel curse on me, Ah! in Heaven's name, my sisters, do not you Treat me despitefully, but if, one day, Our father's execration is fulfilled And ye shall be restored to Theban ground, Grace me with funeral honours and a tomb! So shall this ample praise which ye receive For filial ministration, in that day Be more than doubled through your care for me.
 
7 - 422 ANT.
Brother, I beg thee, listen to my prayer!
 
7 - 423 POL.
Dearest Antigone, speak what thou wilt.
 
7 - 424 ANT.
Turn back thy host to Argos with all speed, And ruin not thyself and Thebè too.
 
7 - 425 POL.
Impossible. If once I shrink for fear, No longer may I lead them to the war.
 
7 - 426 ANT.
But why renew thy rage? What benefit Comes to thee from o'erturning thine own land?
 
7 - 427 POL.
'Tis shameful to remain in banishment, And let my brother mock my right of birth.
 
7 - 428 ANT.
Then seest thou not how true unto their aim Our father's prophecies of mutual death Against you both are sped?
 
7 - 429 POL.
He speaks his wish. 'Tis not for me to yield.
 
7 - 430 ANT.
O me, unhappy! But who that hears the deep oracular sound Of his dark words, will dare to follow thee?
 
7 - 431 POL.
They will not hear of danger from my mouth. Wise generals tell of vantage, not of bale.
 
7 - 432 ANT.
Art thou then so resolved, O brother mine?
 
7 - 433 POL.
I am. Retard me not! I must attend To my dark enterprise, blasted and foiled Beforehand by my father's angry curse. But as for you, Heaven prosper all your way, If ye will show this kindness in my death, For nevermore in life shall ye befriend me! Nay, cling to me no longer. Fare ye well. Ye will behold my living form no more.
 
7 - 434 ANT.
O misery!
 
7 - 435 POL.
Bewail me not.
 
7 - 436 ANT.
And who That saw thee hurrying forth to certain death Would not bewail thee, brother?
 
7 - 437 POL.
If Fate wills, Why, I must die.
 
7 - 438 ANT.
Nay, but be ruled by me.
 
7 - 439 POL.
Give me not craven counsel.
 
7 - 440 ANT.
Woe is me, To lose thee!
 
7 - 441 POL.
Heaven hath power to guide the event Or thus or otherwise. Howe'er it prove, I pray that ye may ne'er encounter ill. All men may know, ye merit nought but good. [_Exit. The sky is overcast--a storm is threatened_
 
7 - 442 CHORUS.
New trouble, strange trouble, deep laden with doom, I 1 From the sight-bereft stranger seems dimly to loom! Or peers Fate through the gloom? She will move toward her mark or through shining or shade; Since no purpose of Gods ever idly was made. Time sees the fulfilment, who lifteth to-day What was lowly, and trampleth the lofty to clay. Thunder! Heavens! what a sound!
 
7 - 443 OED.
My children! Would but some one in the place Haste hither Theseus, noblest among men!
 
7 - 444 ANT.
Wherefore, my father? What is thy desire?
 
7 - 445 OED.
These winged thunders of the Highest will soon Bear me away to the Unseen. Send quickly!
 
7 - 446 CHORUS.
Again, yonder crash through the fire-startled air I 2 Wing'd from Zeus, rushes down, till my thin locks of hair, Stiff with fear, upward stare. My soul shrinks and cowers, for yon gleam from on high Darts again! Ne'er in vain hath it leapt from the sky, But flies forth amain to what task Zeus hath given. I fear the unknown fatal edict of Heaven! Lightning glares all around!
 
7 - 447 OED.
My daughters, the divinely promised end Here unavoidably descends on me.
 
7 - 448 ANT.
How dost thou know it? By what certain sign?
 
7 - 449 OED.
I know it perfectly. Let some one go With speed to bring the lord of Athens hither.
 
7 - 450 CHORUS.
Great Heaven, how above me, beside me, around, II 1 Peals redoubled the soul-thrilling sound! O our God, to this land, to our mother, if aught Thou wouldst send with some darkness of destiny fraught, Smile gently once more! With the good let me bear What of fortune soe'er,-- Taste no cup, touch no food, the doomed sinner may share. Zeus, to thee, Lord, I cry!
 
7 - 451 OED.
Is the King coming? Will he find me alive, My daughters, and with reason undisturbed?
 
7 - 452 ANT.
Say wherefore dost thou crave with such desire The clearness of an undistracted mind?
 
7 - 453 OED.
I would fully render from a grateful soul The boon I promised, when I gained my suit.
 
7 - 454 CHORUS
(_looking towards Athens_). Come, my chief! come with speed! Or, if haply at hand, II 2 On the height where the curved altars stand, Thou art hallowing with oxen in sacrifice slain Yonder shrine of Poseidon, dread lord of the main, Hie thee hither! Be swift! The blind stranger intends To thee, to thy friends, To thy city, for burdens imposed, just amends. Haste thee, King! Hear our cry! _Enter_ THESEUS.
 
7 - 455 THE.
Why sounds again from hence your joint appeal, Wherein the stranger's voice is loudly heard? Is it some lightning-bolt new-fallen from Zeus, Or cloud-born hail that is come rattling down? From Heavens so black with storm nought can surprise.
 
7 - 456 OED.
Prince, thou art come to my desire. Some God Hath happily directed this thy way.
 
7 - 457 THE.
What is befallen? Son of Laius, tell!
 
7 - 458 OED.
My path slopes downward, and before my death I would confirm to Athens and to thee My promised boon.
 
7 - 459 THE.
What sign dost thou perceive That proves thine end so near?
 
7 - 460 OED.
The Gods themselves With herald voices are proclaiming it, Nought failing of the fore-appointed signs.
 
7 - 461 THE.
What are these tokens, aged monarch, say?
 
7 - 462 OED.
The loud continual thunder, and the darts That flash in volleys from the unconquered hand.
 
7 - 463 THE.
I may not doubt thee; for thy speech, I feel, Hath ample witness of prophetic power. What must I do?
 
7 - 464 OED.
I will instruct thee now, Aegeus' great son! in rites that shall remain An ageless treasure to thy countrymen. I will presently, with no man guiding me, Conduct thee to the spot, where I must die. This is thy secret, not to be revealed To any one of men, or where 'tis hid Or whereabout it lies. So through all time This neighbouring[3] mound shall yield thee mightier aid Than many a shield and help of alien spears. More shalt thou learn, too sacred to divulge, When yonder thou art come thyself alone. Since to none other of these citizens Nor even unto the children of my love May I disclose it. 'Tis for thee to keep Inviolate while thou livest, and when thy days Have ending, breathe it to the foremost man Alone, and he in turn unto the next Successively. So shalt thou ever hold Athens unravaged by the dragon brood[4]. Cities are numberless, and any one May lightly insult even those who dwell secure. For the eye of Heaven though late yet surely sees When, casting off respect, men turn to crime. Erechtheus' heir! let that be far from thee! A warning needless to a man so wise! Now go we--for this leading of the God Is urgent--to the place, nor loiter more. This way, my children! follow me! For I Am now your guide, as ye were mine. Come on! Nay, touch me not, but leave me of myself To find the holy sepulchre, wherein This form must rest beneath Athenian soil. Come this way! Come! This way are leading me Guide Hermes and the Queen of realms below. O Light, all dark to me! In former time Bright seemed thy shining! Now thy latest ray Sheds vital influence o'er this frame. I go To hide the close of my disastrous life With Hades. Kind Athenian friend, farewell! May'st thou, thy followers, and this glorious land Be happy, and in your endless happiness Remember him who blessed you in his death. [_Exeunt_
 
7 - 465 CHORUS.
Prince of the Powers Unseen, 1 Durst we with prayers adore Thee and thy viewless Queen, Your aid, Aidôneus, would our lips implore! By no harsh-sounding doom Let him we love descend, With calm and cloudless end, In deep Plutonian dwelling evermore To abide among the people of the tomb! Long worn with many an undeservèd woe, Just Gods will give thee glory there below. Dread Forms, who haunt this floor, 2 And thou, the Unconquered Beast, That hugely liest at rest By the dim shining adamantine door, --Still from thy cavernous lair Gnarling, so legends tell, A tameless guard of Hell,-- Mayest thou this once thy vigilance forbear, And leave large room for him now entering there. Hear us, great Son of Darkness and the Deep; On thee we call, God of the dreamless sleep! _Enter_ Messenger.
 
7 - 466 MESS.
Athenian citizens, my briefest tale Were to say singly, Oedipus is gone; But to describe the scene enacted yonder Craves no brief speech, nor was the action brief.
 
7 - 467 CH.
Then he is gone! Poor man!
 
7 - 468 MESS.
Know it once for all, He hath left eternally the light of day.
 
7 - 469 CH.
Poor soul! What? Ended he with peace divine?
 
7 - 470 MESS.
Ay, there is the main marvel. How he moved From hence, thou knowest, for thou too wert here, And saw'st that of his friends none guided him, But he they loved was leader to them all. Now, when he came to the steep pavement, rooted With adamant foundation deep in Earth, On one of many paths he took his stand Near the stone basin, where Peirithoüs And Theseus graved their everlasting league. There, opposite the mass of Laurian ore, Turned from the hollow pear-tree and the tomb Of marble, he sate down, and straight undid His travel-soiled attire, then called aloud On both his children, and bade some one fetch Pure water from a running stream. And they, Hasting together to the neighbouring hill Of green Demeter, goddess of the Spring, Brought back their sire's commission speedily, And bathed, and clothed him with the sacred robe. When he was satisfied, and nothing now Remained undone of all he bade them do, The God of darkness thundered, and the maids Stood horror-stricken on hearing; then together Fell at their father's knees and wept and wailed Loudly and long with beating of the breast. He, when that sound of sorrow pierced his ear, Caressed them in his arms and said:--'My daughters, From this day forth you have no more a father. All that was mine is ended, and no longer Shall ye continue your hard ministry Of labour for my life.--And yet, though hard, Not unendurable, since all the toil Was rendered light through love, which ye can never Receive on earth so richly, as from him Bereaved of whom ye now shall live forlorn.' Such was the talk, mingled with sobs and crying, As each clung fast to each. But when they came To an end of weeping and those sounds were stilled, First all was silent; then a sudden voice Hurried him onward, making each man's hair Bristle on end with force of instant fear. Now here, now there, not once but oftentimes, A God called loudly, 'Oedipus, Oedipus! Why thus delay our going? This long while We are stayed for and thou tarriest. Come away!' He, when he knew the summons of the God, Gave word for royal Theseus to go near; And when he came, said: 'Friend for ever kind, Reach thy right hand, I pray thee (that first pledge) To these my children:--daughters, yours to him!-- And give thy sacred word that thou wilt never Betray these willingly: but still perform All that thou mayest with true thought for their good.' He, with grand calmness like his noble self, Promised on oath to keep this friendly bond. And when he had done so, Oedipus forthwith Stroking his children with his helpless hands Spake thus:--'My daughters, you must steel your hearts To noble firmness, and depart from hence, Nor ask to see or hear forbidden things. Go, go at once! Theseus alone must stay Sole rightful witness of these mysteries.' Those accents were the last we all might hear. Then, following the two maids, with checkless tears And groans we took our way. But by and by, At distance looking round, we saw,--not him, Who was not there,--but Theseus all alone Holding his hand before his eyes, as if Some apparition unendurable Had dazed his vision. In a little while, We marked him making reverence in one prayer To the Earth, and to the home of Gods on high. But by what fate He perished, mortal man, Save Theseus, none can say. No lightning-flash From heaven, no tempest rising from the deep, Caused his departure in that hour, but either Some messenger from heaven, or, from beneath, The lower part of Earth, where comes no pain, Opening kindly to receive him in. Not to be mourned, nor with a tearful end Of sickness was he taken from the Earth, But wondrously, beyond recorded fate. If any deem my words unwise, I care not In that man's judgement to be counted wise.
 
7 - 471 CH.
Where are those maidens and their escort? Say.
 
7 - 472 MESS.
They are not far off, but here. The voice of weeping Betokens all too plainly their approach.
 
7 - 473 ANT.
Alas! How manifold, the inheritance of woe Drawn from the troubled fountain of our birth! Indelible, ineradicable grief! For him erewhile We had labour infinite and unrelieved, And now in his last hour we have to tell Of sights and sorrows beyond thought.
 
7 - 474 CH.
How then?
 
7 - 475 ANT.
Friends, ye might understand.
 
7 - 476 CH.
Speak. Is he gone?
 
7 - 477 ANT.
Gone! Even as heart could wish, had wishes power. How else, when neither war, nor the wide sea Encountered him, but viewless realms enwrapt him, Wafted away to some mysterious doom? Whence on our hearts a horror of night is fallen. Woe 's me! For whither wandering shall we find Hard livelihood, by land or over sea?
 
7 - 478 ISM.
I know not. Let dark Hades take me off To lie in death with mine age honoured sire! Death were far better than my life to be.
 
7 - 479 CH.
Noblest of maidens, ye must learn to bear Meekly the sending of the Gods. Be not On fire with grief. Your state is well assured.
 
7 - 480 ANT.
If to be thus is well, then may one long For evil to return. Things nowise dear Were dear to me, whiles I had him to embrace. O father! loved one! that art wearing now The eternal robe of darkness underground, Old as thou wert, think not this maid and I Will cease from loving thee!
 
7 - 481 CH.
He met his doom.
 
7 - 482 ANT.
He met the doom he longed for.
 
7 - 483 CH.
How was that?
 
7 - 484 ANT.
In the strange land where he desired to die He died. He rests in shadow undisturbed; Nor hath he left a tearless funeral. For these mine eyes, father, unceasingly Mourn thee with weeping, nor can I subdue This ever-mounting sorrow for thy loss. Ah me! Would thou hadst not desired to die Here among strangers, but alone with thee There, in the desert, I had seen thee die!
 
7 - 485 ISM.
Unhappy me! What destiny, dear girl, Awaits us both, bereaved and fatherless?
 
7 - 486 CH.
His end was fortunate. He rests in peace. Dear maidens, then desist from your complaint. Sorrow is swift to overtake us all.
 
7 - 487 ANT.
Thither again, dear girl, let us go speedily!
 
7 - 488 ISM.
Say, for what end?
 
7 - 489 ANT.
Desire possesses me--
 
7 - 490 ISM.
Whereof?
 
7 - 491 ANT.
To see the darksome dwelling-place--
 
7 - 492 ISM.
Of whom?
 
7 - 493 ANT.
Woe is me! Of him, our sire!
 
7 - 494 ISM.
But how Can this be lawful? Seest thou not?
 
7 - 495 ANT.
How say'st thou? Why this remonstrance?
 
7 - 496 ISM.
Seest thou not, again, He hath no grave and no man buried him.
 
7 - 497 ANT.
Take me but where he lies. Then slay me there.
 
7 - 498 ISM.
Ah! woe is me, doubly unfortunate, Forlorn and destitute, whither henceforth For wretched comfort must we go?
 
7 - 499 CH.
Fear nought, Dear maidens!
 
7 - 500 ISM.
Where shall we find refuge?
 
7 - 501 CH.
Here, Long since, your refuge is secure.
 
7 - 502 ANT.
How so?
 
7 - 503 CH.
No harm shall touch you.
 
7 - 504 ANT.
I know that.
 
7 - 505 CH.
What then Further engrosseth thee?
 
7 - 506 ANT.
How to get home I know not.
 
7 - 507 CH.
Seek not for it.
 
7 - 508 ANT.
Weariness O'erweighs me.
 
7 - 509 CH.
Hath it not before oppressed thee?
 
7 - 510 ANT.
Before, it vexed me; now it overwhelms.
 
7 - 511 CH.
A mighty sea of misery is your lot.
 
7 - 512 ANT.
Woe is me! O Zeus! And whither must we go? Unto what doom doth my Fate drive me now?
 
7 - 513 CH.
Children, lament no longer. 'Tis not well To mourn 'mongst those with whom the honoured dead Hath left the heirloom of his benison. _Enter_ THESEUS.
 
7 - 514 ANT.
Theseus, behold us falling at thy feet.
 
7 - 515 THE.
What boon, my children, are ye bent to obtain?
 
7 - 516 ANT.
Our eyes would see our father's burial-place.
 
7 - 517 THE.
'Tis not permitted to go near that spot.
 
7 - 518 ANT.
O Athens' sovereign lord, what hast thou said?
 
7 - 519 THE.
Dear children, 'twas your father's spoken will That no man should approach his resting-place, Nor human voice should ever violate The mystery of the tomb wherein he lies. He promised, if I truly kept this word, My land would evermore be free from harm. The power which no man may transgress and live, The oath of Zeus, bore witness to our troth.
 
7 - 520 ANT.
His wishes are enough. Then, pray thee, send An escort to convey us to our home, Primeval Thebes, if so we may prevent The death that menaces our brethren there.
 
7 - 521 THE.
That will I; and in all that I may do To prosper you and solace him beneath,-- Who even now passes to eternity,-- I must not falter. Come, lament no more. His destiny hath found a perfect end.
 
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